as exposed to the action of the air. In five or
six minutes there was literally nothing left of it but a wisp of hair,
the skull, and a few of the larger bones. I noticed that one of the
tibiae--I forget if it was the right or the left--had been fractured and
very badly set. It must have been quite an inch shorter than the other.

"Well, there was nothing more to find, and now that the excitement was
over, what between the heat, the exertion, and the smell of mummy dust
and spices, I felt more dead than alive.

"I am tired of writing, and this ship rolls. This letter, of course,
goes overland, and I am coming by 'long sea,' but I hope to be in London
within ten days after you get it. Then I will tell you of my pleasing
experiences in the course of the ascent from the tomb-chamber, and of
how that prince of rascals, Ali Baba, and his thieves tried to frighten
me into handing over the papyri, and how I worsted them. Then, too, we
will get the rolls deciphered. I expect that they only contain the usual
thing, copies of the 'Book of the Dead,' but there _may_ be something
else in them. Needless to say, I did not narrate this little adventure
in Egypt, or I should have had the Boulac Museum people on my track.
Good-bye, 'Mafish Fineesh,' as Ali Baba always said."

In due course, my friend, the writer of the letter from which I have
quoted, arrived in London, and on the very next day we paid a visit to
a learned acquaintance well versed in Hieroglyphics and Demotic writing.
The anxiety with which we watched him skilfully damping and unfolding
one of the rolls and peering through his gold-rimmed glasses at the
mysterious characters may well be imagined.

"Hum," he said, "whatever it is, this is _not_ a copy of the 'Book of
the Dead.' By George, what's this? Cle--Cleo--Cleopatra----Why, my dear
Sirs, as I am a living man, this is the history of somebody who lived
in the days of Cleopatra, _the_ Cleopatra, for here's Antony's name with
hers! Well, there's six months' work before me here--six months, at
the very least!" And in that joyful prospect he fairly lost control of
himself, and skipped about the room, shaking hands with us at intervals,
and saying "I'll translate--I'll translate it if it kills me, and
we will publish it; and, by the living Osiris, it shall drive every
Egyptologist in Europe mad with envy! Oh, what a find! what a most
glorious find!"

And O you whose eyes fall upon these pages, see, they have been