"It is about the paper," I began. "The captain was to bring it to you
here, and now he finds he cannot."
"Cannot?" he said, with the rising inflection of another language than
ours. "Cannot?"
"Rather," I corrected myself hastily, "he finds it more expedient to meet
you elsewhere."
"Ah," he said, "that is better. For a moment I feared the captain was
dead. So the paper--he still has it?"
"He not only has it," I said, "but he is ready to give it to you--at
another place he has named. You are a stranger to the country here?"
My question was not a welcome one.
"Absolute!" he replied with conviction. "Do you take me for a native of
these sink holes? Mon Dieu! Does your mud so completely cover me? But
surely it must be this cursed darkness, or you would have said
differently. Where is this other place?"