Mallien stared, quite unable to speak, so indignant was he at the audacity of the parson. "Give it to you?" he burst out. "I'd give it to nobody."
"Ah, then I hope you'll never get money," said Mr. Leigh, placidly, "you would make bad use of it."
"I would," retorted the gracious host, "if I gave it to you to make ducks and drakes of in expeditions. You can be buried less expensively in England than in Yucatan, believe me."
"I have no idea of being buried anywhere," said the vicar with dignity, and yet with a scared look which puzzled Mallien. "I am old, it is true, but my health is good and I live a reasonable life."
"You wouldn't if you went exploring Yucatan," retorted the other.
"I would take the risk of that, Mr. Mallien. The place is so interesting"--his nose was glued to the manuscript again--"that I really must raise the money and go. I have plans--oh yes, I have plans to get it."
"You won't from Rupert."
"Nor from you, apparently," said Leigh, who appeared to be much more alert than usual, "but I prefer Rupert's youth to your avaricious age. However, I shall come again and resume my reading of this manuscript--unless you will let me take it away."
"I'll do nothing of the kind, nor help your expedition," said Mallien grimly, "nor even give you the rubbish my father wrote."
"Rubbish," cried the parson indignantly; "that diary is worth all the property which John Hendle left to the son he didn't love. Well! Well, it's a case of pearls before swine," and, paying back Mallien in his own coin, by making this remark, the vicar departed with his shadow at his heels.