CHAPTER VII
SOLOMON’S ROAD
Outside the cavern we halted, feeling rather foolish.
“I am going back,” said Sir Henry.
“Why?” asked Good.
“Because it has struck me that—what we saw—may be my brother.”
This was a new idea, and we re-entered the place to put it to the proof. After the bright light outside, our eyes, weak as they were with staring at the snow, could not pierce the gloom of the cave for a while. Presently, however, they grew accustomed to the semi-darkness, and we advanced towards the dead man.
Sir Henry knelt down and peered into his face.
“Thank God,” he said, with a sigh of relief, “it is not my brother.”
Then I drew near and looked. The body was that of a tall man in middle life with aquiline features, grizzled hair, and a long black moustache. The skin was perfectly
