The exchange of gifts should have brought the visit to an end, but for some reason it did not. The African still sat, staring across the table at Humphrey, his eyes narrowed to black slits.
"The gift is of great beauty," he said at last, "but I might explain that the Pasha, my master, has especial love for his gardens and is most particularly delighted when he is given any—any small curiosity to add to the treasures he has already gathered there." Seeing Humphrey look blank, he explained more clearly. "You and I met, some days since, in the shop of that mad old Chinaman who owns, but will not sell, that little pine tree, a hundred years old. The Pasha had taken a fancy to own it, so, since the old man would not part with it willingly, he sent some servants to—to fetch it. But they failed. I understand the tree is on board this ship after all."
"On board the West Wind?" echoed Humphrey amazed. "I give you my word that it is not here."
"The tree is on this ship," insisted the other steadily. "The Chinaman heard somehow of our coming and departed, treasure and all; he was seen fleeing through the town; he was seen making his way to this vessel. And the Pasha of Tripoli desires the little pine tree!"
There was a pause, but Humphrey said nothing.
