Rachel was running across the hall just before lunch, when in answer to a knock at the front door, the parlourmaid admitted a strange figure, wrapped in a long cloak, one end of which was thrown over the left shoulder. A battered hat almost hid the face of the little old gentleman who entered—but in a flash Rachel remembered him. He was looking at the Rosetta Stone the day she and Miss Moore went to the British Museum! And he had spoken to her—or had she dreamt this? It was curious, but she really couldn’t remember. All she knew at the moment was, that he and the Rosetta Stone were, as she put it, “mixed up together in her mind.” By this time the visitor had taken off his hat, and Rachel, so puzzled and curious that she had stopped short in the middle of the hall, saw a pair of dark eyes in a crinkled, wrinkled face under a fringe of white hair. The old man smiled and held out both hands. “You are Rachel,” he said. “I knew when I saw you last week in the Egyptian gallery, that you must be your father’s daughter.” Rachel felt suddenly shy, and was glad when Aunt Hester came down the stairs and, after a word or two of greeting, led the way straight into the dining-room. At table, during the meal, Rachel sat opposite to the guest, who now and then looked across at her, and every time she met his dark eyes she was puzzled afresh. “You’ll be glad to hear that Rachel is _most_ interested in the British Museum,” said Aunt Hester, presently. “I _am_ glad to hear it,” was all the old man said, but he smiled in such a way as to make Rachel more excited and puzzled than ever. She listened eagerly to what he was saying to Aunt Hester. He was talking about what he called the “explorations” in Egypt, and she gathered from his conversation that men were often sent out by the people who took charge of the British Museum, to dig and explore among the ruins in Egypt and other ancient countries, and to bring back some of the things they found to London. He made the story of these explorers and what they discovered, so exciting, that Aunt Hester, who did not at first seem very curious, began to ask questions. Rachel wanted to ask a great many more, for her head was still full of her strange dream—as she now called it—about Egypt, and it was interesting to know how all the tombs and monuments and statues she had seen last week had found their way to England. “You can run away now, Rachel,” said Aunt Hester, when lunch was over, and Grayson was bringing in coffee. “Don’t let her run very far,” observed Mr. Sheston. “Because I’m going to take her back with me to the Museum in ten minutes.” He said this without looking at her, and Rachel gasped for joy, and glanced imploringly at Aunt Hester, who laughed. “You always _announce_ what you are going to do, I remember,” she declared, speaking to her guest. “You never _ask_.” “A habit of mine,” returned the old gentleman quietly. “Acquired long ago.”