He was a fair man of uncertain age, but could not be more than twenty-
eight. He wore his flaxen hair rather long and ill-kempt; his face might
have been handsome, but the flesh was white and flaccid; the features,
though regular, devoid of character; the blue eyes had so little
expression that a professed physiognomist would have found difficulty in
'placing' their possessor. His black clothes were shiny with age; his
gait was shuffling and awkward.
'My name, though it will not convey very much to you, is Frank Carrel. I
am a scholar, an archaeologist, a palaeographer, and--other things
besides.'
'A beggar and a British Museum reader,' was the mental observation of the
Professor. The other seemed to read his thoughts.
'You think I want pecuniary assistance; well, I do.'
'I fear you have come to the wrong person, at the wrong time, and if I
may say so, in the wrong way. I do not like to be disturbed at this
hour. Will you kindly leave me this instant?'
Carrel's manner changed and became more deferential.
'If you will allow me to show you something on which I want your opinion,
something I can leave with you, I will go away at once and come back to-
morrow at any time you name.'
'Very well,' said the Professor, wearily, ready to compromise the matter
for the moment.
From a small bag he was carrying Carrel produced a roll of papyrus. The
Professor's eyes gleamed; he held out his hands greedily to receive it,
fixing a searching, suspicious glance on Carrel.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25