"You mean Stevenson and Robbie Burns," he corrected. While we spoke, I kept exploring the infinite book. With feigned indifference, I asked, "Do you intend to offer this curiosity to the British Museum?" "No. I'm offering it to you," he said, and he stipulated a rather high sum for the book. I answered, in all truthfulness, that such a sum was out of my reach, and I began thinking. After a minute or two, I came up with a scheme. "I propose a swap," I said. "You got this book for a handful of rupees and a copy of the Bible. I'll offer you the amount of my pension check, which I've just collected, and my blackletter Wiclif Bible. I inherited it from my ancestors." "A black-letter Wiclif!" he murmured. I went to my bedroom and brought him the money and the book. He turned the leaves and studied the title page with all the fervor of a true bibliophile.