“Of what does it consist?”
“I have fourteen rolls of ancient papyrus manuscript.”
“Fourteen rolls?” cried Winston, trembling with sudden excitement. “Let me see them, man—let me see them!”
Kāra did not move.
“I am going to Cairo,” said he. “Will you take me with you in your boat?”
“Yes; to be sure. Come to the boat at once.”
“That is better,” declared the Egyptian. “You can then examine the papyri at your leisure and determine whether they are of interest to you.”
He slowly arose to his feet and swung the sack across his shoulder. Winston eagerly preceded him. The stifling heat was all forgotten. Hatatcha’s unfortunate death was forgotten. A treasure had been unearthed at last, and surely from fourteen manuscripts much important information might be gleaned.
On the deck of his dahabeah he glanced at the papyri with amazement. Each one was perfectly preserved and unrolled without danger of breaking.
“Their condition is extraordinary!” he observed. “Where, did you say, you found them?”