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“I don’t think there is much difficulty in finding explanation,” he replied deliberately. “You know that Sir John did perish out there, and to this day no news has been heard of his ultimate fate. My own suspicions are that Da Suhares—by the way, the people from whom your uncle purchased these documents bore the name of Soares—very possibly brought him treacherously to his death to possess the wealth that they had reaped in company. It is a very possible solution of the mystery, and we are not likely at this time of day to find a better one. But I must say, my lord, that to my mind the authenticity of the document is absolutely determined, and I have had experience of similar matters, I may say, for over half-a-century.”

“It’s plausible enough,” said I, shifting my ground, “but not good enough in my discretion to send a man fussing over to Yucatan for further explanations. Supposing the thing is absolutely correct, both in itself and in its deductions, what good is to be made of it at this time of day? Surely my uncle did not expect to find this unknown race after they have been lost three centuries or more? At any rate I shouldn’t have thought it of him. He showed no signs of brain softening ten years ago—or twelve, was it?—when I last interviewed him.”