"Ho! My trunks? I had them made up the river, like the rest. But I wonder what would interest you in my museum. Let's see." He bent over one of the chests, unlocked it, rummaged under the cover, and brought out a broad metal circlet which he handed to Matthews. "How would that do for a crown, eh?" The young man took it over to the porthole. The metal, he then saw, was a soft antique gold, wrought into a decoration of delicate spindles, with a border of filigree. The circlet was beautiful in itself, and astonishingly heavy. But what it chiefly did for Matthews was to sharpen the sense of strangeness, of remoteness, which this bizarre galley, come from unknown waters, had brought into the familiar muddy Karun. "As a matter of fact," went on the Brazilian, "it's an anklet. But can you make it out? Those spindles are Persian, while the filigree is more Byzantine than anything else. You find funny things up there, in caves--" He tossed a vague hand, into which Matthews put the anklet, saying: "Take it before I steal it!" "Keep it, won't you?" proposed the astonishing Brazilian. "Oh, thanks. But I could hardly do that," Matthews replied. "Why not?" protested Magin. "As a souvenir of a pleasant meeting! I have a ton of them." He waved his hand at the chests. "No, really, thanks," persisted the young man. "And I'm afraid we must be getting on. I don't know the river, you see, and I'd like to reach Dizful before dark." The Brazilian studied him a moment. "As you say," he finally conceded. "But you will at least have another drink before you go?" "No, not even that, thanks," said Matthews. "We really must be off. But it's been very decent of you." He felt both awkward and amused as he backed out to the deck, followed by his imposing host. At sight of the two the crew scattered to their oars. They had been leaning over the side, absorbed in admiration of the white jinn-boat. Matthews' Persian servant handed up to Magin's butler a tray of tea glasses--on which Matthews also noted a bottle. In honor of that bottle Gaston himself stood up and took off his greasy cap. "A thousand thanks, Monsieur," he said. "I have tasted nothing so good since I left France." "In that case, my friend," rejoined Magin in French as good as his English, "it is time you returned!" And he abounded in amiable speeches and ceremonious bows until the last _au revoir_. "_Au plaisir!_" called back Gaston, having invoked his jinni. Then, after a last look at the barge, he asked over his shoulder in a low voice: "Who is this extraordinary type, M'sieu Guy? A species of an Arab, who speaks French and English and who voyages in a galley from a museum!" "A Brazilian, he says," imparted M'sieu Guy--whose surname was beyond Gaston's gallic tongue.