lush vegetation. Back in the ballroom they were starting a waltz of
Waldteufel's, I think it was, some jingly strain that ran with the clink
of money on the tables. A suitable setting for a wondrous tale; but it
was borne upon me that if I wished full value for my venture I should
have to play up now, and play up sharp.

This difficult man was not the kind to unbuckle offhand. He was hardly
what one might call a subjective peddler of his wares. He would not care
two pins for my thrills, my quest of fancy, which to him, in his own
heavy obsession must seem the most contemptible trifles.

With studied carelessness I took the doubloon on my thumb, flipped it
and stuck it in my pocket.

"No wonder you were so willing to make a trade!" I said dryly. "One
would say the liabilities outweigh the assets. As they have now
descended to me, it remains to inquire whether they were honestly come
by."

I had caught him fairly out of himself. He sat up as if stung, seemed
ready to retort, and then yielded with a laugh--deep-throated tribute.

"You want an abstract of title?"

"My dear sir, I'm frank to say that's what I wanted from the first. I
remembered you from Monte Carlo, you see."

With his elbows on the table he pressed his hands over his eyes
absently, in that singular mannerism he had; and when they were clear he
searched me again, gauging my significance in some alien train of
thought.

"You seem entitled to it," he acknowledged slowly, "if only by your
cheek, you know. Please note you came asking. I shouldn't care to punch
your head later for calling me a liar."...

And this was the way I won his story at last.

* * * * *

"Do you happen to carry any good, live, working superstitions about
you?" he began, and marked my blink of surprise. "No? It's a pity.
Things must be so much simpler to a man who's satisfied to trust in laws
outside himself and his own vision. A streak of fatalism, hey? What a
comfort! No use kicking about anything--it's all been arranged for you.
Or astrology, now: the stars were in the wrong house, which naturally
accounts for Jemmy Jones being in the wrong pew. What'o,
there's warm cheer for Jemmy!

"Why are you and I chumming here together on this hole-in-a-corner of an
island, for instance, with no end of a silly yarn between us? Likely
you'd much rather be somewhere and doing something else--I'm blessed,
but I should. Yet here we are; and both our lives,