tion I stooped hastily and attempted to smooth out the
mortal dust which bore the imprint of my heel. But the fine powder
flaked my glove, and, looking about for something to compose the ashes
with, I picked up a papyrus scroll. Perhaps he himself had written on
it; nobody can ever know, and I used it as a sort of hoe to scrape him
together and smooth him out on the stones."

The young man drew a yellowish roll of paper-like substance from his
pocket and laid it on the table.

"This is the same papyrus," he said. "I had forgotten that I carried it
away with me until I found it in my shooting coat while packing to sail
for New York."

The Tracer of Lost Persons reached over and picked up the scroll. It was
flexible still, but brittle; he opened it with great care, considered
the strange figures upon it for a while, then turned almost sharply on
his visitor.

"Go on," he said.

And Burke went on:

"The candle was burning low; I lighted two more, placing them at her
head and feet on the edges of the stone couch. Then, lighting a third
candle, I stood beside the couch and looked down at the dead girl under
her veil-like robe, set with golden stars."

He passed his hand wearily over his hair and forehead.

"I do not know what the accepted meaning of beauty may be if it was not
there under my eyes. Flawless as palest amber ivory and rose, the
smooth-flowing contours melted into exquisite symmetry; lashes like
darkest velvet rested on the pure curve of the cheeks; the closed lids,
the mouth still faintly stained with color, the delicate nose, the full,
childish lips, sensitive, sweet, resting softly upon each other--if
these were not all parts of but one lovely miracle, then there is no
beauty save in a dream of Paradise. . . .

"A gold band of linked scarabs bound her short, thick hair straight
across the forehead; thin scales of gold fell from a necklace, clothing
her breasts in brilliant discolored metal, through which ivory-tinted
skin showed. A belt of pure, soft gold clasped her body at the waist;
gold-edged sandals clung to her little feet.

"At first, when the stunned surprise had subsided, I thought that I was
looking upon some miracle of ancient embalming, hitherto unknown. Yet,
in the smooth skin there was no slit to prove it, no opening in any vein
or artery, no mutilation of this sculptured masterpiece of the Most
High, no cerements, no bandages, no gilded carven case with painted face
to stare open e