Gray hesitated, feeling the cool gaze of the girl on him. Should he buy the parchment it would be useless to him, as he could not interpret the writing. On the other hand, if he let Sir Lionel have it, the parchment might prove an aid to the English expedition. This, naturally, he was bound to prevent. "I will buy it," he concluded, and added quickly, "as a curio." "To add to your big game trophies?" asked Mary Hastings calmly. While he tried to think of an answer, Sir Lionel handed him the parchment. "It might serve as a curio, Captain Gray. But, in all fairness, I must warn you. The writing is a counterfeit, cleverly done. You see, it is my life's business to know the ancient languages of Central Asia. This is adapted from some inscription which Muhammed Bai has doubtless seen. The parchment is skillfully colored to appear aged. But the black ink is freshly laid on." Gray smiled grimly, while the Turkoman stared at the white men, endeavoring to guess what they were saying. "And these bits of silver?" The American motioned to the relics that lay on the rug. "Are worthless, except--as curios. Being a hunter, Captain Gray, I presume the authenticity of the objects will not affect your desire to purchase them." Sir Lionel spoke dryly, and the girl scrutinized him with frank amusement. "My uncle has heard of Muhammed Bai," she volunteered. "He is an old impostor who makes a living selling false manuscripts to travelers in Khotan and Kashgar. Perhaps he had heard we were coming to Ansichow. I rather think your precious Kirghiz is in league with Muhammed Bai." Mirai Khan caught the drift of what she said--having a slight knowledge of English, and retired discreetly to the bazaar alley. Gray reflected on the curious ethics of Central Asia which permitted a servant to take money from his master by trickery, while he still served him faithfully. It was one of the riddles of Asian ethics--which he had encountered before. He knew that the girl was probably right. He tossed down the money for the parchment and pocketed it, as he had said that he would buy it. Sir Lionel checked him, as he rose. "That manuscript is--interesting," he observed thoughtfully. "Because Muhammed Bai must have had a model to copy this writing from. The characters resemble Sanscrit slightly, but they suggest Tokharian, with which this man can not be acquainted." He turned on the blinking merchant sharply. "Tell me, writer of false missives," he said in Turki, "from what did you copy these letters?" There was something eager and threatening in the face of the tall Englishman that choked off Muhammed Bai's denial. "It is as I said, Excellency. The writings were found in the desert." "Where?" "A week's ride from here, to the west." "Near Sungan--eh? How did you find them?" The Turkoman was sullenly silent. Sir Lionel dropped a coin on the rug. It was gold.