“Don’t you understand the telegram now, sir?” Masters held it out. “They have been away, but now they are back in England.” “Was that the letter this morning?” “Yes! Read it.” Sir John was plainly overcome. “I’m sure it’s a joke,” he muttered over and over again. “It can’t be true. The thing’s impossible.” All that day work was at a standstill. Hector alone saw to the bodily requirements of the men, and meals as usual were served at their proper times. “They will be here for the trial,” whispered Sir John excitedly. “Oh my God!” and the old man burst into tears. His grief at the loss of his two nephews had been so great, his affection for them so sincere that he could scarcely realize that in some miraculous way they still lived. “Will you meet the train?” asked Masters as they retired for the night. “Yes! Yes! Of course! Take the large car. Are you sure everything is ready for them? You see there will be a lady, too. Desmond’s wife—my niece.” “Everything is quite all right. We have made the place quite comfortable—we will occupy the two rooms there, and that will leave three bedrooms in the cottage free. Yours, Mr. Alan’s, and the largest, at the front, for Mr. Desmond and his wife.” “Splendid, Masters, splendid.” It was a glorious, late September morning when the Scotch express steamed in. Alan was out of the train first. “Uncle,” said he, “dear old uncle.” “My boy—my boy! How are you? Oh, how you have changed! Desmond, my boy, welcome home!” “This is Mavis, Uncle John.” Sir John held her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. She could see that suffering had left its mark on the old man’s face, so she impetuously flung her arm round his neck and kissed him. “Uncle John,” she whispered. “I’ve heard so much about you from Desmond and Alan. I’ve been just longing to come home—to you!” It was a very merry party that drove home to Dalmyrnie. “Eat your breakfasts,” commanded Uncle John. “You shall tell me your story afterwards. But have a good meal first.” After breakfast, they sat in the old-world garden, among the trees—Sir John and Masters, the two boys and Mavis, and their wonderful story was told. Desmond began by telling how he was caught by the Light, omitting nothing, and Alan concluded the story. “Now here is the papyrus and here are the jewels and the censer. These, I think, will prove the truth of our strange story.” “And you mean to say there is a race of people living in the centre of the Earth?” “Yes, indeed, where we have been actually living for the past few years.” “They are actually descended from Korah, Abiram and Dathan?” “Yes, as I told you, they still speak a patois Hebrew—they possess a copy of part of the Pentateuch—they worship the God of the old Testament, Jehovah, the great ‘I am’.” “And yet you say they are savage?”