"Nein. Wass there no writing?"
"Not a scrap," said Hammer. "Let's get that boy back here."
The messenger was sent for, but he proved to have left camp without waiting to so much as be fed—a thing unusual, to provoke comment from the other natives.
"Well"—and Dr. Krausz shrugged his shoulders as he rose—"there iss some misstake, or the letter hass been lost. It iss but a trifle. We must get back to work, my friends, for the afternoon iss getting on."
The others rose with a sigh, and they went off together, Hammer stretching out luxuriously on a cot and wondering afresh where this mysterious little ring could have come from, and what the engraving meant. It was irritating, from its very littleness, while the strange conduct of the messenger refused to be explained away.
If the thing had come from Harcourt it would have had some word with it. In any case, what reason would Harcourt have for sending such a thing?
It had probably come from Melindi, however, and Hammer had not the faintest idea of who could have sent it from there.
The odd part of it was that the worth of the ring itself must be far below the cost of the messenger's services, nor was there any apparent reason for the ending of it.
"By Godfrey," thought Hammer suddenly, "I'll send it over to Miss Helmuth!"
Clapping his hands, he sent a boy for Potbelly. Since the Lady Professor was an adept at Arabic to the extent of understanding certain expressions which would hardly bear adequate translation, Hammer saw no reason why she could not decipher the engraving for him.