THE gray-haired man at the desk looked up with a sharp line between the bushy eyebrows. He stared a moment and got up.

“Is it you!” He held out a cordial hand.

He served on a dozen boards with Robert More—and was proud of it.

“I never supposed you were interested in the Chinese coat!” He touched a paper on the desk.

“Sit down. They said the man who left the order was here—and I happened to have kept the name, ’Richard More.’ But it never occurred to me it was you!” He was still standing and staring at him as if he could not quite believe his eyes.

“I did not expect you to remember the order,” said Richard. “I merely sent up word—on the chance.”

The other nodded. “Oh, yes. I remember it quite well.... You see I took personal interest in the coat. I never really meant to sell it.... It was a curious garment....”

The two men of business sat silent—as if seeing it before them.

It was Stewart who roused himself first. “I came on it in a town—a little back in the interior. I was there on other business, semi-confidential business for the government—and I saw this coat and liked it, and bought it.... I think I had a half-idea of giving it to my wife.” He smiled a little absently.

“I did not know you were married,” said Richard More politely. He really knew very little about the man. It did not interest him—except for politeness.

Stewart looked at him keenly a minute. “I am not married,” he said. “I never have been.... If I had married I should not have let the Chinese coat go.” He spoke with a certain curious emphasis and Richard glanced at him.

He nodded. “I should have kept it—for her,” he said. “I knew enough for that!... It gives me a queer kind of feeling to know that you were interested in it too. I somehow should not have suspected it of you.” He looked at him thoughtfully.

“My wife liked it,” said Richard stiffly. “I wanted it for her.”

“Yes—a woman would like it.... I remember the woman that had charge of the department—she’s been dead a number of years, now—I remember she always liked it. She would keep it in a box—half the time. Wouldn’t have it out where people could see it—seemed to be afraid somebody would buy it!” He chuckled. “If I’d really wanted to sell that coat I should have been pretty sharp with her.”... He roused himself. “Well, she’s dead!”

“You didn’t find another one, I suppose?” said Richard politely.

“No—not exactly.” He seemed to be trying to recall something.

“There was one—I got word of one.... But it was far in the interior—farther in than I’d ever gone, or had time to go. I left word in a general way for them to negotiate for it.... But they’re slow—the Chinese.... Ever been there?”

Richard shook his head—a sudden intention came to him.

“Well, it’s a wonderful country!” said Stewart. “And they’re a wonderful people. But different—different from us.... That’s where folks have always made a mistake. They think because the Chinese have heads and legs, and wear clothes, they are like us.... But they are no more like us than—than trees are like—lions.... They’re both of ’em alive, and that’s about all you can say—” He broke off with a laugh.

Richard smiled. “You know them pretty well, do you?”

“I’ve spent a good deal of time there.... But I don’t know them. Nobody knows ’em!” He spoke with quiet conviction and something that arrested Richard’s attention.

“I’ve sometimes thought I should like to go there.”... He had thought it not two minutes ago for the first time—but it seemed to him now that he had always intended to go—that it was something he had been moving toward all his life.

The other nodded. “You won’t regret it. I mean to go back myself, some time.”

They parted with a kind of friendliness they would not have expected from their previous knowledge of each other. Richard had in his pocket such directions as the man could give him.

“I can’t tell you precisely where the place is, nor how to get to it. I never knew, myself.... And it’s a country you have to find your own way in. Go slow and trust ’em. Don’t hurry them too much.... I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d find the coat—if there really was one, like the one we knew—I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d find it just where it was twenty years ago when they told me about it. They’re a slow-moving people! But they’ve found out some things... some things we don’t know yet.... In a sense they’ve forgotten more than we ever knew,” he added with a smile.

“Here, wait a minute!” He went to a cabinet across the room and took from a pigeonhole a yellow and discolored map. He brought it to the table and spread it out.

“Here is the region I spoke of—up here.... And these red lines show where I have been myself; and the little blue crosses are places where I got information—the right sort—where people are friendly and intelligent... they will not have changed much—” He looked at the map thoughtfully and took it up and folded it in slow fingers.

“I am going to give you this. It may be useful to you, and I may not go myself—I am an old man now.”

So Richard More took the map and went out. He had come expecting to make a business inquiry, in a businesslike way; and he had encountered something that was not business—something that the piece of worn and discolored paper seemed vaguely to whisper as it rustled in his pocket.