"Of an ancient building--a very, very ancient building."
"But covered with earth, I suppose, and overgrown with vines."
"No. Not a trace of vegetation anywhere in sight."
"It must be a melancholy place."
"It is."
"But once a city?"
"I think so."
"The ruins of Palmyra!" exclaimed Mr. Bressani. "They are now a sandy
waste."
"No; many thousands of miles from Palmyra."
"Many thousands of miles! That means a long distance."
[Illustration: "BUT ONCE A CITY?"--_Page 208_]
"It _is_ a long distance."
"Then it can't be any part of Asia, or even India?"
"No, sir."
"Africa, perhaps?"
"No."
"A South American diamond?"
"No."
As Mr. Bressani's ferocious, black eyebrows settled down over his eyes
the Senior Partner laughed. "This reminds me of the game of twenty
questions. And you are surely the victor, Mr. Alton."
But Mr. Bressani was too much in earnest to think of jokes or games.
"You say these ruins are very old?"
"Yes, sir."
"How old? Greek or Roman, perhaps?"
"Older than human history."
[Illustration: "OLDER THAN HUMAN HISTORY"--_Page 209_]
Again the three listeners frowned. With a shade of sarcasm the Senior
Partner addressed his nephew: "Mr. Alton has a poet's fancy."
Cyrus understood, but his face showed no annoyance. Smilingly he said,
"You will get more digestible answers, perhaps, if you don't ask me
where I found it. The whole adventure is incredible. If I told you the
truth you would not believe me."
"Try us," said William.
The Senior Partner waved his hand in apology. "Please don't think we
doubt your word, Mr. Alton. But when you say older than human history
you are speaking figuratively, as it were."
"No, sir. I am speaking literally. It is the belief of scientists
that millions of years have passed since any changes have occurred in
that--in that--territory."
"Millions of years!"
"Yes, sir. It is somewhat a matter of geology. And a geological period,
you know, is still young at a million years."
The Senior Partner nodded politely. "Yes--very true. But, as diamonds
are found in so few places perhaps you will tell us, just to gratify
a natural curiosity, what kind of a region you have discovered--the
general nature of the country."
"The nature of the country?" Cyrus Alton repeated. Then, lowering his
eyes, as if better to recall the scene, he hesitated for a moment.
"The nature of the country," he again repeated, and his manner became
serious. "No tree, nor bush, nor blade of grass is there; no living
thing of any kind: no birds--nor air to fly in;--not a drop of water.
The surface of the earth--no, not earth for there is no earth--is
stone--and ashes. 'Tis a cinder--the mummy of a world: an unending
necropolis. Once it was thickly populated. Now it is the Land of Death,
and deader than Death itself. Not even a memory is there, for those who
might remember have been dead uncounted ages. They themselves are long
since forgotten."
On the faces of his little audience Cyrus saw a mild bewilderment--and
curiosity.
"You say we have all heard of this country?" asked the Senior Partner.
"Yes, and you have seen it--from a distance."
"Are you sure," said William, "that we have all seen it?"
"Yes, absolutely sure."
"And we have probably been there?"
"No--I think not."
"Then, how could we see it?--from a railway train--or from a steamship?"