I strained my eyes to catch the last words, for the darkness was already setting down upon the desert; and I was profoundly interested. "Wonderful!" I said, as I returned her the document. "A papyrus, of course?" "Yes, one of several. Father found it seven years ago at Dier el Batiri." "I had not heard." Sir Robert coughed. "No," said he, "nor anyone else. I have never published it. It did not come to me in the usual way. I bought it from an Arab who had rifled the tomb in which it was discovered." "And the other papyri and the ivory stele?" I questioned. "They are in my possession, too." "They enabled you doubtless to locate the real tomb that holds the body?" "They helped." Then silence supervened. To me it was filled with wonder. I could not help asking myself what circumstances could possibly have induced Ottley to withhold so valuable an historic treasure for so many years from the world. Such a course of action was utterly opposed to all practice, and the unwritten but immutable laws of scientific research. It seemed strangely at odds, too, with the man's reputed character. It would have covered him with glory to have placed his discovery before the Society to which we both belonged. And a dozen incidents related of him far and wide, proved that he was not indifferent to praise and fame. He read my thoughts probably, for at length he cleared his throat and spoke. "There were reasons why I should not blazon the find abroad," he said. "No doubt," I observed, with unintentioned dryness. "One papyrus speaks of a golden treasure," he went on quietly. "If published, it would have set thousands looking for the tomb. In that case the chances are that the body of Ptahmes would have been destroyed by some vandal intent solely on pillage." "You assumed a great responsibility," I remarked. I simply had to say it, for I was angry, and his explanation appeared puerile to me. "Do you dispute my right?" he demanded coldly. I shrugged my shoulders. "It is not for me to say, Sir Robert. Doubtless when the time comes you will be able to satisfy the Society and the world that you have acted rightly." "I admit no responsibility," he answered; "and permit me to observe that you are talking nonsense. I owe no duty to communicate the results of my purchases or discoveries to any Society or to the world." "True, Sir Robert. An action for damages could not lie against you." "Sir!" he cried. "Father," said Miss Ottley, "how can Dr. Pinsent's foolish sarcasm affect you? Besides, we need his Arabs." "Quite so," said Sir Robert. "We need his Arabs. How brightly the stars shine to-night, Dr. Pinsent."