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Updated: June 2, 2025
"Be careful where you walk," whispered Bickley, for even he seemed awed, "there may be pits in this floor." "I wish we had a light," I said, halting. "If candles are of any use," broke in Bastin, "as it happens I have a packet in my pocket. I took them with me this morning for a certain purpose." "Not unconnected with the paraffin and the burning of the idol, I suppose?" said Bickley.
For my part I believe that you are afraid of falling in love with that Glittering Lady and of being convinced by her that you are wrong in your most unsatisfactory conclusions." "I am out-voted anyway," said Bickley, "and for the rest, Bastin, look after yourself and leave me alone.
But the very rocks which you are so fond of talking about, tell us that even this planet is millions upon millions of years of age. Who knows then but that at some time in its history, men did not live for a thousand years, and that lost civilisations did not exist of which this Oro and his daughter may be two survivors?" "There is no proof of anything of the sort," said Bickley.
"He's broken his neck or something," I said. Bickley crept to him and having looked, sang out: "It's all right! He's only sea-sick. I thought it would come to that if he drank so much tea." "Sea-sick," I said faintly "sea-sick?" "That's all," said Bickley. "The nerves of the stomach acting on the brain or vice-versa that is, if Bastin has a brain," he added sotto voce.
"What you mean," said the gloomy Bastin, "is that you intend to enjoy yourselves up here in the female companionship of the Glittering Lady whilst I sit thousands of feet underground attempting to lighten the darkness of a violent old sinner whom I suspect of being in league with Satan." "With whom you should be proud to break a lance," said Bickley. "So I am, in the daylight.
I pointed out that, owing to its popularity amongst seaside visitors, the neighbourhood of Fulcombe was a rising one, and that although there were doctors in it, there was no really first-class surgeon for miles. Now Bickley was a first-class surgeon, having held very high hospital appointments, and indeed still holding them. Why, I asked, should he not come and set up here on his own?
"All I know is that he is a wonderfully learned person of most remarkable appearance, and that his daughter is the loveliest creature I ever saw." "There I agree," said Bickley decidedly, "and as brilliant as she is lovely. If she belongs to a past civilisation, it is a pity that it ever became extinct. Now let's go and have a nap. Bastin will call us when supper is ready."
I shook my head, whereon as a result of further cogitation, Bastin submitted that the Unknown would be suitable. Bickley said that he thought this a foolish idea as everything worth knowing was already known, and what was the good of drinking to the rest? A toast to the Truth would be better. A notion came to me. "Let us combine them," I said, "and drink to the Unknown Truth."
So Bickley and I said to each other, and yet presently he changed his mind and in a special metal machine carefully made some extremely strong black coffee which he poured into a thermos flask, previously warmed with hot water, adding thereto about a claret glass of brandy.
"Certainly," said Bastin, "though I admit her clothes do not seem to fit and she has not buttoned them up as she ought. But it is not of the pictures so much as of the letterpress with its false and scandalous accusations, that I complain." "Why do you complain?" asked Bickley. "Probably it is quite true, though that we could never ascertain without visiting the lady's home."
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