fir tree: the two leaves of the one door _were_ folding,and the two leaves of the other door _were_ folding. And he carved_thereon_ cherubims and palm trees and open flowers: and covered themwith gold fitted upon the carved work.'"
"I looked up the reference in Ezekiel," remarked Frank, "but I could notunderstand it. Perhaps, you, Professor, may be able to throw some lightupon it?"
The old man turned to the speaker, and held up his thin, almost waxenhands.
"How can I?" he asked with an air of bewilderment well feigned. "Howcan I possibly? The latter half of this fragment of scribble is a merecopy of a verse out of the Old Testament, and seems to have nothingwhatever to do with the theory--whatever it may be--expounded in theupper part of the page."
"Then what is your candid opinion, dad?" asked Gwen, placing her handsoftly upon her father's shoulder again as she stood behind him, and atthe same time turning her eyes affectionately upon the tall,good-looking, young man at her side.
"My candid opinion, my dear," grunted the old Professor, "is that it isone of the many extraordinary theories we have had of hare-brainedpersons who have gained a smattering of Hebrew, and believe themselvesto have discovered some very wonderful secret. To put it bluntly,Gwen--the whole thing is bunkum!"
The young man said nothing. His spirits fell. Of course, he hadexpected the Professor, in the habit of all scholars, to throw coldwater upon Doctor Diamond's suggestion, but he was hardly prepared forsuch a drastic dismissal of the subject.
"Well," he exclaimed at last, "I don't wish you to come to any prematureconclusion, Professor. You have really not had sufficient opportunityyet of thoroughly investigating the affair, have you?"
"No. That's quite true. I--well--I'd like to keep these scraps for aday, or say a couple of days--if I might, my dear Frank. I'll be mostcareful of them, I promise you, and they shall not leave my possession.As a matter of fact," he added, "Ginsberg from Berlin happens to be inLondon, and I'm extremely anxious to show them to him, and hear hisviews."
Frank Farquhar was a smart young man, and in a second realised danger inthis.
"I fear, Professor, that I cannot allow you to show them to ProfessorGinsberg. I made a promise to Diamond that they should be shown only toyourself."
"Very well, very well," laughed the Professor, "if you care to trustthem with me till the day after to-morrow I will promise to show them tonobody. I only wish to study the extraordinary statement myself, andconsult certain original Hebrew texts."
At first Frank was reluctant, remembering his promise to Doctor Diamond.But at Gwen's persuasion he was induced to leave them to be locked upin the old-fashioned oak bureau at the further end of the cosy room.The three then passed into the small drawing-room on the same floor,where Gwen, at her lover's request, sat at the piano and sang in hersweet contralto several pretty French _chansonettes_ which she hadlearnt.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
PRESENTS ANOTHER CURIOUS PROBLEM.
In the solution of a problem such as that placed before ProfessorGriffin, knowledge meant power.
Though he had successfully concealed his excitement he had, truth totell, learnt much from the perusal of those charred papers--much thatheld him in utter amazement. A theory had presented itself of which noone had ever before dreamed.
He had derided the manuscript as a clumsy story by some half-educatedperson. But, within himself, he knew quite well that the problem hadbeen propounded and the suggestion made by some person equally well-readas himself, some Hebrew scholar of highest attainment, if not of higheststanding. Alas, in these days of impudent self-advertisement, it is notthe cleverest man who is the most notable, or who looms largest in thepublic eye. The same rule applies to Professors of Hebrew, as to men inevery other walk of life.
That night, after Frank had left and Gwen had kissed him good-night andgone to her room, he sat for over an hour, smoking his long pipe insilence at his study fireside. He had resolved that he would be thefirst to reveal the startling secret to the world. Yes. He would writean article in the _Contemporary_, and he knew full well that words,coming from such a high authority as himself, would be quoted by almostevery newspaper in the whole civilised globe.
It was astounding--never before in the whole history of the world hadsuch a wonderful discovery been made. The Christian religion would beshaken to its very foundations--not weakened, be it said, but actuallystrengthened a thousandfold.
He laughed aloud as he sat with his pipe in his hand, his eyes cast downupon the bright red hearthrug.
"What would the Bishops of the Anglican Church, the Cardinals of theRomish Church, the Rabbis of the Jewish Synagogues and all the otherheads of our religion give for possession of this secret which is mine--mine only!" he exclaimed, speaking to himself in a low whisper. "Whatwould men in the city, the financiers, speculators, and thethousand-and-one varieties of money `sharks' give me to reveal the truthto them. The truth?" he repeated thoughtfully. "The truth? No. Ihave not yet got at the actual truth. To discover it will be my workto-morrow. And I will not pause for a single instant until all isplain, and I have the secret open and revealed."
Again he hesitated, smoking on in silence, his brow heavy andthoughtful, for he had taken off his glasses and placed them in theirbig, bulky case.
"Two men, this fellow Diamond, whoever he may be, and Frank Farquharstand between myself and the secret!" he muttered to himself with agrin. Then he rose impatiently and snapped his fingers. "They shallnot stand in my way for long," he laughed. "The secret is mine--it isin _my_ possession!"
The Professor rose early next day, as was his habit.
As he sat at the breakfast table, Gwen who looked bright and fresh inher neat white blouse and plain navy serge skirt, noticed that he wasunusually silent and morose. They were devoted to each other, but atsuch times when her father, rendered irritable by his studies, betrayedimpatience she always remained silent.
"I've asked Frank over to luncheon, dad," she ventured at last toremark.
Whereupon the old man replied in a snappy voice: "I fear I shall not bebade. I'm going along to the Museum, and may be there all day. I havea number of researches to make. Apologise for my absence."
Gwen promised to do this; but instead, an hour later, she sent her lovera wire, suggesting that, as the Professor would be absent, they shouldlunch together at Princes', which idea the young man gladly adopted.
At eleven Professor Griffin, descending from a cab, entered a smalloffice in Oxford Street, the office of a firm of photographers whosespecialty is the reproducing of ancient documents for the officialpublications of the British Museum, the Paleographical Society andsimilar institutions. To the manager, he produced the carefullypreserved scraps of typewriting and manuscript, and ordered photographicreproductions to be made with as great a speed as possible.
The manager examined the charred folios closely, and declared that thework would be useless for reproduction in any journal or magazine.
"I don't want them for that purpose," was Griffin's reply.
"We'll do them as clearly as possible on whole plates, Professor," wasthe man's reply, "but they will not come out very satisfactorily, Ifear."
"As long as I can decipher them easily is all I care," replied the olderman. "I shall call for the originals at four o'clock."
"We will have finished with them by that time, sir. I will send themdown to the studio at Acton."
"And take the utmost care of them please," urged the Professor.
"We are used, as you know, sir, to handling the most valuablemanuscripts in the world. The Museum give us all their work, and weoften have, in our safes, manuscripts worth thousands of pounds each,"replied the manager.
A sudden thought occurred to Griffin, and taking from the table thescrap of writing upon the ruled paper, he held it up to the light toexamine its watermark. The design was at once apparent--the head of alady of the seventeenth century with hair dressed in the style ofCharles the First, low-cut bodice, puffed sle
eves, and a necklet ofpearls, while above the words placed in a semi-circle was "SevignePaper."
"H'm," grunted the old man, "evidently one of those imitation Englishpapers, made in France. Well, Macdonald, get as good results as you canfrom the scraps, won't you?"
The photographer's manager, who knew Griffin well, and who had oftenphotographed Hebrew and Greek manuscripts for him, assured him that thevery greatest care should be taken in the work.
Thereupon, the Professor rose and left, urging that the originals shouldbe returned from Acton well before four o'clock.
In his thick and somewhat shabby overcoat and soft felt hat, he walkedthrough the drizzling rain to the British Museum, where, as he entered,the