nt there appeared a corner of a great worked stone
quite unlike that of the crater, indeed it seemed to me to be a marble.
Further examination showed that 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