A bell had tinkled at our entrance, but no one came to us, so we wandered down one narrow aisle till we reached the end. And there, at the right, in an alcove hitherto undiscernable, and at an old, worm-eaten desk dimly lighted by an alley window, sat our old friend Ptolemy, writing, and unaware of our approach. It was the same Hiram, we observed, though a little shabbier, perhaps, and scraggier-bearded than of old, but the same little, blinking scientist we had known, in steel-bowed spectacles, scratching away in a rickety office-chair. He was quite oblivious of the eyes upon him, lost, doubtless, in some shadowy passage of Egyptian lore.
I coughed slightly, and he turned about, peering in amazement.
"Miss Primrose! Dr. Weatherby! I do believe!" he exclaimed, and, dropping his pen, staggered up to us and shook our hands, his celluloid cuffs rattling about his meagre wrists and his eyes watering with agitation behind his spectacles.
"You—in New York!" he piped. "I—why, I'm astounded—I'm astounded—but delighted, too—delighted to see you both! But you mustn't stand."
I looked curiously at Letitia as he brought us chairs, setting them beside his desk. She was a little flushed, but very gracious to the little man.
"Miss Primrose," he said, fidgeting about her, "allow me—allow me," offering what seemed to be the stabler of the wooden seats. She had accepted it and was about to sit, when he stopped her anxiously with a cry, "Wait!—wait, I beg of you!" and replaced it with his own. His was an elbow chair whose sagging leathern seat had been reinforced with an old green atlas, its pasteboard cover still faintly decorated with a pictured globe.
Seating himself again beside his desk, he turned to us beaming with an air of host, and listened with many nervous twitchings and furtive glances at Letitia, while I explained our presence there.
"It's a grand journey—a grand journey, Miss Primrose," he declared. "I only wish I were going, too."
"Tell us," said Letitia, kindly, "about The Obelisk. Is the first number ready yet?"
He sat up blithely, wetting his lips, and with that odd mannerism which recalled his visit to Grassy Ford, he touched with one finger the tip of his celluloid collar, and thrust out his chin.