At times, with a rapid hand, he made an exact reproduction of the original, especially that of chapter xli, verse 23 to the end which, as will be recollected, was given in the dead man's manuscript as an illustration.
Heedless of the fact that he had had no luncheon, he continued copying the original very carefully and with a sure and expert touch until he had made a complete copy of the original of chapters xl, xli, xlii, xliv, and xlvii, a work which occupied him till nearly four o'clock.
He took no count of time, so wholly engrossed was he in his work. The assistant-keeper entered prior to his departure at four o'clock when the department closed, and began bustling about, hoping that the "dry-as-dust" old fellow, being disturbed, might abandon his work for that day.
But nothing interrupted him in making his rapid copying of those Hebrew characters that had been written before the birth of Christ.
Presently, in sheer despair, the assistant-keeper remarked:
"That's rather heavy work for you, Professor, isn't it?"
"No. Not exactly," was the old man's quick reply without looking up, "I am about to make a most interesting investigation; therefore, I dare not employ any copyist. He might so easily make mistakes."
"An investigation!" echoed the younger man. "Why, curiously enough for the past three days we've had a man here copying that same book for some mysterious purpose. He finished only yesterday afternoon. But he refused to tell me the reason he was making the copy other than that he, like yourself, was making some investigations. He used the same expression as yourself, curiously enough."
"Another searcher!" gasped the Professor, laying down his pen, and staring at the speaker. "Another investigator of the original of the Book of Ezekiel! Who was he? What was he like?" demanded the old man quickly, his face blanched in an instant.
"I don't know who he was, for we've never seen him here before. He was an old gentleman, a foreigner evidently--and a scholar, for he wrote the Hebrew characters almost as quickly and accurately as you yourself."
Professor Arminger Griffin sat back in his chair, his mouth open, staring into space.
Was it possible that some one else besides himself had obtained knowledge of the great secret, and was actively engaged upon investigations!
And the stranger who had copied that very manuscript which he was copying, was an unknown foreigner and a scholar into the bargain!
Was it possible that the secret was already out?
CHAPTER NINE.
CONCERNS "THE OTHER MAN."
"What was the stranger like?" asked the Professor eagerly, his thin hand resting upon the ancient parchment he had been so carefully copying.
"A short, stout, elderly man with white pointed beard," was the assistant-keeper's reply. "Four days ago he came here, carrying with him a number of references which he turned up in various early Hebrew manuscripts. But it was the one you have there before you which attracted him most. He worked three days upon it, and made a complete and most accurate copy."
"He didn't tell you whence he came, or for what purpose he was making the researches?"
"No, for, as you well know, Professor, students seldom do. They are not very communicative, unless they be young," laughed the official. "But he was a foreigner."
"Undoubtedly. From the north of Europe, I should say--Norwegian or perhaps Russian, not German, I think. But he spoke most excellent English."
"A scholar?"
"Without a doubt. He went about his work in that careful methodical manner that at once betrayed the specialist. He concluded his work only yesterday."
"How was he dressed?"
"Fairly well. He wore a dark-grey suit and a black bow cravat."
"His searches were confined to Ezekiel?"
"No, not exactly. He copied some references from our earliest manuscript of Deuteronomy--you examined it a few months ago, I remember.
The thirty-second chapter seemed to attract him, as he copied it in its entirety."
"Ah, that's the Song of Moses," remarked the Professor. "`Give ear O ye heavens, and I will speak; and hear O earth, the words of my mouth.' I wonder what can be his object," he added thoughtfully.
"He merely told me that he was making an investigation in order to put a remarkable theory to the test."
Griffin started. A remarkable theory was being put to the test by this stranger! Was it possible that another scholar was in possession of the dead man's secret, besides himself!
He held his breath. Then, when a few moments later he had recovered himself, he began to make many inquiries concerning the unknown foreigner. But it was already past four o'clock, and the assistant-keeper had his train to catch to his home at Epping.
Therefore he declared that he knew no more, and taking the precious manuscript, replaced it with the others and hastily bade the Professor "Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon," was the old man's reply. "I am sorry you are in such a hurry. I'll return to-morrow."
Then he struggled into his overcoat, and left the Museum full of vague misgivings.
Already dark outside, the street-lamps were lit, and the steady downpour was unceasing. But he trudged across to the photographer's, and there obtained the scraps of half-destroyed manuscript, which only a few moments before had been brought back from the studio at Acton.
"We shall have prints ready for you to-morrow evening," said the manager. "I'll send them to you, shall I?"
"No, don't do that," Griffin said quickly. "I would rather call for them. I'll be in about this time to-morrow."
Then placing the packet in his pocket, he walked along Oxford Street in the direction of Tottenham Court Road.
His mind was full of the alarming discovery that another person was investigating the same problem as himself. This meant that the secret was known, and if known to another, what more likely than that the stranger possessed a complete manuscript--a manuscript which gave the context, not only of the curious statement, but of the directions of how the truth could be verified.
Of the latter, he possessed only that one scrap of written manuscript.
There must have been other folios, but all were, alas! missing. They had, no doubt, been consumed by the flames before the eyes of the dying man.
He was beside himself with anxiety. It could not have been Diamond himself who had been at the Museum, for the Doctor was not a Hebrew scholar and, besides, he had been told by Frank that the man was badly deformed. Therefore, his deformity would certainly have impressed itself upon the assistant-keeper.
By the "Tube" from Tottenham Court Road Station he travelled to Notting Hill Gate, and turning into Pembridge Gardens, let himself in with his latch-key.
Frank was with Gwen in the drawing-room, and they were taking their tea _tete-a-tete_ when the old man entered. After luncheon he had taken her to a matinee, and the happy pair had only just returned.
"Tell me, Frank," asked the Professor, almost before he had time to greet him, "did that friend of yours, Diamond, show those papers to any one else besides you, do you think?"
"Certainly not. Why?" inquired the young man in some surprise.
"Oh, nothing," replied the Professor with slight hesitation. "I--well-- I only thought that it would be a little unfair to trouble me if somebody else had already been making any researches."
"Nobody has seen it save myself, I can assure you. Diamond is a most careful and cautious man," Frank declared. "He brought them straight over from Paris, and came at once to me."
"He might possibly have shown them to somebody in Paris," the elder man suggested.
"I asked him, and he distinctly told me that nobody save myself had set eyes upon them."
The Professor sank into an armchair, and in silence took the cup of tea which Gwen handed to him.