"I do not think so. I am no expert, but I have a vague idea--I have
seen----"

He wrinkled his brows and pressed away the furrows with his hand, that
physical habit of his when perplexed.

"I have it," he cried. "It is antimony."

Miss Deane pursed her lips in disdain. Antimony! What was antimony?

"So much fuss for nothing," she said.

"It is used in alloys and medicines," he explained. "To us it is
useless."

He threw the piece of rock contemptuously among the bushes. But, being
thorough in all that he undertook, he returned to the cave and again
conducted an inquisition. The silver-hued vein became more strongly
marked at the point where it disappeared downwards into a collection of
rubble and sand. That was all. Did men give their toil, their lives,
for this? So it would appear. Be that as it might, he had a more
pressing work. If the cave still held a secret it must remain there.

Iris had gone back to her sago-kneading. Necessity had made the lady a
bread-maid.

"Fifteen hundred years of philology bridged by circumstance," mused
Jenks. "How Max Müller would have reveled in the incident!"