“Yes,” said Johnny rather slowly, “I—I came.”
“I hoped you would. Knew you too were trying to help the natives of Haiti. Thought I might help you. Sit down by the fire.”
As Johnny’s eyes became accustomed to the dim firelight, he noted that a large brass tube lay across the mysterious man’s knee.
“That,” said the stranger as he saw Johnny’s eyes resting upon it, “is the Magic Telescope of the old Emperor Christophe.”
“That! It—it can’t be!”
“There’s not the least doubt about it.”
“But it must be more than a hundred years old.”
“Quite a little more. Look closely and you will see the date’s still there.”
He held up a blazing ember. Johnny, looking close, read there: “Paris, France, 1797.”
“It is.” His tone was filled with awe.