To resume then, after a great while spent in experimenting with the thing which poor Weldon had given me, before the light, I was obliged to confess myself baffled. I then fell back upon my other four senses. I got out a pair of scales and weighed the thing. It weighed exactly seven ounces. Then I smelt it. The thing was odourless. I bit it, but it was tasteless. Yet it yielded to my teeth like stiff rubber or leather. Next I placed it on a sheet of paper and traced its outlines with a pencil. That was the first really definite result I got. The tracing showed a bulbous object four inches wide by five long. It was shaped something like a pear. Its base contained four indentations with corresponding rounded protuberances like knuckles. The apex was ragged. Next I took a knife and with the blade scratched its surface. A moment later a long streak of dark, dry tissue was revealed. I could see it plainly. I shook all over with excitement. The mystery seemed to be clearing up. But even as I took up the knife again I paused, convulsed with a wild, improbable idea. What if?--but there. I held my breath and took the thing before the fire to think its problem out. I sat down. My nerves were all jangled. The fire needed replenishing. It was low and I was cold. I stooped down and heaped on some coal. Then came a thought. I put the thing on a shovel and held it over the grate. Heat! Yes, heat! The greatest of great resolvents. Fool not to have thought of it before. Fool, indeed! One minute--two--three. There was a shadow on the shovel. I bent forward. Instantly my nostrils were assailed with the unforgettable perfume of the tomb of Ptahmes! Ah! the flood of recollections that came surging at its bidding to my brain! But I fought them back. I bent right over the fire--and I made out presently, lying on the shovel, the dim form of a tight-clenched human hand. Chapter XXIII I Set Out for the East