‘That did not occur to me—’
‘It might have occurred to you, considering what I had said. It might occur to you now, if I answered your question. But on the other hand it is of no importance whether it does or not. My reply will contribute to your peace of mind by helping you to catalogue a man you do not know among the fools and charlatans of whom you have heard. Would you like to know the future? I can tell it to you, if you please.’
‘The vortex, I suppose,’ answered Greif rather scornfully.
‘Yes. I can tell you the direction of the vortices of which you are composed, for a time, while they are on their way to join other vortices in the dance of death. The vortices do nothing but dance, spin and whirl for ever through life, the farce; through death, the tragedy and through all the eternity of the epilogue. What do you wish to know?’
‘You are jesting!’ exclaimed Greif moodily. ‘I wish you would be in earnest.’
‘In earnest!’ cried Rex contemptuously. ‘What is earnestness?’
He rose and went to the desk upon which the lamp was burning, opened it and took a fresh sheet of paper from within. Greif watched him with considerable indifference. He had not found what he had sought and he already meditated a retreat. Rex paid no attention to him, but rapidly described a circle upon the paper and divided it into twelve parts with a ruler.
‘Do you remember the date of the day we met?’ he asked, looking up.
‘It was a Monday,’ replied Greif, wondering what his companion was doing.
‘That will do. I have a calendar,’ said Rex.