was closed, giving the whole structure the appearance of a rectangular wooden shoe.
M. Le Mesge knelt and fastened on the lower part of the case, a square of white cardboard, a large label, that he had picked up from his desk, a few minutes before, on leaving the library.
"You may read," he said simply, but still in the same low tone.
I knelt also, for the light of the great candelabra was scarcely sufficient to read the label where, none the less, I recognized the Professor's handwriting.
It bore these few words, in a large round hand:
"Number 53. Major Sir Archibald Russell. Born at Richmond, July 5, 1860. Died at Ahaggar, December 3, 1896."
I leapt to my feet.
"Major Russell!" I exclaimed.
"Not so loud, not so loud," said M. Le Mesge. "No one speaks out loud here."
"The Major Russell," I repeated, obeying his injunction as if in spite of myself, "who left Khartoum last year, to explore Sokoto?"