By These Presents

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“Do you want my soul or don’t you?” James Fenwick demanded.

“Naturally I do,” the devil said. “But I’ll have to think this over. Under the circumstances I don’t exactly see how I could collect.”

“All I want is immortality,” Fenwick said, with a pleased smile. “I wonder why no one has ever thought of this before. In my opinion it’s foolproof. Come, come, now, make up your mind. Do you want to back out?”

“Oh no,” the devil said hastily. “It’s just that - Look here, Fenwick. I’m not sure you realise - immortality’s a long time, you know.”

“Exactly. The question is, will it ever have an end? If it does, you collect my soul. If not -” Fenwick made an airy gesture. “I win,” he said.

“Oh, it has an end,” the devil said, somewhat grimly. “It’s just that right now I’d rather not undertake such a long-term investment. You wouldn’t care for immortality, Fenwick. Believe me.”

Fenwick said, “Ha.”

“I don’t see why you’re so set on immortality,” the devil said a little peevishly, tapping the point of his tail on the carpet.

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