"No, not at all. But, you see, a compass would be useless where there is no such thing as North and South." "No such thing as North and South!" "No. Nor East and West. The needle would lose its bearings. It wouldn't know where to point." "Oh, come now! Is that a joke? Are we to laugh at it?" Cyrus smiled. "I should not blame you for laughing--but it is not a joke. I am telling the truth." "You mean to say, I suppose, that you had such bad weather--electrical storms, perhaps,--that the needle couldn't work." "No, there was no weather at all." "You mean no bad weather?" "Nor good weather, either." With some impatience William demanded: "Now just what do you mean, Cyrus?" "I mean, that in going and coming, there was no such thing as wind nor rain, nor sunshine. It was all twilight--a dusk that was almost darkness. It was a trackless, uncharted voyage. And not a shore to touch at." "Then you crossed an ocean? It was all by sea?" "No. There was no sea--no water anywhere." This time William made no effort to hide his annoyance. He merely whistled, and walked away, toward the window. "I don't blame you, Billy, for being enraged," and Cyrus also stood up. "But on my honor, I am telling you the truth. And I am willing to tell you anything except the exact location. Later on you will understand my reasons for being so secretive." "Perhaps you can tell us," said Mr. Bressani, "in what surroundings you found it: whether under ground or above." "Above. Just lying on the ground." "My own guess," said William, "from its being already cut, is that some oriental chap either gave it to you or sold it." "No, I found it, entirely by accident--among some ruins." Mr. Bressani's eyebrows again went up. "Ruins of what?" "Of an ancient building--a very, very ancient building." "But covered with earth, I suppose, and overgrown with vines." "No. Not a trace of vegetation anywhere in sight." "It must be a melancholy place." "It is." "But once a city?" "I think so." "The ruins of Palmyra!" exclaimed Mr. Bressani. "They are now a sandy waste." "No; many thousands of miles from Palmyra." "Many thousands of miles! That means a long distance." [Illustration: "BUT ONCE A CITY?"--_Page 208_] "It _is_ a long distance." "Then it can't be any part of Asia, or even India?" "No, sir." "Africa, perhaps?" "No." "A South American diamond?" "No." As Mr. Bressani's ferocious, black eyebrows settled down over his eyes the Senior Partner laughed. "This reminds me of the game of twenty questions. And you are surely the victor, Mr. Alton." But Mr. Bressani was too much in earnest to think of jokes or games. "You say these ruins are very old?" "Yes, sir." "How old? Greek or Roman, perhaps?" "Older than human history." [Illustration: "OLDER THAN HUMAN HISTORY"--_Page 209_] Again the three listeners frowned. With a shade of sarcasm the Senior Partner addressed his nephew: "Mr. Alton has a poet's fancy."