The thing's rather amusing--and entirely absurd. If it were not--if it
didn't strike my funny-bone--I should probably put up some sort of a
fight; as it is, you see I'm entirely acquiescent. Your tiny automatics
didn't in the least intimidate me. I could have landed you both as you
entered. I've got a gun of a much larger calibre right to my hand. See!"
and he lifted the pillow and exposed a 38. "Want to borrow it?"

"Why didn't you land us?" Marston asked, as he took the 38.

"It wouldn't have been kind!" Harleston smiled. "When visitors come at
such an hour, they deserve to be received with every attention and
courtesy--particularly when they come on a mistaken impression and a
fruitless quest."

The man looked at Harleston doubtfully. Just how much of this was bluff,
he could not decide. Harleston's whole conduct was rather unusual--the
open door, the open safe, the unemployed revolver, were not in
accordance with the game they were playing. He should have made a fight,
some sort of a fight, and not--

"The letter's not in the safe," Sparrow reported.

"I didn't think it was," said the other, "but we had to make search."

"You're very welcome to look elsewhere and anywhere," Harleston
interjected. "I'll trust you not to pry into matters other than the
letter. By the way, whose was the letter?"

"His Majesty of Abyssinia!" was the answer.