Leigh nodded absently, for the sound rather than the sense of this polite speech had reached him. Already he had opened the manuscript diary at random and, with his nose close to the pages, was pouring over the faded writing. Mr. Mallien growled as usual, and walked across to the mantelpiece to pick up his pipe for a morning smoke. When blue clouds made a haze round the eagerly reading parson, Mr. Mallien brought out a handful of precious stones of little value from his trousers pocket, and began to fiddle with them, after his ordinary fashion. He strewed ruby and emerald and moonstone about the table, where a shaft of sunlight struck across the room, and watched the many colored sparkles, emitted by the tiny gems. Leigh, taking no notice, turned over page after page with great interest. After a long while he grunted and spoke, maliciously anxious to spoil the scholar's pleasure if he could. "Dull stuff my father wrote, didn't he?" "Dear me, Mr. Mallien, are you there? Dull stuff. Oh, dear me, no. Most interesting. These Maya buildings are quite fascinating, and the manuscripts he discovered, and the stone carvings, and the hieroglyphics, similar to those of Egypt. Yes," went on the vicar dreamily, "I must go there." "Go there; go to Yucatan," cried Mallien, staring; "an old buffer like you?" "Yes, sir," said the vicar with dignity. "For quite a year since you mentioned the diary of your father, it has been in my mind to fit out an expedition to so interesting a place." "How can you fit out an expedition on your income?" "Money. Ah yes, I shall require money, of course." "And a jolly lot, too. Expeditions are not fitted out for nothing." "I believe not," murmured Mr. Leigh, again dipping into the manuscript. "Well, well, the money will be forthcoming." "Who will give it to you?" asked Mallien contemptuously. "I thought that Rupert----?" "Pooh! You might as well try and get blood out of a stone, Mr. Leigh. And why the dickens should he give you money to go on a wild-goose chase? Rupert is a wise man, and keeps his cash in his pocket, as I'd do if I had his income." "Would you not give me the money if you had four thousand a year?" asked the vicar, with an extraordinarily keen look. Mallien stared, quite unable to speak, so indignant was he at the audacity of the parson. "Give it to you?" he burst out. "I'd give it to nobody." "Ah, then I hope you'll never get money," said Mr. Leigh, placidly, "you would make bad use of it." "I would," retorted the gracious host, "if I gave it to you to make ducks and drakes of in expeditions. You can be buried less expensively in England than in Yucatan, believe me." "I have no idea of being buried anywhere," said the vicar with dignity, and yet with a scared look which puzzled Mallien. "I am old, it is true, but my health is good and I live a reasonable life." "You wouldn't if you went exploring Yucatan," retorted the other.