“Why?”
“I cannot be more explicit,” he replied. “I am a man of honour,” he added, “and you may trust me.”
“But I am desirous of adding the codex to my collection,” I argued, mystified by his sudden desire to withdraw from his word. “I asked you your price, and have paid it.”
“I admit that. The affair has been but a matter of business between two gentlemen,” he replied, with just a touch of hauteur. “Nevertheless, I am anxious that you should not be possessor of that manuscript.”
“But why? I am a collector. When you come to Leghorn I hope you will call and look through my treasures.”
“Treasures?” he echoed. “That is no treasure—it is a curse, rather.”
“A curse! How can a splendid old book be a curse in the hands of a palaeographical enthusiast like myself?”
“I am a man of my word,” he said in a low, distinct tone. “I tell you, my dear signore, that your enthusiasm has led you away. You should not have purchased your so-called treasure. It was ill-advised; therefore I urge you to take back the sum you have paid.”
“And on my part I object to do so,” I said a little warmly.
He shrugged his broad shoulders, and a pained look crossed his big features.