I can surely be excused when one considers the matter that brings us together has been centuries in the making."
"Nearly twenty of them in all," I answered. "And yet it appears as though you were late by a matter of hours."
"Late?" he asked. "I do not understand."
"That another has been here before you."
There was a slight pause while the newcomer looked quizzical; then a smile of understanding lighted his sharp features. "Ah, of course, of course. Always do I find myself forgetting the strange humor of you Americans." He gave a short laugh as he added: "Surely, Señor, you are not going to tell me a wild tale of spirits and such things—that the ghost of some long-dead mummy, perhaps, has appeared to you and told how it would curse the rash mortal who dared disturb its bones?"
The hand that sought and found mine had the cold touch of a serpent.
"Hardly," I added. "No, I have always left that sort of thing to children and the Halloween party."
"A real live ghost, then? I am all interest, Señor."
But I had decided to waste neither time nor words on Manuel De Costa. True, the situation was an awkward one, but in such cases frankness is sometimes the best weapon. Of course, there had been a previous arrangement with my visitor, but despite all this the fact remained I had sold both the parchment and my services to another. To come straight to the point and admit it was the logical thing to do. This I did in a few short sentences, made the more blunt, perhaps, by my dislike of the man.
While I spoke his dark eyes never left me.
"You—you jest, of course, Señor?" he had asked when I concluded.
"It would be a poor idea of humor—even the strange humor of an American."
"But—but no, Señor. No; you cannot do this. You dare not do this!" His former bearing of ease had changed to surprise, then anger. "You dare not sell the scroll!"
"You mean I have not the right to do as I please with my own parchment?"
"I mean you have promised it to me!" he cried. "That you have given your word, and the scroll now belongs to Manuel De Costa. It is the truth I speak—you dare not deny it. Was it not I who read of the discovery in far-off Hindustan, and journeyed halfway around the world to get it? Was it not I who spoke to you and mentioned that request, but three short days ago? Did I not"
"One moment, Mr. De Costa," I broke in sharply. "There are parts of that little speech not 'according to Hoyle.' As to your call, I readily admit it, as well as my agreeing to meet you here. We were to discuss terms regarding the sale of my parchment, with you as the probable buyer. There was nothing said to the contrary of that, nor do I attempt to deny it now. But as for giving you my promise to sell the parchment, none knows better than you the falsity of that statement."
Manuel De Costa went white. For a long moment he glared at me, and when at last he did speak, the words were so low as to be almost inaudible.
"And what am I to understand by that?"
"Offhand, I would say anything you
