Abdallah regarded him with a gaze that was stolid and unrecognizing. The room in which he stood was large and circular. Floors and walls were of the whitest marble, and from the roof light and air were supplied. There were two couches in the room, and a divan ran about one of its sides. There was no door or entrance visible—nothing but the unvarying white walls and flooring.

“Stranger,” said Ai, in his mellow voice, speaking English in fluent tones, “Why hast thou dared to uncover the mysteries of centuries? Art thou weary of life that thou hast dared to trifle with Nature’s secrets? Scarce an alien foot has traversed this land since six thousand years have passed. Art thou weary of living?” As he asked the last question, Charlie felt a chill of apprehension. This man, with his strange garb, his dark complexion, his deep eyes and mystic smile, was to be feared and reverenced. Summoning up all his sang froid and determination not to give in to his fears, he replied,—

“We came to find old things, that we may impart our knowledge to the people of our land, who are eager to know the beginning of all things. I come of a race bold and venturesome, who know not fear if we can get a few more dollars and fresh information.”

“I have heard of your people,” replied Ai, with a mysterious sparkle in his eyes. “They are the people who count it a disgrace to bear my color; is it not so?”

“Great Scott!” thought Charlie, turning mental somersaults to find an answer that would placate the dignitary before him. “Is it possible that the ubiquitous race question has got ahead of the expedition! By mighty, it’s time something was done to stop this business. Talk of Banquo’s ghost! Banquo ain’t in it if this is the race question I’m up against.” Aloud he said, “My venerable and esteemed friend, you could get there all right with your complexion in my country. We would simply label you ‘Arab, Turk, Malay or Filipino,’ and in that costume you’d slide along all right; not the slightest trouble when you showed your ticket at the door. Savee?” He finished with a profound bow.

Ai eyed him sadly for a moment, and then said,—

“O, flippant-tongued offspring of an ungenerous people, how is it with my brother?” and he took Jim’s unresisting hand and led him up to Charlie. “Crisp of hair,” and he passed his hand softly over Jim’s curly pate. “Black of skin! How do you treat such as this one in your country?”

Charlie felt embarrassed in spite of his assurance. “Well, of course, it has been the custom to count Africans as our servants, and they have fared as servants.”