"There," said he, "look at that. It is a most remarkable object."
I followed the direction of his gaze and saw an oblong frame enclosing a large photograph of an inscription in the weird and cabalistic arrow-head character. I looked at it in silence for some seconds and then, somewhat disappointed, remarked:
"I don't see anything very remarkable in it, under the circumstances. In any ordinary room it would be, I admit; but Stephen has just told us that his uncle was something of an expert in cuneiform writing."
"Exactly," said Thorndyke. "That is my point. That is what makes it so remarkable."
"I don't follow you at all," said I. "That a man should hang upon his wall an inscription that is legible to him does not seem to me at all out of the way. It would be much more singular if he should hang up an inscription that he could not read."
"No doubt," replied Thorndyke. "But you will agree with me that it would be still more singular if a man should hang upon his wall an inscription that he could read—and hang it upside down."
I stared at Thorndyke in amazement.
"Do you mean to tell me," I exclaimed, "that that photograph is really upside down?"
"I do indeed," he replied.
"But how do you know? Have we here yet another Oriental scholar?"
Thorndyke chuckled. "Some fool," he replied,
