this block was most beautifully carved in bas-relief, apparently with a design of leaves and flowers.  In the disturbed soil also I picked up a life-sized marble hand of a woman exquisitely finished and apparently broken from a statue that might have been the work of one of the great Greek sculptors.  Moreover, on the third finger of this hand was a representation of a ring whereof, unfortunately, the bezel had been destroyed.

I put the hand in my pocket, but as darkness was coming on, I could not pursue the research and disinter the block.  When I wished to return the next day, I was informed politely by Marama that it would not be safe for me to do so as the priests of Oro declared that if I sought to meddle with the “buried things the god would grow angry and bring disaster on me.”

When I persisted he said that at least I must go alone since no native would accompany me, and added earnestly that he prayed me not to go.  So to my great regret and disappointment I was obliged to give up the idea.

Chapter VIII

Bastin Attempts the Martyr’s Crown

That carved stone and the marble hand took a great hold of my imagination.  What did they mean?  How could they have come to the bottom of that hole, unless indeed they were part of some building and its ornaments which had been destroyed in the neighbourhood?  The stone of which we had only uncovered a corner seemed far too big to have been carried there from any ship; it must have weighed several tons.  Besides, ships do not carry such things about the world, and none had visited this island during the last two centuries at any rate, or local tradition would have recorded so wonderful a fact.  Were there, then, once edifices covered with elegant carving standing on this place, and were they adorned with lovely statues that would not have disgraced the best period of Greek art?  The thing was incredible except on the supposition that these were relics of an utterly lost civilisation.

Bickley was as much puzzled as myself.  All he could say was that the world was infinitely old and many things might have happened in it whereof we had no record.  Even Bastin was excited for a little while, but as his imagination was represented by zero, all he could say was: 

“I suppose someone left them there, and anyhow it doesn’t matter much, does it?”

But I, who have certain leanings towards the ancient and mysterious, could not be put off in this fashion.  I remembered that unapproachable mountain in the midst of the lake and that on it appeared to be something which looked like ruins as seen from the top of the cliff through glasses.  At any rate this was a point, that I might clear up.