"Oh! my daughter? Is she not in?"
"She is away for two days, your servant told me," Burton replied.
"Perhaps so--perhaps so," the professor agreed. "She has gone to her
aunt's, very likely, in Chelsea. My sister has a house there in
Bromsgrove Terrace."
Burton rose to his feet. He held out his hand for the manuscript.
"I am exceedingly obliged to you," he said. "Now I must go."
The professor gripped the manuscript in his hand. He was no longer a
harmless and benevolent old gentleman. He was like a wild animal about
to be robbed of its prey.
"No," he cried. "You must not take these away. You must not think of
it. They are of no use to you. Leave me the sheets, just as they are.
I will go further back. There are several words at the meaning of which
I have only guessed. Leave them with me for a few days, and I will make
you an exact translation."
"Very well," Burton assented.
"And one bean?" the professor begged. "Leave me one bean only? I
promise not to eat it, not to dissect it, not to subject it to
experiments of any sort. Let me just have it to look at, to be sure
that what you have told me is not an hallucination."
Burton shook his head.
"I dare not part with one.
Pages:
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157