The ship's
doctor was able to testify that he had complained of a weak heart
during the voyage, and that his symptoms were consistent with such a
death as was described. As to Dr. Aloysius Lana, he returned to the village from which he had
made so dramatic a disappearance, and a complete reconciliation was
effected between him and the young squire, the latter having
acknowledged that he had entirely misunderstood the other's motives in
withdrawing from his engagement. That another reconciliation followed
may be judged from a notice extracted from a prominent column in the
Morning Post:


"A marriage was solemnized upon September 19th, by the Rev. Stephen
Johnson, at the parish church of Bishop's Crossing, between Aloysius
Xavier Lana, son of Don Alfredo Lana, formerly Foreign Minister of the
Argentine Republic, and Frances Morton, only daughter of the late James
Morton, J.P., of Leigh Hall, Bishop's Crossing, Lancashire." The Jew's Breastplate

My particular friend, Ward Mortimer, was one of the best men of his day
at everything connected with Oriental archaeology. He had written
largely upon the subject, he had lived two years in a tomb at Thebes,
while he excavated in the Valley of the Kings, and finally he had
created a considerable sensation by his exhumation of the alleged mummy
of Cleopatra in the inner room of the Temple of Horus, at Philae. With
such a record at the age of thirty-one, it was felt that a considerable
career lay before him, and no one was surprised when he was elected to
the curatorship of the Belmore Street Museum, which carries with it the
lectureship at the Oriental College, and an income which has sunk with
the fall in land, but which still remains at that ideal sum which is
large enough to encourage an investigator, but not so large as to
enervate him. There was only one reason which made Ward Mortimer's position a little
difficult at the Belmore Street Museum, and that was the extreme
eminence of the man whom he had to succeed. Professor Andreas was a
profound scholar and a man of European reputation. His lectures were
frequented by students from every part of the world, and his admirable
management of the collection intrusted to his care was a commonplace in
all learned societies. There was, therefore, considerable surprise
when, at the age of fifty-five, he suddenly resigned his position and
retired from those duties which had been both his livelihood and his
pleasure. He and his daughter left the comfortable suite of rooms
which had formed his official residence in connection with the museum,
and my friend, Mortimer, who was a bachelor, took up his quarters there. On hearing of Mortimer's appointment Professor Andreas had written him
a very kindly and flattering congratulatory letter. I was actually
present at their first meeting, and I went with Mortimer round the
museum when the Professor showed us the admirable collection which he
had cherished so long. The Professor's beautiful daughter and a young
man, Captain Wilson, who was, as I understood, soon to be her husband,
accompanied us in our inspection. There were fifteen rooms, but the
Babylonian, the Syrian, and the central hall, which contained the
Jewish and Egyptian collection, were the finest of all. Professor
Andreas was a quiet, dry, elderly man, with a clean-shaven face and an
impassive manner, but his dark eyes sparkled and his features quickened
into enthusiastic life as he pointed out to us the rarity and the
beauty of some of his specimens. His hand lingered so fondly over
them, that one could read his pride in them and the grief in his heart
now that they were passing from his care into that of another. He had shown us in turn his mummies, his papyri, his rare scarabs, his
inscriptions, his Jewish relics, and his duplication of the famous
seven-branched candlestick of the Temple, which was brought to Rome by
Titus, and which is supposed by some to be lying at this instant in the
bed of the Tiber. Then he approached a case which stood in the very
centre of the hall, and he looked down through the glass with reverence
in his attitude and manner. "This is no novelty to an expert like yourself, Mr. Mortimer," said he;
"but I daresay that your friend, Mr. Jackson, will be interested to see
it." Leaning over the case I saw an object, some five inches square, which
consisted of twelve precious stones in a framework of gold, with golden
hooks at two of the corners. The stones were all varying in sort and
colour, but they were of the same size. Their shapes, arrangement, and
gradation of tint made me think of a box of water-colour paints. Each
stone had some hieroglyphic scratched upon its surface. "You have heard, Mr. Jackson, of the urim and thummim?" I had heard the term, but my idea of its meaning was exceedingly vague. "The urim and thummim was a name given to the jewelled plate which lay
upon the breast of the high priest of the Jews. They had a very
special feeling of reverence for it--something of the feeling which an
ancient Roman might have for the Sibylline books in the Capitol. There
are, as you see, twelve magnificent stones, inscribed with mystical
characters. Counting from the left-hand top corner, the stones are
carnelian, peridot, emerald, ruby, lapis lazuli, onyx, sapphire, agate,
amethyst, topaz, beryl, and jasper." I was amazed at the variety and beauty of the stones. "Has the breastplate any particular history?" I asked. "It is of great age and of immense value," said Professor Andreas. "Without being able to make an absolute assertion, we have many reasons
to think that it is possible that it may be the original urim and
thummim of Solomon's Temple. There is certainly nothing so fine in any
collection in Europe. My friend, Captain Wilson, here, is a practical
authority upon precious stones, and he would tell you how pure these
are." Captain Wilson, a man with a dark, hard, incisive face, was standing
beside his fiancee at the other side of the case. "Yes," said he, curtly, "I have never seen finer stones." "And the gold-work is also worthy of attention. The ancients excelled
in----"--he was apparently about to indicate the setting of the stones,
when Captain Wilson interrupted him. "You will see a finer example of their gold-work in this candlestick,"
said he, turning to another table, and we all joined him in his
admiration of its embossed stem and delicately ornamented branches. Altogether it was an interesting and a novel experience to have objects
of such rarity explained by so great an expert; and when, finally,
Professor Andreas finished our inspection by formally handing over the
precious collection to the care of my friend, I could not help pitying
him and envying his successor whose life was to pass in so pleasant a
duty. Within a week, Ward Mortimer was duly installed in his new set
of rooms, and had become the autocrat of the Belmore Street Museum.