“It’s all right, Pierre,” the Colonel spoke quietly. “What is it you wish?” He turned to the Arab.
“Oh! Sir, if you knew.” The Arab spoke English without a flaw. “You are interested in Egypt, all her past,—”
“Yes, yes, I know, but—”
“It is this.” The man drew something from beneath his robe. Both Sparky and Ramsey half rose in their places, then settled back for, the Arab’s fingers, long and thin, held what appeared to be a roll of paper.
Taking the roll, the Colonel removed the outer layer of green paper, of a peculiar tint, then examined the dull, gray roll beneath.
“Is it papyrus?” he asked.
“Yes, Colonel,” came in a whisper. “From an ancient tomb. It is, I believe, three thousand years old.”
The Colonel made no reply. Instead he took from his pocket a small, powerful magnifying glass.
Mary, who was watching the Arab, saw a sudden look of fear pass over his face. It was little more than a flitting shadow, yet she was to recall it in the days to come.
“Yes,” said the Colonel after a minute examination of the roll, “it is papyrus. Beyond a doubt it is quite old. And I suppose you want to sell it?”