Fenshawe bent over the table, and asked Royson to go through the papyri with him, comparing the Greek, word for word, with the translation. He himself was able to decipher the hieroglyphs, but the details and measurements they gave might be dismissed as unreliable. Depending, however, on the context, and having ascertained from Abdur Kad'r that the seven small lava hills at Moses's Well stood in an irregular circle near the oasis, it was a reasonable deduction that the Romans had selected a low-lying patch of sand or gravel somewhere in the center of the group as a suitable hiding-place for their loot. It might be assumed that Aelius Gallus meant to sail down the Red Sea again, within a year at the utmost, and recover the spoil when his galleys were there to receive it. Therefore, he would not dig too deeply, nor, in the straits to which he was reduced, would he waste many hours on the task. Fenshawe infected Dick with his own ardor. The two were puzzling over each turn and twist of the Greek adventurer's awkward phrases when Irene, who had gone out with Stump, interrupted them. "Dick," she said, blushing poppy red because she used his familiar name, "you must go and rest at once. I am sure, grandad, you don't want Mr. Royson to break down a second time, do you? And I would like both of you to know that Baron von Kerber took with him no pickaxes. Captain Stump and I have just checked our stock. That seems to be in his favor, I think?" "If I have done von Kerber an injustice I shall be the first to ask his pardon," said Fenshawe. "At present, I have every cause to doubt the man's motives in leaving us, and I want more than negative proof to acquit him of dishonesty. By the way, Irene, have you told Royson of his good fortune?" "I have hardly spoken two words to him since he arrived," said she innocently. "Dear me! That sounds like a strong hint," and Fenshawe very considerately left the two alone. Tired as Dick was, the best part of an hour elapsed before Irene could explain fully that he was now a baronet, with a reasonably large income, or he could make her understand exactly why he was a somewhat frayed out-of-work when they met in London. Perhaps there were interludes and interruptions. Perhaps he thought that the limpid depths of her brown eyes offered more attractions than the sordid records of a foolish man's spite and a boy's sufferings. At any rate, it was Irene who finally insisted that this must positively be the last, and who threatened that she would not speak to him again that day if he stirred out of his tent before dinner. And, indeed, Dick required no rocking when, after a refreshing wash, he stretched his long limbs in his hammock. His sleep was dreamless. He awoke at sundown strong in the conviction that he had hardly closed his eyes. He and Stump shared the tent, and Dick's uncertain gaze first dwelt on his skipper, who was seated at the door, smoking. Stump removed his pipe from between his teeth: