"Professionally," she answered, "only about two years; since we broke up
our home, in fact. But long before that I used to come to the Museum
with my Uncle John--the one who disappeared, you know, in that
dreadfully mysterious way--and help him to look up references. We were
quite good friends, he and I."

"I suppose he was a very learned man?" I suggested.

"Yes, in a certain way; in the way of the better-class collector he was
very learned indeed. He knew the contents of every museum in the world,
in so far as they were connected with Egyptian antiquities, and had
studied them specimen by specimen. Consequently, as Egyptology is
largely a museum science, he was a learned Egyptologist. But his real
interest was in things rather than events. Of course, he knew a great
deal--a very great deal--about Egyptian history, but still he was,
before all, a collector."

"And what will happen to his collection if he is really dead?"

"The greater part of it goes to the British Museum by his will, and the
remainder he has left to his solicitor, Mr. Jellicoe."

"To Mr. Jellicoe! Why, what will Mr. Jellicoe do with Egyptian
antiquities?"

"Oh, he is an Egyptologist, too, and quite an enthusiast. He has a
really fine collection of scarabs and other small objects such as it is
possible to keep in a private house. I have always thought that it was
his enthusiasm for everything Egyptian that brought him and my uncle
together on terms of such intimacy; though I believe he is an excellent