"Alfieri was assistant curator of a museum at Naples when the Italian occupation of Erythrea led to his appointment as government archeologist in this territory," she said. "My husband was in charge of the Red Sea cable at that time, and Signor Giuseppe Alfieri was a friend of ours. An Arab named Abdullah El Jaridiah, grubbing among old tombs for curios, came across a roll of papyri. He sold it to Alfieri for a few francs, and Alfieri gave it to my husband." She paused; she was not a woman who said too much. "I take it that Alfieri knew no Greek?" said Mr. Fenshawe, with a touch of irony that was not lost on the lady. "He certainly failed to appreciate its importance," was the quiet response. "My husband deciphered most of the narrative, but he, in his turn, had no knowledge of hieroglyphics, and, as you are aware, many of the words and figures are contained in ovals, or cartouches, and written in Egyptian characters. He would have learnt their meaning from some other source, but he--died--very suddenly. An accident caused Alfieri to suspect the value of the papyrus, and he asked me to return it. Unfortunately, I led him to believe that I would meet his wish, but Baron von Kerber, who, as you know, was medical officer to a German mission to King Menelek, came to my assistance at the time, and I told him of my husband's views with regard to the portion he had translated. Baron von Kerber read the hieroglyphics, though he had to wait nearly a year before he could obtain expert advice as to the accuracy of his rendering. Meanwhile, Signor Alfieri and I had quarreled. I may as well tell you that he was pestering me to marry him, and I grew to hate the man. Then I returned to England, and a friend suggested that I should endeavor to interest you. Now you have the whole story, so far as I am concerned in it." "If that is so, it would have been better had you taken me into your confidence at the outset," said Fenshawe. "Alfieri was using threats. I feared the loss of your co-operation if a melodramatic element were introduced." "But are not you and Baron von Kerber, and, as it would seem, your Italian admirer also, attributing an absurdly fictitious value to the find? People do not pay high prices for old coins merely because they are historic. I have always regarded this treasure-trove as purely antiquarian in its interest. It may contain some vessels or statuettes worth money; but to what extent? Certainly not such fabulous sums as you appear to imagine." Mrs. Haxton smiled sourly. "We are dealing in candor," she cried. "Pray complete your confession, Baron von Kerber." The Austrian did not abandon his dejected pose, but he took up the parable readily.