“What language is this?” he asked at last, looking up.  “It is not Hebrew—­nor yet Sanskrit—­nor does it resemble any of the discovered forms of hieroglyphic writing.  Can you understand it?”

“Perfectly!” returned Heliobas.  “If I could not, then much of the wisdom and science of past ages would be closed to my researches.  It is the language once commonly spoken by certain great nations which existed long before the foundations of Babylon were laid.  Little by little it fell into disuse, till it was only kept up among scholars and sages, and in time became known only as ’the language of prophecy.’  When Esdras wrote his Visions they were originally divided into two hundred and four books,—­and, as you will see by referring to what is now called the Apocrypha,[Footnote:  Vide 2 Esdras xiv.44-48.] he was commanded to publish them all openly to the ‘worthy and unworthy’ all except the ‘seventy last,’ which were to be delivered solely to such as were ‘wise among the people.’  Thus one hundred and thirty-four were written in the vulgar tongue,—­the remaining seventy in the ‘language of prophecy,’ for the use of deeply learned and scientific men alone.  The volume you hold is one of those seventy.”

“How did you come by it?” asked Alwyn, curiously turning the book over and over.

“How did our Order come by it, you mean,” said Heliobas.  “Very simply.  Chaldean fraternities existed in the time of Esdras, and to the supreme Chief of these, Esdras himself delivered it.  You look dubious, but I assure you it is quite authentic,—­we have its entire history up to date.”

“Then are you all Chaldeans here?”

“Not all—­but most of us.  Three of the brethren are Egyptians, and two are natives of Damascus.  The rest are, like myself, descendants of a race supposed to have perished from off the face of the earth, yet still powerful to a degree undreamed of by the men of this puny age.”

Alwyn gave an upward glance at the speaker’s regal form—­a glance of genuine admiration.

“As far as that goes,” he said, with a frank laugh, “I’m quite willing to believe you and your companions are kings in disguise, —­you all have that appearance!  But regarding this book,”—­and again he turned over the silver-bound relic—­“if its authenticity can be proved, as you say, why, the British Museum would give, ah! ... let me see!—­it would give ...”

“Nothing!” declared Heliobas quietly, “believe me, nothing!  The British Government would no doubt accept it as a gift, just as it would with equal alacrity accept the veritable signature of Homer, which we also possess in another retreat of ours on the Isle of Lemnos.  But our treasures are neither for giving nor selling, and with respect to this original ‘Esdras,’ it will certainly never pass out of our hands.”

“And what of the other missing sixty-nine books?” asked Alwyn.