The Great God Gold. Le Queux William

and especially the school of the Amoraim, or debaters, who about A.D. 250 expounded the “Mishna.”

      Raymond Diamond had long ago read Wunsche, Bacher and Strack, and from them had learned how the Amoraim had expounded the “Mishna,” and how their labours had formed the Gemara, while the united Mishna and Gemara formed the books of the Talmud. By that time, and even earlier, the teachers of Judaism were also working in the schools of Babylonis. Hence the Talmud now exists in two forms – the Palestinian Talmud, or Talmud of Jerusalem, and the Babylonian Talmud. Rabbi Jehuda compiled the “Mishna” which, in general, sums up the outcome of the activity of the Sopherim, Zugoth and Tannaim, and thus became the canonical book of the oral law.

      He was recalling these facts as he sat staring at the half-charred fragments on the table before him.

      “The person making the declaration,” he said aloud to himself, “appears to have discovered certain hidden meanings in the ‘Mishna.’ Well – one can read hidden meanings in most writings, I believe, if one wishes. Yet he seems to have come across something which amazed him – some cabalistic message very complicated and ingenious. It caused him great astonishment when he found himself able to – able to what? Ah! that’s the point,” he sighed.

      Then, after another long pause, he decided that “nine ch – ” meant “nine chapters,” and that the final lines of the page dealt with some declaration opening with the arrival of the Messiah.

      “Yes,” he said in a hard decisive tone, straightening his crooked back as well as he was able. “There is a mystery explained here – a great and most astounding mystery.”

      Chapter Four

      Concerns a Consultation

      Late that same afternoon Raymond Diamond walked up the long muddy by-road which led from Horsford station to the village, about a mile distant.

      Horsford was an obscure little place, still quite out-of-the-world, even in these days of trains and motor-cars.

      About four miles west of Peterborough on the edge of the fox-hunting country, it was a pleasant little spot consisting of a beautiful old Norman church, with one of the finest towers in England and one long, straggling street mostly of thatched houses.

      There were only two large houses – Horsford House, at the top of the hill on the Peterborough side, and the Manor, an old seventeenth-century mansion, half-way down the village.

      It was not yet dark when the Doctor, the only arrival by train, turned the corner by the Wheel Inn and entered the village. As he did so, Warr, who combined the business of publican and village butcher, wished him a cheery “Good evenin’, Doctor.”

      And as the little man trudged up the long street he was greeted with many such salutes, to all of which he answered mechanically, for he was thinking – thinking deeply.

      The fragrant smell of burning wood from the cottages greeted his nostrils – the smell of that quiet little village which for some years had been his home.

      He breathed again in that rural peace, as a dozen cows slowly plodded past him.

      At last he turned from the main street, up a short, steep hill where, at the end of a small cul-de-sac, stood a long, old-fashioned, two-storied cottage with its dormer-windows peeping forth from the brown thatch. In summer, over the whole front of it spread a wealth of climbing roses, but now, in winter, only the brown leafless branches remained.

      In the small, well-kept front garden were a number of well-trimmed evergreens, while an old box-hedge ran around the tiny domain.

      As he lifted the latch of the gate, Mrs Diamond, a neat, well-preserved woman in black, threw open the door with a cheery welcome, and a moment later he was in his own old-fashioned little dining-room, warming himself at the fire, which, sending forth a ruddy glow, illuminated the room.

      For such a humble home, it was quite a cosy apartment. Upon the old-fashioned oak-dresser at the end were one or two pieces of blue china, and on the oak overmantel were a few odd pieces of Worcester and Delft. On the walls were one or two engravings, while the furniture was of antique pattern and well in keeping with the place.

      The doctor possessed artistic tastes, and was also a connoisseur to no small degree. In the days when he had possessed means, he had been fond of hunting for curios or making purchases of old furniture and china, but, alas! in these latter days of his adversity he had experienced even a difficulty in making both ends meet.

      “I received your telegram, Raymond dear,” exclaimed Mrs Diamond. “I’m so glad you were successful in finding Aggie’s father. It’s taken a great weight from my mind.”

      “And from mine also,” he said with a sigh seated before the fire with his hands outstretched to the flames. “Mullet wants me to take the child over to Paris to see him in a week or so.”

      “Why does he not come over here?”

      The Doctor pulled a wry face, and shrugged his shoulders ominously.

      His wife, by her speech, showed herself to be a woman of refinement. She had been the widow of a medical man in Manchester before Diamond had married her. Though it was much against her grain to submit to registration as a foster-mother of children, yet it had been their only course. Raymond Diamond was too ugly to succeed in his profession. The public dislike a deformed doctor.

      He told his wife how he had been at the end of his resources in Paris, and how, just at the moment when things had looked blackest, “Red Mullet” had returned. But he made no mention of meeting the stranger, or of the record of the curious secret which, between two pieces of cardboard, now reposed carefully in his breast-pocket.

      Its possession held him in a kind of stupor. From what he had been able to gather – or rather from what he imagined the truth to be – he already felt himself an immensely wealthy man. He was, in fact, already planning out his own future.

      The dead stranger had said he intended to remove to the Grand Hotel. Diamond’s intention was to go further – to purchase a fine estate somewhere in the grass-country, and in future live the life of a gentleman.

      Mrs Diamond noticed her husband’s preoccupied manner, and naturally attributed it to financial embarrassment.

      A few moments later the door opened, and a pretty, fair-haired girl, about thirteen, entered, and finding the doctor had returned, rushed towards him and, throwing her arms about his neck, kissed him, saying:

      “I had no idea you were back again, dad. I went down the station-path half-way, expecting to meet you.”

      “I came by the road, my child,” was the Doctor’s reply as he stroked her long fair hair. “I’ve been to Paris – to see your dad, Aggie,” he added.

      “My other dad,” repeated the child reflectively. “I – I hardly remember him. You are my own dear old dad!” And she stroked his cheek with her soft hand.

      Aggie was the doctor’s favourite. He was devoted to the daughter of that tall, thin man who was such a cosmopolitan adventurer, the child who was now the eldest of his family, and who had, ever since she had arrived, a wee weakly little thing, always charmed him by her bright intelligence and merry chatter.

      She was a distinctly pretty child, neat in her dark-blue frock and white pinafore. In the village school she was head of her class, and Mr Holmes, the popular, good-humoured schoolmaster, had already suggested to the Doctor, and also to Lady Gavin at the Manor, that she should be sent to the Secondary School at Peterborough now that he could teach her no more.

      The Doctor drew Aggie upon his knee, and told her of her father’s inquiries and of his suggestion that she should go to Paris to see him.

      Paris seemed to the child such a long way off. She had seen it marked upon the wall-maps in school, but to her youthful mind it was only a legendary city.

      “I don’t want to leave Horsford, dad,” replied the girl with a slight pout. “I want to remain with you.”

      “Not in order to see and know your father?”

      “You are my dad – my only dad,” she