whistle, buried my hands in my pockets, fixed Hugh with my most professional eye, and said:
"You are absolutely and unmistakably cracked, Girlie!"
He came up to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and looked at me. I have said it before, he was a man of boundless influence over his fellow-creatures, whenever he chose to exert it.
"Come and look at the papyrus," he said.
"D the papyrus. The whole thing is too preposterous for words."
He said very simply, "Why?"
"Because.… Because.… Damn it, Hugh," I said very crossly … and … I went to have a look at the papyrus.
It was still very fragmentary, of course, as in places quite large pieces were missing, but certain passages were peculiarly clear; for instance, the part which described the way the wandering hordes of Egypt took when in search of a home.
"You see, they wandered down the Nile," explained Hugh, eagerly, showing me the drawing of the river and of the multitude following its course; "and then it was that from the lonely spot where the Greek scribe lay buried they went forth towards the west."
"That is a mere surmise," I objected.
"The scribe says, 'Let me be buried there where I found the papyrus!' and later, 'I stood upon the spot, and I, too, shot my arrow into the heart of Osiris,' etc. Osiris is the sun, and a figure shooting an arrow is one of the simplest hieroglyphics known, meaning a perfectly straight course."
"Yes! and here," I exclaimed suddenly, "is the figure shooting an arrow at the setting sun."
In spite of myself a very little of Hugh's enthusiasm
