“Right. Now can you translate it?”
Desmond laughed. “Of course not. Can you?”
“I think so,” said Alan confidently.
“What?” almost shouted Desmond in amazement.
“Now,” went on Alan. “You got your first in Theology at Cambridge—translate this”—and he passed Desmond a third slip of paper with other signs on it:
Desmond looked at it carefully. “I’ve almost forgotten,” he commenced. Then—“why it’s Hebrew—Hebrew for Abiram and Dathan!”
“Now I want you to think carefully, Dez,” and Alan placed the two slips of paper on which were written the characters, before him. “Now would you not swear that this,” pointing to the characters copied from the temple, “is a corruption of that?”—pointing to the Hebrew.
“Well it certainly looks as if it might easily be so,” admitted Desmond.
“Now think of the few words we picked up of that hymn to-day. Isn’t it within the bounds of possibility that Har-ju-jar is a corruption of Hallelujah, or Alleluia?”