"Stand to one side. Let the air in. What a smoke!"
He kept on working at the signs.
Suddenly I heard him again, but with difficulty. It seemed as if even
sounds were confused in the smoke.
"Antinea ... At last ... Antinea. But not cut in the rock ... the
marks traced in ochre ... not ten years old, perhaps not five....
Oh!...."
He pressed his hands to his head. Again he cried out:
"It is a mystery. A tragic mystery."