Patriarch was standing on the threshold, and, with a gesture of welcome,
was motioning him to enter.




--V--

A STRANGE CONVERSATION


Madison, quite in command of himself again in an instant, stepped,
smiling, into the cottage. He took the Patriarch's extended hand in a
cordial grip and nodded understandingly as the other, with quick, rapid
motions, touched lips and ears to signify that he could neither hear nor
speak. But, inwardly puzzled, Madison searched the Patriarch's face--was
the other playing a part? Could he _hear_, after all--and perhaps speak
as well, if he wanted to! There was certainly no guile in the venerable,
gentle face--or was it guile of a very high order?

The Patriarch closed the door, and drawing his own armchair to the table
offered it to Madison with a courteous smile.

Madison refused by gently forcing the old man into it himself, pulled
another up to face the Patriarch, sat down--and his eyes fixed suddenly
on the ceiling above his head. Swaying slowly back and forth was a sort
of miniature punkah of waving white canvas. He studied this for a
moment, then his eyes shifted to the Patriarch, who was regarding him
humorously.