"These Egyptologists," he said, "they amuse me! Dissolve them all in a giant test-tube, and the keenest analysis must fail to detect one single grain of imagination!" His words aroused Sheard's curiosity, but the lateness of the hour precluded the possibility of any discussion upon the subject. When, shortly, Severac Bablon made his departure, he paused at the gate and proffered his hand, which Sheard took without hesitation. "Good-night--or, rather, good-morning!" he said smilingly. "We shall meet again very soon!" The other, too tired to wonder what his words might portend, returned to the house, and, lingering only to scrawl a note that he was not to be awakened at the usual time, hastened to bed. As he laid his weary head upon the pillow the cold grey of dawn was stealing in at the windows and brushing out the depths of night's blacker shadows. It was noon when Sheard awoke--to find his wife gently shaking him. He sat up with a start. "What is it, dear?" "A messenger boy. Will you sign for the letter?" But half awake, he took the pencil and signed. Then, sleepily, he tore open the envelope and read as follows. "DEAR MR. SHEARD,-- "You were tired last night, so I did not further weary you with a discourse upon Egyptology; moreover, I had a matter of urgency to attend to; but you may remember I hinted that the initiated look beyond Brugsch. "I should be indebted if you could possibly arrange to call upon Sir Leopold Jesson in Hamilton Place at half-past four. You will find him at home. It is important that you take a friend with you. In your Press capacity, desire him to show you his celebrated collection of pottery. Seize the opportunity to ask him for a subscription (not less than L10,000) towards the re-opening of the closed ward of Sladen Hospital. He will decline. Offer to accept, instead, the mahogany case which he has in his smaller Etruscan urn. When you have secured this, decide to accept a cheque also. Arrange to be alone in your study at 12.40 to-night. "By the way, although Brugsch's book is elementary, there is something more behind it. Look into the matter.--S.B." This singular communication served fully to arouse Sheard, and, refreshed by his bath, he sat down to a late breakfast. Propping the letter against the coffee-pot, he read and re-read every line of the small, neat, and oddly square writing. The more he reflected upon it the more puzzled he grew. It was a link with the fantastic happenings of the night, and, as such, not wholly welcome.