"Hang your system, and your palaver with it! I'll tell you in a minute or two what I came here for, but I shall be obliged if you will first tell me something of yourself. I have the right to know your history." "I have no objection. You wish to learn my personal history. It is soon told." "None of your lies, you know; I shall spot them if you try to deceive me. I am as wide awake as you are." "Wider, far wider. You have the wisdom of the serpent." "Here, I say," cried Mr. Fox-Cordery, "none of your abuse. What do you mean by that?" "You should receive it as a compliment." He pointed to the figure of a serpent on human legs standing on a bracket. "I compare you to the serpent in admiration. Shall I commence at the beginning of my life?" "Commence where you like, only cut it short." "My father was a Persian; my mother also. They came to England to save their lives. One week longer in Persia, and they would have been slain." "A pity." "That they did not remain in their native land? That they were not slain? Perhaps. Who shall say? But there is a fate. Who shall resist it? Safe in England, where I was born a week after their arrival, my parents lived till I was a youth. They imbued me with their spirit. As you see." He waved his hand around. "I live by the art of my pen. That is all." "Quite enough; it is plain there is no getting anything out of you. Now, listen to me. You accepted a commission from me, which you led me to believe you fulfilled. If it is not fulfilled you practiced a fraud upon me for which the law can punish you." "I am acquainted with the English law. I have a perception of a higher--the divine law. We will proceed fairly, for you have spoken of a serious business. Many years ago you desired some parchments copied, and, hearing I had some skill with the pen, you sought me out. I performed the work you intrusted to me, and from time to time you favored me with further orders. The engagement ended; you needed my pen no more. But you deemed me worthy to undertake a commission of another nature. You had a friend, or a foe, who was suffering, and whose presence in England was inconvenient to you." "Lie number one," said Mr. Fox-Cordery. "It is a true interpretation. You came to me and said, 'This man is dying; I wish his last hours to be peaceful. There are memories here that torture him. Make friends with him. Opium will relieve him; ardent spirits will assuage his pain; travel will beguile his senses. His constitution is broken. Go with him to Paris; I will allow you a small monthly stipend, and, when his pain is over, you shall have a certain sum for your labor.'" "Lies, and lies, and yet more lies," said Mr. Fox-Cordery, watching Rathbeal's face warily. "You have a fine stock of them, and of all colors and shapes. Why, you would come out first in a competition."