He was reputed to be the agent of an individual or a syndicate in Egypt, and it was rumoured that his activities had more than once attracted official attention. Certainly, he had been the medium through which many rare antiquities had reached collections of wealthy connoisseurs, and indeed, more than one public institution. John Cumberland’s museum had been enriched by not a few items obtained in this way. And since the export of such antiques was contrary to the laws of the Egyptian government, and their importation subject to a heavy tax by that of the United States, it was only reasonable to suppose that Danbazzar was a smuggler. But he was master of his subject, a fact to which the names of his patrons testified. His nationality was unknown. “It is some years since we have met,” John Cumberland pursued, “On the last occasion, if I remember rightly, you brought me----” He pointed to a very beautiful enamelled casket enclosed in a glass case. “Correct,” Danbazzar nodded. “There are only two of that period in existence, and the other is in the Louvre. I had the honour to supply it to France, as I told you at the time of our deal.” “Yes, I remember,” said John Cumberland. “And now, Barry--” turning to his son--“I have been given first refusal of a proposition which, if it matures, will win me a place among the _real_ Egyptologists; let me in on the ground floor, in fact.” Danbazzar raised his hand, checking the speaker. “One moment, Mr. Cumberland,” he interrupted, and turned to Barry, fixing upon him a penetrating glance from his extraordinary eyes. “You quite understand that what you are about to hear must not be mentioned in any shape or form to anyone now outside this room?” “Quite,” said Barry, almost startled by the intensity of the speaker’s gaze. “You may rely upon me.” He glanced at his father, and realized that he was labouring under the influence of intense excitement. His voice, his colour, his movements betrayed him. Enthusiastic though John Cumberland had always been upon this subject, Barry could never remember to have seen him quite so roused before. He felt, suddenly, that he stood upon the verge of something momentous. The shadow of Ancient Egypt at last was reaching out to touch him. He experienced a momentary shrinking, followed by a thrill of anticipation, communicated, possibly, from father to son. “I have seen a papyrus to-night, Barry,” John Cumberland went on, “which even my limited study of the subject”--he acknowledged with a smile Danbazzar’s gesture of denial--“shows me to be unique. You shall see it presently, if you wish--that is, with my friend’s consent.” Consent was given in a gracious gesture.