"Since this gift meets with the approval of the Reigning Master, I am now free to sign the most recent agreement between our houses."
"I have it right here," Smith said, plucking a parchment roll from somewhere in his coat. It was edged in gold and tied with a blue silk ribbon. He proffered it to Chiun.
The Master of Sinanju accepted it and undid the ribbon. He read the contract over in silence. At the end, he set the scroll on the floor and weighed down each corner with polished stones.
Then, taking up a quill from an inkstone at his knee, he scratched out his name with a flourish.
He blew on it, and satisfied that the signature was dry, lifted the scroll to show all.
"That is satisfactory," said Smith solemnly.
"How many years are we indentured for this time?" Remo asked nobody in particular.
"One," said Smith.
"Too long," said Remo.
Solemnly, Chiun rolled the parchment up and tied it with a gold ribbon, signifying a sealed contract. He extended this to Smith, who took it and tucked it in his coat.
A silence followed. Chiun looked to Smith with expectant features.
Smith looked back, a growing puzzlement on his thin face. He tested the knot of his tie. He swallowed. He checked his glasses to see that they were pushed back as far as they could go-the way he liked them.
"He's waiting," Remo hinted.
"For what?" Smith breathed.
"It's only a guess, but I'd say the deed."
Chiun's tight smile quirked.
"Definitely the deed," Remo said.
"Ah," said Smith. From another pocket, he extracted a folded group of papers. He extended these. Chiun accepted them.
The Master of Sinanju fell to studying these at great length while Smith shifted position to encourage circulation in his stiffening legs.
"All is satisfactory," Chiun pronounced at last.
Smith started to rise.
"It will be an honor if you would pass the night in our new abode," said Chiun.
"Really, I must be returning to Folcroft."
"It is customary," said Chiun.
"That means do it or hear about it the rest of your natural life," Remo translated.
"Very well," said Harold W. Smith, trying to sound grateful, but instead coming across as constipated.
Chiun beamed. "A wonderful meal will be prepared in your honor."
"Better make that takeout," said Remo. "No stove. No food."
Chiun clapped delicate hands together, producing a report so sharp it should have shattered his fingerbones. "Remo! Quickly-purchase these things."
"I don't think we can get same-day delivery."
"Tell the merchants that these items are to make a sumptuous meal for Emperor Harold Smith, the secret ruler of this gracious land."
Smith looked horrorstruck. "Please do not say that, Remo!" he croaked.
"Don't sweat it, Smitty. Rubber walls don't appeal to me right now. Although they might suit me fine if Cheeta moves in."
"And a television device," Chiun added. "A large one, for within hours, beauteous Cheeta Ching will dispense wisdom and grace upon this generous land."
"Maybe this is a good time to clear the air," Remo suggested.
"You may clear the air after you have cooked Emperor Smith a feast suitable for his regal belly," Chiun countered.
"Cook! I'm the errand boy. Who says I gotta cook, too?"
"Your conscience."
"Huh?"
"Your conscience so says. Are you not listening to it, Remo?"
"No, I am not. I want to talk about Cheeta Ching, her biscuit in the oven, and our future."
"Remo is correct, Master Chiun," said Smith. "I know this is a delicate matter, but it would not be wise to invite Cheeta Ching to cohabitate with you."
Chiun blew out his cheeks at the rude American word. He held his tongue, however.
"I intend no such thing," he said stiffly.
"Good," said Smith.
"Great," said Remo.
"Cheeta the Graceful is a married woman. I will not cohabitate with her. That is her husband's happy duty."
"Great," said Remo.
"Wonderful," said Smith.