"You refuse either to come into our scheme or to give us one of the
beans?"
Burton nodded.
"I hold them in trust for myself." There was a moment's silence. Mr.
Bomford seemed to be struggling for words. The professor was looking
exceedingly disappointed.
"Mr. Burton," he protested, "I cannot help feeling a certain amount of
admiration for your point of view, but, believe me, you are entirely in
the wrong. I beg that you will think this matter over."
"I am sure that it would be useless," Burton replied. "Nothing would
induce me to change my mind."
"Nothing?" Mr. Bomford asked, with a peculiar meaning in his tone.
"Nothing?" the professor echoed softly.
Burton withdrew his eyes from the little shadowy vista of garden and
looked steadfastly at the two men. Then his heart began to beat. He
was filled with a sort of terror lest they should say what he felt sure
was in their minds. It was like sacrilege. It was something unholy.
His eyes had been caught by the flutter of a white gown passing across
one of the lighter places of the perfumed darkness. They had been
watching him. He only prayed that they would not interrupt until he had
reached the end of his speech.
"Professor," he said softly, turning to his host, "there is one thing
which I desire so greatly that I would give my life itself for it.
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