beyond hope of repair. The spearhead was Lombard,
and Lombard, dire reflection to one who had gained fame by maintaining
the contrary, belonged to the West Germanic group of the Teutonic
tongues. Wild thoughts went through his head. He recalled that Paris had
seemed worth a mass, and considered a plenary retraction with a
facsimile publication of the runes. But as he pondered this course the
inexpediency of sacrificing so fair a theory to this mere brute fact
seemed indisputable. He thought also of ascribing the doubled consonant
and the modified vowel to the illiterate blundering of the spearman who
chiselled the letters. But as his fingers traced the sharp and
purposeful strokes he realised that such a contention would be laughed
out of the philological court. For a mad moment he thought of destroying
the miserable bit of iron, but in the first place that was in itself
difficult, and then the chattering lady at his side knew that he was in
possession of a Runic inscription, probably Lombard. She was widely
connected and would certainly babble in the very city where his bitter
rival Professor Anlaut had maintained that Lombard was West Germanic. As
Hauptmann noticed that the road had become deserted, that the dusk had
increased, and that Frauelein Linda's observations on the luckiness of
the "find" were interminable, a homicidal fancy just grazed the border
of his agitated consciousness. But no, that would not do either; the
scientific conscience forbade the destruction of any datum however
embarrassing. Destroy the spearhead he could not, and with a flash of
intuition it came over him that it must simply be lost as promptly and
hopelessly as possible.

But this too was by no means easy. As they strolled down the road, ditch
after ditch in the lower fields presented itself as apt for the purpose,
but never the favourable moment. In fact Frauelein Linda's talk came back
to the accursed runes with exasperating persistency. They would confirm
his theory. She was happy in being present at this auspicious discovery.
It would be a cause wherefore she should not wholly be forgotten. It was
this sentimental hint that gave a reasonable hope of taking her mind off
the runes, and the harassed philologer set himself resolutely to the
task. For her slight advances he found bolder responses, and still
scanning the irrigating ditches closely for an especially oozy bottom, he
expatiated on the loveliness of the afterglow and confirmed