CHAPTER IX

Leo tried to go to sleep; but after doing everything he could think of, such as imagining a flock of sheep jumping a fence, and counting a hundred backward and forward, he gave it up as useless.  All the strange things he had seen would come back, and his eyelids were like little spring doors that bobbed open in spite of his attempts to close them.  As they lifted for the hundredth time he saw Paz doubled up in a heap, with his knees drawn up to his chin, his elbows resting on them, and his face in his hands.  He was intently watching Leo.

“Hallo!” said Leo, “can’t you go to sleep either?”

“No need at present.”

“Why not?”

“I was going through a formula in D.”

“What under the sun is that?”

“Something relating to my pursuits.  Don’t trouble yourself to try and find out everything.  In my opinion Master Knops has crammed you too hard.  What do you say to my telling you a story or two?”

“Splendid!  I’m ready when you are.”

“No, you are not; you’re hungry.  You must have a bite first; what shall it be?  Oh, no matter; I’ll get you something if you promise not to ask any questions.”

“All right,” said Leo, inwardly cringing at the thought of stuffed rats.

Paz was gone but a little while.  When he came back he was carrying a basket, from which he produced a small flask of a very sweet, fruity sirup, a dish of something that looked like little fish swimming in golden jelly—­salt and savory Leo found them—­and a sort of salad garnished with tiny eggs.  These were followed by nuts of a peculiar flavor, and small fruits as exquisite to look at as they were delicious to taste.

When Leo had done ample justice to all these things Paz looked relieved, as if he had feared they might not suit.

“Never ate anything better in my life,” said Leo.

“I am glad to hear it; tastes differ so.  Now these things come from all parts of the world—­the fish from Spain, the eggs from Africa, the nuts from Italy, the fruits from France, and the sirup from Portugal.”

“Oh dear!” said Leo, wondering how their freshness was preserved.

“Yes, I suppose you have no idea of our canning business.”

“None in the world.”

“I presumed as much,” said Paz, wisely, “nor am I going to bore you with any more information.”

Leo looked quite shocked.

“Oh, well,” said Paz, profoundly, “there’s a limit to all things, and I’m not a Knops.”

“But have you been to all parts of the world?” asked Leo.

“Oh, yes,” answered Paz, carelessly.  “I have wandered far and wide in my time.  Until I caught the diamond fever I was used as an envoy.”

“Indeed!” said Leo, having but a faint idea of what an envoy was.  “What did you do?”

“I went on errands of importance.”

“Who for, and where did you go?”