Read Touchstone (Meridian Series) for Free Online Page B

and was soon rapping on a heavy oak door, in an oak paneled
hallway.
    It was opened by a middle aged
gentleman, with white hair and luxuriant, flowing mutton chop whiskers. His
upper lip and chin were shaven, but huge sideburns erupted from his cheeks.
    “Yes, sir, can I help you?”
    “I am looking for the Egyptian
Curator?”
    “You have found him. I am
Wilbert Wilberforce, himself, at your service. How can I assist you?”   
    “I was hoping to find the
Rosetta Stone on display here, can you tell me where it is, sir?” Nordhausen
almost pleaded.
    “The Rosetta Stone? Which
Rosetta Stone? There is a whole collection of artifacts that came in from
Rosetta—”
    Nordhausen cut in. “Black basalt
slab, about so big, in hieroglyphics, demotic and Greek.”
    The Curator’s eyes narrowed with
a hint of recognition. “Oh, let me see, I may know what you mean,”  Mr.
Wilberforce mulled. “It is not on display, sir,  it is in storage, downstairs.
May I ask your name, sir, and your interest?”
    “Not on display?” Nordhausen was
immediately relieved. The great void in his mind was at least filled with the
certainty that the stone was here, but why would they have it in the warehouse?
    “Forgive me,” he said quickly.
“My name is Robert Nordhausen, I have heard of this stone, and have come all the
way from San
Francisco , in the United States , to make a study of  it.”
    “Well, sir, you are in luck. I
am unoccupied today and I would be happy to accommodate you. Let us go see if
we can find this stone of yours. Follow me.”
    Nordhausen was delighted. “You
are too kind, sir. I was afraid, for a moment, that something was amiss.”
    “Excuse me, sir?” The Curator
gave him a sidelong glance.
    “Well it’s just that none of the
displays have any clear identifying labels. I suppose you’ve just not come
round to detailing the history yet, is that it?”
    “Detailing the history?” The
Curator scratched his head. “Well, we’ve got what we can out on the main floor,
but there’s simply not enough room for everything else. You’ll see.”
    Wilberforce led Nordhausen down
to the end of the corridor, and through a service door which opened into a
plain dark stairwell, lighted by a skylight high above. The upper floors of
museum were illuminated only by natural light.
    Wilberforce went on, as they
descended the stairs into the gloom. “I have not looked at this one for years,”
he shrugged. “It is certainly a curiosity. Perhaps I should consider displaying
it. Although, I don’t believe it is as large as you indicated. Ah, here we
are.” He opened the door into a dark room, fumbled about until he found a
match, and lighted a gas lamp on the wall.
    Rows of rough shelving were
revealed, running the length of the basement room. They were stacked with
Egyptian artifacts, of all shapes and kinds, from statues, to domestic
articles, to funerary gear, to odd lumps of stone with remains of paint or
carving.
    They walked deep into the room,
Wilberforce stopping once to light another lamp. They reached the end of the
storage room, where a number of stone tablets leaned against the wall.
    “Oh, my,” said Mr. Wilberforce.
“I should have brought a couple students to assist us.”
    “That’s fine,” Nordhausen said,
and walked up to the pile. “If it’s here, I will recognize it.”
    “Indeed?” said Mr. Wilberforce.
“May I ask how you know about this stone, sir? I am sure nothing much at all
has been published.”
    Nordhausen gave the Curator a
dark look, his misgivings churning up again. “Nothing published you say? Why,
what about the work of Champollion, and that of your own Dr. Young before him?”
He manhandled the first tablet out of the way, walking it on its corners with
the help of the Curator.  They did the same with the next, which was quite
heavy, and stopped to catch their breath. The dim gas light cast long shadows.
    “I—I—read about it in a French
encyclopedia entry,”