“With all due respect, Professor Emerson, that is only your opinion. I have permission from the authorities to carry out my scheme.” He sipped genteelly at his tea.

“What scheme?” I demanded.

I can, when occasion demands, raise my voice to a pitch that is difficult to ignore. Morley started and burst into a fit of coughing-having, I deduced, swallowed the wrong way. Emerson, who knew the futility of ignoring it, replied in a tone almost as vehement as mine.

“The damned fool is mounting an expedition to Jerusalem, to look for the Ark of the Covenant.”

THE ENSUING SILENCE WAS broken by Nefret’s melodious chuckle. “I do beg your pardon,” she murmured, trying to keep a straight face.

“Your derision is justified,” said Emerson. “People have been looking for the damned thing for centuries. They are welcome to keep on looking for it, insofar as I am concerned; it is a harmless enough fantasy. That is not my point. My point is-”

“You have made it, Professor.” Morley placed his cup carefully on the table and rose to his feet. “I will take no more of your time.”

Though as a rule I deplore Emerson’s bad manners, I was as anxious as he to get our visitors out of the house. I had fully expected the reverend to fall writhing to the floor during his initial outburst. His present look was almost as disconcerting; looking up from his pensive contemplation of the (empty) biscuit plate, he inquired, “Are we going now?”

I accompanied our guests into the hall. Morley took his hat from Gargery, who was hovering, and turned to me.

“If the Professor should change his mind-”

“He will be sure to inform you,” I said. “Good afternoon.”

We shook hands, and I offered mine to the reverend. He met it with a surprisingly firm grip and a sweet, childlike smile.