The Senior Partner nodded politely. "Yes—very true. But, as diamonds are found in so few places perhaps you will tell us, just to gratify a natural curiosity, what kind of a region you have discovered—the general nature of the country."
"The nature of the country?" Cyrus Alton repeated. Then, lowering his eyes, as if better to recall the scene, he hesitated for a moment. "The nature of the country," he again repeated, and his manner became serious. "No tree, nor bush, nor blade of grass is there; no living thing of any kind: no birds—nor air to fly in;—not a drop of water. The surface of the earth—no, not earth for there is no earth—is stone—and ashes. 'Tis a cinder—the mummy of a world: an unending necropolis. Once it was thickly populated. Now it is the Land of Death, and deader than Death itself. Not even a memory is there, for those who might remember have been dead uncounted ages. They themselves are long since forgotten."
On the faces of his little audience Cyrus saw a mild bewilderment—and curiosity.
"You say we have all heard of this country?" asked the Senior Partner.
"Yes, and you have seen it—from a distance."
"Are you sure," said William, "that we have all seen it?"
"Yes, absolutely sure."
"And we have probably been there?"
"No—I think not."