Spaniards, that he actually fitted out an expedition
with that intent. How he fared and what ultimately became of him it may
perhaps be the privilege of the present historian some day to relate.

My story of the great and wonderful adventure of Philip Stukely and Dick
Chichester is ended; yet upon reading the pages which I have with so
much labour compiled I am conscious of a certain sense of
incompleteness, conscious that something still remains untold. I feel
that to let the narrative go forth to the world without offering some
sort of an explanation of the source of Stukely's extraordinary and
uncanny knowledge of Indian lore, and of the ancient Peruvian language--
which he had never learned--would be unfair to the reader.

But in the rough yet voluminous notes of the adventure which Sir Richard
Chichester amused himself by jotting down at his leisure after his
return to England, which he left to his heirs at his death, and which
fell into my hands some twenty years ago, I find no word which throws
the slightest light upon the subject. Yet from the time when I first
skimmed through those notes I have been moved by an ardent desire to put
them into narrative form, in order that Englishmen of to-day may be
afforded yet one more example of the indomitable courage and tenacious
perseverance that distinguished their forefathers during the stirring
and glorious days of good Queen Bess. But until quite recently I have
been deterred from undertaking the pleasant task, for the reason that
certain portions of the narrative are of such a character as either to
strain the credulity of the reader to breaking point, or to cause him to
denounce the good Sir Richard as a--shall we say--perverter of the
truth. And I should be exceedingly reluctant to do anything which would
produce the latter result; for it seems perfectly evident, from
contemporary records, that the worthy knight was held in highest esteem,
by all who were brought into contact with him, as a man of unimpeachable
honour and probity, whose word was always to be relied upon, and who was
so unimaginative, so thoroughly matter-of-fact, and of so simple,
straightforward a character generally, as to be completely above the
suspicion of any slightest tendency to embellish a story by the
perpetration of an untruth. Quite recently, however, I was made
acquainted with certain extraordinary facts which may possibly bear upon
the matter, and which, although not absolutely