“Certainly, certainly; with much pleasure,” said the Frenchman eagerly; “I will light my lantern, so that we may see what we are about.”

Smith and Rodier stripped off their drenched coats, and by the light of Monsieur de Montause’s lantern soon spliced up the broken leg of the derrick, set the contrivance in a stable position, and lowered the mass of brickwork to the spot the explorer pointed out.  It was no sooner safely settled than Monsieur de Montause, oblivious of everything else, bent over it, and, holding one of the lanterns close to the inscription, began to pore over the fascinating hieroglyphics.  Smith could not help smiling at the little man’s enthusiasm:  but it was necessary to remind him of his share of the compact.

“Ah, oui, oui,” he said impatiently; “in a few moments.  This is a magnificent discovery, monsieur; your aeroplane is completely uninteresting to me.  This is nothing less than a portion of the tomb of Ur-Gur; see, the inscription:  ’The tomb of Ur-Gur, the powerful champion, King of Ur, King of Shumer and Akkad, builder of the wall of Nippur to Bel, the king of the lands.’  This was written nearly five thousand years ago; what is the aeroplane, a thing of yesterday, in comparison with this glorious relic of antiquity?”

“Precisely, monsieur; beside it the aeroplane sinks into insignificance; yet, as a man of honour—­”

“Ah, oui!” cried the Frenchman, starting up.  “Let us be quick, then; you take one end, I the other.  You push, I pull; voila!”

“It is perhaps not so simple, monsieur,” said Smith; “we must first see that there is no obstruction, and then if you could persuade some of your men to come back, we should be able to remove the aeroplane more quickly.  I fear we could hardly do it alone.”

Monsieur de Montause was so anxious to get rid of his visitors that he assented eagerly to this course.  Four or five of the men, drawn back by the light of the lantern, were hovering at the end of the trench; the explorer hailed them, and assuring them that they would suffer no harm, persuaded, them to lend a hand.  Rodier, meanwhile, had walked through the trench to see that the course was clear, and shoved aside with little ceremony some of the objects Monsieur de Montause had unearthed.  With the aid of the Frenchman himself and his men the aeroplane was carefully dragged out into the open.

“It is done.  Adieu, messieurs,” said Monsieur de Montause.  Then, turning to his men:  “As for you, imbeciles, I have no more need of you at present.  Go and eat your supper.  I shall eat nothing until I have deciphered the whole of the inscription.”

“One moment, monsieur,” said Smith; “we were driven out of our course by the storm, and I am not certain of our whereabouts.  Can you tell me the latitude and longitude of this place?”

“Ah, no.  I am not a geographer.  The surface of the globe:  bah!  It is the rind of the orange, it is the shell of the nut; I seek the juice, the kernel.  But I can tell you this:  We are not far from the left bank of the Tigris, near its confluence with the Zab, and about a hundred kilometres from the ruins of Nineveh.  Adieu, monsieur.”