large photograph of an inscription in the weird and cabalistic
arrow-head character. I looked at it in silence for some seconds and
then, somewhat disappointed, remarked:

"I don't see anything very remarkable in it, under the circumstances. In
any ordinary room it would be, I admit; but Stephen has just told us
that his uncle was something of an expert in cuneiform writing."

"Exactly," said Thorndyke. "That is my point. That is what makes it so
remarkable."

"I don't follow you at all," said I. "That a man should hang upon his
wall an inscription that is legible to him does not seem to me at all
out of the way. It would be much more singular if he should hang up an
inscription that he could not read."

"No doubt," replied Thorndyke. "But you will agree with me that it would
be still more singular if a man should hang upon his wall an inscription
that he could read--and hang it upside down."

I stared at Thorndyke in amazement.

"Do you mean to tell me," I exclaimed, "that that photograph is really
upside down?"

"I do indeed," he replied.

"But how do you know? Have we here yet another Oriental scholar?"

Thorndyke chuckled. "Some fool," he replied, "has said that 'a little