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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/77092-0.txt b/77092-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..60c3c00 --- /dev/null +++ b/77092-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9426 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77092 *** + + + + + + SHE WHO SLEEPS + + A ROMANCE OF NEW YORK + AND THE NILE + + BY + SAX ROHMER + + + + + 1928 + DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY, INC. + GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK + + + + + [COPYRIGHT] + + COPYRIGHT, 1928, BY DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & + COMPANY, INC. COPYRIGHT, 1928, BY LIBERTY + WEEKLY, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. + + FIRST EDITION + + + + + CONTENTS + + I. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING + II. THE DIVIDING LINE + III. A WEEK LATER + IV. SHADED WINDOWS + V. BARRY IS HAUNTED + VI. DANBAZZAR + VII. ZALITHEA + VIII. SPECIAL OPINIONS + IX. EGYPT BOUND + X. CAIRO + XI. LUXOR + XII. THE CAMP IN THE DESERT + XIII. THE EXCAVATORS + XIV. THE HAUNTED VALLEY + XV. THE HAWWARA + XVI. THE HOLE IN THE WALL + XVII. MR. TAWWAB COMES TO TERMS + XVIII. THE LOTUS SARCOPHAGUS + XIX. THE VOICE IN THE VALLEY + XX. THE RITUAL + XXI. THE AWAKENING + XXII. A SUMMONS FROM THE PRINCESS + XXIII. AN ENGLISH LESSON + XXIV. THE RETURN TO LUXOR + XXV. SOCIAL AMENITIES + XXVI. IN NEW YORK + XXVII. ABOUT IT AND ABOUT + XXVIII. A DOOR CLOSES + XXIX. THE HIEROGLYPHIC LETTER + XXX. MARGUERITE DEVINA + XXXI. THE MEETING + XXXII. THE GREAT AHMES + XXXIII. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING + + + + + SHE WHO SLEEPS + + CHAPTER I. + A FLASH OF LIGHTNING + +Barry Cumberland pushed on through a growing darkness. There seemed +to be an unfamiliar quality in this darkness which he first noticed +when, quite mechanically, he stooped to switch on his headlights, and +in doing so saw the time by the clock in the car. He slowed down for +a moment, on a crossways, and stared into the west. + +A great cloud, black as the pall of Avalon, was draped before the +sinking sun. + +As he watched, it crept farther and farther up the dome of blue, like +a velvet curtain drawn by giant hands. Through a gap in the trees +which had closely beset the path for some distance now, Barry looked +down into the valley along which his route lay to the highroad and New +York. + +Three hundred feet below, perched apparently on the edge of a ravine, +he saw a house. Some rent in the curtain of the storm had allowed a +ray like a searchlight to break through and to shine upon a sort of +turret which crowned the building. Shrinking behind guardian walls and +overhanging yet lower depths, the effect was that of a drawing by +Sidney Sime. Beyond, the road zigzagged, disappeared into shadow, +later to reappear in the form of a bridge, until it finally became +lost to sight before the plain was reached. + +The moving curtain blotted out the light. Where a fairy castle had +been, eerily illuminated, came blackness. He looked ahead sharply, +accelerated, and knowing the violence of these sudden storms in the +mountains, prayed that his Rolls would deliver him from treacherous +byways before the blinding rain began. + +He had only himself to blame if he should be stormbound. For no reason +that he could have defined he had left a cheery crowd at the club, +with never a word of farewell, urged by a sudden irrational impulse to +reach home in time for supper. Such abrupt changes of plan were +characteristic of Barry, annoying to his friends, but in no way +destructive of his popularity. + +A young man endowed with good looks, charm of manner, and John +Cumberland for a father is not dropped socially merely because nature +has designed him for a poet in a material age. + +Through this ever-growing darkness he drove on; and although the route +was one which normally carried little traffic, it seemed that this +evening not a soul rode or walked upon the length of it. But +loneliness dovetailed with his mood. He welcomed it. And so, when a +sharp bend leading to a long descent set the storm behind him, he +thought of it as a pursuer. He took the slope in breakneck fashion. It +was a race against the pursuing darkness. + +Presently came a dangerous turning which he remembered. But he had +possessed the Rolls--a birthday present from his father--long enough +for it to have become a part of him, responsive almost to a thought, +nearly to a mood. + +He checked where a ragged fence appeared suddenly ahead like a barrier +and negotiated a tortured figure S which brought him out above a sheer +drop. Beneath lay meadows where late corn showed speckled gold in the +crawling shadows. Down, the road led, and still down. A gallant ray +from the stifled sun alighted momentarily upon white walls of a +building far ahead. He was aware of a flowered porch, a window, a low +roof. + +Vaguely he recalled this little home. Something had drawn his +attention to it upon the outward journey from New York. Then it was +blotted out like a house of dreams; but he was losing nothing on the +storm. The race grew more and more real. + +Some classic analogy cropped up in his mind; a fragment of half +forgotten studies which he could not identify. He became a mortal +defying the gods. But from this flight of imagination he came sharply +back to earth. The house by the roadside passed--and even now he was +bearing down upon it--what lay beyond? + +Jim Sakers, his pilot on the outward run, now was many miles behind, +probably dancing; happily unconscious of the fact that his friend, +bareheaded, in dinner kit, was racing for New York, a victim of moods, +pursued by the storm. + +There was a bridge, Barry remembered. They had passed a Studebaker on +it; very nice navigation, for the bridge was narrow. Yes! Here was the +bridge. The Rolls went booming across it at fifty-five. And now Barry +sighted his first pedestrian: an old man with a clean-shaven upper lip +and a tufty white beard. He wore blue overalls, a huge plaid cap which +would have suited Harry Lauder, and smoked a very short pipe. Pausing, +he stepped hurriedly aside as the bareheaded madman swept by in a +cloud of dust. His cap went up like a Scotch balloon. + +Barry clenched his teeth. The shadow was gaining upon him. Oh! for a +long, straight turnpike where he could open up. But memory warned him +that there were many tortuous miles in which no such race track +offered. Now came a long sweeping curve which he recalled clearly, +tree bordered on the one side, and, on the other, outlining an upcrop +of primitive sandstone, where sparse vegetation and scattered rocks +formed an isthmus around which his route lay. + +Here for a moment he could glance aside. The black curtain was still +gaining. The storm promised to win. + +Into a cutting he plunged, high-banked, tree-topped, through the +blackness of which his headlights carved like a gleaming scimitar. +Some little animal shot across the blade of silver. He resigned +himself to his mood, wondering in what way he differed from his +friends, what barrier it was that would intrude at times between him +and those enjoyments for which others never lost zest. + +In the games and amusements to which they devoted much of their lives +he took part; and most of the things that Barry Cumberland attempted +he did well. His sports record was good, but not excellent. He was +happy in athletic pursuits, but could never screw up any enthusiasm +for pot hunting. Cards frankly bored him. He danced well, except when +abruptly, unaccountably, his dancing mood left him and he experienced +a sudden longing for the silence of imaginary forests. + +The girls about whom other men raved stirred him but slightly. They +were all too true to pattern. The thought of home life with any one of +them was definitely objectionable. + +He took a sharp bend at dangerous speed, wondering if, during a +long-projected but never accomplished tour of Europe, he should meet a +girl having power to arouse that curious state of unrest which he had +sometimes noted in his friends and vaguely wished he could experience. +No doubt he was a visionary. He had often been told so. Perhaps the +influence of his own home might be to blame. + +It was only reasonable to suppose that an establishment which is less +a residence than a museum of Ancient Egyptian antiquities, should +contribute something to the character of one born and reared in it. +Those almond-eyed, slender priestesses, so alluring, so aloof, had +possibly played a part in disabusing his mind of any romance in +connection with the girls of that very modern set to which he +belonged. Since childhood they had looked down upon him, from wall +paintings, vases, bas-reliefs, those cloudily robed, sinuous +Egyptians, whose long eyes were wells of feminine secrets; who had +never smoked or tasted cocktails, but who lived in a mysterious world +which for some reason he identified with the deep notes of an organ. + +Yes, it was their mystery that appealed to him. Mystery was what he +sought, but never found, among the women of his acquaintance. + +The road became a high ledge, a thread encircling a bowl of shadow. +The gradient grew dangerously steep, and Barry checked speed almost +unconsciously. + +His musing had carried him many miles. Startled, he became aware of +the fact that he could recall no point of the route from the spot +where he had passed that solitary pedestrian. But the black cloud had +won; for a darkness like night had fallen all around him. He must +think what lay at the bottom of this winding road, and how they had +approached it. He seemed to remember that there was a fork; that they +had come out upon the valley side by one of three ways. But by which +of them? + +He slowed down more and more as he reached the bottom of the slope, +which now turned sharply eastward out of the valley. He had been +right. Three roads opened before him. His decision was promptly made. +He swung into the middle route, confidently giving the Rolls her head +again. On he raced, along a smooth avenue, overshadowed, and so dark +that midnight might have come. + +During that momentary check he had heard the booming of thunder, away +behind him in the west. The avenue began to curve south. It seemed to +be unfamiliarly narrow. More and more southerly it inclined, until at +last came a crossroad. He pulled up, hesitated, and knew definitely +that he had made a wrong choice. It was the north fork he should have +taken. Therefore he turned left into the crossing, presuming that it +must bring him out upon his proper route. + +Going was very bad. The Rolls bumped and shook from stem to stern. But +he pursued his way and swore under his breath when he found that this +road also inclined to the south. But now, through an opening in the +trees, he saw yet another crossway. Left again he swung, pursued by +louder rumbling of thunder. Rain was beginning to fall. + +Suddenly, his head lamps flooded a high wall. He wondered, but drove +on; when--blinding, awesome--the lightning came… and he saw Her! + +There was a stone-faced house not twenty yards ahead, and on a balcony +high up before an open window she stood. She wore some kind of cloudy +robe--a jewelled girdle--the dress of a Theban priestess! One hand +upraised rested against the sash of the window, the other upon the +curve of her hip. + +She had long dark eyes which seemed to be watching him, and her lips +were parted in a slight smile.… + +“I am dreaming,” he said aloud. “An Egyptian princess!” + +Save that it seemed to live, the beautiful figure was one of those out +of a dim past which had watched over him from childhood! + +And now the wheel was wrenched from Barry’s grasp--he was aware of a +cry--a loud, splintering crash--a sickening blow on the skull--of no +more.… + + + + + CHAPTER II. + THE DIVIDING LINE + +Very slowly Barry Cumberland opened his eyes--took one look straight +before him--and then shut them again quickly. + +Something was wrong. He could swear he had been sitting but a moment +before with his back against the giant pillar of an Ancient Egyptian +building, staring at a window high up in a temple wall. In the +moonlight he had seen a beautiful priestess standing at this window; +and he had been waiting patiently--patiently--for a black cloud to +pass, a cloud that had suddenly obscured the moon and hidden the +slender figure. + +Yes, those were the facts, he felt fairly confident. He opened his +eyes again. He saw a small, very clean white room; and he was lying in +a very clean white bed. He seemed to be propped up in some way, and he +experienced great difficulty in moving his head, together with great +disinclination to do so because of a dull pain above his eyes. + +There were some medicine bottles and cups upon a glass-topped table, +and there was a tall white screen of some very glossy material. The +only spot of colour in the room was a bowl filled with red roses, +which also stood upon the table. He wondered idly what was behind the +screen, and then closed his eyes once more. + +There was some mistake. No doubt the explanation was simple enough, +but his brain seemed to be tired, physically tired. He found himself +incapable of grappling with the problem. In one respect, of course, he +must have been wrong: In regard to the Egyptian temple. He had never +been in Egypt. In his idea that he lay in this unfamiliar white room, +no doubt he was wrong, also; although the red roses were suspiciously +like the handiwork of his Aunt Micky. + +Without Barry becoming aware of any movement, a cool hand was +presently laid upon his forehead. + +For the third time he raised weary lids--and found himself looking +into a pair of kindly eyes, their kindliness magnified by the glasses +which their owner wore. A white-capped nurse was bending over him! She +was entirely dressed in white, too. Everything in the place seemed to +be white, except the roses, which were red, and the nurse’s eyes, +which were blue. + +“Ah!” she said, speaking in a low, soothing voice which yet had a note +of gaiety in it, “so you have decided to wake up.” + +Barry Cumberland tried to say Yes, but only achieved a whisper. Great +heavens! He had never felt so cheap in his life! What was it all +about? + +“Don’t bother to talk,” the soothing voice went on. “When you have had +another little sleep you will feel ever so much better. I have brought +you a drink.” + +She held a glass to his lips. He drank, looking into the kindly, +smiling eyes; and fell asleep again. + +The next time he awoke, the nurse was sitting in a chair beside him, +reading. Presumably it was night, for a silk-shaded lamp was lighted +upon the table at her elbow. + +Barry stirred slightly and turned in her direction. She looked up at +once. + +“Good-evening,” she said; “is there anything you want?” + +“No, thank you.” His voice was very low, but at least he could make +himself understand. “Except--where am I?” + +“In the first place, you are quite all right,” she replied in her +gentle way. “You were thrown out of your car, you know, and really +had--a most lucky escape. In the second place, you are in the +Elizabeth Foundation Hospital.” + +“Thrown out of my car?” Barry muttered. “Elizabeth? How did I get to +Elizabeth?” + +The nurse looked at him doubtfully, stood up, and: + +“I am not at all sure that you should be allowed to talk yet,” she +said in a tone of authority. “At any rate, it is time for your +medicine.” + +She measured out a dose from a graduated bottle on the table, and held +it to his lips. He drank, watching her, and vainly trying to grab at +any one of a thousand ideas that were dancing wildly through his +brain. Yes, of course!--there _had_ been a crash! He remembered, now. +He had been driving the Rolls--when was it? Some time earlier in the +evening, no doubt. And there was something about Egypt. Had someone +been talking to him about Egypt? He could not capture this idea at +all. + +As the empty glass was set down: + +“Please tell me,” he asked, and found that he had already more control +of his voice, “did I crash near here?” + +“Some little distance away,” the nurse answered, resuming her seat and +smoothing a white apron with sensitive fingers. + +Barry considered this reply for a long time. His brain was working +with unfamiliar and amazing slowness. Then: + +“Was I alone?” he inquired. + +“You were alone in the car--yes.” + +“You are sure there was no lady with me?” + +“Quite sure.” + +“Then how do I come to be here?” + +“You were brought here by someone who found you.” + +“Do you mean a friend?” Barry asked. + +And as he spoke an explanation came to him of that extraordinary +pressure about his skull for which he had hitherto been unable to +account. His head was tightly bandaged! + +“I am afraid you are talking too much,” the nurse said with gentle +sternness. “It is contrary to Dr. Barton’s orders for me to allow you +to talk. But I will answer your question. The man who brought you was +a stranger, and his finding you a pure accident. And now please close +your eyes and stop thinking about it.” + +Barry smiled, and, in regard to closing his eyes, obeyed. But he did +not stop thinking about it. He lay there endeavouring to capture those +maddeningly elusive ideas which scampered about his mind like so many +rabbits. Yes--he had crashed in the Rolls. He had been bound for New +York. He remembered so much, clearly. He could not remember why he was +bound for New York, nor from where; but New York had been his +objective. He opened his eyes. + +“How was I dressed when I was brought in?” he inquired. + +“You were wearing your dinner clothes,” the nurse replied distinctly, +raising her eyes from the book which she had resumed reading. “Please +ask no more questions, because I shall be unable to answer them. In +ten minutes I am going to turn the light out and leave you. So try to +get to sleep.” + +“Thank you,” said Barry, and continued his reflections. + +He had been wearing his dinner clothes. Where on earth could he have +been coming from? He opened his eyes, another point having occurred to +him which might help to throw light upon the problem. But, slowly +turning his head aside and noting the firm little chin of the girl as +she bent over her book, he hesitated and did not ask the question. +Nevertheless, he determined to remain awake until he had the facts in +order. With which idea firmly in mind, he immediately fell asleep +again. + +When next he awakened, morning sunlight flooded the room, and he saw, +standing beside the white-capped nurse, a cheery-looking, gray-haired +man, having a very ruddy complexion. + +“Good-morning, Mr. Cumberland,” said the cheery man in a cheery voice. + +“Good-morning,” Barry replied--and, in the act of speaking, knew that +he was himself again and that he had not been himself during those +earlier conversations with the nurse. + +He raised his hand to his bandaged skull. It was singing and +throbbing, but that curious dull pain had gone. + +“My name is Dr. Barton,” the other went on. “Feel better?” + +“Rather!” said Barry. “What the deuce happened to me? Did I try to +take a high jump or something?” + +“Not exactly,” Dr. Barton replied, sitting on a rail at the end of the +bed and addressing Barry over his shoulder. “You seem to have tried to +climb a tree.” + +Barry grinned feebly. + +“How’s the Rolls looking?” he inquired. + +“That I can’t tell you,” was the reply. “I understand it has been +towed to a garage some miles from here.” + +But, even as he listened to Dr. Barton’s answer, Barry’s mind had been +actively at work. A phantom that had been haunting him took human +shape. He recalled every circumstance that had led up to the accident. +His smashed car ceased to interest him. His own condition became a +very trivial matter. One thing, and one thing only, he wanted to know, +and: + +“I remember it all clearly,” he said. “I had lost my way. One point I +_must_ clear up.” + +“Well, get busy with it,” the genial doctor directed, “because we are +going to have you out of bed, presently, and see how you feel on your +feet.” + +“Splendid,” Barry replied. “What I want you to tell me is this: the +exact spot at which the crash took place.” + +Dr. Barton shook his head. + +“I haven’t the faintest idea!” + +“What!” Barry exclaimed. “But whoever brought me here must have known +where he found me!” + +“No doubt,” Dr. Barton admitted, “but he didn’t think it necessary to +mention the fact.” + +“Perhaps you don’t understand,” Barry went on patiently, “that it’s +rather important. Could you possibly ring up this Good Samaritan and +arrange for me to see him?” + +“We _could_--if we knew his number.” + +“Didn’t he leave it?” + +“He left nothing!” was the astonishing answer. “He drove you here in a +Studebaker--it was a Studebaker, wasn’t it, Nurse?” The nurse +confirmed his statement with a nod; and: “In a Studebaker,” Dr. Barton +continued, “at somewhere around ten o’clock. Dr. Perry was in charge +and admitted you. You looked like a serious case, you understand. +You’re not, but you looked like it. Who you were we found out from +your cards, license, and what not. Then this dark horse in the +Studebaker faded out.” + +“Faded out?” Barry echoed. + +“Precisely!” Dr. Barton inclined his head in solemn fashion. “Faded +out. He didn’t leave so much as his best wishes.” + +“Do you mean you have no means of tracing him?” + +“None whatever,” the nurse assured him. “Dr. Perry told me he was a +rough-looking man. I was on duty that night. And no one was more +surprised than Dr. Perry when we learned that he had driven off.” + +“You see, it looked suspicious,” Dr. Barton explained; “and we have +been manhandled by the police about it. I mean, there was nothing to +show that you had not been assaulted and robbed.” + +Barry stared at the speaker unseeingly. He was thinking again. + +“Whoever towed my car to the garage,” he mused aloud, “will tell me +where I was found--or where the car was found.” + +“I am sorry,” Barton declared, “but he won’t! The garage telephoned +here the same night to say they had the car. We had a police officer +on the premises at the time.” + +“Well?” said Barry eagerly. + +“A man driving a Studebaker towed the car in,” Barton went on; “said +it was the property of Mr. Barry Cumberland and that Mr. Cumberland +would settle with them for repairing it. Then he faded out.” + +“Leaving no name?” + +“Leaving no name.” + +“Was this last night?” + +Dr. Barton glanced at the nurse, smiled, and then: + +“It was on _Wednesday_ night,” he returned. “You were semiconscious +for forty-eight hours! And now, stop talking. I’ve got my work to do. +Stand by, Nurse.” + +“One moment!” Barry pleaded. “My father?” + +“Your father has been in constant touch. We advised him at once. He is +downstairs now, waiting to see you.” + + + + + CHAPTER III. + A WEEK LATER + +“She might have stepped down from that painting!” said Barry, +pointing to a reproduction of part of a wall of the great temple at +Medinet Habu, above the carven mantelpiece of the library. + +His father nodded and smiled, but not unkindly. He was strangely like +his son, except that John Cumberland’s curly hair was gray and Barry’s +curly hair was brown. + +At the present moment Barry did not look his best, owing to the fact +that a patch of the said curly hair was very neatly shaved and the +corresponding portion of his skull decorated with unattractive +surgical dressing. + +They both possessed fresh, healthy colouring and steadfast gray eyes. +Both were virile, real, and would have been unusually handsome except +that both had “the Cumberland nose,” which was quite frankly +tip-tilted. But, in spite of it, there were many girls in New York who +invariably referred to Barry Cumberland as good-looking. And indeed he +was, as his father still remained. + +No two men could have seemed more strangely out of place in this +setting. John Cumberland might have passed for an old-fashioned +English squire; Barry was as typical a young man of to-day--sane, fit, +keen--as one could find anywhere in the English-speaking world. Yet +this library more closely resembled one of the Egyptian rooms at the +British Museum than the favourite haunt of a prosperous man of +affairs. + +Egypt--unaccountable though it appeared to his friends--was John +Cumberland’s hobby; a hobby in which he had sunk a not inconsiderable +fortune; in which he had sought, and ultimately found, it would seem, +consolation for the loss of Barry’s mother, who had died when Barry +was seven years old. + +To-day the Cumberland Collection ranked as the second finest of its +kind in the United States. It was representative of Egyptian +civilization in all its phases--save that it contained no mummies. It +was not confined to the library, but overflowed into practically every +room in the house. Yet nowhere were there any mummies. This was a +concession to Aunt Micky, John Cumberland’s sister, who acted as the +widower’s housekeeper and hostess. + +Whereas the loss of his wife had occasioned a wound to John +Cumberland’s heart that only time had healed, the loss by his sister +of the dissolute Count Colonna had left her a grateful if somewhat +embittered woman. The later years of her married life had been years +of hidden misery, during which she had realized to the full that, if +she had married a title, Colonna had married a dowry. Time, however, +had sweetened her even as it had healed her brother. She tasted the +strange fruits of our modern orchard with astonishment but without +dyspepsia, nevertheless firmly declining to remain under the same roof +with a mummy. + +“This girl on the balcony seems to have made a tremendous impression +upon you,” said John Cumberland, keenly watching his son across the +library table. + +“I can never forget her,” Barry declared; for between these two was +that rare comradeship which makes secrets unnecessary. “I don’t mean +that I have fallen in love at first sight, or anything ridiculous like +that! But I have an intense curiosity to know who she is.” + +“You are quite sure,” his father went on, carefully selecting a cigar, +“that the order of events was: the girl and the crash?--not the crash +and the girl? You see what I mean, Barry? You have always had an +interest in these things--” he waved his cigar vaguely in the +direction of the library walls--“which I suppose I have encouraged. +You had it in mind to get back here to supper, and so it is just +possible----” + +“I quite see what you mean,” Barry interrupted: “that the girl on the +balcony was the beginning of delirium _after_ I had banged my head? +Well, of course, it’s impossible to explain how I know it, but you are +wrong. I certainly saw her. And what adds to my certainty is the +curious behaviour of the people who took care of me afterward.” + +“You mean the man who brought you to the hospital and the one who +towed your car to the garage?” + +“Why, certainly!” Barry replied. “As not a thing was stolen, either +from me personally or out of the Rolls, why should these people have +deliberately kept in the background?” + +“I see your point,” said his father slowly; “but I rather think there +was only one man concerned.” + +“I believe you are right,” Barry agreed; “and I believe that this man +was acting for the girl I saw at the window!” + +John Cumberland looked up, fumbling for his lighter. + +“Now,” he confessed, “I don’t entirely follow you.” + +“I mean, Dad,” Barry explained excitedly, “that she must have seen me. +She was looking at me. If I saw _her_, she certainly saw _me!_” + +John Cumberland lighted his cigar. + +“Now I begin to follow,” he nodded. “You mean that she didn’t want you +to trace her?” + +“Exactly!” + +“You are sure she saw you? A flash of lightning such as you describe +would have a very blinding effect.” + +“It did,” Barry admitted ruefully, “in _my_ case! But the crash took +place less than twenty yards from the spot where she was standing.” + +“Yes,” his father mused; “probably you are right. You think that she +sent this mysterious man with the Studebaker to your assistance, had +you taken to the hospital in Elizabeth, and then had the Rolls towed +to a distant garage, with the idea that you would be unable to find +the spot later? Rather a hazard. How was she to know that you were +unfamiliar with the neighbourhood?” + +“She might have thought it worth a chance, at any rate.” + +“But the object?” John Cumberland exclaimed. “What could be the +object? Was she very inadequately dressed? I mean was she likely to +feel ashamed of having been seen in such a condition?” + +“Why, no,” said Barry reflectively. “She was very strangely dressed, +and, as far as that goes, scantily. But in these days that wouldn’t +upset her. There’s some mystery about it--of this I am certain. +To-morrow I am going exploring. I wish you could come.” + +“Unfortunately I can’t,” was the reply. “I have two important +conferences. But if you go, let Hemingway drive you. You have had a +devil of a knock on the head, my boy, and you shouldn’t overtax +yourself.” + +Barry, however, had planned to go with Jim Sakers, who claimed to know +the country like the palm of his hand. And on the following morning +the two made an early start, beneath a cloudless sky which lent the +towering buildings of New York an unfamiliar ethereal quality. + +Jim Sakers, in appearance and in temperament, was as different from +Barry Cumberland as a Gruyère cheese is different from an ivory +Buddha. He was dark and of a lovable ugliness; practical to a degree +that his friend sometimes found irritating; invariably good-humoured; +and frankly ignorant of everything that could not be dealt with on +Wall Street. An enthusiastic sportsman to whom the Arts were an awful +mystery, he, withal, regarded the moody Barry more tenderly than +Horatio looked upon Hamlet. + +Once extricated from the crossword puzzle of New York’s traffic and +clear of Hoboken’s shores, they began to make speed, Jim commenting +continuously upon sights by the way, as was his manner, Barry +answering only in monosyllables and being entirely wrapped up in his +own thoughts. Presently: + +“When we get to the house,” he said, “I propose to call.” + +“Cheers!” cried Jim. “I hope the Egyptian princess keeps a good +cellar. But what for?” + +“To thank her for looking after me. I shall take it for granted that +she did.” + +“Wait until we find the house,” Jim warned; “and then, wait until we +get in!” + +Barry smiled lightly. + +“Of course we shall find the house,” he asserted. “You know the way, +don’t you?” + +“Absolutely,” Jim assured him, “as far as the forks. I simply couldn’t +go wrong. But from there onward, I am entirely in your hands. You say +you took the middle road?” + +“Yes,” Barry nodded. “The middle one.” + +He became lost in thought again, paying so little attention to his +companion’s cheery remarks that presently these ceased, as mile after +mile was left behind and New York seemed to become very remote, in the +peace of the countryside that they were traversing. + +And now, undaunted, Jim began to sing, loudly. + +“‘_Dear one, the moon is waiting for the sunshine_----’” + +“Shut up!” Barry implored. “Don’t sing. Or, if you _must_ sing, sing +the right words. It isn’t ‘the moon’--it’s ‘the world.’” + +“Oh!” Jim stared. “I don’t believe it. But, anyway, I like ‘the moon’ +better.” + +“The tune is all wrong as well.” + +“You’re too blamed particular!” said Jim. + +Engaged in this argument they came sweeping down a long, straight +road, turned sharply to the right, and Jim pulled up. + +“Behold!” he cried, and pointed. + +Barry could not conceal his excitement. + +“Gad!” he muttered. “It looks all different, now. But, yes, that’s the +road.” + +“Middle one, boss?” + +“Yes.” + +“Very good, boss.” + +Jim grinned cheerfully and swung around into the thoroughfare +indicated. + +“Tell me when to stop, boss!” he shouted. “‘_Dear one, the moon_…’” + +He sang lustily, and inaccurately, for half a mile or more; until: + +“Here we are! Left!” Barry shouted. + +Jim obediently turned into the narrow way indicated by his companion, +raced along it, and then: + +“What’s this?” he exclaimed, and pulled up sharply. A barrier +confronted them. “We’ve got into a private road! And it’s closed for +repairs. Look!” He pointed to the board which clearly stated this +fact. “It’s been closed for a long time, too, from the look of it. +You’ve muddled the contract, you poor nut!” + +Barry sat staring blankly ahead. At last: + +“Try back,” he suggested. “I can’t make this out.” + +Jim grunted, backed out to a gap, turned, and retraced the path to the +high road. Slowing up: + +“Now, boss,” he demanded, “what next? Where’s the princess?” + +Barry, who had been sitting with knitted brows, looked up sharply. + +“Jim,” he declared, “that _was_ the right road--and it was open on the +night I drove along it!” + +“We might park the bus and walk,” Jim suggested helpfully. + +“No,” Barry replied; “I don’t feel fit enough. Besides----” + +“Well?” Jim prompted. + +“Why was the road closed? There’s a mystery here, Jim, and I shall +never solve it by blundering in like a bull at a fence.” + +“Then what do we do now, boss?” Jim demanded. + +“Go home!” was the reply. + +“Right!” said Jim, and headed east for New York. “_Once upon a time_,” +he recited, in a loud singsong, “_there was a princess_…” + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + SHADED WINDOWS + +In the days that followed, Barry Cumberland resigned himself to +waiting. He was soon practically fit again, however, and he made up +his mind to employ his first morning of freedom in a methodical search +for the scene of his accident. + +Working from the nearest base where he could garage the convalescent +Rolls, he set out on foot; and in something less than half an hour had +reached the barricaded road. He had come alone. Jim Sakers’s open +scepticism upon the subject to which he usually alluded as “Barry’s +princess” had begun to jar upon the victim’s sensitiveness. + +He made a slight detour through close-set trees and came out upon the +private road twenty yards beyond. There was nothing to show that +anything in the nature of repairs was taking place, and he proceeded +confidently, looking about him in quest of some landmark. He found +none. But presently an opening appeared on the left. Barry turned into +it, pulled up, and suppressed a cry of triumph. + +Hitherto completely hidden by embracing woods, a house lay forty yards +back from the road. Its grounds were surrounded by a high wall, and +its construction was memorable because of a turret which crowned the +easterly wing of the building. + +Barry stood watching it for a time, and groping for another memory +which the sight of the house provoked, but which nevertheless eluded +him. He realized from its situation that upon the southeast it must +look sheerly down into a valley. When, and where, before, had he seen +such a house? Try how he might he could not remember. Had he seen it +in a dream? Surely he had looked down upon it from a great height! But +when? Had the vision been prophetic--an omen? If so, an omen of what? + +He advanced slowly. He bent, studying the road and the unkempt +shrubbery on his left. The track was altogether too deeply rutted to +have retained any imprint by which the passage of his own tires could +be identified. + +But now, in the very shadow of the building, he pulled up sharply, +staring. There was a tree stump some four feet out from the wall, its +bark newly gashed in a rather peculiar manner. The undergrowth about +here, too, had an odd appearance. It was dying in patches. + +Stepping back to the middle of the road, he looked up across the wall. +He found that he was staring directly at a window of the house +beyond--a window before which a small balcony projected! + +He had made no mistake! Here it was--at this very spot--that he had +crashed! Dr. Barton had been nearer to the truth than he knew when he +had declared, “You seem to have tried to climb a tree.” + +Exhilaration came. This provoking mystery was about to be solved. + +Passing along the entire length of the wall without coming to any +gate, Barry reached the corner and looked across a sloping lawn beyond +which stone steps led down to a sunken garden. Far below lay the bowl +of the valley through which ran the high road to New York. A +semicircular path swept around before the long, low porch of the +house, which, as he immediately noted, appeared to be deserted. All +visible windows were shaded. There was no evidence of life whatever +about the premises. His hopes fell to zero. + +Stepping onto the porch, which looked very dusty and unswept, he +pressed the bell and waited, lighting a cigarette. + +There was no response; not even the barking of a dog. A second and a +third time he rang with equally negative results. The thing was +growing more and more extraordinary. + +Since this road, now closed, clearly led to nowhere but the house, if +he had imagined that figure of a girl at the window, by whom had he +been taken to the hospital? + +Baffled, but not beaten, he walked down the steps again. He had noted +a path which clearly led to a garden at the back--a garden concealed +behind that high wall against which he had crashed. He turned into it, +passed under the very window in which the girl had stood, and came out +at the rear of this house of mystery. + +He paused in sight of the garden. Beside him was a door. It was partly +open--and from beyond came an unmistakable sound of clattering pots +and pans! + +Barry raised his hand and rapped sharply. The sounds ceased. A minute +passed in silence. Barry rapped again, more loudly. + +The door was suddenly opened--so suddenly, he realized, that the woman +who now stood before him must have crept forward to peep at the +intruder. He found himself confronted by a truly formidable female, +built for cargo rather than for speed. Her arms appeared to be wet to +the elbows, and were, in the words of Jim Sakers, to whom Barry later +gave an account of the interview, “as per specification. See ‘Village +Blacksmith,’ page 1.” Her muscular hands rested upon her hips. She was +iron-jawed, and her regard was a challenge. + +“Good-morning,” he began. “My name is Barry Cumberland.” + +The woman did not reply. + +“I could get no answer to the bell,” he went on, “and came around in +the hope of finding someone at home.” + +“There’s no one home but me.” + +“Can you tell me when they will be back?” + +“Who?” + +“Well--particularly the lady. The lady whom I really came to thank for +her service----” + +“Say it again.” + +“The lady who witnessed an accident which took place outside this +house two weeks ago.” + +The Amazon stared in silence, until: + +“Forgive me,” said Barry patiently, “but did you hear what I said?” + +“I heard.” + +“Then why don’t you answer?” + +“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” + +“But a lady _does_ live here.” + +“Does she?” + +Barry was torn between laughter and indignation, but he feared an +assault might follow any manifestation of either; therefore: + +“I think I told you that my name was Barry Cumberland?” he said in his +most amiable manner. + +“You surely did.” + +“You may have heard the name?” + +“You said it twice.” + +“Hang it all! At least you must know I mean no harm. I want to thank +the owner of the house for taking care of me when otherwise I might +have died on the roadside.” + +“There’s no one home.” + +“So you have told me! But surely I can communicate with him somewhere? +What is his name?” + +“Brown.” + +“But there are so many Browns! What is his first name?” + +“John.” + +Barry, stifling his rising anger, drew out a pocket case and pencil. +Solemnly he noted the name “John Brown”; then: + +“And at what address can I write to Mr. Brown?” he asked. + +“I don’t know.” + +“I mean, is it anywhere in America, or has Mr. Brown gone to Europe?” + +“I don’t know.” + +Apparently by accident, a ten-dollar bill dropped from the case, and +Barry held it out insinuatingly. Thereupon, with suddenly dilated +nostrils, the formidable guardian of the empty mansion slammed the +door in his face! He distinctly heard a bolt being shot. + +“Well, I’ll be damned!” said he. + +There are some situations from which retirement in good order is the +only possible course; and Barry Cumberland recognized the fact that +this was one of them. Returning his wallet to his pocket, he began to +retrace his steps. + +“What the devil does it mean?” he muttered. + +Of the woman’s antagonism there could be no doubt, nor of her loyalty +to her employer. “John Brown!” Of course, it was a fabrication. She +was lying, deliberately. Her instructions plainly were to give no +information--and she had followed them to the letter. + +The object of it all defied his imagination, but he was more than ever +certain that the girl at the window overlooking the garden had been +real and no figment of delirium. + +As he walked slowly out to the road again, his mind was busy with +possible theories. He had learned much but little. Suspicion created +by the barred road was strengthened by what he had found at the house. +For some unfathomable reason, the girl at the window and those +associated with her were peculiarly anxious to avoid meeting him. + +But the longer he considered the problem, the more hopeless it became. +He determined to consult the local real estate people, to endeavour to +trace the ownership of the place, and to identify this “John Brown” +who was so pointedly anxious to avoid him. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + BARRY IS HAUNTED + +“In short,” said Jim, “the princess may be described as still at +large?” + +“Shut up about ‘the princess,’” Barry retorted. “At least I have found +out that the woman didn’t lie. The house actually belongs to someone +called John Brown.” + +“Then, in private life, the--the lady--must be a Miss or a Mrs. Brown. +Not a romantic name. But what did the realty sportsman tell you about +this mysterious citizen Brown?” + +“Very little. Said he had never seen him. And, for your enlightenment, +there is no Mrs. Brown and no Miss Brown.” + +“Odder and odder. Have you thought that she may have been the daily +help bound for a fancy-dress orgy?” + +“I have not.” + +“Well, think about it. Sherlock Holmes would have thought about it at +once. Another theory. Mr. Brown may be a bootlegger! A third +theory----” + +“I don’t want to hear it!” + +Jim Sakers looked at Barry reproachfully. + +“You are not tackling this thing in the light of pure reason,” he +protested. “The proper method is to think of every possible solution, +jot ’em all down, and then pick out the right one.” + +“Go to blazes!” said Barry. + +He had begun to cultivate a sort of New Jersey complex, and was +forever driving out into the hills which had been the scene of his +strange and unfortunate experience. + +One afternoon he drove as far as the club from which he had been +returning when the accident had occurred. He had no particular purpose +in view, beyond that of travelling over the now familiar route. The +golf course was thickly dotted with players, but none of his intimate +set seemed to be in the clubhouse or on the tennis courts. He smoked +a reflective pipe on the veranda, watching long drives and short +drives from the first tee, and then set out for home again. + +Rain threatened; indeed, was only checked by a high wind. And at a +point in the descending road which seemed to be peculiarly familiar +for some reason, he pulled up and sat staring as one who has seen an +apparition. + +A long-dormant memory awoke. + +Through a rift in the driving clouds sunlight poured suddenly upon a +building halfway down the slope beneath, surrounded by high walls and +having a curious turretlike structure at one corner! + +Good heavens! It was _the_ house--her house; and he had first seen it +under very similar conditions on the evening of his crash! The clouds +swept on, and shadow came where there had been light--just as had +happened before. + +He had not dreamed it, after all. But, nevertheless, his first glimpse +of the building had been in the nature of an omen. Considering the +fact that it lay a mile or more back from the main road, his +subsequently coming to disaster under its very walls was at least an +amazing coincidence. + +Automatically he took out his case and lighted a cigarette, all the +time watching the mystery house nestling there far below in its +enclosing gardens. Once he glanced away. It was to see what prospect +offered of sunlight again flooding that part of the landscape. Even as +he looked back, the desired effect came about. Some quality in the +atmosphere seemed to bring out details very sharply; and the result +was that effected by a reducing glass. He saw the house as through the +lens of a camera. + +Smoke from his newly lighted cigarette rose before his eyes. Abruptly +he tossed the cigarette away, and watched--watched; eagerly, fixedly. + +A tiny but clear-cut figure in the distance, a girl moved in the +walled garden! + +She appeared to be gathering flowers.… The shadow of a cloud crept +across and across; until once more the picture was blotted out. + +Barry’s heart gave a great leap. At crazy speed he swept down the +valley road, taking one keen bend on two tires. Of his going he +afterward remembered nothing. When, for the second time, he stepped +upon the porch of “John Brown’s” house, he recalled the remark of a +girl he had once overheard: “Barry Cumberland is picturesquely mad,” +she had said. + +“She was right,” he reflected and pressed the bell. + +The place looked as it had looked before. All the windows were shaded. +There was dust on the porch. No one answered his repeated ringing. + +In a state bordering upon stupefaction, he went to that side path +which led to the garden. He found only a barred gate, at which he +stared in unbelieving wonder. Beyond, he could see the door where he +had held his interview with the unrelenting caretaker. But all around +was silence. To-day there was no rattling of pots and pans. + +Could it be, as his father had hinted, that imagination was playing +tricks with him? Had the vision at the window indeed been the outcome +of an injury, and was this phantom of the garden an aftermath of it--a +second illusion--a mirage? Back along the ill-kept road he walked to +the barrier, where, heedless of possible loss, he had left the Rolls. + +What ailed him? Was he going mad? Was his interest in this house and +its occupants due to frustrated curiosity? If so, did this fully +explain his waking and sleeping dreams of a dark-eyed girl in a cloudy +robe, watching him from a high balcony? + +Barry was taking Aunt Micky to dine that evening at a restaurant on +Forty-seventh Street, which legitimately enjoyed the reputation of +owning a good cellar. Jim Sakers was joining them, and bringing Jack +Lorrimer. Jack was Barry’s cousin. She was very pretty, having missed +the Cumberland nose. Following dinner, they were going to see the most +improper play on Broadway. The event was in honour of Aunt Micky, who +occasionally indulged in what she termed “a night of pure sin.” + +Having dressed, Barry was sitting smoking in the library when she came +down. He had been studying the figure of a slender priestess from the +temple at Dendera. + +“Well, young Cumberland,” came a deep female voice, “dreaming again?” + +Barry turned--he was seated on the edge of the library table--and +smiled at the speaker. Countess Colonna was a woman of medium height, +sturdily built, and deep-chested, as were all the Cumberlands. Her +crisp gray hair was closely bobbed; her unflinching steel-gray eyes +looked out from under thick, dark eyebrows to tell the world that a +dissolute husband had not crushed her spirit. She had been handsome in +her youth. The Cumberland nose in a woman was not unattractive. + +Her dress was somewhat masculine, consisting of a smart dinner jacket +with white silk waistcoat--the latter cut moderately low--a short +black skirt, black silk stockings, and chic black shoes. That she had +hitherto refrained from wearing trousers Barry regarded as a +concession, for which he was duly grateful. + +“Hello, Micky,” he said--“all set?” + +“Surely,” his aunt replied, lighting a very large cigarette and +replacing the lighter in the pocket of her jacket. “I have always +avoided your speak-easy, young Cumberland, because I don’t want to be +mixed up in a raid. But, as I don’t care for whisky with dinner, I +have fallen.” + +“Splendid,” replied Barry, laughing. “We shall make you a complete +sinner yet.” + +“I aim to be,” said Aunt Micky, “on my ‘night.’ The night over, there +isn’t a better citizen in the United States than Michael Colonna.” + +“There isn’t a better sport in the world,” added Barry affectionately. +“Pity you never married again, Micky.” + +“Don’t be a damn’ fool!” was the reply. + +As they came down the steps to the street: + +“Hello!” said Barry, “why have we got the big car?” + +“John has taken the other,” his aunt replied. + +She wore a French cape, red-lined, with which in the high wind she was +struggling valiantly. + +“Where has he gone?” Barry asked, as Hemingway held open the door of +the car. + +“He is dining with the man Danbazzar,” Aunt Micky answered, getting +in. + +“That means he’s spending money,” Barry mused as he dropped down upon +the seat beside her. “What is it this time? A scarab or half the side +of a temple?” + +“Can’t say.” His aunt shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t like Danbazzar. +Fascinating man, but don’t like him.” + +“Oddly enough, I have never met him,” Barry said. “But I know he has +done business with Dad for years.” + +Presently the car pulled up before an ordinary-looking chop house, and +Barry jumped out, helping Aunt Micky to alight. She stared in through +the open windows, beyond which rows of tables might be seen, some +already occupied; she glanced up at the signboard and looked into the +narrow doorway. + +“Hardly Ritzy,” she commented. + +“Not to look at,” Barry admitted. “But the wine is _bon_; so are the +liqueurs.” + +“Ah, well,” his aunt mused, “sin leads our footsteps into strange +bypaths.” + +They went in. Barry had reserved a table to which a very gentlemanly +Irishman conducted them. + +“Haven’t my friends arrived, Pat?” Barry inquired. + +“No, Mr. Cumberland. But you are a shade early.” + +Barry glanced at his watch and then at the clock. + +“You are right,” he agreed. “What about two special cocktails?” + +“Precisely,” his aunt inquired, ignoring all offers of assistance and +throwing her cavalry cloak across the back of a chair--“precisely what +is a ‘special cocktail’?” + +“It is clearly indicated to-night,” Barry assured her. + +“Then let it be brought,” said Aunt Micky. + +The cocktails had just been served and Barry was studying the menu +when Jim appeared in the open doorway, staring from table to table in +quest of his party. Beside him stood a pretty girl wearing a very +modern dance frock, a fragment of silvery gauze. Barry stood up, +waving, and Aunt Micky shaded her eyes with her hand, a mannerism +indicating disapproval. She drew a deep breath as the new arrivals +approached, Jack Lorrimer observed of many observers. + +“H’m,” she murmured--“silver currency coming in again. Young Lorrimer +has a dollar in front, a dollar behind and no change. Barry, the +girl’s nude!” + +“Shut up, Micky!” said her embarrassed nephew. “Hello, Jack! Hello, +Jim! They are bringing your cocktails.” + +When everyone was seated, Aunt Micky shaded her eyes again, surveying +Jack from shingled nut-brown hair downward to the table edge. + +“Are you liking my frock,” the girl asked, “or hating it?” + +“Neither,” was the reply. “I am looking for it.” + +Jim applauded softly, and Jack turned to Barry for sympathy, leaning +forward so that two curly heads were very close together. + +“Do _you_ see anything wrong with me?” she pleaded. + +Jim watched in tragic disapproval, then rested his hand upon Aunt +Micky’s shoulder. + +“Look at them!” he said--“admired, self-satisfied--pink and white. +Micky, we brunettes must hang together!” + +The dinner turned out a great success. + +Aunt Micky followed a routine on these occasions: drinking red wine +because of its pleasing resemblance to blood, eating a prodigious +quantity of celery, taking the blue-plate item in the menu regardless +of its constitution, and winding up with rum omelette in flames, +because it was “so hellish.” + +The notorious play bored her. + +“I am going home to read in bed,” she declared, as they waited outside +the theatre for the car. “I shall read _The Sorrows of Satan_, by +Marie Corelli.” + +They dropped her at the Cumberland town house, an old-fashioned +mansion in one of those sections of the big city where a few historic +families still linger. A tired-looking person was smoking a slightly +used cigar and supporting the iron post which decorated a neighbouring +corner. As the door closed and Barry came down to reënter the car, +the weary man saluted him. + +“Bloated capitalist,” Jim murmured; “living in constant terror of the +honest but starving burglar. Your wretched treasures guarded night and +day by detectives----” + +“Yes,” said Barry, laughing, and directing Hemingway through the tube. +“It seems funny to me. Because I can’t imagine the most hard-working +burglar staggering away with a couple of hundred-weights of granite +sphinx on his back.” + +“I much prefer the detective’s life,” Jim continued irrepressibly. +“The detective’s life is the life for me. ‘All forms of shadowing +undertaken. Divorce and blackmail our specialties. Order your armed +guards by telephone. One to five thousand--in uniform--at a moment’s +notice. Our watchword: Shoot to Kill. Telegraphic address: Confidence, +New York’----” + +“For the love of Mike,” Jack implored, “be quiet for five minutes!” + +The car threaded its way through Fifth Avenue, and, at the very moment +of its turning into that thoroughfare sacred to prohibitive prices, a +traffic signal checked them. A French limousine shot past ahead, its +occupants clearly visible. They were two; and as the man was seated on +the off-side, Barry had never a glimpse of his features. But the girl +wore a curious black veil, of a fashion neither Oriental nor Spanish. + +She had apparently just raised it, but dropped it again swiftly on +seeing another car so near. Yet she failed to veil quickly enough to +prevent Barry obtaining a glimpse of her face. He uttered a loud cry. +To the astonishment of his friends--even Jim was silenced--he wrenched +open the door and leaped out into the street! + +He ran three or four paces and stood there like a madman, right in the +traffic fairway, glaring after the retreating car! Its number was +indistinguishable. He turned, staring back at Hemingway, who was +regarding him with deep concern. + +“Am I really going mad?” he muttered. + +The girl in the car was the girl of the balcony! + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + DANBAZZAR + +The abstracted mood of Barry during the remainder of the evening was +too noticeable to pass without comment. His dance partner, Naomi, a +girl friend of Jack’s grew very petulant, until Jack was really sorry +for her. This wouldn’t have mattered, but Jack showed it. Whereupon +Naomi became furious. + +Barry knew that he would not lack successors, however, for a lot of +their crowd were there, and Naomi was what Jim termed “a star looker.” +Accordingly he excused himself early on some imaginary pretext and +started for home. He had let Hemingway go, and he taxied back. He +longed for the solitude of his own room--for reflection. + +He wanted to argue this thing out with himself once and for all. He +wanted to know if he had been purposely mystified by the occupants of +the hillside house, or whether he was succumbing to a delusion. This +he must determine, for his highly sensitive nature demanded it. The +family physician had warned him that the blow to his skull had been a +severe one, and that he must on no account overtax his brain for at +least a year to come. Somewhat belatedly he began to take this warning +to heart. + +Had it been a covert intimation that he was threatened with insanity? + +The detective on duty at the corner saluted him again as he discharged +the taxi. Jim Sakers’s words returned to his mind while he fumbled for +a key. He remembered too that his father had advocated a long vacation +abroad. + +What did this mean? Should he regard it as confirming his worst +theories? Or did his father suspect that there was some deep plot +afoot? Reared from childhood in an atmosphere of luxury, he had never +hitherto appreciated, in all its significance, the fact that he was +the son of a millionaire. + +As he was passing the library he heard voices; one of them +unmistakable, the other deep, resonant--equally unfamiliar. + +John Cumberland as a rule retired early, and Barry paused, wondering +whom this late visitor might be. Curious, he rapped and opened the +door. + +He looked down the long rectangular room. The Cumberland library was +one of the acknowledged “sights” of New York, but to Barry it was a +commonplace. It was lined with relics of that wonderful civilization +which flourished under the Pharaohs. Its very atmosphere was +reminiscent of the Nile land, of the indescribable smell of Egypt. + +His father was seated in the big armchair, looking up at a wall +painting from Medinet Habu. Facing him, and seated on a corner of the +library table--a favourite perch of Barry’s--was a man of arresting +appearance. + +He was in dinner kit, but in lieu of the more regular black bow +displayed a stock. His hair, brushed back from a fine brow, was +silver-gray; his head leonine; the pale chiselled features were of +Moorish severity. He wore a short moustache and a small tuft beneath +his lower lip, of that kind once known as an imperial. He was built +massively, imposingly. His eyes, which at Barry’s entrance had turned +in the direction of the door, were light brown and, in their piercing +regard, resembled the eyes of an animal. He stood up, revealing his +height, which Barry estimated to be more than six feet. + +“Hello, Barry!” said John Cumberland. “Glad you looked in. I should +like you to meet Mr. Danbazzar.” + +Danbazzar raised his hand in a slow, majestic movement, and: + +“I am delighted to meet Mr. Barry Cumberland,” he replied, and his +voice possessed a deep organ note. “But you forget, Mr. +Cumberland”--turning to the elder man--“that I lay no claim to the +title of Mister. I am Danbazzar; neither Danbazzar Esquire, Sir +Danbazzar, nor Lord Danbazzar; merely Danbazzar.” + +He came forward, extending his hand. + +“Mr. Barry Cumberland, I hope you and I will be friends, as your +father and I have been for many years.” + +Half attracted, half repelled, Barry took the extended hand--and +experienced a mighty grip, which greatly reassured him. He smiled. + +“You can be sure of it, Mr.--I beg your pardon--Danbazzar,” he +returned. “I heard voices. That was why I came in.” + +Danbazzar inclined his head graciously and placed a chair. + +“Perhaps you would like to sit here?” he said. “We are discussing a +matter upon which I think your father would welcome your views.” + +Barry sat down, and: + +“Is that so, Dad?” he asked. “What’s the big argument?” + +“There’s no argument, Barry,” was the reply; “there isn’t room for +any. It’s a proposition, and it’s up to me to say Yes or No.” + +“Precisely,” Danbazzar murmured; and resumed his seat upon the corner +of the library table. + +He had an odd trick of tensing and then relaxing his lips. He did it +now, looking from the older to the younger man. Then, from a box upon +the table, he selected a cigarette, lighted it, and reflectively blew +a puff of smoke toward the dancers and other ladies of Pharaoh’s +golden court displayed upon the wall above him. + +Barry, his mind full of his own affairs, settled down rather +reluctantly to listen. + +“I am afraid this is going to be right over my head,” he confessed. +“But it’s bound to be interesting, so fire away. What is it all +about?” + +Danbazzar waved his cigarette in the direction of John Cumberland, and +the latter, smiling, replied: + +“It’s a deal in Egyptian antiquities, Barry, as no doubt you surmise. +But in a new kind of antiquity--different from any Danbazzar has ever +offered me before; different in every way.” + +“You are right,” boomed the deep voice. “No such proposition has been +made to any living man, I should guess, since the days of Rameses the +Ninth.” + +Danbazzar imparted a quality of awe to this extraordinary statement +which was not without its effect upon Barry. He found himself studying +the large, well-shaped hand holding a lighted cigarette and discovered +a curious fascination in a little scarab ring on the fourth finger. As +one does upon meeting a man of whom one has heard much, he endeavoured +to sum up his impressions of Danbazzar and to compare the result with +what he had hitherto learned about him. + +He was reputed to be the agent of an individual or a syndicate in +Egypt, and it was rumoured that his activities had more than once +attracted official attention. Certainly, he had been the medium +through which many rare antiquities had reached collections of wealthy +connoisseurs, and indeed, more than one public institution. John +Cumberland’s museum had been enriched by not a few items obtained in +this way. And since the export of such antiques was contrary to the +laws of the Egyptian government, and their importation subject to a +heavy tax by that of the United States, it was only reasonable to +suppose that Danbazzar was a smuggler. But he was master of his +subject, a fact to which the names of his patrons testified. His +nationality was unknown. + +“It is some years since we have met,” John Cumberland pursued, “On the +last occasion, if I remember rightly, you brought me----” + +He pointed to a very beautiful enamelled casket enclosed in a glass +case. + +“Correct,” Danbazzar nodded. “There are only two of that period in +existence, and the other is in the Louvre. I had the honour to supply +it to France, as I told you at the time of our deal.” + +“Yes, I remember,” said John Cumberland. “And now, Barry--” turning to +his son--“I have been given first refusal of a proposition which, if +it matures, will win me a place among the _real_ Egyptologists; let me +in on the ground floor, in fact.” + +Danbazzar raised his hand, checking the speaker. + +“One moment, Mr. Cumberland,” he interrupted, and turned to Barry, +fixing upon him a penetrating glance from his extraordinary eyes. “You +quite understand that what you are about to hear must not be mentioned +in any shape or form to anyone now outside this room?” + +“Quite,” said Barry, almost startled by the intensity of the speaker’s +gaze. “You may rely upon me.” + +He glanced at his father, and realized that he was labouring under the +influence of intense excitement. His voice, his colour, his movements +betrayed him. + +Enthusiastic though John Cumberland had always been upon this subject, +Barry could never remember to have seen him quite so roused before. He +felt, suddenly, that he stood upon the verge of something momentous. +The shadow of Ancient Egypt at last was reaching out to touch him. He +experienced a momentary shrinking, followed by a thrill of +anticipation, communicated, possibly, from father to son. + +“I have seen a papyrus to-night, Barry,” John Cumberland went on, +“which even my limited study of the subject”--he acknowledged with a +smile Danbazzar’s gesture of denial--“shows me to be unique. You shall +see it presently, if you wish--that is, with my friend’s consent.” + +Consent was given in a gracious gesture. + +“It may mean little to you, but it has meant much to me. I foresee +that reproductions of it will occupy a place in the library of every +student of Egyptology. It will be more sought after than the Papyrus +Harris, or the Papyrus Ebers. The discovery of the Rosetta Stone, +itself, will almost be dwarfed by the publication of the Danbazzar +Papyrus----” + +“Mr. Cumberland!” Danbazzar’s voice broke in imperiously. “You have +heard my proposition with all its conditions. If you accept them, the +papyrus shall be known as the ‘Cumberland Papyrus.’ Upon this I +insist. It is no more than your due. By your efforts its authenticity +must be established.” + +“A minor point,” John Cumberland assured him. “My share will be that +of a backer. You are the discoverer.” + +“Not of the sarcophagus,” was the reply. “This has yet to be +discovered, and can only be discovered by your help.” + +“Tremendously thrilling!” said Barry, standing up restlessly and +lighting a fresh cigarette; “but, as I expected, right over my head. +Does it mean a job of exploration or something?” + +“It does,” said his father, looking at him. + +“Might I take a peep at this papyrus?” + +Danbazzar bowed gravely, and from the other side of the library table +took up a large portfolio having double locks. He opened it carefully +and spread out a stained fragment, some three feet in length, part of +which was clearly missing and other parts of which were defaced by +curious stains. + +It bore rows of figures of a type quite familiar to Barry, but +nevertheless meaningless, and some of the colouring retained much of +its original freshness. It seemed to deal with the inevitable subject +of burial, but upon one figure, perfectly preserved, he fastened his +gaze as if hypnotized. It was that of a slender girl, more delicately +drawn than any he ever remembered to have seen. But that which held +him enthralled was the resemblance, the uncanny resemblance, of this +figure to the girl of the balcony. + +Allowing for the conventional methods of the ancient artist, it might +have been her portrait! + +He heard Danbazzar speaking. + +“My own translation is here,” he was saying, indicating a manuscript +which he held in his hand. “I have asked your father to have it +checked by any two authorities he may select. But the theory that I +have based upon this is the point that will interest you.” + +“It will startle you out of your life!” John Cumberland interjected. + +Barry looked up. + +“What _is_ the theory?” he asked, looking from face to face. + +“The theory is,” Danbazzar replied, “that unless some unforeseen +accident occurs, or has already occurred, we shall shortly be in a +position to learn some of the secrets of Ancient Egypt from the lips +of one who lived there!” + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + ZALITHEA + +“I should be glad,” said John Cumberland, “if you would just run +over the main facts again for Barry’s benefit.” + +Danbazzar inclined his head in that courtly manner which was his and +glanced aside at the younger man. + +“Quite so,” Barry agreed. His original purpose was forgotten, for here +apparently was an even deeper mystery than that which had been +puzzling him. “At the moment I simply don’t know what to make of it +all, so please start right at the beginning.” + +Danbazzar took up a position before the mantelpiece. Barry could not +help thinking that the background suited the figure. The man had the +majestic presence of a Pharaoh. + +“The facts,” he began, speaking slowly and impressively and +emphasizing his statements with graceful and unfamiliar gestures, “are +of a sort which you would be justified in doubting if you met them in +a Sunday newspaper. My reputation, though, gives them a greater value. +But in spite of a life devoted to these subjects, I’m not infallible, +and I won’t consent to go any further, as I have already told you, Mr. +Cumberland”--turning in the latter’s direction--“until two other +opinions have been taken.” + +“Your proposal is fair and reasonable,” was the reply; “and I have +already agreed to it.” + +“Very well!” Danbazzar resumed. “The story starts from five years ago, +when I was paying one of my periodical visits to Egypt, and when I +discovered”--he pointed--“this papyrus. I won’t bore you with +particulars of how it came into my possession as Mr. John Cumberland +has these already. Nor can I account for its presence in the place +where it was found. Enough to say that I recognized it to be genuine +and immediately set to work to decipher it. I tried to restore, as far +as possible, those parts which had become defaced. + +“A first glance had shown me that it was not the ordinary ritual +buried with most mummies. A very short study proved that is was +unique--unique in every way--and that it dated from the latter part of +the reign of Seti the First.” + +“When did he reign?” Barry asked. + +“Roughly, about thirteen hundred and sixty years before Christ!” + +“Good heavens!” Barry stared again at the fragment with its amazing +freshness of colouring; “then this thing is something over three +thousand two hundred years old?” + +“Precisely,” Danbazzar nodded. “In other words, it dates from a time +when the art of mummifying human bodies had reached a very high state +of perfection. One day, perhaps very soon, you will see the mummy of +Seti himself in the Cairo Museum. You will never forget the majesty of +his features preserved by that lost art for over three thousand years. +I mention the fact of the high development of the art of the mummy +maker at this period, because the contents of the papyrus show that +this had been achieved by long years of study, and that even more +extraordinary results were looked for by a certain group of students +closely associated with Pharaoh’s court. + +“I found it to consist of two parts. The first, fortunately, almost +complete, the second, as you see, with a great part missing. How much +is missing I can’t even surmise, but I should say that from this +point”--he bent forward and laid a long finger upon the papyrus--“to +the end where it is torn covers a period of some two hundred and +eighty years. It bears the names, or as we should say, the signatures, +of six generations of priests. + +“The first and shorter part, written toward the end of Seti’s reign, +if I’m not mistaken, states that in accordance with the wishes of a +certain learned high priest of the Temple of Amen Ra at Thebes and +with the consent of Pharaoh, an attempt was made to prove that not +only the physical frame but human life itself could be preserved +indefinitely under peculiar conditions.” + +“What!” Barry exclaimed incredulously--“that a living person could be +mummified and remain alive?” + +“This priest,” Danbazzar replied, “referred to in the papyrus--his +name would mean nothing to you--believed that he had perfected a +process for accomplishing this! It was all an outcome of that peculiar +egotism which belonged to the Ancient Egyptians. And in this way, no +doubt, he interested Pharaoh in his experiments. + +“You get what I mean? The statues and records which had preserved for +posterity the principal events of earlier reigns weren’t good enough +to tell coming ages of the greatness of Seti the First! To _his_ glory +a _living witness_ should be left behind to testify to the ancient +grandeur of Egypt. This is stated at the beginning of the papyrus, +which then goes on to relate that a beautiful captive, attached to the +person of the Queen, was selected for this high honour.” + +“High honour!” cried Barry. “You mean she was selected to be put to +death!” + +Danbazzar smiled slightly. + +“As it is stated that she was of great beauty and bodily perfection,” +he admitted, “it is just possible that an element of jealousy entered +into this selection. At any rate, for whatever reason, this girl was +chosen, and she is referred to in the writing as Zalithea, a Princess +of Unu, taken captive in the wars of Seti. As Egyptologists have never +succeeded in identifying this island of Unu, we can’t even guess at +the nationality of Zalithea. But she possibly came from the +neighbourhood of Cyprus. + +“Now--” he paused, raising his finger--“the nature of the process by +which this suspension of life was induced, and that by which it was to +be ended, or the subject awakened, is not mentioned. This papyrus”--he +lowered his finger and pointed again--“is no more than a brief +statement of the fact that, in accordance with the wishes of Pharaoh, +Princess Zalithea was selected for this high honour and laid in a +certain tomb under the guardianship of a group of priests appointed as +custodians. + +“Certain funds were set aside for the upkeep of the small temple +attached to the tomb, and one of the most extraordinary experiments +ever attempted by man had begun.” + +“But,” Barry objected, “while I’m not in a position to dispute the +genuineness of this writing, it’s--well, what shall I say?--it’s +really a nightmare--the dream of a madman--who unfortunately had power +enough to carry it out and condemn this poor girl to a living death! +Thank God we live in an age of _real_ civilization!” + +His father caught his eye, and: + +“Don’t judge until you have heard all the facts,” he said. “The +civilization of Ancient Egypt was more real, and higher, than you +appreciate.” + +“That is true,” Danbazzar resumed, unmoved by Barry’s criticism, “as +the second part of the papyrus bears out. This roughly covers the +reigns of seven kings. In the ages that have since gone by time has +reduced the whole of the papyrus to a more or less uniform colour. In +fact, some of the earlier colouring is brighter than the later, but +here”--he stepped forward to the table--“we move from somewhere around +1365 up to somewhere about 1200 B.C. It was the duty of the priests, +to which they were sworn, to examine the sleeping Zalithea at certain +periods which I estimate to have been fifty years apart.” + +“You mean to awaken her?” Barry demanded. + +“Surely!” said Danbazzar. “They were entrusted with a certain formula +by means of which, in the belief of its inventor, the sleeping woman +could be aroused from her trance. It was their duty at specific dates +to record the results. Here we have five such records, covering a +period of some two hundred and fifty years, as I estimate. Each, as +you see, is confined within a ruled space, and every one is +undoubtedly the work of a different scribe and possesses recognizable +characteristics of the period in which it was written. Each also bears +what we may term the signature of the chief priest in office at the +time, and the accounts, while the wording varies slightly, all tally. +The last, or the last to be preserved, states as the others state, and +is attested by three witnesses, priests of the temple, that at this +time _the Princess Zalithea was still living!_” + +“Good God!” Barry exclaimed. “It simply isn’t credible! Don’t +misunderstand me! I am not doubting your translation or the +genuineness of the thing! But there must be some mistake!” + +“You are entitled to suppose so,” Danbazzar admitted. “It was because +I supposed so myself that I allowed several years to elapse before +making the proposition that I have made to-night to your father. +During those years I have not been idle. A trusted agent of mine in +Egypt, working upon such information as I could give him, had been +searching--secretly, of course--and twelve months ago his search was +rewarded.” + +“What was he searching for?” Barry asked. + +“He was searching for the tomb of Zalithea! You see, it would be +unlikely to attract the attention of the ordinary excavator, its +historical importance being slight--except in relation to this +papyrus.” + +“Do you mean that he found it?” Barry demanded amazedly. + +“He found it!” Danbazzar replied. “There _is_ such a tomb!” + +“Do you understand, Barry?” said John Cumberland excitedly. “Do you +understand what this may mean?” + +Barry in bewilderment looked from his father to Danbazzar and then +stared down at the papyrus on the table. + +“I worked on it all last winter,” Danbazzar went on quietly. “I opened +a way in--and I found myself checked by a great stone portcullis.” + +“You mean,” said Barry dazedly, “you spent last winter in Egypt, +actually excavating?” + +“Actually on the job! I got away with murder. I had no permit to dig. +But I’ve explained my system to your father. I’d hoped to go back this +season; but funds won’t allow. It’s going to be ruinously expensive to +complete that excavation. But the man who _does_ complete it will make +a name for himself.” + +“If,” John Cumberland went on, “she remained alive for three hundred +years, Barry, why not for three thousand?” + +“But, Dad,” said Barry, “this is raving lunacy!” + +“It seems so,” Danbazzar admitted gravely; “but five generations of +learned men whose names we have here testify to the fact. Are we to +assume that they were all liars? If so, with what object did they lie? +I found the tomb--unopened, untouched!” + +But Barry’s attention had wandered again, and the words reached him +but vaguely. He was staring intently at the graceful figure in the +papyrus which aroused such strange memories. And now, turning to +Danbazzar, and resting his finger upon that part of the record: + +“What does this mean?” he asked. “Is it a symbol?” + +“No,” was the reply. “You will notice on the right of the figure what +looks like a cartouche. I have been unable to identify it, though. +Translated, it means, ‘She Who Sleeps but Who Will Awaken.’ For this +reason I take the figure to be a portrait of the Princess Zalithea.” + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + SPECIAL OPINIONS + +“The last time the man Danbazzar was about,” said Countess Colonna, +“the result was that a motor lorry and ten men arrived. The front +doors were taken off their hinges and a stone figure as big as the +Statue of Liberty was carried into the library.” + +“I don’t think it will happen this time, Micky,” Barry assured her. + +“I hope not,” was the reply. “I don’t like Danbazzar. I always imagine +him living in a harem.” + +“I haven’t met the sportsman,” said Jim Sakers, “but I am going to +crash into the University Club to-night and look him over keenly. If I +don’t approve, Barry, I shan’t hesitate to advise you to drop him. On +the other hand, I may be favourably impressed. And as is only fair to +him, if this should prove to be the case, I shall relieve your mind at +once and let you know.” + +“Thanks,” Barry replied. “I shall be in a frightfully unsettled state +until I have your opinion.” + +“That’s quite natural,” Jim agreed; “but I promise not to keep you in +suspense.” + +“It occurs to me, young Sakers,” Aunt Micky broke in, “that you and I +are being deliberately kept in the dark about this thing. Young +Cumberland here has a secret eye. It’s his left!” + +Barry laughed. + +“You hit the nail on the head, Micky,” he admitted. “Danbazzar has +come across with a proposal about which I have promised to say +nothing. It’s a very queer business--more than queer, in fact; but +to-night I shall know more about it. Dad has invited him to join us at +the University Club with Dr. Rittenburg of the Smithsonian, Horace +Pain, the big Oriental man, and Dad’s old friend, Dr. Blackwell of +Yale.” + +“What a wild party!” Jim commented. “I suppose you are going on to the +Earl Carroll Vanities after dinner?” + +“On the contrary,” Barry assured him, “we are going on to Danbazzar’s +place.” + +“You can’t delude me,” cried Jim scornfully. “I see Dr. Rittenburg and +Professor Blackwell dancing far into the small hours of the morning in +some small but costly cabaret. I can see you all, haggard-eyed, +flushed with wine, a really shocking Six, taking breakfast at Child’s +on Fifth Avenue as the morning sun peeps in upon the end of your +debauch. Barry, I’m sorry, but you are making the pace too fast.” + +The dinner turned out more successful, however, than Jim had +predicted. Barry’s father had never before so taken him into his +confidence in regard to this hobby of his life, and under different +circumstances he would certainly have come prepared to be bored. As it +chanced, the company proved to be so amusing that he was amazed to +find how quickly the time passed. + +Horace Pain, the celebrated Orientalist, was all that he had expected +of him; a dry, slow-spoken scholar, whose only enthusiasm was for his +subject. But Dr. Rittenburg proved to be a comedian who would have +rejoiced Jim’s heart. He was a round little man--a study in curves. +His red face was round, his bald head was round, and he wore very +round glasses. He and Professor Blackwell succeeded in keeping the +party in a state of continuous laughter; for Professor Blackwell, +tall, gaunt, and saturnine, had a fund of wit, as Barry knew, which +seemed to be inexhaustible. + +Danbazzar, too, was a delightful companion. There seemed to be few +spots in the world, civilized or uncivilized, that he had not visited, +from the headwaters of the Amazon to the monasteries of Thibet. The +real purpose of the meeting was not touched upon, however, until the +party had adjourned to the library of the club. Here, as they took +their seats in an alcove, Barry observed Jim. Faithful to his promise, +he had “crashed in.” + +With an exaggerated air of secrecy, based upon the Charlie Chaplin +tradition, he crept around the gallery above, turning his back swiftly +whenever one of the party looked up, and apparently searching for some +book which he always failed to find. Crouching low behind the rails, +so that only the top of his head and his eyes were visible, he peered +down intently. This amazing piece of pantomime was only interrupted by +the decision of the party to adjourn serious discussion to Danbazzar’s +apartment. + +But, as they quitted the club and got into John Cumberland’s big car +which waited outside, Jim Sakers, his face buried in an evening paper, +hat brim pulled down over scowling features, stood beside the steps +watching intently. + +Danbazzar’s apartment, Barry had always been given to understand, +contained a number of literally priceless objects, every one unique +and irreplaceable, and any one of which he could have sold over and +over again for incredible sums. Used to the orderly neatness of his +father’s collection, he came prepared to find something similar, +although probably on a smaller scale. + +The address proved to be situated amid some of the loudest noises of +New York. He had thought vaguely, before, that it was an odd spot to +live in. But he had not allowed for the fact that Danbazzar lived on +the roof. Here, like a priest of Bel, high above all the buildings +surrounding him, Danbazzar from a cloudy silence looked down upon +teeming streets, thousands of lighted windows, dwarfed sky signs. + +His apartment was virtually a bungalow from the porch of which one +stepped into a sort of Japanese garden, with flowering vines and +tortuous, spiny cacti. A large pond was approached through a loggia +and peopled by golden carp. From little arbours around the wall one +might look down upon a muted New York. An Arab servant, who apparently +knew not one word of English, attended upon the guests; and presently +they entered a large, low room, in which the famed collection was +housed. + +Here, Barry had a shock. The value of the statuettes, vases, mummies, +caskets, items of jewellery, and other nameless relics of Egypt he +could not dispute. But instead of being formally lined up in wall +cases and cabinets, they were littered about the place in the utmost +confusion. + +A magnificently painted sarcophagus had been converted into a cupboard +to contain bottles of Scotch whisky, old brandy, champagne, and other +material comforts. Cigar butts disfigured the polished floor. There +were books and papers lying about anywhere and everywhere. + +The effect was that of a second-hand dealer’s establishment in which +somebody had been trying to rope a steer. He was unable to conceal his +amazement, and: + +“Did you ever see anything like it, Barry?” his father said, speaking +in a low voice. + +“Never!” he confessed. “Are these things really valuable?” + +“Valuable!” exclaimed Dr. Rittenburg, who stood near. “There is a +fortune in this room.” + +Danbazzar cleared a space upon a large table and set out the papyrus. + +“Now, gentlemen,” he said in his courtly manner, “let us get to the +business of the evening. I have given you, Dr. Rittenburg, and you, +Mr. Pain, an opportunity of examining and testing this piece of +writing. I await your opinion.” + +“I have anticipated it,” said John Cumberland, in a voice that +betrayed suppressed excitement. + +Horace Pain removed the cigar from between his teeth, cleared his +throat, and: + +“I know Professor Rittenburg’s opinion,” he said, “and he knows mine. +The papyrus is undeniably genuine. It has points of resemblance to the +Turin Papyrus which I shall presently point out, as I have already +pointed them out to my friend Dr. Rittenburg. Respecting the claims of +its writer, or writers, I shall have nothing to say. This is outside +my province. As, I take it”--turning to John Cumberland--“it is +outside yours? I mean, your interest, like mine, is in the writing +itself, not in what it states.” + +“Partly,” John Cumberland replied, glancing swiftly in Danbazzar’s +direction. + +“Well,” Pain went on, in his dry, hard voice, “I mean to say that a +parallel is the medical papyrus in Berlin. No one would think of +making up a prescription from it. You agree with me, +Professor?”--turning in the direction of Professor Blackwell. + +“I agree with you entirely,” was the reply. “It contains among other +things a prescription for a hair restorer which, I will guarantee, +would turn Paderewski bald in a fortnight.” + +“Exactly,” Dr. Rittenburg agreed. “I look upon this business of the +sleeping Princess as a sort of religious ritual, Cumberland, similar +to the worship of the Apis Bull--only kept up for political reasons to +delude the people, and to preserve the immortal name of Seti. +Something of that kind.” + +“Quite beside the point, gentlemen,” Danbazzar’s deep voice broke in. +“The fact that the papyrus is genuine and, in your opinion, dates from +the time of the Pharaoh mentioned in it is the thing of interest to +Mr. Cumberland and to myself.” + +“Of this I am certain.” + +Dr. Rittenburg nodded his round head vigorously. + +“So am I,” Horace Pain admitted. “Of course, its publication will +create a profound sensation, and the museums of the world will outbid +one another to get it.” + +“They will bid in vain,” Danbazzar replied. “Mr. John Cumberland has +acquired it.” + +“Ah!” exclaimed Dr. Rittenburg. “But of course you will publish a +reproduction? Every student in the world is entitled to access to such +a discovery.” + +John Cumberland smiled happily. No triumph that his business had +offered or could offer compared with the thrill of such a moment as +this. + +“In due course,” he said, “but not yet.” + +Whereupon a debate arose concerning certain papyri, with the mere +names of which Barry was unacquainted, and their points of resemblance +to this one. Much excellent old brandy aided the debate. The two +experts disagreed fiercely; but at a late hour, Dr. Rittenburg and +Horace Pain having departed quite reconciled: + +“Now,” said John Cumberland, “with Danbazzar’s consent, I shall +discuss this matter with you, Blackwell. Your province is rather +physiological than archæological. We have had expert opinion on the +papyrus itself, and now we should like to have your opinion upon the +feasibility of the claims made in it.” + +The silent Arab replenished the guests’ glasses, except the +Professor’s; for Blackwell, who was already lost in thought, waved him +aside. The distinguished scientist was a tall man, though not so tall +as Danbazzar, and built bonily. He was clean-shaven, with a long +strong nose; and from his high brow, hair which was beginning to go +gray was carelessly brushed back. His clothes would have fitted +someone else better than they fitted the Professor, and he wore a low +double collar with his dinner jacket, allowing free play to an +enormously developed Adam’s apple. + +His eyes, behind the thick pebbles of his glasses, resembled two +interrogation marks. + +“I never jump to conclusions,” he began, thoughtfully selecting a +cigar from a box which Danbazzar slid across the table in his +direction. + +The box was an Ancient Egyptian curiosity, but Professor Blackwell had +not even noticed the fact: his thoughts were elsewhere. + +“Life,” he went on, “considered in the abstract, is the one thing of +which Science knows nothing. Adolf Weisman maintained that duration of +life is dependent upon adaptation to external conditions. We may take +the case of what is sometimes termed ‘mummy wheat.’ Personally, I +cannot vouch for these stories.” + +“_I_ can,” Danbazzar said gravely. “I myself have seen grains of wheat +taken from a tomb of the fourteenth dynasty cultivated.” + +“Did they yield any crop?” the Professor inquired. + +“No,” Danbazzar acknowledged. “They shot up a very tender green to a +height of six inches and then died.” + +“Quite, quite,” murmured the Professor, “but the life principle was +present, you see--dormant, but present. There is the case of a toad +imprisoned in a rock cavity for several generations, vouched for by +persons of repute, and I once examined, in India, a fakir who claimed +the power to unhitch his spirit from his body. Under these conditions +he presented every appearance of death and existed without visible +wasting for a long period unsustained by food or drink of any kind. +The question really is whether the tissues could be preserved over so +long a period as this”--nodding toward the papyrus--“indicated.” + +“If for three hundred years, why not for three thousand?” John +Cumberland demanded. + +“Quite, quite,” the professor murmured; “but unfortunately this fact +rests upon what I may term ‘hearsay.’ The people who wrote it have +been dead for some little time, you must remember!” + +There was a short silence, broken by Danbazzar. + +“Have you ever seen the mummy of Seti the First?” he demanded in his +deep, impressive tone. + +“Yes.” Professor Blackwell looked up slowly. “Curiously enough, I was +thinking about him. He, of course, dates from somewhere about the same +period as Princess Zalithea, and the preservation in this case is +remarkable. But the system of mummifying employed on Seti could not be +employed on a living person. It is very interesting, though--very +interesting. A German physiologist whom I met in Berlin recently--I +forget his name, but he was a knowledgeable man--was anxious to +attempt some experiment of the kind, in a small way, upon a hypnotized +subject. The difficulty, of course, was to find the subject.” + +“Naturally!” said Barry, laughing. + +The Professor glanced aside at him over his spectacles. And then: + +“I pointed out to my German acquaintance,” he went on, “that normal +processes of decay would proceed under these conditions quite +inevitably. And if there is anything in the extraordinary claims made +in this papyrus, I can only assume that some formula must have been +invented to check these processes. Of course, it is frightfully +empirical. One dare not raise such a thing seriously before modern +science. It would spell ruin.” + +“Nevertheless,” said Danbazzar, “you are right--there _was_ such a +formula.” + +“Ah!” exclaimed John Cumberland, “if only we could recover it.” + +“I _have_ recovered it,” Danbazzar replied calmly. + +“What!” + +“I acquired it at the same time that I acquired this other papyrus. It +is locked in that safe over there.” + +“That settles it,” said Cumberland, standing up. “My other plans are +made. What do you estimate it would cost, Danbazzar, to finance the +expedition?” + +“Two hundred thousand dollars,” was the prompt reply. + +“Be ready in a fortnight,” said Cumberland. “I must start then or +postpone the journey till next season.” + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + EGYPT BOUND + +“Some people are so indecently lucky,” Jim Sakers protested. “It has +been my ambition from childhood to visit the interior of the Sphinx.” + +“You poor nut!” said Barry. “The Sphinx is solid. You mean the +interior of the Pyramid!” + +“Not so hasty,” Jim rebuked him, “not so hasty, my friend. My +ambitions are not the ambitions of an ordinary man. Any fool can visit +the interior of the Pyramid if he’s lucky enough to get to Egypt. +Nothing so commonplace as that appeals to me. I said, and I repeat, +that it has always been my ambition to visit the interior of the +Sphinx. I hope I make myself clear.” + +“You expose fresh views of your ghastly ignorance at every turn,” +Barry said. “If you can think clearly for two minutes, concentrate on +what I’m going to say. Everybody seems to think that I need a +vacation, and Dad has decided to pay a visit to Egypt and to spend the +beginning of winter there.” + +“Lucky, lucky man,” Jim murmured. + +“He is keen for me to go with him,” Barry went on; “and as I have +never been out of America yet, the idea rather appeals----” + +“Rather appeals!” Jim echoed. “Oh! the blasé youth of this +generation! I should cheer for an hour without stopping if my honoured +parent could be induced to get out of touch with Wall Street for a +week-end!” + +“In brief,” Barry pursued patiently, “the idea that I am trying to +drive into your thick skull is this: I am going to Egypt, and I am +going next week.” + +“This is dreadful,” Jim declared. “Think of the broken hearts in New +York. Besides, what about the Princess?” + +“It is about the Princess,” Barry returned, “that I want to speak to +you. Several people, yourself included, have tried to convince me that +I’m suffering from a delusion where this girl is concerned. But I am +just as certain as ever that I have seen her, definitely twice, +possibly three times. What I want to ask you is this: Once in a while, +when you are in that neighbourhood, see if you can find anything out.” + +“You mean,” Jim suggested, “drop in on Mr. Brown and say that I have +called about the electric light, or the installment due on the Ford, +or something of that kind?” + +“Something of that kind,” Barry agreed. “Do it your own way--but just +keep a sharp lookout. And if you should pick up any information, send +me a cable. I can’t give you the route. When we get to some place up +the Nile where we are going to camp, I shall have to let you know.” + +“Consider it done,” said Jim. “And now, _I_ have a request to make. +Bring me back a large bottle filled with the sand of the unchanging +desert. By sprinkling this in my bathroom and walking about in bare +feet, I shall be able to imagine that I am a son of the mysterious +East. Ho, there! Fatima, my dark-eyed ship of the desert!” + +“The expression ‘ship of the desert,’” Barry interrupted, “usually +refers to a camel!” + +“I am talking about a camel,” Jim assured him. “The affection of the +Arab for his camel is an historical fact.” + +“You are thinking about his horse!” + +“I am not thinking about his horse!” Jim cried. “The Arab I am talking +about _has_ no horse, he has a camel.” + +And now: “What’s the row?” demanded a deep voice. + +Aunt Micky intruded, carrying a large hatbox. + +“Hello! Micky!” Barry exclaimed. “Been shopping again?” + +“Yes,” was the reply; “it has just arrived. The best that Dobbs could +do for me.” + +Opening the box, she produced a sun helmet of dazzling white, +decorated with a puggaree band in silver, violet, and maroon. + +“Great shakes!” Jim exclaimed. “Is this for Barry?” + +“It is,” Aunt Micky returned firmly. “It is most important that he +should not expose his skull to the rays of the sun. John always wears +a helmet in the East.” + +“I know he does,” Barry admitted ruefully, contemplating this +“creation,” “but the one he wears is a decent sort of putty shade--and +without ribbons. However! Is it the right size?” + +He tried it on. + +“Really smart people,” Jim commented, “wear a feather--a small, neat +feather--stuck in the band just above the left ear. I am told that +everyone will be wearing them this season. Didn’t they tip you this at +Dobbs’, Micky?” + +“They tipped me a lot of things,” Micky returned, lighting a +cigarette, “and there are lots of things I could tip _you!_” + +“I know it,” he said; “my ignorance is appalling. But on one point +Park Avenue is agreed. I _do_ know how to dress. Further, I don’t +merely put on my clothes--I wear them! Allow me, Barry.” + +He raised his hands and settled the helmet at an angle over Barry’s +right ear, then took a step back to contemplate the result. + +“Better,” he muttered, “better. That is the British Army rake. Of +course--” again grasping the helmet and tilting it forward--“there is +the Rajah rake, very popular in India, and _also_----” + +He was about to take further liberties when Barry gave him a playful +but powerful punch in the chest. + +“And _also_ there is the complete limit,” he said, “and you reach it +every time, Jim.” + +Taken all around, however, the period of preparation was an exciting +one for Barry. His father was an experienced traveller and, under his +guidance, Barry acquired all sorts of equipment for the journey. On +the advice of Danbazzar, most of the camp gear, the firearms, and the +impedimenta of the excavator, they were picking up in London. +Danbazzar had prepared a formidable list of these, and Barry +discovered a great fascination in merely reading it. + +The papyrus had disappeared into Danbazzar’s great safe, and Barry +often wondered if his imagination had played him tricks in regard to +the portrait of Princess Zalithea. He had abandoned hope of ever +seeing this girl of dreams again; but Fate had one more curious +experience in store for him, and it came about in this way: + +Professor Blackwell was leaving for Europe a week ahead of them, and +later joining the party in Egypt. Bound to strictest secrecy regarding +the nature of the expedition, his scientific curiosity had been +greatly aroused, and he had consented to be present at the opening of +the tomb when that time came. + +The steamer sailed at midnight, and Professor Blackwell had dined at +the Cumberland home prior to joining her. Barry and his father went on +board with him, inspected his stateroom, ascertained that his baggage +had arrived safely, and then: + +“There is no point in waiting,” said the Professor. “We don’t sail for +another twenty minutes or so, but it is my custom on these night +sailings to turn in. I leave unpacking until the morning. I hate all +this fuss and bustle!” + +“As you like, Blackwell,” said John Cumberland. “See you in Cairo--or, +if you have gone up the river, in Luxor. Hope you have a nice +crossing.” + +Barry and his father came down the gangway, turned to wave to the +tall, gaunt Professor at the top, and then made their way along the +pier toward the staircase. They reached the street level at +practically the same moment that the elevator started up. + +Through the iron grille of the car a girl was looking out, apparently +directly at Barry. + +He stopped dead, stared at the ascending elevator, and then, with no +explanation to his father, turned and fled back up the stairs like a +man demented! + +His behaviour was so extraordinary that a Customs official intercepted +him at the top. + +“Kindly stand aside!” Barry said breathlessly. “I have seen someone I +want to speak to--_must_ speak to!” + +“Go easy, go easy!” The man persistently intruded his burly form. +“Wait a minute! Who are you running away from?” + +“I’m not running away from anybody!” cried Barry angrily. “Let me +pass! I want to go on board.” + +“Go easy!” the man repeated. “You can’t go on board. The last visitors +are just coming ashore. In three minutes the gangway will be +cleared----” + +And then John Cumberland, even more breathless than Barry, arrived on +the scene. + +“What’s the matter?” he asked; and, to the man: “It’s all right,” he +explained. “My name is John Cumberland. My son has seen someone he +thinks he knows.” + +“You can guess who it is!” the latter returned. “And I’ve lost her +again!” + +Slipping past the mystified Customs officer, he raced out along the +pier. + +Beyond exciting amusement and astonishment among the onlookers, his +reward was nil. Of course! He was too late! And he was sure, +absolutely sure, that this time he had not been mistaken! Could it be +that she had gone on board the liner?--that she was leaving +America--still unknown, elusive to the end! + +He was prevented from reaching the gangplank. The order “Clear away!” +was given as he ran up. Realizing the hopelessness of the thing, he +turned and went back to where his father waited. His manner was +constrained. + +As they drove home, John Cumberland was very sympathetic, but secretly +was glad to think that the journey to Egypt would prove a powerful +distraction, which he considered his son badly needed. He was growing +more and more anxious about this odd obsession of Barry’s. + + + We are no other than a moving row + Of magic shadow-shapes which come and go, + Round with the sun-illumined lantern held + In midnight by the Master of the Show. + + +The Master of the Show had many more queer tricks and illusions in +store. But neither Barry nor John Cumberland, being poor mortals, +could peep behind the scenes. The ensuing week passed like a feverish +dream, so magically does time dissolve on such occasions--and the +night of their departure for Egypt came. + +A tremendous crowd of friends turned up to see them off, Aunt Micky +more iron-jawed than usual, and full of dark theories respecting +missing baggage (which was really safely on board, of course). + +“Clean your teeth in Vichy water,” was her last injunction to Barry. +“Once you are out of England, all water is poison.” + +Then came the final shouted farewells, Danbazzar, Barry, and John +Cumberland standing at the rail as the liner crept out of her dock. +Much cheering and waving of hats. Great excitement, to be followed by +depression. And over it all came a clarion cry from Jim Sakers, +standing bareheaded far below, a megaphone upraised. + +“Don’t forget, Barry!” he bellowed--“a bottle of the Unchanging +Desert! I am an Arab brave and free!” + + + + + CHAPTER X. + CAIRO + +From the balcony of Shepheard’s Hotel, Barry fascinatedly watched +the life in the street below. This was Cairo!--real yet less than his +imaginings concerning it. + +Vendors of fly whisks, of scarabs incredibly old, of necklaces from +the tombs of queens, of red slippers, of all sorts of Birmingham ware, +clamoured in a group beneath him. They poked their offerings through +the railings at his feet. The instinct of these people was wonderful. +His father was never solicited in this way. One glance the sidewalk +merchants would give him, smile sadly and pass on. While of Danbazzar +they seemed to be positively afraid. + +The passers-by absorbed his attention. He had learned to pick out the +residents from the tourists, to recognize the curious air of +detachment, that quiet fatalism which is the seal of Africa. He had +also grown used to the _tarbûsh_ worn by the British officers. At +first he had mistaken them all for Turks. But he was not yet entirely +reconciled to the presence of laden camels and smart automobiles in +the same street. + +In some of the cars he had glimpses of veiled women, whose long dark +eyes provoked him. Whenever such a _harem_ car went by he craned +forward eagerly, vaguely expecting to meet the glance of eyes that he +knew. + +During the journey, he had torn himself free in a measure from this +strange infatuation, but Egypt had revived his dreams. + +He had dressed early this evening, and now, sipping a cocktail, sat +waiting for his father to join him. It was too hot yet for the big +tourist invasion, but the advance guard was already in possession. +Guide books were in evidence at several tables in his immediate +neighbourhood. To whatever government, Turkish, French, British, or +Egyptian, the people may from time to time acknowledge obedience, +everybody knows that Egypt really belongs to Thomas Cook & Son. + +To-night, Danbazzar was expected back from Luxor, where he had been to +select a base of operations and to check the information furnished by +his agent. This agent, Hassan es-Sugra by name, had met him there four +days earlier and was returning with him to Cairo. + +John Cumberland’s excitement had been intense all day, and Barry’s +little less. Never, until now, had Barry fully understood the hold +that Egypt and the things of Egypt had over his father. It was a +complete, an absorbing passion. The John Cumberland of New York was +barely recognizable in this keen, alert, bright-eyed man to whom the +African air was an elixir of youth, and who now crossed the terrace +and joined him. + +“Well, Barry,” said he, “has the spell of the Nile got hold of you +yet?” + +“It has, Dad,” Barry admitted, looking at the healthily tanned face of +the speaker; “I’m simply dying to start. I went again to-day to look +at the mummy of Seti; and even now I find it hard to believe that this +man ruled over Egypt, a civilized country, at a time when Europe was +peopled by savages, and when the American Continent was probably a +mix-up of mountains, forests, swamps, and rivers. That man was no +savage, he was a ruler of great power and intellect.” + +“Certainly he was,” John Cumberland agreed, nodding to an acquaintance +coming up the steps. “We are very proud of our new wisdom, Barry. I +wonder how much of it is in advance of the old?” + +“I hadn’t been altogether able to believe in your hopes of success,” +Barry went on, “but the figure of Seti is beginning to make me share +them. There he lies in the flesh for everyone to see. I looked at him +yesterday for nearly half an hour, and I realized that he had known, +probably had many times spoken to, the Princess Zalithea! Dad, I’m +just crazy to be on the job! Isn’t Danbazzar late?” + +John Cumberland glanced at his watch; then: + +“No,” he replied. “The train got in about ten minutes ago. He should +be here at any moment now.” + +And even as he spoke an _arabiyeh_ pulled up at the steps and +Danbazzar got out. + +He wore a white drill suit, the coat cut tunic fashion and buttoning +close up to the neck. His light gray felt hat with its very wide brim +awakened in this Eastern scene memories of the West. His pale skin had +assumed a deep, even tan, and, with his aquiline features, he looked +more truly of the Orient than any of the Cairenes about him. + +His gaze sought and found John Cumberland on the terrace, and he +raised his right hand in a slow, graceful gesture. A second traveller +descended from the carriage and followed Danbazzar up the steps. + +This was an æsthetic-looking Egyptian, black-robed and +white-turbaned, slender, with small delicate features and the gentle +eyes of a gazelle. He carried an ebony cane and possessed a curious +dignity, utterly unlike that of Danbazzar, yet in its way equally +impressive. + +John Cumberland sprang up eagerly and extended his hand. + +“Is everything all right?” he demanded. + +“Everything is fine,” Danbazzar replied, and, turning, greeted Barry. +“I want you to meet our Chief of Staff, Hassan es-Sugra. What I don’t +know about the Valley of the Kings, Hassan can tell us.” + +Hassan saluted profoundly, and Danbazzar now gave him permission to be +seated. Discreetly, he took a chair a little removed from the others +and waited to be addressed. + +John Cumberland glanced around to make sure that he could not be +overheard; and: + +“How many men have you got?” he asked. + +“Hassan has engaged fifteen,” was the reply. “Most of them are already +in Luxor.” + +“No suspicion has been aroused?” + +“Absolutely none,” Danbazzar assured him. “So far, there hasn’t been a +single hitch.” + +“I take it these men are living in Luxor at present?” Barry asked. + +“Yes. In the native quarter, where most of them have friends; for they +are all excavators and used to the work.” + +“We will have cocktails in my room,” said John Cumberland. “One never +knows who may overhear us.” + +The party went upstairs to Cumberland’s suite, which overlooked the +romantic gardens of the hotel, and cocktails were ordered. Hassan +es-Sugra was a devout Moslem, one who had made the pilgrimage to +Mecca. He drank coffee, which, when the waiter presently appeared, he +took with him out on to the balcony, bowing deeply as he retired. + +“That’s a mysterious fellow!” said Barry. + +Danbazzar fixed the speaker with his piercing regard, and: + +“You’re right,” he agreed. “He’s quite a lot of mystery. But he holds +some kind of position in the Moslem world that gives him complete +control of the natives. He’s the best man at the job in Egypt. He can +get things done that you or I couldn’t manage if we spent a million +dollars. Yes, sir, Hassan es-Sugra is worth his weight in gold, and he +knows the game from A to Z.” + +“Good!” commented John Cumberland. “I know the type and I believe you. +Wasn’t he with Flinders Petrie at one time?” + +“The tomb?” asked Barry Cumberland eagerly. “It has not been +disturbed?” + +Danbazzar stood up, and slowly crossing to a side table, dropped ash +into a tray. He turned and: + +“It’s absolutely untouched,” he replied. “The entrance where I +reclosed it is almost hidden by sand. You can rest easy.” He paused +impressively. “No one has disturbed her.” + +“Gad!” Barry brought his hand down upon his knee. “It sounds almost +too good to be true! But how did Hassan identify the tomb in the first +place? How was he sure? How can _you_ be sure?” + +“You can take it I made sure before I started,” Danbazzar answered +calmly, “but, anyway, Hassan never makes a mistake. You remember the +cartouche in the papyrus? It was not that of any Pharaoh or any member +of any known royal family. It was clearly meant to represent Princess +Zalithea.” + +He stooped over the cane table at which John Cumberland and his son +were seated. With a pencil he roughly outlined upon a newspaper which +lay there a design of four figures. + +“We’re agreed,” he said, glancing up, “that its meaning is: ‘She Who +Sleeps but Who Will Awake.’ Both Mr. Pain and Dr. Rittenburg have +checked this.” + +“Well!” said Barry eagerly. + +“Well!” Danbazzar replaced the pencil in a breast pocket of his tunic. +“This same inscription is cut in the rock before the entrance of the +tomb!” + +“I have sometimes wondered,” said John Cumberland, “why it has been +overlooked so long.” + +Danbazzar stared at him for a moment, and then: + +“Have you stopped to think,” he asked, “how many tombs there are in +that valley? Why should those few people with powers to excavate open +an obscure one? What’s more, the tomb is in an unfrequented spot, +almost due north of the Tombs of the Queens and on the edge of the +western valley, more than half a mile from the Tombs of the Kings. The +nearest place ordinary tourists ever visit is the tomb of Queen +Nefertari and that of Seth Ra, the wife of Seti the First. This was +about where I figured to find it. Seven miles farther west, and about +a mile and a half north of the caravan road from Farshût to Kûrna, +Hassan has put up our men. There’s a small Hawwara village there, and +the Sheik is a good friend of mine.” + +“When do we start?” cried Barry eagerly. + +“I can see no reason,” Danbazzar replied, “why we shouldn’t leave for +Luxor in the morning. We shall be wise to take every advantage of the +slack season before the tourist rush begins.” + +Barry watched the speaker fascinatedly. During his short stay in +Cairo, he had been out to visit the Sphinx, that long-cherished +ambition of Jim’s; he had penetrated to the interior of the Great +Pyramid, and had wandered through the fascinating bazaar streets of +the Mûski. He had known the whole indescribable atmosphere that +creeps over the most modern and garish hotel in Cairo when night drops +its cloak upon Egypt. Now, it seemed to him, watching Danbazzar, that +of all the mysteries that the Nile has known, this man was the +greatest. + +“And now, I suggest that we consult with Hassan,” Danbazzar went on. + +He stood up, clapping his hands sharply. From the shadowy mystery of +the balcony, Hassan es-Sugra entered, a slim, impressive black figure. +He bowed low upon the threshold. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + LUXOR + +The Nile was high. Much of the Memnonia was impassable. The Colossi +sat lonely in the midst of a great lake, when Barry came to Luxor. In +this way he saw the City of the Sun under advantageous conditions. + +The Winter Palace Hotel, whose impudent modernity aspires to dwarf the +majesty of the great temple, was in a comatose state. Its palatial +suites which later in the season would echo Wall Street quotations, +its public rooms where, anon, much talk would be heard about the +situation in the English coalfields and the cheery optimism of Mr. +Baldwin, these were empty. Empty was the dragomans’ bench before the +entrance. No guttural German voices were raised in argument against +the soft music of Arabic impostors, relative to the cost of donkeys +from Kûrna to Dêr-el-Bâhari. The tourist steamers were missing; yet +Barry did not miss them. + +Sighing wearily at the end of her summer sleep, the City of the Sun +looked wistfully down the Nile from which at any time now invasion +might be expected. + +Barry had conceived something very like friendship for Hassan +es-Sugra. The man fascinated him. Delicate in form and features, +soft-spoken and mild-eyed, slow of movement and speech, invariably +unruffled, Barry had detected beneath the velvet surface an +indomitable will, and something else. + +On the evening of their arrival, leaving Danbazzar and John Cumberland +at the hotel poring over rough plans, Barry had set out with Hassan to +view the celebrated spectacle of Karnak by moonlight. The evening was +oppressively hot. The sky looked like a dome of lapis lazuli. The moon +was such a moon as gave birth to Isis; fronds of palms seemed to be +carved out of ebony; and the whiteness of the buildings was dazzling. +Plaintive notes of a reed pipe crept up from the river, with more +distant throbbing of a _darabukkeh_. + +A great zest of life, an eagerness to inhale, as it were, the +unfamiliar perfume of this strange land, possessed Barry. He hurried +as though bound for his father’s New York office. But: + +“Sir,” said Hassan, in his soft, caressing voice, “there is no need +for haste, and the evening is hot.” + +Barry pulled up and glanced aside at his companion. The gaze of the +gazelle-like eyes met his own. Hassan smiled. + +“Always,” the speaker went on hesitantly yet with perfect expression, +“always the gentlemen who come from America and from Europe are in so +great a hurry; particularly the gentlemen from America. Yet there is +so much time, and life in Egypt is very beautiful for those who will +rest and enjoy it.” + +Barry laughed. + +“No wonder you always look so cool,” he commented. “Now I come to +think of it, I have never seen you hurry.” + +Hassan extended his slender brown hands, his ebony stick held lightly +between the first and second fingers of the left. + +“What is there to hurry for?” he asked softly. “We are all going the +same way. Why should we try to pass one another? Everything that life +has to give us is ours to-night. Let us enjoy it, for to-night will +never come again.” + +Barry stared curiously at this survival of the Arabian philosophers, +but checked his eager steps and walked on sedately beside the +dignified Egyptian. + +Spots of interest were pointed out by Hassan, and, as they moved +through the streets, it became apparent to Barry that his companion +possessed many acquaintances in Upper Egypt by whom he was held in +high esteem. + +A most notable demonstration of this came when they passed a café in +the native town. A number of men sat smoking outside. Five of them, on +sight of the approaching figure, sprang up and performed a graceful +Arab salute with the right hand. All were fine types, tall muscular +fellows, and different from the townsmen surrounding them. Hassan +es-Sugra gravely returned their salutation, but they remained standing +until the café was passed. + +“Who were those men, Hassan?” Barry asked. + +“They are some of our excavators, sir,” Hassan replied. “Most of them +are already at the camp: these are late arrivals who go to-morrow.” + +Barry glanced curiously at the delicate, almost effeminate face of the +speaker, and he wondered, as he had wondered many times before, how +Hassan es-Sugra had inspired, and how he retained, the profound +respect of these men. + +And so, pursuing their leisurely way, they presently found themselves +on the ancient road to Karnak, formerly bordered by Sphinxes +throughout the mile of its length. The silence now was broken only by +the distant note of a pipe, the faint throbbing of a drum. Barry grew +silent, too, awed by the sleeping past upon which he intruded. At that +point where the road turned left into the Avenue of the Rams he +sighted the great shadowy ruins and hastened his steps. + +“It is fortunate, sir,” Hassan said, laying one slender hand upon +Barry’s arm to check this impetuous increase of pace, “that we have +been able to begin while the Nile was in flood.” + +“Why is that?” Barry asked. + +“Because,” Hassan replied, “the tomb, which is on high land, can only +be approached from above at this season and is cut off from those +routes along which people generally come. We are less likely to be +disturbed.” + +At the entrance to the Temple, the _Ghafîr_ appeared, mysterious, out +of a bank of shadow. Barry, a law-abiding citizen, had been given to +understand that he must show his ticket here, but Hassan es-Sugra +waved him aside, saluted the guardian, was saluted deeply in return, +and they entered the great, silent building. + +Again Barry found himself glancing curiously at the face of his +companion, delicately beautiful in the moonlight. He was learning a +lesson that anyone susceptible to truth learns in Egypt. He was +learning to look with less satisfaction upon the hurriedly grasped +successes of modern life, and to experience an unpleasant sense of +inferiority in the company of this dignified, placid, yet majestic +Arab. + +Those who are sent to govern in these lands must be of a type immune +from such impressions. Barry had too much poetry in his nature to be +blind to some strange spiritual calm possessed by Hassan es-Sugra +(whom Aunt Micky would have briefly classified as a heathen), the +secret of which has been lost during generations of feverish +endeavour. + +He found himself amid a forest of vast columns; statues looked down +upon him scornfully; and all about him upon painted walls were those +Pharaohs and gods whom the imagination of Pierre Loti has depicted as +eternally signalling to one another. Bats haunted high, shadowy +places, and the note of some night bird sounded eerily. + +Hassan es-Sugra walked through the mysterious darkness as confidently +as Barry would have walked along Fifth Avenue, until they came to the +Great Hall, most awe-inspiring of all the Egyptian monuments. He +seemed to know every inch of the place. The hieroglyphics held no +mystery for him. Raising his stick he pointed to an inscription, +translating slowly: + + + “I did the best I could for the Temple of Amen, as architect of my + Lord. I placed obelisks, their height reached to the world of heaven. + A propylon is before the same in sight of the city of Thebes; and + ponds and gardens of flourishing trees.…” + + +“Who made this inscription, Hassan?” Barry asked. + +“He was the First Prophet of Amen,” was the reply, “in the reign of +Rameses the Second, who was the son of Seti the First.” + +Barry did not reply. A new idea had possessed him; a new magic had +invested the building. Here, in this vast, wonderful temple-place, +she must have walked--the Princess Zalithea!--the beautiful, +mysterious girl of the past who was so like that other, who lived, who +surely lived, in the present! His blood tingled, impatience claimed +him, and, suddenly turning to Hassan: + +“When do we begin to excavate?” he asked abruptly. + +“I hope, sir, the day after to-morrow.” + +“Good!” said Barry. + +The magic of Egypt had got into his veins. He knew that whatever else +life might hold for him, wherever Fate should guide his steps, always +until the end he would hear it calling him--calling him back to the +Nile. + +Later that night in the almost deserted lounge of the hotel he got +into conversation with a very bored young man whose job was connected +with the Irrigation Department. In a less virulent case this young man +could not have failed to prove a perfect antidote. + +“Dead-alive hole, this,” he declared, “out of the season. Did you stay +long in London?” + +“A week,” Barry replied. + +“Lucky man!” sighed the other. “I would cheerfully sell all Egypt, if +it belonged to me, for a week in London. See any new shows?” + +“One or two.” + +“Gad! I’d see one every evenin’! And after the show I’d go on to the +Kit Cat, first night; the Embassy, next night; Ciro’s, third night. +And so forth.” + +“Really?” said Barry. “That’s odd! The life in London or New York or +Paris seems to be much the same. I’ve been fed up with the usual round +for years!” + +“I’ve never had a chance to get fed up,” the other declared +plaintively. “I went straight from Oxford to the war, straight from +the war to hospital, and straight from hospital to this blasted hole.” + +“Don’t you get a vacation sometimes?” + +“_Sometimes_ is right,” said the other. + +Barry laughed at his acquaintance’s pessimism and ordered another +drink. As the waiter brought it: + +“You are not here for fun, are you?” the irrigation man inquired +wearily; “because there’s nothing funny about Luxor.” + +“No,” said Barry guardedly. “My father and I are here on a job of +work.” + +“You are not goin’ to try to Americanize Egypt, are you?” the other +suggested. + +“Not exactly,” Barry replied. “Dad has a scheme for exploiting the old +caravan road to the Dakhla Oasis.” + +“What for?” drawled his acquaintance. “Nobody wants to go there!” + +“They might,” Barry returned, “if the journey were easier.” + +“Goin’ to build a hotel there?” + +“I don’t quite know, but we are starting out to-morrow to prospect.” + +“Good luck!” murmured the irrigation gentleman, raising his glass. “If +I’m still alive when you come back you might bring me a few dates. +They are the best dates in Egypt. I don’t think they grow anything +else.” + +Their chat was interrupted at this point by the sudden appearance of +Professor Blackwell, expected that evening from Assouan and evidently +newly arrived. + +“Ah! Professor!” cried Barry, jumping up. “Glad to see you! Does Dad +know you are here?” + +“No,” the Professor replied, dropping into an armchair. “I have only +this very moment come in.” + +Barry introduced the Professor to the irrigation expert, who +presently, however, having offered to buy more drinks, withdrew to +what he termed his “fly trap,” nodding gloomily to Barry as he went. + +“Don’t forget the dates,” were his parting words. + +Going back to their rooms, Barry ushered in Professor Blackwell. John +Cumberland, who was seated at a table studying some maps, stood up +gladly to greet him. Danbazzar, his broad back to the room, was +staring out of the open window across the Nile to where, sharp in the +moonlight, the Libyan Hills were outlined against the sky. He turned, +fixing his penetrating regard upon the new arrivals; and: + +“Hassan tells me,” Barry began eagerly, “that we start operations on +Thursday. Is that correct?” + +“It’s surely correct,” came Danbazzar’s deep voice. “I don’t know +who’s been giving public recitations, but it looks like some of our +plans have leaked out. Yes, sir, we start on Thursday.” + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + THE CAMP IN THE DESERT + +Barry now entered upon a period of existence widely different from +any he had known. Danbazzar’s camp was in the neck of a _wâdi_ on the +north of the caravan route from Thebes to Farshût. Further north, and +visible from the tents, on the summit of a mountain stood an ancient +watchtower, used in the days of the Pharaohs by the tomb guard. All +about were remains of stone huts which had probably been the quarters +of these guards. On the right, above terraced, desolate hills covered +with débris of abandoned excavations, rose the stately mass of El +Kurn, the Horn. + +Here in this weird quarry to which no one ever penetrated, they had +their base of operations. The native excavators, in charge of a +headman who proved to be one of the group that had been seated outside +the Luxor café, had their quarters several miles distant, in a sort +of tumbledown village principally inhabited by dogs. Native life in +the towns had offered novel features, but the conditions prevailing in +this desert village surpassed anything Barry could have imagined. An +entire absence of sanitary arrangements was the outstanding novelty; +next to which he never got used to the spectacle of a considerable +family, a number of dogs, chickens, and sometimes a donkey, residing +happily together in one apartment which could have been covered by a +full-sized dining table. + +They reached camp at dusk, although they had crossed the river in the +morning, having travelled by a circuitous route over high ridges and +through gloomy passes, to find that a native cook had prepared dinner +and that Hassan es-Sugra, who had gone ahead, was waiting to receive +them. + +Before attacking the meal, Barry, tired though he was, climbed the +side of the _wâdi_ and stood on the edge of a small plateau, looking +out to the rosy haze that marked the course of old, distant Nile. The +unforgettable dusk of Egypt was falling. Rocks showed like black +smudges on a gray canvas, and the sky was passing through an amazing +transformation of delicate blue to shell pink, which, by some natural +magic, combined to form the violet afterglow which is not the least of +this country’s beauties. + +From below came a faint clattering of cooking utensils, and a dog was +howling somewhere, probably in the village where the workmen were +quartered. The great adventure had begun. To-night he was to see for +the first time the tomb of Princess Zalithea! + +He uttered a deep sigh, which was a sigh of contentment, and climbed +down the steep descent again to the camp. + +They dined inside one of the tents, Danbazzar deeming it unwise to +court attention from any chance travellers upon the ridge above. + +Barry stooped and entered the little canvas dwelling which was to be +his home for some time to come. It presented a spectacle, on that +first night, which was always to remain with him as an odd memory. + +Plates of steaming tomato soup (Heinz tinned variety) were set upon +the small square table, which even boasted a white cloth. The cook, a +big, bearded fellow from the Fayyum, his magnificent teeth revealed in +a constant grin, was just placing loaves and a pitcher of water upon +the hospitable board. + +Danbazzar, wearing a white shirt open at the neck, riding breeches, +and gaiters, seemed utterly appropriate in that setting. His pale skin +had assumed an even, dark tan, his magnificent composure was an +unspoken retort to Barry’s sudden idea that this was some solemn +farce--a dream from which he would presently awaken. John Cumberland, +also coatless, sat on the right of the table. He seized a loaf and +began to carve it vigorously, looking up as Barry entered. + +It was hard to recognize the John Cumberland of New York in this +sun-baked adventurer, and the only member of the party who seemed out +of place was Professor Blackwell, who faced his friend across the +table. He wore a black alpaca jacket and had omitted to remove his sun +helmet. He was gazing in gloomy disapproval at a large beetle of the +_Scarabæus_ family which appeared to be attracted by the odour of his +soup. + +“Well, Barry!” John Cumberland greeted him. “What do you think of our +new quarters?” + +“First rate!” was the laughing reply, as Barry took the vacant chair. +“If we go on in this style we shan’t starve.” + +Professor Blackwell bent toward him; and: + +“There’s plenty of liquor,” he whispered in his ear, “but all these +fellows are strict Moslems, and we should lose their respect, so +Danbazzar informs me, if they knew we drank anything stronger than +water.” + +The soup dispatched: + +“Stick your head out and tell Mahmoud we are ready for the chicken,” +said John Cumberland. + +Barry nodded, stood up, and stepped outside the tent. The camp kitchen +had been established in a sort of cave in the side of the _wâdi_, +suspiciously like the entrance to a partially opened tomb. The +glistening, smiling face of Mahmoud, the cook, showed in the reflected +light. He smiled as he cooked and sang soft Arab love songs. + +Before the entrance to this little tunnel, leaning upon his ebony +cane, Barry saw Hassan es-Sugra, reflectively studying the efforts of +the chef. At the same moment he detected a faint, sweet sound. From a +great distance it seemed to come--above and beyond--a rhythmic, +silvery jingling. He had just opened his mouth to shout “Mahmoud,” +when Hassan turned toward him and raised his hand in warning. + +Night now had fallen, swiftly, blackly. + +Ebon shadows lay in the _wâdi_; above, on crags and terraces of the +mountains, were gleaming high lights where the moon shone. The musical +sound went on uninterruptedly. Danbazzar’s precautions had been +justified. + +Spiritually transported to the realms of the Arabian Nights, Barry +stood, silent, listening. Camel bells! It was the sound of camel +bells! High above on the mountain ridge a caravan was passing on its +way from Thebes to Farshût.… + +After dinner, pipes and cigars being lighted, they held a council of +war, seated around the table in the tent. At this council Hassan +es-Sugra attended. + +“Although no precautions have been neglected,” said Danbazzar, “there +appears to be suspicion about the object of our journey in certain +quarters. I had an interview yesterday with the secretary of Mudîr of +Luxor. We have known each other for some years, and he gave me a big +dose of advice about the route beyond El Kharga.” + +Danbazzar paused, tensing his lips so that his abbreviated beard stuck +out truculently, a peculiar mannerism which Barry had noted before. +Then: + +“The Mudîr’s secretary was most hospitable,” he went on, “and so +anxious for our comfort that I’m dead sure he knew I was lying. He +knew we had no more intention of visiting the oasis than he has.” + +“But how could the truth have leaked out?” John Cumberland asked. + +“What about these people in the village,” Barry suggested, “where the +men are quartered?” + +Hassan es-Sugra extended his palms and softly intruded with a remark. + +“They are of the Hawwara,” he explained, “or claim to be. They owe +allegiance to their own sheik, and he is my friend. No, it will be +some of the workmen, while in Luxor, who have been talking.” + +“Then what can we do?” John Cumberland demanded. + +“I could thrash two or three of the men,” Hassan suggested gently, +“until I found one to speak the truth.” + +Barry stared in amazement at the æsthetic face of the speaker, +thinking that he jested; but no smile appeared. This was apparently a +firm offer. + +“No!” Danbazzar’s deep voice broke in. “It would do no good. If this +fellow Tawwab suspects anything----” + +“Exactly,” said Professor Blackwell uneasily; “that is just what I am +wondering. If he suspects anything, what will he do? Inform the +Inspector of Antiquities?” + +Danbazzar knocked ash from his cigar. The scarab ring upon his finger +twinkled in the lamplight. He stared fixed at the Professor; then: + +“He is an Egyptian,” he replied. “What would he gain by that?” + +“Ah!” John Cumberland exclaimed. “_Gain!_ That’s the +answer--_bakhshish!_” + +“Under the present government,” said Danbazzar gravely, “always!” + +“Well!” Cumberland shrugged his shoulders. “I came prepared to pay! Is +it safe to start?” + +“I was about to ask the same question,” declared Professor Blackwell, +raising his gaunt and ungainly form from the low camp chair in which +he was seated. + +“Yes.” + +Danbazzar spoke deliberately, and without betraying any of the +excitement which the Professor had been unable to conceal, which +obviously possessed John Cumberland, and to which Barry was a restless +prey. He turned to Hassan es-Sugra. + +“Hassan,” he directed, “make sure that all’s clear.” + +Hassan saluted deeply and went out of the tent. + +“It’s a bit of a scramble,” Danbazzar warned. “Everybody in fibre +shoes, and don’t forget your flasks.” + +Their preparations were complete when Hassan returned with the news +that the road was clear; whereupon, they set out. + +The route they followed was merely a native path and not one of the +roads ordinarily used. For a goat or a barefooted Egyptian it was +navigable enough, but what with leaping over chasms of unknown depth +and scrambling up narrow funnels composed of crumbling rock, brittle +as a cracker, it was not all that might have been desired by a party +of townsmen out for an evening stroll. + +At last they came out on the hummock of a hill, and below them, +magnificently outlined in shadow, lay the Valley of the Queens. Above +towered that strangely shaped mountain once sacred to the goddess +Hathor. Breathless, Barry leaned upon a block of stone, listening to a +duet in hard breathing contributed by his father and Professor +Blackwell. Danbazzar’s cigar glowed in the shadows of a neighbouring +rock, and Hassan es-Sugra exhibited no evidence of fatigue. + +Awhile they paused there, and then set out again, Danbazzar and Hassan +leading, John Cumberland and the Professor following, Barry bringing +up the rear. Thus they went, except where broken formation of the +ground necessitated single file. + +By what sailing marks the pilots traced their course was not apparent. +But through the desolation of this land of tombs they passed, the way +twisting and turning, their route being sometimes upward and sometimes +downward, until at last: + +“Here it is!” said Danbazzar. + +Barry’s weariness departed; his heart leaped. + +They stood before a sheer rock face, its irregular surface pitted with +openings. Above a mound of drift, Hassan es-Sugra began to dig with +his stick, clearing sand and rubbish away. Barry watched him +abstractedly: he was fighting to conquer the reality. + +Somewhere here, deep in the heart of this rock, she lay, the princess +of long ago! She whose picture, portrayed in the papyrus, was a vivid +representation of the girl he had seen on that balcony in faraway New +Jersey! Here! somewhere in this ancient mountain where she had lain +for thousands of years! + +What was the link? What did it mean? Useless! His mind refused to +grapple with so monstrous a problem. + +“See!” Hassan es-Sugra turned, extending his palms. “The cartouche, +sirs! As I found it a year ago!” + +A ray from Danbazzar’s electric torch shone on to the rock. All bent +forward eagerly. + +“Quite! Quite!” murmured Professor Blackwell. “Yes, it is the same, +unmistakably!” + +Deeply carved in the surface, it was there for all to see--the curious +sign which translated, meant: “She Who Sleeps but Will Awaken.” + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + THE EXCAVATORS + +Nothing succeeds like impudence. The original plan had provided for +work at night only; but the flooded state of the Nile Valley was so +discouraging to tourists and interruption of labours in the remote +spot where the tomb was situated so unlikely that Danbazzar at the +outset decided upon day shifts and night shifts. + +Now definitely launched upon this unlawful project, a sort of unholy +joy fired the party. It was even shared by Professor Blackwell. + +The plan of operations was worthy of its inventor. The entrance to the +tomb lay in a fairly deep recess; and Danbazzar had constructed, in +convenient sections, a huge screen--practically a piece of scenery. +The material for this accounted for the presence of several strangely +shaped cases among their baggage for which Barry had hitherto been +unable to account. + +Set in place before the entrance to the tomb, with top pieces and side +pieces, or wings, it was joined with sand and rubbish to the rubble of +the valley path. When lovingly finished by Danbazzar--seated upon a +light scaffold--with odd dabs of paint applied to a wet surface upon +which sand had been thrown, the result was magical. While it slightly +altered the conformation of the landscape, it was utterly impossible +to detect the presence of this screen even by the closest scrutiny. +One would have had to tap it to learn that it was of wood and canvas, +and not of rock. + +Access to the interior was gained by an ingenious door, low down at +one corner. This door was in reality a shallow box filled with rubble +and cement and opening upward. In the space between the screen and the +rock there was ample room for work, which was carried on by lantern +light. With two men always on duty, one at the high end of the valley +and one at the low, to give warning for operations to cease, detection +was next to impossible, short of treachery on the part of an employee. + +On the morning that this screen was completed, Danbazzar, paint brush +in hand, stood surveying his work with the pride of an artist. He +turned to Barry, who stood beside him and: + +“Some illusion, I think!” said he. + +“It’s simply amazing!” cried John Cumberland. + +“I worked behind that screen, sir,” said Danbazzar, “for three months, +and not a soul but my men ever knew I was there! The last month I +spent covering up what I’d found.” + +“I take it,” said Cumberland, “we can soon demolish what you +reconstructed?” + +“Pretty soon,” Danbazzar agreed. “But I had to make a sound job of +it.” + +“Anyway,” said Barry, “from now onward we are safe.” + +“As you say--” Danbazzar bowed as one who acknowledges applause and +gave the signal for the scaffolding to be demolished--“the dangerous +part is over. Rain is the worst we have to fear now.” + +He touched Hassan es-Sugra upon the shoulder. + +“Hassan,” he directed, “let the first party begin at three o’clock. +You have my instructions. I shall be back at five.” + +Hassan saluted, and leaving Mahmoud in charge of the clearing-up +operations, walked away, slow and stately, down the valley. + +As it chanced, their belief in the artistic genius of Danbazzar was +very shortly to be put to the test; for, returning to the camp, where +they intended to remain during the heat of noon, they were met by a +very courteous Egyptian official. + +John Cumberland started at sight of the figure wearing the _tarbûsh_, +but Danbazzar exhibited neither surprise nor alarm. + +“Ah! Mr. Tawwab!” he cried genially. “It was real good of you to hunt +us up!” + +Mr. Tawwab’s smile was noncommittal. + +“The Mudîr felt anxious about you,” he explained; “and learning that +you had not yet started for the oasis, suggested that I should see +you.” + +“We are honoured and delighted,” Danbazzar declared. “Allow me to make +known to you Mr. John Cumberland and Professor Blackwell--Mr. Barry +Cumberland. This is Mr. Ahmed Tawwab, secretary to the Governor of +Luxor. Coffee, I believe, is prepared. You will join us, Mr. Tawwab?” + +“Certainly.” + +The Egyptian bowed, and they all entered the tent which served as +dining room, office, and council chamber. + +Danbazzar entered last, behind Barry, and, in his ear: + +“Mischief!” he whispered. + +The boring ceremony of coffee and cigarettes, which is indispensable +to any piece of Arab business, having been duly performed: + +“The Mudîr,” Mr. Tawwab explained, turning the gaze of his languorous +eyes upon Danbazzar, “learns from the Mudîr of Asyut, that a +considerable party of Hawwara Arabs, led by a sheik of the Hamman +family and plainly meaning mischief, has been reported from El Kharga, +in the Great Oasis. It is perhaps a political or a religious +demonstration, but the Mudîr thought it wise to advise you that there +may be danger.” + +“Convey my thanks to His Excellency,” said Danbazzar gravely. “We are +all most indebted.” + +His deep voice was lowered to a sort of caressing purr; which, +however, resembled that of some large member of the cat family. + +“But,” Mr. Tawwab pursued, rolling a cigarette between his flexible +fingers, “I understand that you are a fairly large party, and, of +course, you can make choice. He will be glad to learn, nevertheless, +that his information was correct, and that this warning has reached +you before your setting out.” + + +Mr. Tawwab having presently departed: + +“What does this mean, exactly?” John Cumberland demanded. + +“It means, sir,” said Danbazzar grimly, “that our screen was only +erected in the nick of time! We shall be watched!” + +“What!” exclaimed Professor Blackwell with alarm; “but we may be +arrested!” + +Danbazzar turned his strange eyes in the speaker’s direction, studying +him silently for a moment; then: + +“Before that time comes,” he replied, “we shall be invited to _pay_. +But if we can get through without paying, all the better.” + +“Do you believe the story of the Arabs?” Barry asked. + +“No,” Danbazzar answered promptly, “I don’t!” His fierce eyes grew +very reflective. “Nor do I believe that Ahmed Tawwab came from the +Mudîr at all.” + +“I don’t follow,” said Barry. “What is your idea about it, then?” + +“My idea is,” Danbazzar answered, “that Mr. Tawwab has discovered the +identity of your father and has simply called as an ordinary matter of +business. He has got wise that we’re here with some secret purpose, +and he’s going to make us pay. It was against grafting of this sort +that I budgeted when I mentioned the price for the expedition, Mr. +Cumberland.” + +Undeterred by these vague threats, operations were commenced that day. +A tiny opening, a mere crevice, had been left by Danbazzar in the +reclosed entrance, some ten feet above, and to the left of the +inscription on the rock. + +The first party set to work to enlarge this, and two guards were +placed where they could command all possible approaches. By nightfall, +enough had been done to show that this indeed was the entrance to a +narrow, sloping shaft, carefully closed at the top with stone blocks. + +John Cumberland’s excitement became intense. Professor Blackwell +experienced much difficulty in persuading him to sleep. Throughout the +afternoon and the evening not a soul had appeared in sight of the +excavation, and the first day promised well for the enterprise. Barry +only deserted the job when a night shift of excavators came on duty, +walking back, tired but mentally exhilarated, to the camp with Hassan +es-Sugra. + +As they pursued their way through moonlight and shadow down to the +little _wâdi_, Barry glanced many times at his silent companion. The +wonder of it all swept over him--the insanity of their dreams; the +almost incredible fact that less than a month before he had been +leading a rather empty life in New York. + +Now, he was walking through a vast cemetery peopled with kings and +queens, princes, princesses, councillors, of a glorious civilization +which the desert had reclaimed long ages before the name of America +was known to men! + +The stillness seemed to become oppressive. Not even the bark of a dog +could be heard. And to-night no camel bells jingled on the ancient +caravan road. Barry spoke at random. + +“How long, Hassan,” he asked, “should it take to reach the tomb?” + +“It is doubtful, sir,” was the reply. “Perhaps, if the stones are not +too hard to be broken, only a few days, for we have many men at work. +Perhaps longer; and then, we do not know if the passage is clear +beyond the first portcullis. Sometimes there are two; sometimes three. +And, at the bottom of the shaft, the entrance to the funeral chamber +will have to be broken.” + +“But the way in from the top? The part you closed up again last year?” + +“That should be easy, sir. Perhaps by to-morrow. But there is still +all the shaft.” + +“Is that a long job?” + +“Always,” Hassan replied, “it is a question of the conditions. +Sometimes the air is so bad that men cannot work in these tombs.” + +“A question of Kismet, eh?” said Barry. + +“Kismet, yes!” Hassan es-Sugra smiled in his sweetly grave way. “If it +is written that we succeed, we shall succeed. If not”--he shrugged his +shoulders--“no matter!” + +Dog tired, Barry undressed and threw himself upon his camp bed. He +shared the tent with Professor Blackwell, and his last waking +recollection was of the sonorous snores of that weary scientist. + +He seemed scarcely to have closed his eyes before he was awakened by a +stray beam of morning sunlight. Someone had raised the flap of the +tent. He opened his eyes. Professor Blackwell was still sleeping +peacefully; but the bearded, grinning face of Mahmoud appeared in the +opening. + +Mahmoud had a little English; and: + +“Sir!” he said. “I come to tell you. They make a small opening--too +small for me. But this morning Hassan es-Sugra goes through!” + +“What!” Barry was out of bed in one bound. “You mean he has gone into +the tomb?” + +“He goes in, Effendim, and comes out again!” + +“Where is he?” + +“He is there, in the valley.” + +“What!” came a harsh, sleepy voice. + +Professor Blackwell turned over on his elbow. + +“They’ve reopened the tomb, Professor!” Barry cried excitedly. +“They’ve reopened the tomb!” + +“Impossible!” the Professor muttered, sitting upright. “I never heard +of such a thing!” + +“But Hassan es-Sugra has been in! Mahmoud has told me so!” + +“Oh, yes!” said the Professor, fumbling under his pillow for his +glasses. “Quite! Quite! Of course I was forgetting that it had been +opened before.” + +Mahmoud departed, grinning broadly, as Barry made a grab for his +clothes. + +John Cumberland and Danbazzar were not in camp; and, having hastily +disposed of hot coffee and biscuits, Barry and the Professor started +for the excavation. + +They had actually come out onto the plateau looking down upon the +valley, when both pulled up dead, exchanging a swift, significant +glance. + +Unmistakable upon the still desert air, the note of a police whistle +reached them! The guards were armed with these, but this was the first +time there had been occasion to use them. + +“Damnation!” Barry muttered. “Who can it be? Come on, Professor, let’s +hurry!” + +To the great discomfiture of the older man, they performed the +remainder of the journey at a fairly rapid trot. And, coming out of a +narrow ravine which opened some twenty yards above the site of the +excavation, they almost literally ran into Mr. Tawwab! + +He was standing not more than a dozen paces from Danbazzar’s screen, +smoking a cigarette and looking about him curiously. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + THE HAUNTED VALLEY + +Prone upon a high crag Danbazzar lay, watching a horseman making his +way down the slope of a distant valley and heading in the direction of +the Nile. At last: + +“He’s gone!” he said, and looked back over his shoulder. + +John Cumberland heaved a great sigh of relief and, standing, stretched +his cramped limbs. One long last look Danbazzar took at the receding +figure, and then the two climbed down to the path below where +Professor Blackwell and Barry awaited them. + +“Do you think I got away with it?” the latter asked. + +“No!” Danbazzar said promptly--“not entirely. Your explanation that we +had gone out for jackal was good.” + +“Excellent, in my opinion!” Professor Blackwell murmured. “You are +really an accomplished liar, Barry.” + +“Well,” Barry explained, laughing, “I knew we shouldn’t find you in +the camp, and some sort of explanation had to be offered. I spoke +loudly enough for you to hear me behind the screen, so that if he +insisted upon staying till you returned, your story would correspond +with mine.” + +“Unfortunately,” said John Cumberland, “he must have heard the +whistle.” + +“He did!” declared the Professor--“although he never once mentioned +it.” + +“That is why I know he didn’t believe you,” Danbazzar added. “I shall +go into Luxor on Monday and talk business to Mr. Tawwab.” He turned to +Barry. “You haven’t heard the good news yet! Can you imagine that I +was forced to stop work last year within a matter of hours of breaking +through that portcullis?” + +“What do you mean?” Barry cried. + +“They cleared the entrance,” his father replied excitedly, “which +Danbazzar had reclosed, without difficulty. You see, Barry, we are +provided with the very best and latest gear. They set about the +portcullis, and Hassan found a flaw in the rock itself beside this +otherwise immovable stone door.” + +“Why didn’t we find it last year!” boomed Danbazzar. “I figured that +portcullis was a long, tough job!” + +“They worked on it all night,” John Cumberland went on, “enlarging +it----” + +“Have you actually been in!” cried Barry. + +“No,” was the reply; “the opening isn’t big enough. But Danbazzar and +I were looking along the passage when we heard the whistle!” + +“Hassan has been down,” said Danbazzar. “There’s an obstruction twenty +feet below, but he reports the air is fairly good.” + +“But what’s the obstruction?” Barry asked. + +“I fear another portcullis,” said Danbazzar. “But the roof of the +shaft seems to have collapsed at this point, or partly collapsed, and +Hassan is uncertain whether there’s another portcullis or not. It may +be a month’s work, or our job may be nearly finished. Remembering the +purpose for which it was constructed, I look for a simple tomb. I +should be surprised to find wells or dummy passages.” + +“Could I possibly get through?” + +Danbazzar looked him over briefly; and: + +“No!” he replied, “but we have dropped a light into the shaft and you +can look down. The men are at work again now.” + +Excitement rose to fever pitch. Constant relays of skilled excavators +could not work fast enough for John Cumberland or for Barry. By +nightfall, the hole beside the mighty stone door which closed the +passage had been appreciably enlarged. But whereas their first success +had been due principally to a flaw in the rock tunnel itself, progress +beyond this stage was a matter of patient drilling and chipping. + +Danbazzar’s optimism was shown to have been excessive. Hours went by +in constant work; blazing days and nights of ceaseless toil; but still +the great portcullis defied them. Hassan es-Sugra, with the smallest +men of the party, had attacked the lower obstruction. But conditions +were bad. Both air and proper light were lacking. Since they could not +be relieved, their progress was necessarily slow. And, meanwhile, the +main gang chipped and chipped patiently at the rock tunnel surrounding +the stone door. + +By Monday success seemed to be in sight; and as Danbazzar set out for +Luxor to interview Mr. Tawwab, he gave orders touching the work on the +lower passage. And so, this day, which it was written should be a +memorable one, wore on. + +When the wonderful curtain of dusk was drawn over the valley, +Danbazzar had not returned from his interview with Mr. Tawwab. Barry +pictured him patiently drinking numberless cups of coffee and smoking +scores of cigarettes. + +Mahmoud had been out for quail in the morning, and the savoury odour +of his cooking increased the appetite of the party, already keen +enough at the end of an arduous and exciting day. Having performed +their somewhat limited ablutions, they assembled in the tent over a +surreptitious cocktail, perforce without ice. + +“It seems to me,” said John Cumberland, “that this thing has developed +into a race. The man Tawwab is out for blackmail. That’s clear.” + +“Can we keep him off until we succeed, or will he hold us up?” +murmured Professor Blackwell. “Success might come almost any day. What +is beyond that further obstruction no one can pretend to guess. But as +to what it _is_, from my scanty observations--for the light was very +bad--I have formed a theory.” + +“What’s your theory, Blackwell?” John Cumberland asked. + +“It is this,” the Professor continued: “That first portcullis blocking +the passage was built to be raised--I am sure of it.” + +“I believe you are right,” said Barry; “and it worked in deep +grooves.” + +“Quite! Quite!” The Professor nodded. “By what means such a vast lump +of rock was lifted, I leave to the greater knowledge of Danbazzar to +explain. I am no Egyptologist. But I think the obstruction twenty feet +down, from what I can see of it, is, or was, a second portcullis. The +broken pieces look of about the same thickness as that at the top.” + +“But why should the second be broken and not the first?” Barry +demanded. + +“Which brings me to my theory,” the Professor continued. “I think the +second portcullis, at some time when it was raised, fell and was +shattered.” + +“By Jove!” John Cumberland exclaimed. “You may be right!” + +“I am almost sure I am,” the Professor said. “I think I can see one of +the deep grooves it worked in. If this is so, it should be fairly easy +to clear the débris, and, unless there is a third portcullis, intact, +why should we not then find ourselves in the actual burial chamber?” + +“It’s possible,” his friend admitted. “Let’s hope you’re right.” + +“There are no inscriptions to be seen on the walls of the passage,” +Barry remarked. + +“No,” said the Professor; “but I understand that this is usual. Am I +right, Cumberland?” + +“Quite right. But we may look for something very _un_usual in the +chamber itself.” + +They were all feverishly restless, but as their presence at the +excavation merely interfered with the work, for this restlessness +there was no proper outlet. + +Dinner concluded, and Mahmoud having cleared the table, the Professor +and John Cumberland, shirt sleeves rolled up and cigars lighted, +settled down to poker. Barry, pipe in mouth, sauntered out into the +_wâdi_, vaguely wondering why Danbazzar had not returned. + +Without consciously intending to do so, he found himself following the +familiar path, to which he no longer required a guide. On he went and +down, until he came to that little ravine which opened into the valley +just above the tomb. In the nick of time he remembered the usual +routine and clapped his hands sharply three times. + +Had he forgotten, the result would have been a blast of a police +whistle and the suspension of operations! + +The ingeniously screened working lay in deep shadow. He could see +neither of the guards, but, standing there, silent, he could hear +vaguely, deep in the heart of the rock, a sound of regular muffled +blows. He was tempted to open the sand trap and to penetrate to the +scene of activity, but overcame the impulse and turned right, walking +up the valley to where it came out on the shoulder of a hill. Here, +squatting under a curious mass of rock roughly resembling a giant +skull, was one of the guards, who stood up as Barry approached. + +“_Lêltak sa’ îda!_” said the man, saluting him. + +Barry echoed the words, to which he was now becoming accustomed, and +passed on. The guard reseated himself under the rock. + +He determined to walk up as far as the ancient caravan road which +crossed the crest above, a spot from which, Danbazzar had informed +him, the view by moonlight was remarkable. He had counted, however, +without the natural difficulties of the route. The path which he had +intended to follow disappeared into midnight gullies and twined about +upstanding crags. The shadowy places might be full of pitfalls. Barry +paused, looking up at the ridge sharply outlined against the clear +blue of the sky. + +Perhaps, after all, discretion was the better part of valour. He might +quite easily break his neck if he attempted this climb in the +darkness. He stood there for a while looking about him, and knocking +out his pipe upon the heel of his bass-soled shoe. + +These slopes above and below he knew to be literally honeycombed. This +weird place, almost unreal in its colouring under the moon, was no +more than a vast necropolis. A month before, with New York’s life +pulsing around him, the thought of this desolation and of being lonely +amid it would have been appalling. Yet so adaptable is human nature +that already he was growing accustomed to these haunted solitudes. + +He began to refill his pipe. Upon a ridge fifty yards away, sharply +outlined in the moonlight, a slinking shape appeared for a moment and +as quickly disappeared. A jackal! Only the night before one had +visited Mahmoud’s pantry, had succeeded in some mysterious fashion in +opening the door, and had absconded with a cold chicken, a portion of +a tin of sardines, and a piece of cheese. Another, even more original +in his tastes, had stolen one of Professor Blackwell’s slippers. + +Barry determined to return to the camp by a circuitous route which he +knew, and which would bring him out at the lower end of the _wâdi_. +Having satisfactorily lighted his briar, he set out, now walking more +briskly and wondering if the night shift at work in the tomb of +Zalithea had succeeded in penetrating to the second portcullis. + +Danbazzar, an old hand at the business, had arranged a sort of bonus +system which was a constant urge to the men, and effectively abolished +any possibility of slacking. If the shift which changed at twelve +o’clock or that which changed at four should be in a position to +report that their immediate objective had been gained, they were +instructed to awaken Danbazzar, or in his absence John Cumberland. + +Barry, stepping out briskly upon the comparatively clear path which he +had chosen, conjured up a vision of the chamber in which, if their +hopes should be realized, they would find Zalithea. + +Prior to their final departure from Luxor he had visited several +characteristic tombs under the guidance of Hassan es-Sugra. He +imagined that the chamber of the sleeping princess would be different +from any of these. His impatience was so great that he could scarcely +contain himself. He doubted if even his father’s enthusiasm was +greater than his own. Danbazzar, whatever he felt, revealed little. +Hassan es-Sugra seemed to be removed from all human emotions. + +Coming to the lowest point in his descent, about half a mile below the +excavation, he paused, looking about him. + +By moonlight the place was different. But he recalled that it did not +matter which of the several paths to the left he took, since any of +them would ultimately bring him to his destination, and if one should +prove impassable he could always return. Crossing a flat-topped mound, +he descended the slope beyond and saw beneath him a rugged bowl dotted +with minor ruins, probably of those stone huts which occurred in the +Valley of the Kings. He stood looking down. It might be wise to avoid +this valley, which no doubt contained pitfalls and across which he +would have to climb rather than walk. + +Then, as he hesitated, suddenly he saw something--something that +caused him to shrink back, to inhale sharply--to wish he were not +alone. + +A figure was moving in the deep shadows of the hollow--a figure +definitely horrible in such a place at that hour. It presented the +appearance of a tall, gaunt man! There was a faint light, too, a +fitful, elfin light which rose and fell--rose and fell--among the +ruins! + +All the old confidence with which Barry had walked through this place +of the dead now deserted him. He recognized that he was afraid--and +was ashamed of the recognition. But he retraced his steps swiftly, +never pausing or glancing back until he had regained the main path. + +Then, from behind him, far behind him, came a sound.… + +Someone or something was climbing up from the bowl of the little +valley! + +In the profound silence of that place the noise was clearly audible. A +jackal was out of the question; for no four-footed creature is more +silent than a jackal in its comings and goings. He stood still, +listening intently. Footsteps!--unmistakably those of a man and not of +any four-footed beast! + +Immediately facing him where he stood was an irregular mound of rock +and sand, outlined on the right by the silver of the moon, but a place +of ebony shadows on the left. He crossed into the shadow and waited. +Nearer and nearer came the approaching footsteps. Whoever was coming +up from the valley of the ruined huts was about to enter that narrow +gully through which Barry had walked! + +Half a dozen reasonable explanations presented themselves, but his +mind rejected them one after another. Eeriness touched him with a cold +finger. He watched the vague slash in a wall of darkness, which, from +his present position, represented the entrance to the gully. Now, the +one who approached was coming along it. In another moment he would be +out. Three more paces must bring him into the light. + +Barry’s heart was beating rapidly. He was afraid--and did not know of +_what_ he was afraid. + +And now he realized that the one who walked had cleared the gap, +although he could not yet see any movement in the shadow. A +second--two seconds--three seconds elapsed… and a man came out into +the moonlight. + +It was Danbazzar! + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + THE HAWWARA + +Automatically Danbazzar’s hand dropped to his hip, the first +intimation Barry had of the fact that he carried arms; then: + +“All right!” cried Barry, and stepped out of the shadow, conscious of +an almost ridiculous sense of relief. + +But, for a moment, Danbazzar did not move. + +“What are you doing here!” he demanded--for it was less a question +than a demand. + +Barry experienced a momentary vague resentment. + +“If it comes to that,” he replied, “what are _you_ doing here?” + +Danbazzar smiled and came forward, shrugging his broad shoulders and +dismissing the matter with a slow, graceful wave of his hand. + +“I believe,” said he, “that we have both got the ‘jumps.’ _I_ am here +because my donkey boy refused to come beyond the end of the valley at +this time of night. And as we have no accommodation for a donkey, I +let him return to Kurna. As a matter of fact, I helped him start!” + +“I see,” said Barry, meeting the fixed stare of those strange eyes. +“For my part, I was taking a walk because I couldn’t sleep. But +weren’t you prowling about in the hollow down yonder?” + +“I was,” Danbazzar replied gravely. “I had an idea that someone was +hiding there, watching me--and I won’t be spied upon.” + +“That’s odd!” said Barry; “because _I_ had a notion I saw someone +there about five minutes ago.” + +“Is that so? What was _your_ impression--a tall thin man?” + +“Yes,” Barry nodded, “unpleasantly like an unwrapped mummy!” + +“Humph!” Danbazzar lighted a cigarette. “Very queer! Evidently you’re +not aware of the fact that that little hollow is supposed by the Arabs +to be haunted!” + +Side by side they proceeded up the slope, Danbazzar heading +confidently for the camp. He seemed to know these desolate hills as he +knew every street and every alley in Cairo. For Danbazzar, Egypt had +few secrets. + +“However,” said Barry, “if we really saw anybody, it was probably some +harmless eccentric who lives alone in one of the ruins.” + +“It may have been,” Danbazzar murmured, “or it may not! What news of +the tomb?” + +“They are still enlarging the opening, but except for Hassan and the +younger Said, no one has been through yet.” + +“I’m very anxious,” Danbazzar declared. + +“You can’t be more anxious than I am!” cried Barry. + +“Possibly not,” the other admitted, “but my anxiety may be different +from yours. I have spent several hours to-day with Mr. Tawwab.” + +“Yes,” Barry prompted eagerly--“what do you think he knows?” + +“I don’t think he knows anything. He’s just guessing. But he takes it +for granted that we’re digging somewhere--for something. We’re going +to be watched, or intimidated, or both!” + +“Intimidated!” Barry echoed. + +“Exactly!” Danbazzar nodded in his slow, grave fashion. “I practically +made Tawwab an offer in the roundabout ceremonious fashion which alone +they understand. He intimated with equal circumlocution that he didn’t +think the price high enough. I told him in a complimentary speech of +fifteen minutes to go to the devil. He pressed on me several cups of +coffee and nasty musk-scented cigarettes. Then he gave me to +understand in the course of twenty minutes or more that I had his +official permission to go to hell likewise. We parted perfectly good +friends, though. It was a question of terms. But I think he holds the +winning card.” + +“What do you mean?” + +“Well!” Danbazzar shook his leonine head. “Mr. Tawwab reverted to the +story of these Hawwara Arabs reported from El Kharga. I thought it was +just plain lying when he spoke of it at first, but as he came back on +the matter to-day I knew there was more in it. He informed me, with +deep regret, that a party of the Hawwara had been reported on the +caravan road some five miles south of Araki.” + +Coming from moonlight into shadow at that moment, Barry met the glance +of the speaker’s eyes. + +“Do you mean,” he asked, “that they are coming in this direction?” + +“That’s what Tawwab implied,” Danbazzar admitted. “They must have come +from the Farshût road, and now they’re heading our way. He professed +to be much concerned about our safety, pointing out that at this +season our camp was a very lonely one. It’s true enough that, after +leaving Kurna, except for a few scattered houses we’re pretty well +isolated.” + +“But what do you think he was driving at?” said Barry. “These Arabs +are surely peaceable enough?” + +“As a rule they are,” was the reply, “but a wave of fanaticism will +sometimes pass through a tribe, or a section of a tribe, and then they +go Mad Hatter. However, I certainly know why Tawwab kept coming back +to it.” + +“Why?” + +“To drive the price up! He was good enough to mention that his +relations with the sheik who seems to be at the head of this +mysterious movement have always been of a most cordial character.” + +“The devil take it!” Barry muttered. “Why can’t he mind his own +business!” + +“Well,” Danbazzar smiled, “departmentally speaking, this _is_ his +business! If he handled it properly we should find ourselves under +arrest to-morrow! No!”--he shrugged his broad shoulders--“Mr. Tawwab +holds the cards. We’ll play as long as we can play, after which we +must _pay_.” + +A beam of light shining out across the bottom of the _wâdi_ and the +unmistakable rattle of poker chips signified that John Cumberland and +the Professor were still at their game. The appearance of Danbazzar, +however, broke it up, and, eagerly listened to by the party, he gave a +detailed account of his visit to Luxor. + +“I can’t imagine any reason for the Arabs coming in this direction,” +said John Cumberland, when Mr. Tawwab’s warning had been repeated to +the party. + +“There can be only one reason,” Danbazzar returned gravely. + +“What is it?” + +“This camp!” + +He tensed his lips in a grim manner, reaching across for the bottle of +Martell Three Stars, his favourite beverage in moments of reflection. + +“Of course,” Professor Blackwell broke in, “they may assume that we +have large sums of money in our possession.” + +“They would assume rightly!” Barry remarked. “Can you count on the +men, Danbazzar?” + +“On the excavators?” the latter inquired, pouring out a drink and +turning his eyes toward the speaker. “On every man of them.” + +“We haven’t arms enough to go round,” John Cumberland murmured. “Oh! +it’s unthinkable, anyway.” + +“All the same,” said Barry, “I suggest we mount guard in future--here +as well as at the tomb. And as it’s too late to make any other +arrangements to-night, I think we ought to take watches ourselves. +What do you say, Dad?” + +“I agree,” John Cumberland replied quietly. His face was very grave. +“This is something I had not counted upon.” + +Professor Blackwell raised his gaunt form, ducking his head to avoid +contact with the sloping roof of the tent. + +“I appoint myself first guard,” he announced. “I’ll take the +Lee-Enfield.” + +“As you like,” said Danbazzar. + +With the heel of his riding boot he pushed a long wooden chest in the +Professor’s direction. + +Stooping, Blackwell unlocked the box. It contained a moderately +extensive collection of arms. And he selected a rifle of the British +service pattern. The Professor was an old campaigner; and, having +charged the magazine with care, he lighted a fresh cigar, and, nodding +to the others, strolled outside the tent. His footsteps might be heard +receding along the _wâdi_. + +“For many reasons, I hope we break through in the next three days,” +Danbazzar went on, ending a short, uncomfortable silence. + +He nodded his massive head in the direction of his own tent, which lay +to the south. + +“It took years to collect the ingredients mentioned in the formula. +Some of them are perishable. One oil I got from Persia six months ago +is already changing colour under the influence of climate. Besides, if +these things were destroyed, God knows when I’d assemble them again.” + +“But you have the case well hidden,” said John Cumberland. + +“It’s buried in the sand under the floor of my tent, but I don’t feel +too happy about it, all the same.” + +“The papyrus!” cried Barry eagerly--“you have that with you?” + +“Not on your life!” Danbazzar returned. “No, sir, I have a photograph +of it, and one of the formula as well. The originals are in the vault +of my New York bank.” + +“Yes,” John Cumberland nodded, turning to Barry. “I thought I had +mentioned this to you.” + +“No, Dad; I imagined we had them with us.” + +“And now,” said Danbazzar, standing up, “I’m going along to look at +the work. If that second portcullis is broken, there’s no reason why +we shouldn’t be down to the mummy chamber to-morrow. We’re reaping the +benefit of what I did last year. It would be better if you both +remained in camp till I return. We shall have to follow some rule of +this kind for the present.” + +He took a small repeater from his pocket and dropped it in the arms +chest, taking in its place a heavy revolver. When he had gone, John +Cumberland looked at his son rather blankly. + +“I hope and believe, Barry,” said he, “that this thing is a big bluff. +If it isn’t, I shall feel inclined to withdraw.” + +“Withdraw!” cried Barry. “You surely wouldn’t do that!” + +“I’m not thinking of the danger,” the older man went on quietly, “but +of the impossible position we should find ourselves in if we +definitely came to blows with these Arabs. The whole plan would be +exposed. I can’t afford to take that risk, even if Danbazzar can.” + +“You are thinking of the Egyptian authorities?” suggested Barry +slowly. + +“I am.” His father nodded. “Imagine the disgrace if we were arrested! +No. If it comes to shooting, this party must break up. We could only +hope to return at some future time, when the district was more +settled.” + +“I never heard of such a thing,” Barry declared. “Of course, I know +nothing of the country. It’s most unusual, isn’t it?” + +“Most unusual,” John Cumberland agreed. “I confess I can’t understand +it. But I don’t like it.” + +In short, Mr. Tawwab’s conversation with Danbazzar had created an +unpleasant feeling of tension. + +“I’ll take the next watch, Dad,” said Barry; “you might as well turn +in. If nothing happens, we shall have a busy day before us to-morrow.” + +John Cumberland hesitated for a moment, and then stood up. + +“You are right,” he agreed; “I will. Good-night!” + +“Good-night, Dad.” + +For a few minutes afterward he could hear his father talking to +Professor Blackwell at the top end of the _wâdi_. Then came silence +again. He lighted a cigarette and helped himself to a nightcap, +reflecting that he might as well have two or three hours’ sleep, +although the novelty and excitement of the situation were by no means +conducive to easy slumber. + +Presently, however, he got up and walked in the direction of his own +tent. Outlined against the sky beyond he could see the gaunt figure of +Professor Blackwell, rifle on shoulder; and: + +“Is all well, Professor?” he called. + +“All’s well!” cried the Professor, his voice echoing eerily from wall +to wall of the _wâdi_. + +Barry turned in fully dressed, and lay on his bed for some time +listening, although he did not know for what he listened. Somewhere in +the distance a jackal howled--a second--a third--a fourth--a fifth: a +regiment of jackals. Then silence fell. Once he heard a distant voice. +Finally he fell asleep.… + +He dreamed he was standing in the tomb of Zalithea. He was alone, and +had reached the place by no visible entrance. On his right, against +the wall was a wonderful gold sarcophagus. He found himself in a +dreadful, pent-up condition. He was utterly panic-stricken. His heart +was beating like a hammer. For the lid of this sarcophagus, which was +hinged, was slowly, slowly, very slowly opening! + +Then he saw a hand appear, and in the semi-darkness of the painted +tomb chamber a light shone out from the interior of the sarcophagus. +It grew brighter and brighter. The hand grasping the lid was a gaunt, +long-fingered hand. He did not know what to expect. He was in that +curious state in which one realizes that one is dreaming, yet is +horrified by the incidents of the dream. + +The lid had opened nearly wide enough to reveal the occupant, when +Barry shook off the horror of the nightmare which had him in its +clutch and sat suddenly upright. + +A sharp sound had awakened him. He was bathed in cold perspiration. +And, as he leaped from his bed to the sandy floor, this sound was +still echoing in the hills around. He knew, in the very moment of +awakening, what it had been. + +The crack of a rifle! And now, here was an explanation of his +half-waking dream. + +Professor Blackwell was holding the tent flap aside. Outlined against +reflected moonlight he bent, looking in. Barry heard dim voices. + +“What is it?” he demanded hoarsely. + +“Ssh!” the Professor warned. “The Arabs!” + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + THE HOLE IN THE WALL + +The position of the moon had cast the greater part of the _wâdi_ +into deep shadow. There was a gap in the irregular wall nearly +opposite to Barry’s tent through which a certain amount of light came, +but right and left of it lay ebony darkness. + +As he came out and joined Professor Blackwell: + +“There’s a party of Arabs up on the caravan road!” said the latter in +a low, urgent voice. + +“Where is my father?” Barry whispered. + +“Here I am, Barry!” came a reply out of the darkness. “Speak softly. +Voices carry for miles in this place.” + +Barry groped his way in the direction of the speaker. + +“Is Danbazzar here?” he asked. + +“I’m right here!” Danbazzar answered in a harsh whisper; then, +speaking more softly: “Who fired that shot?” he demanded. + +“I don’t know,” Professor Blackwell returned. “It came from high up in +the mountains. It must have been one of the Arabs.” + +“I wonder!” murmured John Cumberland. “I make the time half after two. +The second shift comes on at four. So that no one is likely to have +been moving--unless one of the watchmen may have seen something.” + +“_Sssh-ssh!_” came a warning. “Look!” + +High on the ridge above them, like some spirited ebony statue, the +figure of a horseman appeared, a magnificent silhouette against the +deepening blue of the sky! A moment he remained there. Then--no sound +reaching their ears--he disappeared magically, as he had come! + +“I want someone to go up to the excavation.” It was Danbazzar speaking +in a suppressed undertone. “Shall _I_ go and leave you in charge, Mr. +Cumberland, or----” + +“I’ll go!” Barry volunteered promptly. “You may be wanted here.” + +“It’s just possible,” Danbazzar went on, “that something may have gone +wrong there. It is also possible they mayn’t know the Arabs are here. +Order everybody to stay under cover except the guards. All work to be +suspended till further instructions. Got it clear?” + +“All set,” Barry replied promptly. + +“Be careful, my boy,” said John Cumberland; “and don’t forget the +signal, or our own men may attack you, if they are on the _qui vive_.” + +A big muscular hand grasped his. + +“Here,” said Danbazzar, “take this.” + +He found a service revolver thrust into his fingers. Thereupon he set +off, rejoicing in the adventure yet wishing that Jim Sakers could have +been there to share it with him. He moved with great caution. In this +desert stillness, the slightest sound was audible for miles.… + +At some points in the journey, the _wâdi_ left behind, that ridge +along which the caravan road ran was visible; at other points it +became lost to view. But always Barry slunk in the shadows, sometimes +dropping prone and wriggling for several yards, in order that he might +take advantage of some narrow belt of shadow; ever conscious, when the +dangerous ridge was in sight, of the possibility of being seen, or +worse--of being shot. + +Yet the very shadows that befriended him held their own terrors. Some +spies of the fanatical Arabs might lurk there. But without sight of +the band, and having heard no sound to indicate the presence of any +living thing on the plateau above, he came to that midnight gully +which opened out immediately above the tomb. + +Peering from the end of it, he clapped his hands very softly. + +An answering signal came from the top of the slope. He surmised that +the guard at the lower end was out of hearing. Mentally reviewing what +he knew of the course of the caravan road, he determined that from no +point upon it was this valley visible. + +He surveyed the rocky face of the mountain before him, his glance +travelling along uninterrupted by any oddity due to Danbazzar’s +screen--that miracle of camouflage. He crossed and hurried to the +trap, pausing a moment before he raised it. + +Very softly he clapped his hands again. An answering signal came from +beyond the canvas. + +Gently he lifted the shallow box of sand, turned, and groped with his +foot for the first of the wooden steps below. Finding this, he stood +upon it, ducked his head, and lowered the trap. He took three steps, +walking backward, then turned, and stared up a little incline. + +Above him, a lantern was set upon a heap of débris in the yawning +entrance to the tomb. And where dim light shone upward upon his +ascetic face stood Hassan es-Sugra, smiling with gentle melancholy. No +sound came from the depths of the tunnel. + +“Hassan!” said Barry. “The Hawwara Arabs are here!” + +Hassan bowed gravely and extended his hand to help Barry up the slope. + +“I know, sir,” he replied. “We heard the shot, and I ordered everyone +to be silent.” + +“Did they fire at one of the watchmen?” Barry asked, scrambling up +beside the speaker. + +Hassan shook his head slowly. + +“No,” he said, “I do not know why the shot was fired, but everything +was stopped until news came from outside.” + +His gentle eyes, which were so like the eyes of a gazelle, held a +curious light. Later Barry determined that it had been an indication +of excitement. Now, squatting about among the débris of the +excavation in the curious artificial cave created by the screen, he +saw a group of workmen. Some chewed, one of them was smoking, and they +all regarded him with glances in which only smiling curiosity could be +read. + +He stared down into the haunted depths of the shaft, and then back +again to Hassan es-Sugra. + +“It was written that we should succeed,” said Hassan. + +“What?” Barry demanded, conscious of a new tingling in his veins. + +“It was the work done last year,” Hassan continued calmly, “which made +it possible. If we had known, sir, with a little more time and trouble +we could have completed. The second portcullis is broken. I cannot say +how it was broken. But we have made a way through.” + +“Well!” Barry cried. “What’s below?” + +“A small square chamber,” Hassan replied, “without any decorations. On +the right is a doorway. It has been closed with square blocks and +cemented up. We have removed one of these blocks without great +difficulty. When the warning came I had just shone the light of a +torch through the opening, sir, which the workmen had made.” + +“Yes!” + +Barry grasped his arm hard. + +“It is the burial chamber,” Hassan went on calmly. “A great granite +sarcophagus is there, untouched.” + +Almost too excited for speech, Barry pointed, and Hassan, gravely +inclining his head, took from beneath his robe a pocket torch. + +Stooping, he led the way down the shaft. + +At the side of the first portcullis was an irregular opening wide +enough for a man to squeeze through. Hassan went first and then so +directed the light of his torch as to assist Barry to follow. + +“Now, sir,” he said, as the latter joined him in the lower part of the +tunnel, “be careful here. The roof has fallen. It is this, I think, +that broke the second door.” + +Bending forward, and at one point going on all fours, the two pressed +on. Presently, climbing through a gap not more than eighteen inches +high, over a mass of broken granite which seemed to have fallen from a +deep cavity in the roof, Barry suddenly remembered Professor +Blackwell’s theory about the second portcullis. + +The heat in the lower part of the shaft was oppressive, but having +proceeded for another twenty feet the descent ceased. They found +themselves in a small, square chamber hewn out of living rock, some +three paces across, and perhaps nine feet high. + +At first glance the wall upon the right resembled that in front and +that upon the left; but the trained eye of Hassan es-Sugra had almost +immediately detected the trick. It was plaster covering square +blocks--in part at least. This plaster had been chipped away--it was +several inches in thickness--over a space of a square yard or so. +Beams of wood and all sorts of excavators’ implements lay about the +apartment. And, presumably by means of these, one of the blocks had +been forced into the chamber beyond. The effect was that of a small +square window in a very thick wall. + +“Take the torch, please,” said Hassan, “and shine it through and a +little to the left.” + +He passed the torch to Barry. And the latter was surprised to find +that his hand was shaking slightly. Hassan es-Sugra smiled. + +“Triumph is sometimes terrible, as well as defeat,” he said. + +Barry grasped the light and thrust it forward into the opening. A beam +shone out before him, upon a rose sandstone sarcophagus! The covering +was accurately in place. Clearly no human hand had touched it for +centuries. + +He experienced a curious choking sensation. He turned the light +slowly, so that the beam moved along the top of the sarcophagus lid +and beyond, upon the wall of the chamber. + +The wall was brilliantly and beautifully painted. Immediately before +him, slightly to the right of the sarcophagus, the disk of white light +came to rest. Barry could feel his heart thumping against the rough +stone upon which he rested. He was staring at a symbol in high relief, +exquisitely coloured. It was that which meant: “She Who Sleeps but Who +Will Awaken.” + + + + + CHAPTER XVII. + MR. TAWWAB COMES TO TERMS + +“In my opinion,” said Professor Blackwell, “the whole thing might be +described as a demonstration.” + +John Cumberland nodded. + +“I agree with you,” said he. + +“You are right,” Danbazzar confirmed, “and we’ll have proof of it in +the next few hours.” + +“In what form?” Barry asked. + +“A visit from Mr. Ahmed Tawwab!” + +Danbazzar tensed his lips, looking fiercely from face to face. The +anxious night was ended, and in the light of early morning this was a +somewhat haggard company. Danbazzar with Hassan es-Sugra had been up +onto the crest and had explored the Farshût caravan road for some +five miles northwest of the camp, but had found no trace of the Arabs. +It was possible that they were still somewhere in the vicinity, but +Danbazzar considered this unlikely. + +“We’ll drive right on!” he boomed. “I wouldn’t check now for a million +dollars! The work below can’t be heard in the valley, and all we have +to watch for is that we’re not seen coming or going.” + +“Mahmoud tells me that two or three of the men are nervous,” said +Barry. + +“What about?” his father inquired--“the Arabs?” + +“Yes.” + +“They’d better keep their nerves out of sight!” roared Danbazzar’s +great voice. “If Hassan sees any signs of nerves he’ll knock stars out +of them!” + +“A most surprising character,” Professor Blackwell murmured. + +“He’s the most efficient headman, sir,” Danbazzar assured him, “at +this kind of work that ever came out of Egypt. We’re surely lucky to +have him.” + +“Quite!” said the Professor. “I quite agree.” + +Mahmoud, grinning cheerfully, appeared with steaming coffee, and as +the sun crept up into the sky the vapours of the night disappeared. +Triumph was in sight. The discovery of the granite sarcophagus, alone, +in John Cumberland’s opinion justified the expedition. + +“Even if it were empty,” said he, “its existence confirms the +authenticity of the papyrus.” + +“It won’t be empty,” Danbazzar asserted confidently. “That lid has +never been moved since a Rameses reigned in these parts. When early +tomb robbers have been at work, it’s generally found smashed. +Certainly they would never have taken the trouble to put it back +again.” + +“There is another possibility,” Professor Blackwell interrupted. “I +believe it was Dr. Rittenburg who mentioned it: the possibility that +the story of Princess Zalithea was merely a sort of religious +ceremonial. I am disposed to share his theory. I seem to recall that +no bull has ever been found in the Apis mausoleum. The sarcophagi are +all empty.” + +John Cumberland, behind the speaker’s back, pulled a wry face. + +“True enough, Blackwell,” he admitted; “but then the lids had all been +moved!” + +“Quite, quite!” the Professor said. “The parallel is not exact, I +agree.” + +“There’s no damned parallel at all!” boomed Danbazzar. “Inside this +granite sarcophagus there’s a wooden sarcophagus, and in that there’s +a mummy!” + +“How long will it take to remove the other blocks?” Barry asked +excitedly. + +“We ought to be in to-night!” was the reply. “It’s an easy job. That +doorway was only temporarily walled up--as we might have expected.” + +“And what about lifting the lid?” + +“We have a set of jacks for the purpose, Barry,” his father replied. +“They are in the cases that were shipped from Birmingham to Port Said. +It is this sort of heavy gear that makes our position so dangerous. If +Mr. Tawwab saw those jacks, for instance----” + +“Quite!” said Professor Blackwell, and poured out another cup of +coffee, to which he added a finger of rum. + +Danbazzar had brought some mail across from Luxor, including a cable +for Barry from Jim Sakers, which had infuriated the former to the very +limits of endurance. It was conceived as follows: + + + Called on Mr. Brown yesterday afternoon. Door was opened by Princess. + Recognized description. Height five eight. Age fifty-two. Weight + thirteen ten. She carried a rolling pin at beginning of interview and + threw it at end of same. Congratulations. + + Jim. + + +There was also a letter from Aunt Micky touching briefly upon the +principal causes of dysentery in hot climates and emphasizing the +claims of Vichy water as a dentifrice. There was much home chat about +mutual friends, and then a brief postscript which read: + + + Avoid Nile boils. I had one on my honeymoon. + + +Barry hurried back to the excavation, his father accompanying him. +Danbazzar had a number of arrangements to make in regard to the +transport of necessary implements to the tomb, and it was considered +desirable that one representative of the party should remain in camp. +Therefore Professor Blackwell remained. + +And so it happened that late in the afternoon, while the Professor sat +in the shade before his tent, studying through a magnifying glass a +number of small bones from the arm of a mummy, neatly arranged upon a +sheet of white paper, he started suddenly and looked up from his task. + +The cause of his disturbance was a distant shot. It came from +somewhere between the camp and Kurna, and ordinarily it would not have +aroused especial interest. This morning it had a particular meaning. + +Professor Blackwell placed the specimens inside the tent, and, +standing up, clapped his hands sharply. An Arab appeared from the +kitchen. In the absence of Mahmoud, who was a specialist in the kind +of work now going forward in the tomb of Zalithea, this man was +preparing the midday meal. But he had other duties; and, as he saluted +the Professor: + +“Danbazzar Effendi!” said the latter, and pointed southwest. + +The Arab saluted again and set off at a steady trot along the _wâdi_. +Professor Blackwell peered into the kitchen. He found nothing more +formidable going forward than the slow stewing of a sort of vegetable +ragout; and so he contentedly lighted his pipe, which had gone out. + +Already the morning was uncomfortably hot, and Professor Blackwell’s +costume must have occasioned some little comment had he seen fit to +wear it before a class of students at Columbia. It consisted of canvas +shoes, B.V.D’s and a sun helmet. The more exposed parts of his person +presented a glistening appearance, occasioned by the presence of a +certain pungent oil with which he anointed himself against the onset +of mosquitoes and sand flies. + +About half an hour later Danbazzar appeared, followed by the Arab +messenger. His was a picturesque and attractive figure. His great +height and breadth of shoulder appeared to best advantage in such +attire as he wore now: A very clean white shirt with sleeves rolled up +above the elbow, the low pointed collar unbuttoned, white breeches, +and tan riding boots. He wore also a soft felt hat, wide brimmed, +light gray in colour, and he held a cigar between his small, +strong-looking teeth. + +“You got the signal?” he asked abruptly. + +Professor Blackwell nodded. + +“Half an hour ago,” he replied. + +“Then we can expect him almost any time,” said Danbazzar. + +“Have you got everything ready to be moved up to the tomb?” the +Professor asked. + +“Yes.” Danbazzar nodded. “I’m only waiting to get the measure of +Tawwab. Then I’ll shoot it all along.” + +They were apparently deep in conversation and quite unaware of the +presence of any stranger, when presently Ahmed Tawwab strolled into +the _wâdi_. He was smoking a cigarette and looking about him, as one +who lounges in Bond Street, or idly glances at the notices in the +lobby of his club. + +Danbazzar suddenly saw him, and: + +“Why! Mr. Tawwab!” he exclaimed, and jumped up. “Look, Professor, +who’s here!” + +“Surely, Mr. Tawwab?” the Professor murmured. “How fortunate you find +us at home!” + +Mr. Tawwab agreed that Fate had indeed been very kind, coffee was +prepared, and a perfectly meaningless conversation began. After a long +time: + +“Mr. Cumberland and your other young friend will be returning +shortly?” Mr. Tawwab inquired. + +“Probably in an hour or so,” Danbazzar assured him. “They are visiting +one of the more interesting tombs.” + +“Ah! the tombs--Yes. I thought they might be shooting.” + +“Shooting?” Danbazzar echoed. “No, I don’t think so; not this +morning.” + +“I thought I heard a shot,” Mr. Tawwab explained, “down on the edge of +the swampy ground, to the left of the road. You know the spot I mean?” + +“Quite!” murmured Professor Blackwell. “Quite! It might have been one +of our fellows after quail.” + +“Sure it might,” Danbazzar agreed. “We’re devils for poultry in this +camp.” + +“You are wise, however, in delaying your departure,” said the +Egyptian. + +“How is that?” Professor Blackwell asked politely. + +“Well,” Mr. Tawwab extended his palms apologetically, “it is not to +our credit to say so, but the whole of the country west of the Nile, +from here across to Farshût or even further north, is in a somewhat +disturbed condition. In fact”--he sighed reflectively--“the Mudîr, I +am sure, would feel more happy if you would return to Luxor.” + +“That would cheer him up, would it?” said Danbazzar. + +“It would be most agreeable to him,” Mr. Tawwab assured the speaker. + +“Much as we are indebted for the offer,” said Danbazzar gravely, “I +fear that to return to Luxor would interfere with our plans.” + +“We should never forgive ourselves,” Mr. Tawwab murmured, “if you were +molested in any way. Even if you were not harmed personally, your +property might be destroyed, or stolen. I dislike to think of it.” + +“So do I,” Professor Blackwell declared. + +“We know rather more about the nature of the disturbance,” Tawwab +pursued evenly, “than when you called upon us. It is a matter +concerning the collection of certain revenues. Concessions demanded by +the Sheik Ishmail we are not, as a matter of fact, prepared to grant. +But, oddly enough, the negotiations have been left practically in my +hands, as I know the Sheik Ishmail quite intimately.” + +“I rather thought you did,” said Danbazzar, with a large, amiable +smile. + +He exchanged a significant glance with Professor Blackwell, and the +latter, by a prearranged plan, stood up glancing at his wrist watch. + +“I have a few notes to make on the subject of those mummy bones,” he +murmured, “and there’s only just time before lunch. Perhaps, Mr. +Tawwab, you will excuse me for a few minutes?” + +Mr. Tawwab also stood up and bowed most ceremoniously as the Professor +departed to his own tent. This haven reached, Blackwell produced the +paper of small bones again, and ostentatiously spread them upon a +table before his door. + +The interview between Danbazzar and Mr. Tawwab occupied an +inordinately long time. Two relays of coffee were requisitioned, and +at intervals Danbazzar’s great voice was raised in a manner rather +unparliamentary. But as the debate was throughout conducted in Arabic, +Professor Blackwell could only assume that the question was one of +terms. + +It was ultimately settled amicably, however, Mr. Tawwab expressing his +profound regret that he could not wait for the return of Messrs. John +and Barry Cumberland. But important official business demanded his +speedy reappearance in Luxor. + +As Danbazzar walked beside him along the _wâdi_, one large hand laid +caressingly on his shoulder, the contrast between his slight Egyptian +figure and the great bulk of his companion was notable. Professor +Blackwell derived an odd impression that Danbazzar would have loved to +twist Mr. Tawwab’s neck. + +Having escorted him to where a servant waited with two horses, +Danbazzar threw a stump of cigar upon the sand and selected a fresh +one from several which he kept loose in the breast pocket of his white +shirt. He bit off the end and spat it out reflectively, standing, a +huge, picturesque figure, staring after the horsemen. + +When presently he rejoined Professor Blackwell: + +“How much?” the latter asked, standing up to greet him. + +“Ten thousand piastres for the first week,” Danbazzar replied calmly, +and critically surveyed the end of his lighted cigar, which he +extracted from between his teeth apparently for no other purpose; +“twenty thousand piastres for the second week; forty thousand piastres +if we stay over into a third, and so on. In other words, if we stayed +for three months we’d need to send an SOS to Mr. Rockefeller! That’s +our rent, and we’ve got to pay it!” + +“Quite, quite!” the Professor murmured. “Five hundred dollars for the +first week, a thousand dollars for the second, and two thousand +dollars for the third, or any part of the third, during which we +remain here. Is that the figure?” + +“You said it.” + +“And suppose John Cumberland declines to submit to this extortion?” + +“Let’s suppose.” Danbazzar dropped down upon a small packing case +which sometimes served as a chair. “In the first place, we’d be raided +to-night by some scurvy bunch of Arabs in the pay of Tawwab. If we +came out smiling, from to-morrow onward we’d be watched so closely the +game wouldn’t be worth the candle. He would then threaten official +interference. And if we kept right on smiling, there’d be another +raid--and they’d take our shirts! They’d also take our excavation and +every damn thing they could find in it! The real shape of our job in +the valley shown up, Mr. Tawwab would next suggest, say a hundred +thousand piastres to let us go home to America. Alternative--send us +to Cairo for trial! Professor”--he extended his palms in an +extravagant imitation of Ahmed Tawwab’s favourite gesture--“he has +walked away with my check on the National Bank of Egypt for ten +thousand piastres. We’ve got a clear week.” + +“Do you think he will stick to his bargain?” + +“Certainly not!” roared Danbazzar, and brought his hand down with a +resounding bang on the side of the box, so that it emitted a drumlike +note. “If we were ready to move in three days, it would make no +difference. He’d want at least another fifty thousand piastres to let +us leave Luxor.” + +“It is expensive,” the Professor murmured. + +“It _would be_,” Danbazzar returned, “if we paid it.” + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII. + THE LOTUS SARCOPHAGUS + +The sun was casting its last shafts of gold across the fringe of the +Libyan Desert when Barry Cumberland stepped over the threshold and +entered the tomb of Zalithea. He had pleaded for this privilege, and +it had been granted to him. Danbazzar and John Cumberland followed, +Professor Blackwell hard upon their heels; and Hassan es-Sugra, +smiling in gentle triumph, brought up the rear. + +Sweat-grimed workmen crowded the outer chamber.… + +No inscription of any kind appeared upon the sides or lid of the great +granite sarcophagus, but the walls were very beautifully painted. The +atmosphere was so oppressive as to be almost insupportable. + +There was something awesome in this sudden silence which had succeeded +upon clamour. Danbazzar was the first to break it. + +“The name of Princess Zalithea,” he said, his deep voice oddly hushed, +“occurs, as you can see, in several places.” He directed the ray of +his torch from point to point. “Much of the decorations--such as the +procession of boats, the Sem-priest in his mystic trance, the funeral +offerings, and so forth--are quite conventional in character. You will +notice, though, that the Lotus constantly occurs, as well as the Ankh, +emblem of eternal life.” He shone the light all around. “There are +other important points, too,” he mused, “which we can look into later. +Be very careful. Touch nothing.” + +Barry, wholly absorbed in his own peculiar reflections, was passing +around the sarcophagus; feeling its surface with his fingers; peering +into the tiny crevices between the lid and the lip. Meanwhile, +Danbazzar and John Cumberland were bending almost reverently over a +strangely shaped, squat table on which were salvers, bowls, +curious-looking phials, and a number of tall, slender lamps. + +“Observe,” said Danbazzar, a note of triumph in his deep voice: +“_these_ are not the usual funerary offerings!” + +Professor Blackwell’s long bony fingers were extended toward one of +the phials, but: + +“No, no! Blackwell!” cried John Cumberland excitedly. “Don’t touch it! +Touch nothing! It may crumble!” + +The Professor withdrew his greedy hand reluctantly. + +“And I wonder what that casket contains?” he murmured. + +The casket to which he referred, an exquisitely carved object, stood +by itself upon a sort of pedestal, some little distance from the table +and beside a long, low couch, the legs carved to represent the feet of +a leopard. Danbazzar almost imperiously waved him to silence. Then, +turning his back to the sarcophagus, the table, and the pedestal, he +addressed them as a speaker addresses an audience. + +“The casket, gentlemen,” he said, “as well as the bowls and bottles, +contains the ingredients mentioned in the formula! I have seen enough +already to tell me my preparations are complete. Presently, +Professor”--he turned to Professor Blackwell--“maybe you can assist me +in checking these; but the task of preserving many of the fragments is +going to be a delicate one. We mustn’t forget they’re three thousand +years old.” + +“It is almost more than I can believe!” declared John Cumberland +rapturously. + +Barry, one hand resting upon the sarcophagus, faced him, and: + +“Dad,” he said, “it’s _altogether_ more than _I_ can believe!” + +“What?” Danbazzar demanded. “That here before us, perished but +recognizable, lie the ingredients of the formula as they were prepared +by the last priest to wake Zalithea, for the use of his successor?” + +“No,” Barry replied: “_that’s_ hard enough--but what I cannot believe +is that the woman who is the centre of this incredible story lies +_here_, in this sarcophagus!” + +“Personally, my mind is open!” Professor Blackwell asserted, glancing +around him. “There is no other entrance to this chamber?” + +“None whatever,” Danbazzar confirmed. + +“Therefore,” the Professor went on, shaking perspiration from his high +brow, “we are the first explorers, since this amazing ritual came to +an end for reasons which, probably, we shall never know.” He glanced +aside at the sarcophagus. “It’s uncanny,” he murmured, “the thought +that inside those walls of granite---- But, no! I stick to my +opinion!” + +“How long will it take to raise the lid?” Barry interrupted. + +John Cumberland, hot, tired, met his son’s glance with one fired by no +less enthusiasm. + +“With the aid of the apparatus which we have with us, Barry,” he +answered, “not long. You agree, Danbazzar?” + +The latter, who was less excited than the others--always excepting +Hassan es-Sugra--bowed in his old-world manner. + +“We’ll have that lid off in an hour!” he declared. “But before we +start there are quite a lot of precautions we have to take.…” + +Two hours later the gear for lifting the great granite lid was brought +from its hiding place; and everything was put in order for the +operation, the result of which would prove or disprove Dr. +Rittenburg’s theory (now shared by Professor Blackwell) that Princess +Zalithea was a myth; that no such person had ever existed; that the +tradition was a priestly invention designed to impress the vulgar +mind. + +Ever distrustful of Ahmed Tawwab, guards armed with rifles had been +placed at selected spots northwest of the camp along the caravan road +to Farshût; these reinforcing the ordinary guards in the valley. + +The wildest excitement prevailed among the party. Apparently, as well +as Barry could make out, apart from the problematical contents of the +sarcophagus, the objects found in the tomb were in many ways unique. + +There was an exquisitely embossed bowl, which, he learned, was of pure +gold. The figures upon it were apparently different from any found +hitherto. Professor Blackwell succeeded in identifying seven of the +substances found, in the vials and the casket, as identical with those +mentioned in the formula possessed by Danbazzar. One or two defied +speculation, or the Professor’s knowledge, until Danbazzar enlightened +him as to their nature. Whereupon he recognized them, but raised his +voice in doubt respecting the possibility of obtaining these at the +present day. + +“I _have_ obtained them!” Danbazzar assured him. “When the time comes, +you shall see them. Oh! I’ve been busy, Professor. Where the Ancient +Egyptians got these things God only knows! They can’t have had a +colony in Russia in those days.” + +“Russia!” the Professor echoed. + +“I said Russia,” Danbazzar affirmed. “One of the ingredients--the one +we have been arguing about--I ultimately got from Russia!” + +“You refer to the substance which you tell me is of mammalian origin?” + +“Precisely.” + +“Mammals have been found in Africa,” the Professor murmured.… + +And so in the atmosphere of excited debate and unceasing toil the day +wore on. + +Hassan es-Sugra never left the tomb. It would have been impossible for +any workman to remove a grain of dust from it and escape the scrutiny +of those gazelle-like eyes. Barry’s enthusiasm was such that the +tedious methods employed by Danbazzar for raising the lid of the +sarcophagus tortured him to the borders of frenzy. At one point: + +“Why all these precautions?” he cried. “It would need a steam hammer +to crack that lid!” + +“Surely it would,” Danbazzar returned gravely. “What’s the big point?” + +“The point is,” said Barry, “that you are making a perfectly +preposterous fuss about lifting it--as though it would matter very +much if we dropped it!” + +“I see!” Danbazzar spoke softly, regarding the younger man through +half-closed eyes. “If you were lying in a stone chest next to +hermetically sealed, and somebody dropped half a ton of granite on top +of it”--his voice suddenly rose, booming around the enclosed +chamber--“where in hell do you think you’d be?” + +“Good Lord!” Barry was startled. “Of course! You are quite right!” + +“You’d be dead of concussion!” Danbazzar shouted. “Thundering +concussion! This is my business--and I’ll do it my own way!” + +He was formidable in his sudden anger, and Barry realized that he had +committed an unforgivable _faux pas_--that of criticizing an artist in +the practice of his profession.… + +The coming of dusk found the raising gear in place to Danbazzar’s +satisfaction, at which point he cleared the tomb, leaving Hassan +es-Sugra on guard in the outer chamber. + +“The eight o’clock shift will start the lifting,” he pronounced. “We +all want dinner, so we’ll all have it.” + +John Cumberland, sweat-grimed but happy, looked up from the task which +he had been performing side by side with the Arab workmen. Barry +leaned up against the rugged masonry beside the opening and mopped his +forehead with a very dirty handkerchief. + +“It’s torture to quit,” he declared honestly, “but you are right, +Danbazzar. I am dead tired. Aren’t you, Dad?” + +“I am!” his father admitted. “I would give a big price for a real hot +bath before dinner!” + +“It would be most acceptable,” declared Professor Blackwell. +“Association with these very worthy natives adds to one’s knowledge of +humanity but results in so many fleas!” + +They returned to camp in the _wâdi_, taking turns in the portable +bath supervised by the grinning Mahmoud. This was a rare luxury, for +water had to be brought a great distance, and inadequate though these +baths might be, they were keenly appreciated by the party. + +All brought keen appetites to dinner, which was well up to Mahmoud’s +standard. Having reached coffee (into which they were forced to pour +their cognac, lest Mahmoud should see the bottle which they kept +concealed in the sand, or, worse, smell the glasses): + +“To-night,” said Danbazzar, selecting a cigar, “the lid of the +sarcophagus will be raised.” + +“What then?” cried Barry. + +“There’ll be an inner sarcophagus,” was the reply, “probably of +sycamore and elaborately painted. Our next task will be to raise that, +which won’t be difficult. Nor will the opening of the wooden lid; +but--” he paused, carefully lighted his cigar and rolled it between +his fingers for a moment--“I’m going to give orders, and in these +orders you are included, Mr. Cumberland.” + +“I am at your service,” said John Cumberland. “You know more of this +business than I do.” + +“Very well,” Danbazzar went on. “The raising of the second lid will be +easy. But it won’t be raised until I say the word.” + +“Why?” cried Barry. + +Danbazzar turned to him. + +“Because,” he answered, “the raising of that lid will be the first +critical moment. We don’t know what we shall find. We don’t care to +think what we shall find. But we have to suppose that there is a woman +there--in what we might describe as a trance. Now”--he performed a +slow, impressive gesture--“according to the formula, as you’ll +remember, Mr. Cumberland, there must be no delay between the opening +of the sarcophagus and the beginning of the ceremony for waking the +sleeper.” + +“Good heavens!” exclaimed Professor Blackwell. “Is this some strange +dream?” + +“It may be,” Danbazzar admitted, “but we have to suppose that it +isn’t. Also, we have to suppose, or rather to remember, that the +Princess Zalithea, if she’s there and still living, last saw this +world in the days of the Pharaohs!--according to my calculations, +about the time of Rameses the Ninth. Let’s put ourselves in her place. +If we aren’t all crazy--if those old priests weren’t all crazy--she +will suddenly find herself surrounded by a group of wild-eyed +devils--I include myself--wearing fantastic clothes and speaking a +barbaric language! Now this can’t be. Think a minute!” + +“I follow you entirely,” said Professor Blackwell. “Quite! Quite! And +I see what you are about to propose.” + +“Good for you, Professor!” Danbazzar nodded appreciatively. “We’ve got +to dress the part, and I came prepared for it.” + +“What!” Barry exclaimed. + +“Yes, sir,” Danbazzar went on; “when we take that lid off, we have got +to be dressed like Ancient Egyptians!--and we have got to be silent! +Leave the talking to me. I have the outfit. Does everybody agree?” + +Everybody agreed.… + +They did not linger long over their coffee, but hurried back to the +excavation. + +Guards were posted as on the previous night. Excitement ran higher +than ever. They worked, and the Arabs worked, under the direction of +Hassan es-Sugra, like men whose lives depended upon their speedy +success. + +But the eight o’clock shift had returned to quarters and the twelve +o’clock shift were near to their time of departure, before the great +lid was raised high enough to enable them to explore the interior of +the granite coffin. + +Not one of the party was wholly master of himself. Barry experienced +an unfamiliar desire either to laugh or to cry. But, composure +regained, light was directed into the interior.… + +It contained a magnificent wooden sarcophagus, highly gilded and +painted. The lid, which was in relief, represented the figure of the +occupant--a girl, clad in a gauzy robe, her hands clasped upon her +bosom and holding a Lotus flower. The Ankh--symbol of life--was at her +head and her feet. The presentment was wonderful--uncanny. + +Barry’s mood changed. He felt suddenly sick. He believed that he was +likely to swoon. + +The eyes, the hair, the full lips, the slender, cloudily clad figure! +This was madness! He stood upright, his hand on his brow. Perspiration +was dripping into his eyes. + +It was _she!_ It was the girl of his dreams! More, far more than a +coincidence, this was a miracle--or a delusion! + + + + + CHAPTER XIX. + THE VOICE IN THE VALLEY + +The hours that followed were feverish hours. They were marked by at +least one strange event. + +Barry’s excitement grew so intense that the mere idea of sleep was out +of the question. If he had had his way, the wonderful painted lid +would have been torn off and the occupant revealed within a very few +minutes of its discovery. But Danbazzar sternly took command. The tomb +was cleared; the triumphant workmen were sent off to their quarters; +all operations were suspended until morning. And on this point +Danbazzar proved adamant. + +In view of the advanced state of the work, and of what interference at +this critical step would mean, he determined to supplant the ordinary +guards. It was arranged that John Cumberland and Barry should take a +dog-watch (two hours) at the high and low ends of the valley; then +Hassan and Danbazzar; and finally Professor Blackwell and Mahmoud. All +would be armed. + +“It’ll take me right through the first spell,” said Danbazzar, “and +most of the third, to collect up the stuff I want to get along. Maybe +I’ll make more than one journey each time, and Hassan can help.” + +“Don’t forget the signal!” Professor Blackwell warned. “We are all +tuned up above concert pitch!” + +And so, beneath a glorious moon that painted the Valleys of the Kings +and Queens with silvern mystery, Barry and his father began the first +watch. Wholly animated now by the spirit of adventure, they tossed for +positions--and Barry got the low end. + +Shouldering his rifle, he marched down the slope; and, his post +reached, gave himself over to reflection. The first idea to claim his +mind was a grotesque one. Here were a group of eminently respectable +Americans mounting armed guard over a tomb that belonged to the +Egyptian government! True, they had evidence pointing to the +possibility that it contained a living woman; but to pretend that they +were in any sense actuated by the motives of a rescue party would be +sheer hypocrisy. + +The spot, if somewhat inaccessible, was nevertheless open to the +public. He experienced momentarily the sensations of one who claims a +certain mound in Central Park and posts sentinels over it. + +Then, swiftly, his thoughts changed. Zalithea! To no living soul had +he breathed his conviction that Zalithea--if she really lay under that +painted cover--had already appeared to him, perhaps in visions, but +apparently in the flesh! He knew that he had not spoken of this +because he had not dared. Even now he was afraid to think of the +painted figure, afraid to face the question: What does it all mean? + +He tried to banish these ideas. They definitely disturbed him. And the +morrow would show--what? + +Resting his rifle against a rock, he filled and started a pipe. The +flame of the little gold lighter--a parting present from Jim +Sakers--made grotesque shadows. He remembered that at this point he +was no great distance from the haunted valley where he had seen the +mummylike figure moving. + +The thought was unnerving. He imagined that gaunt, half-human shape +creeping toward him, secretly, through the darkness. In the little +hollow were ruins of those huts which had been built in a remote age +for the accommodation of the tomb guards. + +If the spirit of such a guard could revisit that spot, how bitter--and +how just--would be his resentment! + +He toyed with this idea. And, largely because of an unpleasant +tingling of his scalp which he was brave enough to admit to himself +betokened approaching panic, he argued that the case presented +peculiar and extenuating features. Here was no violation of the mighty +dead. On the contrary, they were carrying on the labours of the +priests who had begun this amazing experiment. They were attempting to +make possible that dream of Pharaoh in which he had seen men of a +future age listening to a story of his grandeur from the lips of one +who had witnessed it! + +From this convincing argument he derived much comfort. The +supernatural dread which had threatened to claim him receded like a +real presence--only to return suddenly, magnified a hundredfold. + +Coming unmistakably from the direction of the haunted hollow, a sound +broke the profound silence of the night--_a woman’s voice!_ + +Utterly unexpected, wholly incomprehensible, it seemed to make Barry’s +heart stand still. No word reached him; merely the silvery tones. From +a great distance it came--and ceased abruptly--almost as though the +speaker had been silenced. + +A woman--in that place--at that hour! The idea simply wasn’t +admissible. Yet he had heard her voice! His hands closed like a vise +upon the rifle. He gripped his pipe between his teeth desperately. +Compromise with himself was no longer possible. For this was no trick +of his imagination. Beyond shadow of doubt he had heard a thing +admitting of no reasonable explanation; and he was definitely, +dreadfully scared. + +Intently he listened, but could hear only a drumming in his ears. The +tinkle of a camel bell up on the caravan road would have been as balm +to his fevered mind; for it would have offered a possible solution of +the mystery. But nothing stirred. + +He longed to join his father, to tell him of the phenomenon. But he +knew that he must not desert his post. Nor could he conscientiously +convince himself that there was justification for blowing the whistle +he carried--a signal that would summon John Cumberland. + +And so he stood there, holding grimly onto his slipping courage--while +minute after minute passed in profound silence, that great, deep +silence of the desert which can almost be heard. + +Hours seemed to elapse in this way. But, when Barry glanced at the +luminous dial of his wrist watch, he learned that he had been on guard +for less than half the allotted span. In the act of consulting the +watch, his heart gave a great leap. + +Another sound had broken the stillness. + +Then he heaved a sigh of relief. It was the signal, higher up the +valley. Someone had clapped his hands three times. Immediately, John +Cumberland’s voice came: + +“Who’s there?” + +“Danbazzar,” Barry heard. + +After this, words became indistinguishable; but a human link had been +established; he no longer felt alone with the shadows. And his dread +slipped from him like a discarded garment. + +He wondered, practically, if he should report the occurrence. He +decided to wait until he was relieved by the next watch. + +So the second hour of his duty wore on, uneventfully, and at last came +the familiar signal again. Some conversation there was; then an +interval of silence. Finally, he heard the voices of John Cumberland +and Danbazzar drawing nearer as they walked down the slope. Coming +around the last bend: + +“Two more loads will do it,” Danbazzar was saying. “I’ll bring them up +while Blackwell and Mahmoud are on watch. Then everything will be +safely planted by daylight.” As they came into view: “Hullo, there!” +Danbazzar called. “All clear?” + +“Yes,” said Barry, “except that I heard a most extraordinary thing +about an hour ago.” + +“What?” Danbazzar demanded sharply. + +He bent forward, so that even in the darkness of the _wâdi_ Barry +could see the gleam of his fierce eyes. + +“A woman’s voice!” + +“Eh!” John Cumberland exclaimed. “You must have been dreaming, Barry!” + +“I wasn’t dreaming, Dad.” + +“Where did it come from?” Danbazzar asked rapidly. “Which direction?” + +Barry pointed. + +“Down there--where we saw the mummy man.” + +“Good heavens!” said his father--“the haunted valley!” + +He was acquainted with the story of the apparition seen by Danbazzar +and Barry, and had even explored the hollow by daylight, but had found +no evidence of human habitation. + +“Strange,” Danbazzar muttered, in his deep voice. “Did she seem to be +speaking English?” + +“I couldn’t say. No words were distinguishable.” + +“Was it a young voice?” John Cumberland asked. + +“Yes.” + +Danbazzar and John Cumberland exchanged swift glances. Then: + +“Is it possible,” asked the latter, “that some camping party has +crossed?” + +“No!” Danbazzar spoke confidently. “I’d have had news of it from +Hassan. He knows everything that’s arranged in Luxor. And there’s no +_dahabîyeh_ up either. I can’t account for it.” + +He stared hard at Barry. + +“I heard it,” the latter repeated. + +“I don’t doubt you heard _something_,” Danbazzar admitted. “But I’m +just wondering what it was. There are night birds that have a note not +unlike a woman’s voice. Some small animals, too, when a jackal gets +them, squeal like hares. And the cry of a hare is very human. Did you +know that?” + +“I knew it,” Barry replied, “although I never heard one. But this was +no animal or bird. It was a woman a long way off, but unmistakably a +woman.” + +The mystery unsolved, they presently parted; Danbazzar taking over the +watch, and John Cumberland and Barry returning to camp. They exchanged +greetings with Hassan es-Sugra, posted at the head of the valley, and +then, silent for the most part, tramped on to the tents. + +Professor Blackwell was very much awake. In fact, he had got Mahmoud +to prepare coffee for them. Sandwiches consisting of Huntley and +Palmer’s biscuits, native butter, and bottled prawns were also in +readiness. + +“Highly indigestible,” the Professor admitted. “But one or two extra +nightmares count for little upon such an expedition.” + +The phenomenon of the mysterious voice was discussed at length. + +“I vote for some kind of nighthawk,” John Cumberland finally declared. + +“It was no nighthawk,” Barry assured him. + +“H’m!” murmured Professor Blackwell. “I am consistently unfortunate at +games of chance. But I venture to hope that on my watch I may draw the +upper end of the valley and Mahmoud the lower!” + +How this fell out, and what Danbazzar and Hassan had to report, Barry +did not learn. Determined though he had been not to close his eyes +until the night was ended, tired nature prevailed. Not even the prawns +and coffee could keep him awake. He found himself nodding over his +pipe. John Cumberland was deep in slumber in a chair, and Professor +Blackwell’s snores rang out sonorously upon the desert silence. + +Barry aroused himself, and: + +“It’s no good, Dad!” he said. + +John Cumberland started into wakefulness. The Professor snored on. + +“We must turn in,” Barry continued. “We are both dead beat!” + +“You’re right, my boy,” his father agreed. “But who’s going to wake +Blackwell when the time comes?” + +Barry pointed, laughing sleepily. + +A cheap alarum clock, set for fifteen minutes ahead of the Professor’s +watch with Mahmoud, stood only six inches from the sleeper’s head! + +“The scientific mind,” murmured John Cumberland--“always methodical. +Good-night, Barry. I’m for bed.” + +“Good-night,” said Barry. + +Five minutes later he was fast asleep. + +No dreams visited him to-night. He slept the sleep of utter weariness. +A gunshot would not have awakened him. And the sun was high above the +valleys where those who ruled Egypt in the golden past slept even more +soundly than he, when a booming voice ended his slumbers. + +“Turn out!” + +Barry opened his eyes. Danbazzar stood looking into the tent. This +extraordinary man, from his leonine head with its well-brushed gray +hair down to his polished riding boots, was spruce as though the dust +of deserts positively avoided him. + +“We open the sarcophagus in an hour!” + + + + + CHAPTER XX. + THE RITUAL + +Barry looked around the square, rock-hewn chamber communicating with +the tomb, and wondered why he felt no inclination to laugh. Had Jim +Sakers formed one of the party, his mood might have been different; +but, in the company of his father, Danbazzar, and Professor Blackwell, +he found himself touched by awe. + +They wore robes, sandals, and curious linen skullcaps which entirely +concealed their hair. Danbazzar, so arrayed, presented an impressive +picture. He did not look like an Egyptian priest, but he might have +been a Pharaoh disguised as one, except for his moustache. The others, +save for their deeply tanned skin, could by no stretch of the +imagination have been mistaken for anything but American citizens +masquerading. + +Professor Blackwell, oddly enough, was more convincing than the rest. +Without his spectacles, although he could see little, he had a +distinctly hieratic appearance. + +Hassan es-Sugra was not present. With Mahmoud he mounted guard in the +valley, above. + +A richly embroidered curtain hung in the now demolished doorway of the +tomb chamber. The heat was almost insupportable; and the smell of some +kind of incense which was burning on the other side of the curtain +added to the oppressiveness of the atmosphere. This was _Kyphi_, +mentioned in the “Papyrus Ebers,” and, according to Danbazzar, only +twice hitherto prepared in modern times. + +Danbazzar gave his final instructions. + +“To the best of my knowledge,” he said, “everything is ready. One +essential oil--you know the one I mean, Professor--has changed colour +since I had it distilled. I can only hope that its special properties, +whatever they are, remain the same.” + +“It has no special properties that I am aware of,” the Professor +murmured. + +“We shall see,” the deep voice went on. “The seven lamps are ready to +be lighted. You know when to light them and which lamps each of you +must light. The last one, I light. The two unguents are in the bowls. +You”--turning his piercing regard upon Barry--“will put the taper to +the liquid in the perfume burner when I give the signal. + +“The wine for the final draught, you”--indicating John +Cumberland--“will pour into the cup onto the powder at the last +moment--when she opens her eyes. I consider the wine to be the most +doubtful item. It’s Madeira wine, over a hundred and fifty years old, +but I’m not sure of it all the same.” + +“That contained in the flagon found here was undoubtedly a similar +vintage,” Professor Blackwell said. “It was a grape wine. My +microscope has convinced me of this.” + +“We can only hope you’re right,” said Danbazzar. “And now--the most +important point of all. The sarcophagus I’ve had lifted out onto a +sloping trestle. The implements for raising the lid are ready. The +couch, described in the formula, is still serviceable, if we take +great care. Directly the lid is off, she must be taken out of the +sarcophagus and laid on the couch. I’ll do it. From that moment on, no +one must speak! No one must make a sound! Just do your jobs. And, for +God’s sake, don’t bungle!” + +He held the curtain aside, and the party filed into the tomb. + +It presented a picture that time could never efface from the minds of +those who saw it. Dimly lighted by an ancient lamp set upon a +pedestal, the air was misty with clouds of incense arising from a +tripod placed on the right of the doorway. + +The lotus sarcophagus rested, slanting, near to the great granite box +which had contained it for generations. Upon a low table were two +bowls containing some kind of ointment; a metal perfume burner; a +jewelled cup in which was some gray, powdery substance; a stoppered +flagon; and a curiously shaped lamp. The table was set close to the +head of a long, narrow, gilded couch, having legs carved to represent +those of an animal, and found in the tomb. + +Six other lamps were placed at intervals around the walls. + +Danbazzar pointed to a bundle of tapers. They were made of some +inflammable resinous substance. + +“The moment I lift her out,” he directed, “light those tapers at the +brazier. The wrappings I look to find perished, and I shall set to +work right away. Say all you want to say before I get the lid off. I +shall work fast, even if I do damage. Once the thing is open--not a +word from anybody.” + +He stooped over the sarcophagus, with its startling presentment of the +occupant. His shadow, gigantic, moved upon painted walls and ceiling. +A sound of wrenching, cracking wood broke the oppressive silence.… + +Barry clenched his teeth hard. He glanced at his father. Even through +the tan one could see that John Cumberland had grown pale. Professor +Blackwell’s gaunt features glistened with perspiration. Barry +wondered--as though newly faced with the problem--what he should do if +the sarcophagus really proved to contain a woman! A sudden +unaccountable conviction had come to him that it was empty. + +The heat in the tomb seemed to be growing greater every moment.… + +John Cumberland stepped forward, in response to a signal from +Danbazzar. Together, they raised the painted lid and rested it upright +against the nearest wall. + +Through a mist that was not wholly due to the incense, Barry saw the +figure of a woman lying in the sarcophagus! + +The figure was swathed in saffron-coloured wrappings. The arms and +hands were enwrapped also. But within a sort of aperture where the +face should have been appeared a thin gold mask. He experienced a +sense of suspended animation. He seemed to watch that rigid figure +through a vast period of time. Then, casting an imperious glance +around him, and raising a finger significantly to his lips, Danbazzar +stooped. + +Lifting the mummylike form, he placed it on the couch. + +With a pair of surgical scissors he began to cut through the +wrappings.… + +A hand touched Barry’s arm. He started wildly. + +Professor Blackwell, his features strangely haggard, handed him a +taper and pointed to the tripod. + +Barry, by dint of a stupendous effort, regained control of himself. He +remembered that it was his duty to light the first two lamps. + +This duty he performed blindly. A sound of tearing linen seemed to +fill the chamber. The perfume of the oil in the lamps began to mingle +with that of the _Kyphi_.… + +John Cumberland lighted two more lamps. + +Barry turned and looked. Like lilies blooming in corruption, he saw +two slender, exquisite arms peeping out from the torn and powdered +wrappings… bare, creamy shoulders gleamed in the lamplight. + +Danbazzar gently detached the gold mask and removed the turbanlike +swathings which confined a mass of short, wavy dark hair. + +A pale, exquisite face was revealed, delicate as a Greek cameo. Long, +curling black lashes rested on the youthfully rounded cheeks. The +pouting lips seemed to smile.… + +In on the hush of it burst a loud, harsh cry: + +“My God!” + +Even as he met a furious glance of Danbazzar’s blazing, wild animal +eyes, Barry did not realize that it was _he_ who had cried out. But +instantly came recognition of the fact. + +He clapped his palm over his mouth, literally choking back the words +he had been about to utter. John Cumberland had his hand raised in +warning--a hand that shook wildly. Professor Blackwell lighted the +last pair of lamps. His face looked waxen--ghastly. + +Danbazzar, icily calm again, proceeded to carry out the singular +formula. A wave of embarrassment swept over Barry, making his very +scalp tingle. He turned aside. + +But his heart was leaping--leaping… + +Danbazzar lighted the seventh lamp--and glared at Barry. + +Barry plunged a taper into the brazier and applied the little tongue +of flame to an oily liquid in the perfume burner. It ignited at once. +Danbazzar, bending over the girl blew the aromatic smoke gently over +her face. + +At which moment, Professor Blackwell staggered toward the curtained +doorway. John Cumberland, his face masklike, waved to Barry to assist +the Professor. Danbazzar never even glanced aside, as Barry threw a +supporting arm around the tottering man and helped him to gain the +outer chamber. There: + +“Air!” he whispered. “I must have air.” + +The task of getting him along the sloping passage was no easy one; for +Professor Blackwell was heavily built. Especially it was difficult at +the point where the roof had collapsed, since here he must negotiate +an opening only about eighteen inches high. + +But it was done at last. The Professor sank down in that little +artificial cave created by the screen, and shakily produced his flask. + +“Go back,” he said in a low voice--“go back. You will want to see +if----” + +“I couldn’t think of it,” Barry returned. “Not until you feel better. +Was it the heat down there, Professor?” + +Professor Blackwell returned his flask to his pocket. Some trace of +normal colour was showing again in his cheeks. From a hiding place +beneath his priest’s robe he produced his spectacles and set them in +place. He made a very grotesque picture. Then: + +“Not entirely,” he replied. “That was not without its effect, of +course. But I confess that my threatened collapse was not entirely due +to it. Your training, Barry, has not followed the same lines as mine. +You are not only a younger man, but you are plastic minded. The sight +of a person defying the law of gravity without mechanical aid, for +instance, would not appall you?” + +“It would certainly interest me.” + +“Quite, quite. There’s the difference. It would horrify _me!_ And +to-day I have witnessed a thing that has knocked the keystone out of +the structure upon which my professional life rests. Those scientific +principles to which, as a sane man, I have adhered unquestioningly +throughout my career have been ruthlessly destroyed. Either modern +physiology is fit only for the scrap heap or the claims of so-called +occultists are worthy of close examination.” + +“You think she is really alive?” asked Barry eagerly. + +“Think!” retorted the Professor. “I _know_ she is! Whether the +madhouse treatment now being employed by Danbazzar will terminate her +miraculous trance or not I cannot say. But, quite definitely, she is +alive! Go back, Barry. _I_ dare not!” + +Eagerly Barry obeyed. He returned to the scene of the poor Professor’s +seizure in a quarter of the time it had taken to come out. Softly +raising the curtain he entered the chamber, all but intolerable, now, +because of the clouds of incense. + +He found his father and Danbazzar bending over Zalithea, their +expressions tense. The slender curves which it had seemed desecration +to uncover were hidden beneath a fine Egyptian shawl, but it revealed +the delicate lines of her slim, still body. + +Barry feasted his eyes on that pale face. Zalithea! Speculation was +ended. Doubt was done with. By some unsuspected gift of prevision, of +clairvoyance--call it what he might--he had been enabled to see her, +though she lay deep in this rocky tomb, long before he had ever set +foot on the black soil of Egypt! It was, therefore, predestined. As +Hassan would have said, “It is written.” For this he had been born. +Because of this wonder which was to come, he had never found his ideal +woman but had dreamed of dark mysterious eyes which one day would +beckon to him.… + +A faint sigh broke the deathly stillness. Princess Zalithea raised her +drooping lashes--and looked long and wonderingly into the faces +bending over her. Then, without otherwise stirring, she turned her +dark, beautiful eyes in Barry’s direction. + +Danbazzar, that man of steel, gripped John Cumberland’s shoulder and +indicated the stoppered flagon. Cumberland, making a visible effort to +steady his hand, poured the old wine into the goblet. + +Never removing that fixed, childlike look of inquiry from Barry, the +girl allowed Danbazzar very gently to lift her up. He held the draught +to her lips and spoke a few words in a language entirely unfamiliar to +the others. + +Zalithea glanced swiftly up at him and swallowed the drugged wine. + +Then once more she looked at Barry, smiled like a tired child, and lay +back, closing her eyes. + +Danbazzar pointed to the doorway. As John Cumberland and Barry tiptoed +out, he extinguished the seven lamps, joining them in the outer +chamber. + +“She is now sleeping normally,” he whispered. “She should wake in +eight or nine hours’ time--and resume life!” + +He reeled, clutched at Barry, and: + +“Get me out,” he said hoarsely. “I’m through.” + + + + + CHAPTER XXI. + THE AWAKENING + +Perhaps, in his heart of hearts, no one of the party--excepting +Danbazzar--had ever really counted on success. Certainly, in their +wildest imaginings, they had not schooled their minds to acceptance of +the miracle; had not realized what success would mean. + +Slowly, and by different mental processes, realization came in turn to +John Cumberland and to Barry, as it had come, instantly, +insupportably, to the scientific mind of Professor Blackwell. A girl +who had lived during the reign of Seti I--a girl barely out of her +teens--was living now. She must be, according to ordinary human +computation, fully three thousand two hundred years old; but, +according to all the laws of modern physiology, she was still no more +than nineteen or twenty! + +To the Professor, the problem presented was one of scientific faith. +Acceptance meant destruction of his life’s labour, the tearing up of +every textbook written on the subject; it assailed the very throne of +reason itself. Rejection, with Zalithea living, meant closing his eyes +to the truth. For a long time he remained alone in his tent and could +not be induced to see her. + +John Cumberland’s problem was a legal one. To whom did Zalithea +belong? Since she antedated any government of which documentary trace +remained, surely not to the authorities at Cairo? The thought that a +false step might result in her loss was terrifying. + +But, if these two found their ideas chaotic, how infinitely more so +were those of Barry. At one moment he was raised to a poetic heaven. +In the next he found himself plunged in an inferno of such torturing +doubts that he longed for the power to run away from himself. + +Upon the realization of his shadowy ideal, the proof that the unknown +might become known, had followed, what? A knowledge that he must +either fly from Zalithea or learn to love her--and that she was, to +all intents and purposes, a supernatural being! + +Such were the early reactions of these three to a phenomenon--and a +phenomenon in the form of an unusually lovely girl--which struck deep +at the roots of human credulity; which forced them to accept the +inacceptable, to remain sane though face to face with madness. + +Danbazzar alone attacked the problem with confidence. A large Bell +tent was set up at the lower end of the _wâdi_, and furnished, though +simply, in Ancient Egyptian fashion. The necessary materials he had +brought with him and Hassan es-Sugra supervised the work. His +optimistic foresight had not stopped here. A messenger who had been +dispatched to Luxor at dawn returned before midday with an elderly +Arab woman. + +“She has been standing by over a week,” said Danbazzar. “Hassan +engaged her. She’s a trained servant and was seven years in the harem +of the last Khedive. Remember!” he warned. “Hassan doesn’t know what +we found in the sarcophagus! Nobody outside of this party knows. +Zalithea is the sick daughter of a friend of mine in El Kasr who has +come down for treatment by Professor Blackwell. That’s the story, and +we’ve got to stick to it. The sarcophagus was empty.” + +Accordingly Safîyeh was installed, with her few belongings, in the +new tent. A covered litter was extemporized and Hassan dispatched on a +mission to Kurna. + +Danbazzar, following two hours of profound sleep, had become his +capable self again. Three visits he had made to the tomb, and reported +that Zalithea slumbered soundly. John Cumberland’s anxiety was +intense. He had urged the immediate removal of the girl from that +nearly unbreathable atmosphere but had been overruled. + +“We’ll stick to the formula,” said Danbazzar truculently, “with or +without your permission. She has to stay there eight hours. After that +we have nothing to go upon.” + +They carried the litter up to the tomb, setting it close to the +screen. Professor Blackwell mounted guard at the top of the valley and +Barry at the bottom. They wore their ordinary working kit; but John +Cumberland and Danbazzar had arranged to put on the Ancient Egyptian +dresses under cover of the screen before awakening the sleeper. + +That Danbazzar could make himself understood in the long dead language +known to Zalithea had been already proved. It was one further item of +evidence showing his knowledge of Egyptology to be masterful. + +“I know very few words,” he admitted, “and until to-day I couldn’t +tell if my pronunciation was understandable. Others have claimed to +know how to speak the language. But no living man for a thousand-odd +years back has been able to prove it! I shall have to try to talk to +her. She is sure to be frightened. I expect she’ll be as weak as a +kitten. And it’s going to be no easy job to carry her up past that +broken door.” + +“Let me help!” said John Cumberland eagerly. + +Danbazzar shook his head. + +“Just stand by with the litter,” he directed. “The fewer strange faces +she sees the better. I can manage alone.” + +But the wonder of Egypt’s sunset was stealing over the Valleys before +the litter was borne down the _wâdi_ to the tent and a slight, +muffled figure tenderly carried inside. + +Barry was wild to see her. Danbazzar would not consent. + +“She’s frightened to death,” he said, “poor little girl. When she saw +old Safîyeh she just fell into her arms and hid her face against +her.” + +Professor Blackwell looked up. They were seated in the big tent. + +“I have been endeavouring to do as you requested,” he said. “But to +prescribe any routine or diet for such a patient is quite beyond my +powers. I have somewhat recovered from the first shock, however, and I +am prepared to give her an examination at any time that may be +convenient.” + +“When she has bathed and recovered from the journey,” Danbazzar +replied, “I should like you to see her. I think I have made her +understand that the High Priest is coming.” + +“The High Priest!” exclaimed Professor Blackwell. + +“Well, you must remember,” said Danbazzar, “the priests were the +doctors in her time. And I figured out that someone must have looked +her over on the other occasions.” + +Professor Blackwell clutched his high brow. + +“I was about to say something insane,” he murmured. “I was going to +ask if she seems to remember her last awakening. It suddenly occurred +to me that this took place roughly three thousand years ago!” + +“Yet she _does_ seem to remember it,” Danbazzar declared. + +“What!” cried John Cumberland. “You have gathered this?” + +Danbazzar inclined his head in that graceful manner which was his. + +“I’m not certain,” he confessed. “But I think so. I realize I only +know enough of her language to act as a link. From this we must build +up and teach her English as though she were a child. Her difficulties +are going to be worse than those of an ordinary foreigner. We shall +never be able to find any analogies! The objects, the customs--all are +different.” + +Hassan es-Sugra, it appeared, had been prepared for the coming of the +mythical sheik’s daughter. He expressed no surprise on his return from +Kurna, nor did he inquire what had become of her escort. + +He had been making certain mysterious arrangements for transporting +the tomb furniture to some place of safety. Work was to be resumed on +the shaft next morning, with the object of widening it sufficiently to +allow of the removal of the sarcophagus, and the unusual wall +paintings were to be photographed before the tomb was reclosed. + +Meanwhile, Professor Blackwell had completed a professional +examination of his strange and beautiful patient. He returned to the +tent where the other members of the party awaited him, in an +indescribably puzzled frame of mind. Removing his skullcap, he lighted +a cigar and fortified himself with a peg of whisky from one of the +bottles buried in the sand. + +“Amazing!” he declared; “quite, quite amazing! Her pulse, respiration, +and temperature are absolutely normal! Her flesh is firm and healthy. +Her hair is vigorous; her teeth are perfect. I could swear that her +nails were manicured yesterday!” + +“They were last manicured around 1360 B.C.!” said Danbazzar. + +“There is a small scar under the hair just above the right ear which +suggests that the theory--now generally accepted, I believe--that +surgery was practised by the ancients is not without foundation. She +is in extraordinarily good spirits. I twice caught her laughing at +me!” + +No one seemed very surprised, but: + +“What about diet?” asked John Cumberland. “Surely she should be +treated as an invalid?” + +“Frankly,” the Professor returned, “I see no reason whatever to treat +her as an invalid. Apart from the fact that she seems to be rather +tired, I can detect no abnormal conditions of any kind. She addressed +me several times during the interview, but her remarks were naturally +unintelligible. They seemed to afford her considerable amusement, +nevertheless. And the old woman from Luxor must have gathered +something of their gist. She, also, appeared to be highly +entertained.” + +“Safîyeh can’t possibly have understood one word,” said Danbazzar +quickly. “Arabic is the only language she speaks, except for a +smattering of English; and we have told her that Zalithea talks +Kabyle.” + +“Which,” added John Cumberland, “judging from her style of beauty, she +certainly never did!” + +“We’ll know one day!” said Danbazzar. + +“You don’t think there’s any danger,” Barry broke in, “of--of----” + +He fumbled for words, and: + +“Of her crumbling to dust, or something of that sort?” the Professor +concluded for him. “Your frame of mind, Barry, is gradually beginning +to resemble my own! Frankly, I cannot answer your question. According +to my personal observation, the young lady is as healthy as she is +beautiful. According to my training and beliefs, she ought to have +been dead for three thousand-odd years!” + +“What amazes me,” Barry declared, “is her cheerfulness! Just think. +Everyone she ever knew is long forgotten. She found herself in a tomb, +buried alive, this morning. Yet this evening you say she is laughing!” + +“Her laughter may have been hysterical,” murmured the Professor, +pulling up his robe for greater comfort, and revealing the fact that +beneath he wore a pair of very soiled gray flannel trousers rolled up +some six inches above his sandals. “No doubt a visit from a High +Priest is somewhat awe-inspiring.” + +At the end of further discussion, a dinner menu for Zalithea was +decided upon, and Mahmoud given the necessary orders. A new spirit of +restlessness had descended upon the party. If they had solved their +first great problem, another faced them. + +Barry, having prepared for the evening meal, climbed the side of the +_wâdi_ to that spot from which on the night of their arrival he had +watched the sun setting. It was not so long ago. It seemed an age. He +knew that something had happened in the interval which marked the end +of one phase of his life, the beginning of another. + +Now that he had actually seen Zalithea, that vague dread which had +sometimes troubled him when he had found himself thinking of the girl +on the balcony had gone. Yet, he asked himself to-night, did not his +recognition of this girl increase rather than solve the mystery? + +Since it could not possibly have been Zalithea he had seen on that +balcony in New Jersey, then in the garden of Mr. Brown’s house, and +later on Fifth Avenue, it must have been her living double!--this or, +as others had suspected, a delusion. But why should he have suffered +this delusion, not once, but many times, immediately prior to the +night that the papyrus came into his father’s possession? + +Surely he was justified in believing that only some form of telepathy +or clairvoyance could explain it… and that this explanation +presupposed a mysterious bond of sympathy between himself and the girl +he was destined to meet? + +The Ancient Egyptians, he understood, believed in reincarnation. Since +their wisdom was so great in such matters, as the extended life of +Zalithea proved, quite possibly they were right. _She_ had slept, +miraculously, living on; but _he_ had died, in the ordinary way, and +was now reborn--in the ordinary way! + +He recalled, was ever recalling, how she had looked at him in the +moment of opening her long, dark eyes. Death had effaced physical +memory in his own case; only subconscious memory remained. But +Zalithea, never having died, remembered! They had met before, in those +remote days--and she remembered him! + +It was an idea that first delighted and then terrified Barry. He had +imagined, on that night in his father’s library, that the shadow of +Ancient Egypt was creeping out to touch him. + +He had been right! + +What this inexplicable discovery might mean to John Cumberland, to +Danbazzar, to Professor Blackwell, he could only dimly foresee. But +what did it mean to him? + +This he could not foresee at all. + +And then, as he began mechanically to climb down to the camp, the +sound of a distant voice reached his ears. It was a laughing voice… +and he knew that he had heard it before! + + + + + CHAPTER XXII. + A SUMMONS FROM THE PRINCESS + +“I have reached a decision,” declared Professor Blackwell, “upon a +point that has been worrying me.” + +Dinner dispatched, they sat around the table in council, pipes and +cigars going. Safîyeh had reported that her charge had found the +soup, the fried chicken, the Château y’Quem--of which they had only +three bottles--and the peaches entirely to her satisfaction. + +“What point?” asked John Cumberland. + +“Distinctly,” the Professor resumed, “distinctly she is the property +of the Department of Antiquities.” + +“What’s that!” cried Barry. “What on earth are you talking about?” + +“He’s talking sense,” Danbazzar’s deep voice broke in. “There are no +two ways about it. She is.” + +“Are you all mad?” said Barry. “You behave as though the Department of +Antiquities were an orphanage!” + +“Or a harem agency,” prompted the Professor. “Yet the fact remains +that they and no one else have a legal claim upon her person. We are +no more entitled to remove her from the country, alive, than we should +have been entitled to do so had we found her in what I may term a +normal state. I mean dead. She is as much the property of the +Department as the sarcophagus she lay in.” + +“I must agree with you,” John Cumberland admitted. “Our difficulties +are enormous. The more I think about them the bigger they get. For +instance--since none of us dare testify that he was present at the +discovery, how can we ever give an account of it to the world?” + +“We can’t!” said the Professor. “Distinctly and definitely, I for one +should not consent under any circumstances to lend my name to a +statement on the subject. In the first place, assuming I were safely +out of the country before the issue of such a report, criminal +proceedings would undoubtedly be taken by the Egyptian government! +This applies to all of us!” + +Some moments of uncomfortable silence followed, then: + +“The fact is,” Danbazzar stated, “the greatest find in Egyptology +since the game began has got to blush unseen. I hadn’t thought of it. +I’ll say so honestly. None of us had thought of it. But there it is +all the same. The testimony of this bunch would carry a lot of weight +in America. I don’t say we’d go unchallenged. But we’d be taken +seriously. We’re not going to get the chance. We started working in +the dark. We’ve got to go on that way.” + +“I wish, now,” said John Cumberland regretfully, “that I had curbed my +impatience and formally applied for a permit to excavate.” + +“You’d never have got it!” Danbazzar assured him. “You might as well +apply for a pass-out check to heaven! And once you’d applied and been +turned down, to come here as we’ve done would have been to ask for +trouble. No, sir, I’d worked on it from that angle before I put up my +proposition.” + +“Then where do we stand?” cried Barry in bewilderment. “What have we +gained if our discoveries can’t be published?” + +Danbazzar regarded him fixedly across the table. + +“We have gained knowledge,” he replied, “that has been lost for +thousands of years. With what we know, and what Zalithea can tell us +when we teach her English, we’re going to revolutionize archæology, +physiology, and psychology--to say nothing of chemistry!” + +“It appears to me,” murmured Professor Blackwell, “that this tent +contains the nucleus of a sort of New Rosicrucian order. We are bound +together by a living secret which none of us dare divulge. Our present +access of knowledge is very great. What we shall learn in the future +from this phenomenal girl is also sure to be valuable. But of what use +any of it is going to be to the world during our lifetime I confess I +fail to see.” + +Evidently nobody was very clear on the point, for not a suggestion was +forthcoming; but: + +“In one sense,” said John Cumberland, “our course is unavoidable. We +are committed to go on. Until we have got clear and reclosed the tomb, +we aren’t safe! Personally, I’m satisfied. Our very highest hopes have +been realized. We have triumphed! That’s good enough for me. Let the +future take care of itself. My present big worry is the girl.” + +“Explain what you mean, Dad,” said Barry. + +“I will,” his father agreed. “In the first place, as soon as we can +make her understand how much the world has changed, we have got to get +over to Luxor. Difficulty number one: How do we explain her to the +folks in Luxor? Assuming we manage this and arrive in Cairo, how in +the name of Mike do we get her a passport that will be accepted in New +York?” + +“Passport?” murmured the Professor. “Quite--quite. The point had not +occurred to me. Of course, a certain difficulty is bound to arise in +regard to a minor whose legal guardians have been dead for three +thousand years.” He scratched his head furiously. “There are times +when I doubt my own sanity,” he declared. + +Danbazzar flicked a cone of ash from his cigar. In the lamplight a +queer green spark moved on the face of the scarab in his ring. + +“Leave the story to me,” he said. “The stuff, I can get away. It’s +part of my business. The girl we’ll smuggle out nearly as easily. +We’ve got to lie like bond salesmen, but we’ll get her away.” + +“Fried chicken,” murmured the Professor. + +“What’s that, Blackwell?” John Cumberland asked. + +“I was reflecting,” the Professor explained, “upon the fact that a +princess who doubtless has dined in the palace of the Pharaoh Seti I +this evening partook of soup canned in Pittsburgh. I think I shall go +to bed.” + +He was as good as his word, departing almost immediately. Danbazzar +set out to learn if the two guards posted in the valley were on the +alert, and Barry and his father were left alone. Hassan es-Sugra, that +unfathomable man, was sleeping in the entrance to the tomb to insure +against pilfering. + +As the sound of Danbazzar’s receding footsteps died away in the +_wâdi_: + +“You haven’t said much, Barry,” John Cumberland remarked, after an +interval during which he had been closely watching his son; “but I +think you have quite a lot to say all the same.” + +Barry started, looking up. Then he began to knock out his pipe on the +heel of his shoe. + +“You mean, about--Zalithea?” + +John Cumberland nodded. + +“Well--I have!” Barry admitted. “She is the girl I saw twice in New +Jersey and twice in New York!” + +“I knew it!” said John Cumberland. “I didn’t speak, when I saw it +first. I was waiting. Now that we have actually found her, alive, it’s +a different matter. Barry--I think I can explain the whole thing.” + +“Then go ahead, Dad!” Barry invited. + +“We have proof--living proof--that the Ancient Egyptians knew more +than _we_ know. If they were wiser in one respect, it’s only +reasonable to suppose they were wiser in others. Now, here’s what I +believe: you didn’t see Zalithea in America. You had _prevision_ of +her! Danbazzar spoke of what we know, upsetting physiology and +psychology. It’s going to upset religion as well. I believe you had an +incarnation in Egypt at the time of Seti I, and I believe Zalithea +remembers you!” + +Barry started up excitedly. + +“Why,” he exclaimed, “I had come to just that conclusion only +to-night! It’s unavoidable, Dad! There’s no other explanation.” + +They discussed the problem at some length, with the result that they +agreed upon the main issue while differing about minor points. + +“Poor humanity’s unanswerable question--the destiny of the soul--has +been answered for _us!_” said John Cumberland. “I’m dazzled, Barry, by +the magnificence of all these revelations. We have learned something, +or are on the verge of learning it, which has taxed the greatest +intellects in history.” + +When finally John Cumberland turned in, Danbazzar had not come back +from his tour of inspection. Barry, feverishly restless, lighted a +fresh pipe and strolled out into the _wâdi_. + +The night was very dark. Leaving the door of the tent, he walked into +a wall of shadow, until, around a natural buttress, he saw a patch of +light upon the sand ahead. It came from the entrance of Zalithea’s +tent. Danbazzar was just coming out. He wore the priest’s robe and +linen skullcap. Barry paused: and in the next moment Danbazzar saw +him. + +“I was coming to get you,” he called. + +“Why? Is there anything wrong?” + +Danbazzar joined him. + +“No,” he replied. “But old Safîyeh was hanging around to speak to me. +She caught me on my way back. Come along and get into a robe.” + +“What!” Barry exclaimed. “Why?” + +“Because Princess Zalithea wants to see you!” + +Barry pulled up dead in his tracks. His heart began thumping. + +“How do you know?” he demanded. “I mean, how did she make you +understand?” + +“Largely by signs,” Danbazzar admitted. “My Egyptian is mighty +limited. But I’m learning.” + +That old sensation of unreality, phantasy, came to Barry again. Urged +by Danbazzar, he attired himself in the strange dress that they had +adopted with the idea that it would be more familiar to the awakened +girl. Then, not entirely master of himself, he walked back along the +_wâdi_. At Zalithea’s tent: + +“Wait outside,” Danbazzar directed. “Safîyeh will call you when I +have made her understand you are here. I’ll do my best as +interpreter.” + +He went in, leaving Barry alone in the darkness. + +Vaguely, a sound of voices came to him where he waited. The deep, +subdued tones of Danbazzar made a marked contrast to the silvery note +of that other voice! How well he seemed to know it! + +Barry wondered why he was so nervous. + +Suddenly the flap was drawn open, and the old Arab woman looked out, +beckoning. Barry stooped and went in. + +He found himself in a sort of tiny antechamber or lobby constructed of +hanging tent cloths. An antique lamp hung from above. There were +carpets on the sandy floor, but no furniture. + +Safîyeh held one of the tent cloths aside and intimated that he was +to enter. He stepped forward. Some hazy impression he had of a silver +lamp, of embroidered curtains, of cushions, queer-looking inlaid +chests, but these were an indistinct background into which the tall +robed figure of Danbazzar merged appropriately. He was standing behind +a cushioned divan, or native mattress. + +Upon it, her cheek resting in her upraised hand, lay Princess +Zalithea. + +She was dressed in a manner which perhaps represented a compromise +between the ancient and the modern Egyptian style. Her beautiful arms +were bare to the shoulders, and she wore no jewellery of any kind. A +sort of tightly fitting tunic and some sort of gauzy dress disguised +in a measure the delicate shape which Danbazzar’s scissors had so +mercilessly revealed in the tomb. Her white ankles were bare, as also +were her little feet. It was so that he remembered her. + +Long, dark, heavily fringed eyes were raised to Barry as he entered. +They were the deeply mysterious eyes that had watched him since memory +began--the beckoning eyes of the women who lived upon the frescoes +surrounding his father’s walls--the eyes that had smiled down upon him +from a New Jersey balcony! + +How beautiful she was! But how pale and fragile. He found himself +unable to believe Safîyeh’s report that she had enjoyed the meal so +carefully prepared for her. Those full red lips, though, spoke of +health. He was hopelessly, speechlessly embarrassed, under the grave +scrutiny of unreadable eyes. But how beautiful she was! + +“Speak to her,” Danbazzar prompted. + +Barry bowed awkwardly. + +“Princess Zalithea,” he said, “I am deeply honoured.” + +She watched him, unmoved, for several moments more. Then, a slow, +delightful smile revealed her little gleaming teeth. She turned her +head slightly, looking up at Danbazzar. She spoke in soft, queerly +modulated syllables. One word which might have been “Zalithea,” but +accented very differently from Barry’s rendering, gave him a clue to +her question. Danbazzar replied, slowly, haltingly; then: + +“I think,” he said, “she is curious about how you learned her name. +She seems to have recognized it. I told her that you were a very +learned priest. She wants to know what you are called. Tell her.” + +Zalithea turned her disturbing glance upon him again, as: + +“I am called Barry Cumberland,” he responded. + +Zalithea considered the words, then: + +“Bahree?” she said--and nodded interrogatively. + +“Yes--Barry; Barry Cumberland.” + +She smiled, shaking her head in bewilderment. She looked up at +Danbazzar and addressed him again. He listened, interpolating hesitant +questions, while Barry watched, fascinated. Presently: + +“She understands that you are called Barry,” he explained. “Cumberland +is too much for her. Now, she is going to tell you how to pronounce +_her_ name properly.” + +Zalithea turned to Barry, and, laying one slender hand on her breast: + +“Zal’ith-_eeah_,” she said distinctly, and beckoned to him to approach +closer. + +He did so, almost trembling: the mad wonder of it all had seized upon +him anew. Zalithea, in a sweetly imperious way, intimated that he +should kneel. He obeyed, and she laid her hand on his breast. His +heart was thumping wildly. She looked fixedly into his eyes. + +“Bahree,” she said, and smiled. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII. + AN ENGLISH LESSON + +The sound of a distant shot came--from the direction of the Nile. +Professor Blackwell looked up with a start. He was inclined to +nervousness in these days. Breakfast was temporarily suspended. + +“Mr. Tawwab has called for the rent!” said Danbazzar grimly. He raised +his great voice, looking over his shoulder. “Mahmoud!” he boomed. + +The grinning face of Mahmoud appeared in the opening of the tent. +Danbazzar spoke rapidly in Arabic. Mahmoud saluted and departed. + +“I’ve told him,” Danbazzar explained, “to warn Safîyeh that they must +keep under cover and then to go up and tell the guards, in case they +missed the signal.” + +It was now Zalithea’s custom to take exercise, veiled like a Moslem +woman, early each morning and again in the evening. In a manner +reminiscent of that adopted (by request) during the historic ride of +Lady Godiva, not a soul was visible about the camp on these occasions. + +Hassan es-Sugra, at a respectful distance, acted as escort. And he had +his instructions touching prohibited areas. After a time, Zalithea had +seemed to recognize where she was. At the first coming of this +recognition--realizing that she was in the Valley of the Dead--she had +been seized with terror. Danbazzar’s linguistic resources had been +taxed to the utmost to pacify her. + +Ultimately he succeeded in making her understand that she had slept, +magically, for a very long time; that Thebes (which she knew +apparently as Amen) had altered beyond recognition; and that they +wanted her to become accustomed to strange changes before taking her +there. + +Once having conquered her first natural terror, the girl accepted her +situation with astonishing philosophy. A reaction came. Perhaps she +had grasped the fact that a new lease of life had been granted to +her--and that life was sweet. At any rate, she developed a strain of +childish mischief at once delightful and disturbing. For Danbazzar’s +orders she had little respect, apparently; but that diplomat was quick +to learn that for Barry she would do anything. + +“I trust,” said the Professor, nervously glancing at his watch, “that +the young lady from Unu will subdue her high spirits while Mr. Tawwab +is in camp.” + +“I’m going to send Barry along to keep her quiet,” replied Danbazzar. + +Whereupon Barry felt a hot flush rising to his cheeks and hastily +stooped to load a pipe. + +“A duty by no means irksome,” the Professor murmured. “I confess that +a woman of more than sixty is no longer attractive in the amorous +sense. I had never imagined that one over three thousand could be. But +I was mistaken. Indeed, all my life has been lived in error.” + +“In another three days,” said Danbazzar, flashing a triumphant glance +around the table, “we’ll be through! All the stuff is where Mr. Tawwab +will never see it. The photographs are finished. My drawings I can +complete when I like. It’s just a matter of building up the opening, +now, and striking the screen.” + +“My notes are fairly up to date, also,” John Cumberland added. “I have +material for a book that publishers would fight to get.” + +“Quite, quite,” remarked the Professor. “But except as a work of +fiction you cannot publish it.” + +“I shall write it, nevertheless,” the other assured him. “It will be +in three volumes. The first volume will deal, exhaustively, with the +history of the papyrus and the formula. It will bring the account up +to the time of our arrival here. The second volume will be compiled +from notes made on the spot. It will deal with the excavation and end +with the discovery of Zalithea. The third volume will contain the +story of her life during the reign of Seti.” + +“Admirable,” the Professor agreed. “I shall be obligated, however, if +you will refer to me in your _magnum opus_ as Doctor X.” + +And now, a slender, mysterious, black-robed figure, Hassan es-Sugra +bowed in the tent opening. + +“Your pardon, sirs,” he said in his gentle way, “but Mr. Tawwab comes. +He will shortly be here.” + +“I vote we _all_ see him!” cried Barry. “Why should we study his +feelings? He’s just a common grafter.” + +“In studying the sensibilities of Mr. Tawwab,” remarked Professor +Blackwell, “one would be studying the non-existent; a paradox. But our +own position is not too secure.” + +“We don’t have to jolt him,” Danbazzar agreed. “We’re not out of the +wood. But Mr. Cumberland and I can talk business. It’s just as well +that he should show his hand with a witness here. I guess, Professor, +you’d rather not stay. And I’m taking Barry along to the Princess.” + +“Why?” Barry demanded, laughing to hide his embarrassment. + +“Because you may be able to keep her in order. Nobody else can.” + +“But I can’t talk to her!” + +“You’ve got to learn. Give her some elementary lessons in English.” + +The masterful Danbazzar had his way; and Barry found himself, a few +minutes later, in the little lobby of Zalithea’s tent. Danbazzar went +in to announce him, and almost immediately Safîyeh appeared, holding +the tent cloth aside and intimating that he should enter. + +He found this wonder girl who was so distractingly human, this +charming survival of a mystic past, stretched on the cushioned +mattress, her head buried in her creamy arms rebelliously. Danbazzar +stood looking down at her in an unfamiliar attitude of defeat. + +“She’s a bit up-stage this morning,” he announced. “It’s so darned +hard to remember that she’s a princess and probably used to a lot of +ceremony. I thought I had her set about the robes. I tried to tell her +that we only wore them on religious occasions, and that other times we +dressed as we’re dressed now. I had to tell her something, because she +caught me on Monday, you remember, coming back from the tomb?” + +“I do remember,” said Barry. “But when I saw her, later, she seemed to +be used to our queer costumes.” + +Danbazzar looked down at his white breeches and speckless tan riding +boots. + +“It isn’t that,” he explained. “She’s got the idea that the robes are +ceremonious and that we’re slighting her by not wearing them when we +come to see her.” + +Zalithea half raised her oval face, so that one dark eye peeped out +over the rampart of her arm. A quick, disdainful glance she flashed +over Barry, from his bare head to his dusty shoes; and hid her face +again. + +“That’s that,” sighed Danbazzar. “There’s no time to go back. But wait +outside and I’ll have your robes brought down by Hassan.” + +They turned to go, when: + +“Dan-bazz-ah!” said a clear, imperious voice. + +Barry and Danbazzar turned, together. + +Princess Zalithea was sitting upright, her arms outstretched, her +hands resting upon the cushions on either side of her. From her pale, +beautiful features all expression had been effaced. They were like an +exquisite ivory mask into which a magician has blown the breath of +life. + +She spoke a sentence rapidly, her long, half-closed eyes turned +sideways upon Danbazzar. He bowed in his graceful manner and replied +very hesitantly. No expression stirred the girl’s lovely face. + +“I was right,” he explained. “She considers that we’ve insulted her! I +took all the blame and told her you had just come back from a journey +and asked to see her right away.” + +Barry frowned, and: + +“Is it necessary to tell her so many lies?” he asked. + +“You bet it is!” Danbazzar assured him. “Look at her!” + +Barry glanced, guiltily, toward the divan. He started. Zalithea was +watching them with a stare of such murderous anger that his heart +seemed to turn cold! He would never have conceived it possible that +her youthful features could assume a look of such utter malignancy. + +Watching her, fascinated against his will, he experienced again that +awful tingling of the spine which he had known during his vigil in the +valley on the night he had heard the strange voice. Definitely, he +knew in this moment that it had been _her_ voice… although she had +lain buried deep in the heart of the rock! Yes, this girl-woman, this +child-witch who had first seen the light in an island unknown to +modern geography, was uncanny! + +Danbazzar’s deep tones broke in upon the silence; he addressed +Zalithea in the musical, oddly monotonous language which Barry was +beginning to recognize as that which the Pharaohs spoke. Then: + +“Come on!” he said abruptly. “I can hear Tawwab.” + +He raised the tent cloth. Barry was about to follow him out, when: + +“Bahree!” came softly. + +He turned. Danbazzar had gone, dropping the curtain. He was alone with +Zalithea! + +Half fearfully, he looked at her.… + +She was resting on her elbow, watching him, and her sweet lips were +arched in a smile which revealed little gleaming teeth! Her eyes, +widely opened now, were deep pools of contrition; her delicate +nostrils quivered. She was on the verge of tears! + +Barry experienced a dramatic revulsion of feeling. In his hard, +modern, Western self-sufficiency, he had wounded the tender +susceptibilities of this sheltered flower of the East. What did _he_, +or Danbazzar, for that matter, know of courts and palaces? Much less +they knew of the splendid ceremony of those old, dead days when Seti, +from Thebes of the Hundred Gates, ruled a mighty empire! + +He hated himself and hated Danbazzar. They had a princess among them, +and they treated her like a chambermaid! They discussed her as though +she were a marketable relic, to be bought and sold--this living, +lovely revelation of the wonder that was Egypt! + +Some remote ancestor who had known the meaning of homage came to life +in Barry; seized him by the scruff of the neck and forced him onto his +knees. Very near to Zalithea he knelt, his head bowed, waiting for +pardon. + +Instantly it was granted. + +A little hesitant hand touched his hair; and he looked up. The girl’s +long, curling lashes, the most perfect he had ever seen, were wet with +tears. + +“Forgive me!” he burst out, forgetting that she could not understand. +“I--he--neither of us--meant to hurt you!” + +She smiled through her tears and touched his hair again. + +“Bahree,” she said, and made a quaint gesture which conveyed dismissal +of the subject. + +And then, very close together, in silence, these two remained for long +moments, watching one another; the girl reclining on her cushions and +the man kneeling beside her. In that odd hush, the suave tones of Mr. +Tawwab were clearly audible as he entered the upper end of the _wâdi_ +in conversation with Danbazzar. A subdued booming was all that could +be distinguished of the latter’s responses. Both voices presently +ceased. The party had met in the tent above. + +Barry suddenly grew self-conscious. He was kneeling beside Zalithea +and studying her raptly. It had occurred to him that this was the +height of rudeness. True, she had suffered his scrutiny without +complaint, but this did not excuse his bad form. + +In a nervous endeavour to break the tension, and recalling Danbazzar’s +instructions, he touched a symbol embroidered upon one of the tent +cloths draped beside the divan. It was the _crux ansata_, symbol of +life; and: + +“This,” he said, “means Life.” + +Zalithea looked at it, then turned to him. She seemed to be trying +hard to grasp what he had in mind; and finally: + +“_Ankh_,” she said. + +“You call it _ankh_?” he asked eagerly; for he knew this to be the +Ancient Egyptian term for the figure. + +Zalithea, listening and watching, smiled. + +“_Ankh_,” she repeated. + +“Life,” said Barry. + +“Lie-ef,” Zalithea whispered doubtfully. + +“Life!” + +She shook her head. And Barry realized how, tempted by the fact that +he chanced to know its Egyptian name, he had chosen an object +impossible to explain in pantomime. Zalithea, laughing now, stretched +out a finger and laid it gently upon his eyelid. + +“Eye,” he said eagerly. + +“Eye,” she repeated. + +She touched his ear. + +“Ear.” + +“Ee-ah!” + +So the first lesson began--a lesson in a science that was old even in +Seti’s days. Master and pupil forgot the passing of the hours in that +enthralling study. Old Safîyeh, squatting patiently on her mat beyond +the curtain, nodded as the sun climbed a blue highway toward the dome +of noon. Innumerable cups of coffee had been drunk by Danbazzar, John +Cumberland, and Mr. Tawwab, and entire boxes of cigarettes consumed. +But still Barry said, touching Zalithea: + +“Arm!” + +And Zalithea, watching him, replied: + +“Aah-em!” + +When, at last, a substantial check having changed hands, Mr. Tawwab +rose to take his departure, he showed a marked preference for a route +through the lower end of the _wâdi_. Mr. Tawwab was an observant man. + +Suddenly, raised voices disturbed the English lesson. Zalithea sat +very upright, listening. + +“If you don’t mind, yes!” Mr. Tawwab was saying. “Your camp is so +interesting. I should love to see your kitchen.” + +Placing a finger on her lips, Zalithea stood up. In her simple native +dress Barry thought she was the sweetest thing he had ever looked +upon. + +“Zalithea,” he murmured, “you are adorable!” + +She paused, glancing down at him. + +“Zal’ith-_eeah_!” she corrected; then: “You-ah-addorahble!” she added. + +Before he realized what she intended to do, she had glided to the tent +cloth, raised it, and gone out. He jumped up and followed her. He had +recalled, tardily, the real purpose of the interview. His duty was to +see that Zalithea did not make her presence known to Mr. Tawwab! + +In the tiny lobby, old Safîyeh had scrambled hastily to her feet. +Beside her mat was a bowl in which were some peaches which Zalithea +had evidently rejected as overripe. Some of them, presumably, Safîyeh +had consumed. The less desirable remained. + +Mr. Tawwab’s voice came from immediately outside. He had paused on his +way down the _wâdi_. + +“Surely a new tent?” he inquired smoothly. + +“Sure!” boomed Danbazzar. “An English Bell tent, sir!” + +“You have guests?” + +“No, sir! We’re hoping for guests--distinguished guests--and we’re all +ready. If ever you feel like spending a night with the boys, say the +word!” + +“I am deeply indebted,” Mr. Tawwab assured him. “It would be +delightful. But my duties do not allow.” + +“That’s a pity,” said Danbazzar. + +They moved on, slowly--and Zalithea, ignoring Barry’s restraining +hand, pulled the flap aside and peered out. Over her shoulder, he +could see Danbazzar, a great, towering figure, moving down the _wâdi_ +beside the slight, red-capped form of Mr. Tawwab. + +Then, in a moment, it had happened. + +Displaying a deadly aim, Zalithea hurled an imperfect peach at the +retreating Mr. Tawwab! + +It struck him on the back of the head, squashed liberally, and +dislodged his _tarbûsh!_ With a cry of mingled fear and anger, he +turned. Barry dropped the flap and sank back, aghast.… + +Zalithea, both hands held over her mouth, fled beyond the tent cloth. +Safîyeh, horror-stricken, followed. + +“Hell’s bells!” roared Danbazzar. “Mr. Tawwab, I can’t say what I +think! It’s that half-wit Said! Wait here, sir! Take my handkerchief! +By God! I’ll----” + +He ran back and burst into the tent in an apparent fury. Barry faced +him. + +“Zalithea?” Danbazzar whispered. + +Barry nodded. + +“Howl like fury!” Danbazzar directed--“not in English!” + +Thereupon he broke into a flood of Arabic, and clapped his hands, +simulating smacks. Barry yelled obediently. + +“You son of a mange!” Danbazzar concluded--and went out. “He’s crazy, +Mr. Tawwab,” he called. “Don’t blame me. Blame the people that hired +him to me.…” + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV. + THE RETURN TO LUXOR + +Work in the valley was ended. The tomb, stripped of its contents, +had been reclosed so that even Mr. Howard Carter could not have found +it. The workmen, well paid and happy, had dispersed to their homes. +Most of them were men of the Fayyum. + +Danbazzar and Hassan es-Sugra had contrived the transport of Zalithea +from the camp in the _wâdi_ to a carefully chosen suite at a Luxor +hotel without provoking comment. John Cumberland’s bank account had +silenced any criticisms regarding the nature of his interest in the +heavily veiled Moslem lady for whose accommodation he had arranged. +The thing had run on oiled wheels, dollars being the lubricant; but +since there is more grit in the world than there are dollars, this +smooth running inevitably couldn’t last. + +Barry, whose dream woman had miraculously come to life, found himself +in a frame of mind which he was sane enough to recognize as unique. +The Zalithea he knew, the adorable, winning, childish, petulant, +sometimes frightening girl, he was learning to worship. The Zalithea +of the papyrus, the princess of unknown origin who had been captured +by the troops of Seti in an unimaginable past, he fought to forget. + +Advance guards of the Thomas Cook army had already established +themselves in Luxor. A German party, some days earlier, and on the eve +of striking camp, had penetrated to the _wâdi_. Their insatiable +Teutonic curiosity was their only guide; Danbazzar’s lurid profanity +their only reward. Even the donkey boys had blushed. + +But the incident had gone to prove that they had achieved their +purpose only just in time. It was the tourist invasion which had +checked Danbazzar a year before. + +That remarkable man, whose resourcefulness knew no bounds, had long +since set out, accompanied by Hassan es-Sugra, two camel drivers and a +large sum of ready money, for the Great Oasis. Here he had arranged to +meet a certain sheik of the Shorbagis from Dakhla and to obtain from +him a document, suitably witnessed, authorizing John Cumberland to +escort the sheik’s daughter, Zalithea, to America for neuropathic +treatment prescribed by Professor Blackwell. + +“The Senussi,” Danbazzar had admitted, “are the most dangerous +fanatics in Africa. One of that bunch would be about as likely to send +his daughter to America as to burn his whiskers for firewood. But +nobody here will be any wiser, never having been to those parts, and +the American consul, who is a Greek from Alexandria, doesn’t know an +Arab from an onion. We’ll get her passport without any trouble.” + +Zalithea’s balcony overlooked the Nile. Here she spent many hours +every day, watching the varied life of the river front. Her +bewilderment Barry found at once pathetic and delicious. The +dragomans, who were now beginning to put in an appearance, she mistook +for priests. The strangely garbed tourists she assumed to be foreign +captives! + +The advent of the first steamer from Cairo aroused such terror that +Barry grew alarmed. He found himself utterly incapable of explaining +this mystery, handicapped as he was. Automobiles, for some reason, +frightened her but little. Indeed, she managed to make him understand +at last that she wished to ride in one! + +That once vexed question of dress had been settled. Zalithea +understood that no slight was intended by the wearing of a lounge +suit. She seemed to think that the Winter Palace was the palace of +Pharaoh, and she tried to ask if the reigning monarch was absent at +war. + +She was extraordinarily observant. In the cool of the evening, with +Safîyeh in attendance, and escorted by Barry or John Cumberland, +Zalithea would walk along the bank as far as the old _shadûf_. The +really fashionable crowd was not yet in evidence, but, nevertheless, +she quickly noticed--since wealthy Moslem women rarely appear in +public--that except among the lower classes veils were nowhere to be +seen. + +This problem was quite beyond Barry’s power of explanation. But John +Cumberland, in his practical way, set to work to solve it. + +From Cairo one day stacks of boxes arrived and were duly carried up to +Zalithea’s apartment. Barry had just bought her a bundle of +illustrated magazines and was watching her, fascinatedly, as she pored +over pages of photographs showing society groups in various sun traps +from Mentone to Miami. + +What an exquisite profile she had! He wondered, was eternally +wondering, where the island of Unu had been. Zalithea’s long, narrow +dark eyes were of a kind he had never seen among the modern Egyptians, +but they were typical of the women depicted on the ancient wall +paintings. Her profile, too, was purely aristocratic and bore a +remarkable resemblance to that of the beautiful queen Ameniritis. His +rapt study of the girl was interrupted by the delivery of the boxes. + +Zalithea ran in from the balcony immediately, filled with childish +interest. As box after box was laid on the carpet, her excitement grew +intense. Stooping, she touched a label, looked at Barry +interrogatively and then indicated herself. + +“Yes,” he said, “for you! All for you.” + +“Fo-ah you?” + +“No--you! you are me! I don’t know how to explain!” He rested his hand +on her shoulder. “Me,” he said. + +Zalithea, watching him eagerly, touched her own breast, and: + +“Me,” she echoed. + +“Yes!” Barry nodded. “For me.” + +“Fo-ah me.” + +She clapped her hands excitedly and indicated that he should cut the +fastenings. Happy because Zalithea was happy, he obeyed.… and out from +this box and from that, with a vast rustling of tissue paper, came +frocks, stockings, hats, flaky, delicate underwear--priceless loot of +Paris. + +Never had he seen Zalithea so excited. Taking up piece after piece, +she literally danced in her joy! + +Then, crying, “Safîyeh! Safîyeh!” she gathered up a great armful of +assorted garments and ran into her bedroom. She had apparently +forgotten Barry’s existence. But he walked out onto the balcony to +await her reappearance. Knowing his father’s thoroughness, he didn’t +doubt that John Cumberland would have found some way to obtain things +to fit. Zalithea had been early introduced to shoes; so that this part +of her equipment was comparatively simple. As for the other items, +perhaps he had enlisted Safîyeh’s aid. + +Barry looked out across the Nile to where the Libyan Desert baked +under the merciless sun. He could hear Zalithea’s delicious, childish +laughter and the harsher tones of Safîyeh. The miracle of it all +crashed down suddenly upon his mind like a palpable weight. + +This gay, light-hearted girl, whose laughter rang out clear as a bell, +happily as a child’s, had lain for three thousand years over yonder in +the Valley of the Dead! + +He picked up a magazine at random from the little table set upon the +balcony. There were things he couldn’t face--yet. He wondered if he +ever would be capable of facing them. He dropped into a cane chair and +began to scan the pictured pages. + +In a section devoted to the doings of New York Society, he came across +photographs of two or three people he knew. He stared at them as at +the pictures of strangers. He felt that a great gulf had opened +between himself and the empty life he had known. Upon one side of it +were the old set, Aunt Micky, Jim and the rest; upon the other he +stood, alone--with Zalithea. + +Beneath, beside the river, moved men and women to whom Thebes meant +sightseeing and sunshine--no more. He watched them as through a haze +or as in a glass, darkly. Then, from a minaret at the back of the +town, distantly, sweetly, came the voice of the _muezzin_ raised in +the _adan_, or noonday call to prayer: + +“_Alla-hu akbar.… La illa-ha illa Allah!_…” + +“God is most great.… There is no God but God!” He listened to those +words, which he knew, with a fresh wonder. For some reason they +soothed his troubled mind. The passive attitude of Islam toward life +was very wise, after all. He found himself thinking of Hassan +es-Sugra, that grave, graceful philosopher, when: + +“Bahree!” came a cry from the room behind him. + +He turned. His eyes, dazzled by the blazing sunlight, at first could +see little in the darkened room. Then, standing just within the +doorway communicating with her bedroom, he saw Zalithea. + +She wore a very up-to-date dance frock which displayed more of her +creamy skin than Barry had seen since that unforgettable hour in the +tomb when Danbazzar’s scissors had stripped off the wrappings. With +unfailing instinct she had selected shoes to harmonize with the frock, +which was very short. + +Manlike, he thought she looked exquisite--and showed that he thought +so. The admiring, grinning face of old Safîyeh appeared in the +doorway, as Zalithea, almost timidly, came forward into the room. The +girl’s wonderful, black-fringed eyes were set upon Barry with an +expression of childish eagerness. + +Something very unusual there was in her appearance, not due to her +wholly different style of beauty, but to some irregularity in her +attire which for a moment he failed to place. + +Then, all at once, he saw what it was. + +Zalithea’s shapely creamy legs were bare! She had forgotten to put +stockings on! Watching him anxiously, she spoke. + +“Zal’ith-eeah!” she said. “You-ah-addorahble!” + + + + + CHAPTER XXV. + SOCIAL AMENITIES + +On the eve of Danbazzar’s return, Barry ran into his acquaintance, +the irrigation specialist, in the lounge of the hotel. + +“Hullo!” said that chronically bored person, dropping into a +neighbouring armchair. “I’ve only just come in from Assouan, but I +heard you were back. How’s the oasis lookin’?” + +“Splendid,” Barry returned hastily, hoping that the other had +forgotten about the dates. “Dry Martini?” + +“Thanks,” was the reply. “Rumour has it that a charmin’ stranger has +joined your party.” + +“Oh!” said Barry. “With which of her many tongues did Rumour whisper +this news?” + +“Tawwab,” drawled the tired voice. “Nasty bit of work. Know him?” + +Barry nodded. + +“I have that misfortune.” + +He experienced a vague uneasiness. To the best of his knowledge, Mr. +Tawwab’s hold upon them was no more. But the man’s insatiable appetite +for _bakhshish_ on a grand scale might inspire him to some new piece +of interference. He wished Danbazzar were back. + +Zalithea was dining downstairs to-night. It would be the first time +she had appeared in public unveiled. Barry had reserved a discreet +table, and when he had left Zalithea to dress, she had been wild with +excitement. A French chambermaid had been detailed to assist. +Inexplicably, the hotel seemed to have become filled up. The lounge +was crowded. A number of visitors had arrived during the afternoon. He +hoped Mr. Tawwab was not present. + +“Our guest is the daughter of a friend of Danbazzar’s,” he explained. +“Professor Blackwell is treating her for nerve trouble.” + +“I see,” murmured the irrigator, sipping his drink and lighting a +cigarette. “Danbazzar is the sportsman like a Moorish pirate?” + +“Yes!” said Barry, laughing. + +“Saw him when you were here before. Extraordinary lookin’ bird. Do you +grow ’em like that in America?” + +“Not in large quantities.” + +“_Rara avis_, eh? Tawwab was tellin’ me your girl friend only speaks +Kabyle. As I don’t know whether Kabyle is a vegetable or an ointment I +ain’t any wiser.” + +“It would be quite a good thing if Tawwab attended to his own +business, don’t you think?” + +“Rather. It’d choke him--which would be toppin’.” + +John Cumberland and Professor Blackwell came down shortly afterward, +and the bored young man went off to join a friend who was dining with +him. While they waited for Zalithea, Barry related what he had heard. + +“Mr. Tawwab is a subject who was born to be poisoned,” said the +Professor. “I shall feel altogether more at ease when I find myself +outside his sphere of influence.” + +“It’s disturbing,” muttered John Cumberland. “I fear he’s up to fresh +mischief. He hadn’t counted on our slipping away so soon and covering +our tracks. He probably considers we have bested him.” He broke of, +staring. “By Jove!” he exclaimed. “Barry! Did we dream it all? Look at +her!” + +Zalithea had just come into the lounge, cynosure of many eyes. She was +a radiant vision in a zephyr-like Paris model. Whom John Cumberland +had commissioned to buy it and what he had paid for it only John +Cumberland knew. But he was satisfied. Marie, the chambermaid, had +done her work well. As they made their way to the table, soft music of +an orchestra stole through the hubbub. Barry thought that the lovely +girl beside him whose eyes were lighted up happily must have heard +other music and witnessed stranger banquets on this very spot… three +thousand years ago! + +That uncomfortable sense of unreality, a sort of veil through which he +saw and heard imperfectly, descended upon Barry during the early +stages of dinner. The irrigation man and his friend sat quite near and +were at no pains to hide their admiration of Zalithea. + +In fact, it gradually became apparent that the beautiful unknown was +being widely discussed. Barry wondered if the story of the sheik’s +daughter had spread farther than they supposed. He began to cast off +the Old Man of the Sea astride his shoulders--to disregard the inner +voice which whispered--whispered: “Yes, she looks young and lovely. +But you saw her in the tomb. You _know_ she is the oldest woman who +has ever lived.” + +He was fully and finally aroused by a waiter who handed him a folded +note. It was from the young man at the near-by table, and it read: + + + “Where can I take lessons in Kabyle?” + + +The smiling impudence of his acquaintance appealed to Barry’s sense of +humour. He showed the note to John Cumberland and the Professor. +Zalithea, while they read it, touched Barry’s arm, and: + +“Fo-ah me?” she said. + +He laughed outright. + +“Yes!” he nodded. + +Zalithea held out her hand for the note. Professor Blackwell passed it +to her. And she studied it gravely. It was at this moment that a +high-pitched feminine voice made itself audible above the other +voices. + +“I really _must_ just say how d’you do!” + +John Cumberland started and looked over his shoulder. A very smart, +hard-faced woman was making for their table. She seemed to be +possessed of volcanic energy, and: + +“Holy Mike!” said he. “Mrs. Uffington!” + +“What!” Barry muttered, and glanced in the same direction. “Good Lord! +All New York will have the story now!” + +Indeed, it was the famous Mrs. Uffington, most intrepid of lion +hunters: according to Jim Sakers, “The pride of Pierre’s and uncrowned +Pope of Park Avenue.” + +She swooped down upon them. Zalithea, dropping the note, fixed a stare +of cold hostility upon the face of the newcomer. + +“My dear John Cumberland!” she cried; “and if it isn’t our very own +Professor and Barry!” + +They rose to greet her--without enthusiasm. + +“I know all about you!” she ran on vivaciously. “John Cumberland, I +know all about you! _What_ will Micky Colonna say? But, my dear--she’s +lovely! I can’t believe she’s a coloured girl--can’t believe it!” + +“Princess Zalithea is a member of a very old and distinguished +family,” said Barry coldly. “Allow me to present you.” He bowed to the +girl. “Mrs. Dudley Uffington.” + +Zalithea did not move. Her unwavering stare never left Mrs. +Uffington’s face. It had an oddly quelling effect. + +“She’s rather queer, isn’t she?” asked the lady, in a lower tone. + +“She doesn’t speak English,” Professor Blackwell explained. + +“No! I was forgetting. But of course I have heard all about it. Do you +know who told me? Mr. Ahmed Tawwab--such a charming man, for an +Egyptian. He is looking in later, and I must really _insist_ that you +and your delightful--protégée--join us for coffee. I shall expect +you!” + +And she was off. + +“Phew!” said John Cumberland. “Here’s a mess!” + +“Since she finds Tawwab so charming,” murmured the Professor, “I +sincerely wish she would marry him--and settle here.” + +Zalithea, through half-closed eyes, watched the retreating figure. + +“_Hafee!_” she hissed--or that was how it sounded. + +Barry began to laugh. + +“I find I am learning Ancient Egyptian!” he said. “You may be amused +to know that, to the best of my knowledge, _hafee_ means ‘snake’!” + +“Really!” said Professor Blackwell, glancing uneasily at the malignant +face of Zalithea. “It occurs to me that our foster child can be +definitely unpleasant. She should prove a revelation to the drawing +rooms of New York. Dear me, it’s all very extraordinary.” + +Any plans they may have had to evade the subsequent meeting were +frustrated by the energetic Mrs. Uffington. She had a table waiting, +with coffee, liqueurs, and cigarettes, outside, after dinner. She +swept them to it. And as they entered the palm-screened alcove in +which it was situated, Mr. Tawwab rose to greet them, bowing deeply. +He was accompanied by a lean, square-jawed man having small, fierce +eyes, a bristling moustache, and very large prominent teeth. He +resembled a mad horse. + +He was presented as Captain Quick. + +Zalithea, trailing a light wrap, seated herself disdainfully on the +very edge of a tall chair, staring straight into the eyes of the two +men in turn as they were introduced, but giving not the slightest sign +of acknowledgment. Mr. Tawwab appraised her, critically and +ravenously. Captain Quick burst at once into a shouted conversation. + +“This is amazing!” he cried. “Positively! Never would have believed +you come from the Senussi country! Never! Was down there in ’nineteen. +What’s your part?” + +Mr. Tawwab exchanged a swift, malicious glance with Mrs. Uffington. +John Cumberland looked helplessly at Barry. Zalithea stared at the +speaker as though she had not heard him. It was Professor Blackwell, +husky in his embarrassment, who explained: + +“Our friend does not speak English, sir.” + +“Oh, damn it! What a fool I am!” yelled Captain Quick. “Wait a minute! +Wait a minute! I know the lingo.…” + +Zalithea stood up, leaving her wrap on the arm of the chair. + +“Bahree!” she said--and pointed to it. + +Then, without so much as a glance at any of the party, she walked +slowly, languidly, out of the alcove. + +“Excuse me!” Barry mumbled. + +He had flushed to the roots of his hair. Grabbing the wrap, he ran +after the girl. + +Zalithea, moving with an unfamiliar, swaying movement of the hips +which he had always imagined characteristic of the women figured on +the ancient wall paintings, was making for the entrance. + +He came up with her, but she did not pause or glance aside. The night +was perfect, and there were groups assembled before the hotel: +visitors, residents, vendors of many wares, and guides clamouring to +conduct somebody, anybody, to the Great Temple by moonlight. + +Barry was longing to walk through those mighty halls with Zalithea, +but--incredible thought!--they had feared the memories which sight of +that stately ruin might arouse in the girl. Karnak she had seen. And +Barry could never forget her expression, in which sorrow, +stupefaction, and horror had mingled. She had retired to her +apartment, refusing to see anybody for a whole day afterward. + +How he longed to be able to talk to her! If his own brain became so +tumultuous when he thought of the history of this lovely, wayward, +yielding, imperious girl, what deathly terrors must she know when +realization of the truth was borne home to her? + +Side by side they walked on through the scented night. He placed the +wrap over her shoulders. She was following her favourite route--that +to the ancient _shadûf_. + +And so, presently, in silence, they were alone beside the Nile. +Zalithea paused, resting against a crumbling wall and staring out over +the whispering water. A boatman began to play a reed pipe. He played +that age-old melody which surely the boatmen of Seti knew. Barry +glanced at Zalithea. She was listening--intently. + +Her lips were slightly parted, her lashes drooped. She looked +beautiful. But--perhaps because of the Egyptian night and the music of +the reed--she seemed unearthly. + +A cold hand clutched his heart. Princess Zalithea! He was alone with a +ghost! + +She knew that music! What was she thinking? Whom was she remembering? +Did it bring dreams of happiness--of love? Or did it magically cast +her spirit back over the ages to the coming of that unnatural sleep? + +Zalithea sighed, shudderingly. Turning, she put her hand in his. + +Her hand was warm. The little slender fingers clung tremulously. At +their touch, his ghostly imaginings fled. She was real, a girl of +flesh and blood; not a phantom, but a living, lovely testimony to the +wisdom of a past science. If only he could get used to that idea! + +In silence, as they had come, they walked back; like two children, +hand in hand. And standing in the entrance to the hotel were Mr. +Tawwab and Danbazzar. + +“I am most indebted to His Excellency,” boomed the latter’s great +voice, “for this offer of his service. But the lady has been entrusted +to me by her father, and I have just left the American Consul----” + +“H’m,” murmured Mr. Tawwab, his sly eyes lighting up as he saw the +slender, approaching figure; “you have seen him to-night?” + +“Sure,” said Danbazzar. “All’s clear. A few formalities in the +morning, that’s all.” + +“But,” Mr. Tawwab interpolated gently, “as the young lady belongs to +El-Kasr, you tell me, this matter does not concern your consul. +El-Kasr is in the _mudiriya_ of Minia!” + +“I’ve seen the Mudîr of Minia, sir!” Danbazzar replied. “I arrived in +Minia last night. That’s where I’ve come from. Believe me, I know the +ropes of your country, Mr. Tawwab, although I’m greatly obliged to +you. Our consul has got to give me a visé for the United States, +that’s all. I’ve arranged the rest.” + +“The Mudîr of Minia is very obliging.” + +“Most obliging man in Egypt, bar none!” boomed Danbazzar. “Always was +an obliging man.” + +Zalithea passed in to the hotel, Barry following. From a hidden bench +a slim, black-robed figure arose, bowing low. + +“_Lêltak sa’îda, effendim_,” said a soft voice. + +Barry started, peering into the shadows; then: + +“_Lêltak sa’îda, Hassan es-Sugra!_” he replied. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI. + IN NEW YORK + +A month later, to a day, Barry from the boat deck of the +_Berengaria_ pointed out Ambrose Light to Zalithea. She clutched his +arm to steady herself in the high wind, nestling, furry, very close to +him. As he looked down at her he found himself thinking not of the +camp in the _wâdi_, nor even of the tomb; not of the ancient wonders +of Egypt; nor even of those few delightful days in Paris and the later +joy of taking Zalithea around London. + +He found himself thinking of Hassan es-Sugra. + +Hassan had seen the party off at Luxor, bringing a great bundle of +flowers for Zalithea. Where everyone else was hurrying and bustling, +Hassan had walked calmly up and down the platform with Barry. His +eyes, which were so like the eyes of a gazelle, had been sad. But his +words, softly intoned yet laden with some deep significance, had +remained with Barry like the haunting memory of a song: + +“One day, sir, you will come again to Egypt. Some of your friends, +now, will not be your friends then. You will learn to forgive me if I +have failed you in anything and come and tell me so. For in the end +understanding will be. There is one thing, sir, I have to say to you: +they tell me the lady is of El-Kasr. It is not so. I cannot say where +she is of. But this I know--she is not of Egypt. She is very sad at +heart. If, one day, she tells you why, be not angry with her.” + +Then the train had moved out. Barry’s last impression of Luxor was +that of the graceful, black-robed figure of Hassan es-Sugra, his hand +raised to his forehead in a parting salute. + +“Be not angry with her.…” + +He looked down at the bewitching face half hidden in fur. Sea breezes +had whipped a delicious colour into the soft cheeks--down which big +tears were falling! + +“Zalithea!” he cried. “My dear! what is it?” + +She looked up at him quickly, blinking tears away; then: + +“Sorree,” she whispered. + +This word, “sorry,” she had acquired in London, but he knew that she +employed it in the sense of “sad.” He squeezed her arm reassuringly. +He had long since decided that her courage was +miraculous--unfaltering. Now, he tried to imagine what supreme +dread--what rankling doubt--what sorrow for some long lost one had +broken it. + +It was always so with him. In the most perfect moments of +understanding it would come--that inscrutable curtain; the veil of an +unimaginable past. + +Once, and once only, he had tried to ask her what he longed so +ardently to know: if she remembered ever having met him before. By +some unsuspected law of preordination alone could he hope to explain +those visions. Had he not seen her as he was destined later to see +her--in the dress of Ancient Egypt? Had he not seen her as she looked +during the early days in Luxor--veiled like the women of Islam? + +He thought he had made her understand. But instead of answering she +had turned her back and walked away! + +Did the question transgress some strange law, known to her but unknown +to him? + +There were times when his brain reeled. And now, with the American +coast in sight, she was weeping; she was “sorree.” He wondered +hopelessly what her thoughts were at this hour. “She is very sad at +heart,” Hassan had said. How clearly he recalled the words of that +extraordinary man.… + +And then, before Barry realized the passage of time, they were in +sight of the familiar skyscrapers. + +Zalithea’s mood had changed. The child had come uppermost again. She +clapped her hands gleefully, grasping Barry’s arm and pointing to the +skyline of New York. + +“Fo-ah _me?_” she asked. + +Barry nodded, laughing. + +“I trust,” murmured Professor Blackwell, “she is not labouring under +the delusion that you are the king of this country!” + +They speedily had evidence of Mrs. Uffington’s activity. She was not +prepared to lose the credit of discovering a beautiful Oriental +princess who had been adopted by an American millionaire! Every ship +reporter in the city was primed; camera men were there in flocks. + +And Zalithea imperiously declined to see any of them! + +She retired to her cabin, with old Safîyeh on guard in the alleyway; +and all remonstrances were in vain. + +For a considerable time she banned Aunt Micky, as well, until +Danbazzar made it clear to her that Aunt Micky was John Cumberland’s +sister. She received her, then, very graciously. Aunt Micky was +stupefied. + +“She’s a beauty, young Cumberland,” she confided to Barry. “But who +the devil _is_ she?” + +“The daughter of one of the minor rulers out there, Micky!” + +“But she’s not black! She’s whiter than I am!” + +“It isn’t _my_ fault,” said Barry humbly. “Cleopatra wasn’t black, +according to all accounts.” + +“But this girl isn’t an Egyptian.” + +“Neither was Cleopatra!” + +“Young Cumberland--you have a secret eye! It’s the right. I’ll get the +truth out of John!” + +Out on the deck, Jim Sakers and pretty Jack Lorrimer were consoling +each other. When, presently, Barry reappeared: + +“This is the blackest hour of my life!” Jim declared plaintively. “I +am despised--cast out--rejected. I feel like a falling stock. As +though it isn’t bad enough to be told that the coveted bottle of +unchanging desert has been forgotten! No man with a heart could have +overlooked my quart of eternal sand. Now, with my eyes bulging out of +my head and my temperature at a hundred and four in the shade, I’m +told, ‘No fairy princess. Pass along, please. Stand clear of the +gangway!’” + +“Be patient, Jim,” said Barry. “She feels very strange.” + +“_She_ feels very strange!” cried Jim. “_I_ feel completely +extraordinary! Here are we--poor little sleepy Jack, who didn’t go to +bed until three o’clock, and tired-eyed Jim who had to get home after +seeing _her_ home--here are we, lured from our slumbers at an +unearthly hour by false promises!… Sand and sorrow!” + +When Zalithea finally went ashore she was so heavily veiled that not a +glimpse of her features could be obtained. + +As a result, the most conflicting accounts were published. For a ship +reporter whose imagination cannot penetrate a few yards of drapery is +not worthy of his hire. “Veiled Princess for Cumberland Collection,” +was one good headline. “Daughter of Persian Pasha Says New York Like +Paradise,” another declared. “Harem Beauty Brought by _Berengaria_,” +was the line which appealed to Jim. But Barry’s indignation was +aroused by “Cumberland Cleopatra Here!” + +A suite of rooms had been prepared, by John Cumberland’s orders, in +the furnishing of which, while a definite Egyptian note had been +struck, the total leaned to modernity. For Zalithea he had conceived +an affection which, when he tried to analyze it, seemed to be +compounded of the paternal, the scientific, and--he could not +otherwise define it--the maternal! She was his child in a sense not +hitherto comprehended in human relations; and she was the embodiment +of that second great passion of his life--Egyptology. + +Lovingly he had studied her. He had noted her early acceptance of +those mechanical things which at first had appalled her; her easy, +youthful adaptability to wildly strange environment. A certain +shrinking from her--involuntary, superstitious--of which for a time he +had been conscious, left him utterly in the sunshine of her warm +humanity. + +Barry’s attitude occasioned him many anxious hours. That the boy +should lose his heart to this beautiful mystery was no matter for +wonder. He had eyes, ears, imagination. And Zalithea would have +inflamed any man of his age not made of wood or stone with whom she +was thrown into contact. + +Furthermore, that the meeting of these two was preordained, John +Cumberland found it hard to doubt. He knew that Barry thought so; and +he did not blame him. For what other explanation could there be of +those strange pre-glimpses which he had had of her? He had never +doubted his son’s word. But he had found something phenomenal in the +story which had led him to look upon it as the product of an excited +imagination. How little he had known, in those days, of the wonderful! +How sceptical he had been! + +From the big armchair in which he was seated in the library, he looked +up at a wall painting from Medinet Habu. Quite clearly he recalled +that he had been seated here, looking at this very painting, on the +night that Danbazzar arrived, on the night that he had first set eyes +upon the papyrus! + +Somehow, the values of his possessions seemed to have changed, subtly, +during his absence. That wall painting, for instance, no longer struck +him as a priceless treasure, although he had often thought of it as +such. The enamelled casket of Nitocris; the exquisite painted wooden +figure of the priestess, Thent-Kheta; even the great inlaid throne of +Osorkon from Bubastis--in some queer fashion they had lost colour in +his eyes. + +Almost as the fact dawned upon him, its explanation came, too. As +those ancient priests had foreseen, a living testimony to the grandeur +of the Pharaohs would outshine all others! + +The library door opened, although there had been no knock; and +Zalithea stole in. + +John Cumberland jumped up and placed an armchair for her. Jim and Jack +were coming on after a theatre, Danbazzar and Aunt Micky having joined +them there. + +Zalithea was wearing a frock which had been bought for her in Paris. +She wore it exquisitely. It was a semi-Oriental creation, simple +enough; but it set off her dark, lithe beauty to perfection. She +rested one slender hand on the chair back for a moment, smiling +inscrutably at John Cumberland. + +Then she crossed to the Bubastite throne and seated herself. + +“Yes?” she asked naïvely, her head tilted aside. + +And John Cumberland knew that it would be quite useless to say No, +therefore: + +“Yes, Zalithea,” he agreed, “if you’re comfortable.” + +She listened in her intent fashion, then: + +“Zal’ith-_eeah_ you-ah-addorahble!” she corrected. + +John Cumberland sat down. Apparently Zalithea thought that this was +the name by which she was known nowadays. He strongly suspected the +identity of the tutor who had led her into this error. + +“Barry!” he muttered, reaching for the cigar box. + +“Bahree-I-love-you,” Zalithea corrected again. “Geeve-me-er-kiss.” + +“You’re learning the wrong things too quickly, young lady!” said John +Cumberland. “Do you know where you are, yet?” + +“Ah-addorahble!” + +“I mean where you live. I tried to teach you yesterday. Your home?” + +Zalithea wrinkled her smooth forehead. + +“Darling,” she replied. + +“I know you’re a darling,” John Cumberland admitted; “but I think I +shall have to take your education in hand myself. I’m afraid I have +been neglecting you.” + +Zalithea, from the throne of the Bubastite king, smiled regally. + +A considerable disturbance in the lobby now proclaimed the return of +the theatre party. Barry opened the library door, and: + +“Hullo!” he cried. “You’re in there! I’ve been hunting all over for +you. Here’s the gang.” + +Headed by the Countess Colonna, the party entered. Jack Lorrimer was +frankly nervous--an unusual condition--but highly curious. She had not +yet met the mysterious Cumberland guest. Jim followed in with +Danbazzar, an imposing figure distinguished from the rest alike by his +great height and by the slight eccentricity of dress which he +affected. His Egyptian tan suited his oddly Moorish type. + +“Zalithea,” said John Cumberland, beckoning to Jack, “I want you to +know Jack Lorrimer, my niece, and”--he drew Jim forward--“Mr. Sakers. +Princess Zalithea has very little English, so excuse her.” + +Zalithea, beyond a slight smile, offered no sort of acknowledgment. +Barry, covertly watching his friend and his cousin, noted that the +girl’s queer aloofness had created its usual effect. He noted +something else. Jack Lorrimer was very pretty (what Jim termed “A 1 at +Cupid’s”), and Barry, like many another, had often wondered where the +dividing line lay between prettiness and beauty. To-night he knew that +Zalithea was beautiful. + +Jim’s reaction to the lovely, cold vision on the throne was good to +study. + +“Delighted!” he said. “Been counting the hours until---- No, of +course, you don’t know what I’m talking about!… Cooler this evening, I +fancy.… Wrong again! How’s Egypt looking these days?… Let me out, +somebody!…” + +Danbazzar stood at his elbow. He spoke to Zalithea in that monotonous +language which no one else understood. Under half-lowered lids she +watched him, and then replied briefly. He turned to Jim. + +“She says you talk too much!” he translated. + +Jim turned fiery red. + +Barry laughed delightedly, and Professor Blackwell, who had just come +in, endeavoured to console poor Jim. + +“She is a young lady of very definite ideas,” he said, groping with +one large, bony hand for a dress tie which, having become unknotted, +had evidently dropped off somewhere. “For instance, she has a settled +belief that I’m funny!” + +“Please, Mr. Danbazzar!” whispered Jack. “Ask her if she likes me!” + +Danbazzar, whom nothing annoyed more than to be addressed as “mister,” +conversed briefly, and unintelligibly, with Zalithea; then: + +“She is a little undecided,” he announced. “She has got hold of the +idea that you’re a dancing girl and wants to know when you are going +to begin!” + + + + + CHAPTER XXVII. + ABOUT IT AND ABOUT + +Danbazzar, in these days, was constantly at the Cumberland home. +Next to Barry, it was evident that Zalithea preferred his society to +that of anybody else. John Cumberland she respected, but he, for all +his knowledge of the old, mysterious land in which they had found her, +groped in vain with the strange tongue which she spoke and which +Danbazzar alone understood. Nor was he so successful as his son in +establishing a link of understanding. Perhaps because he did not speak +the language of love, which is God’s esperanto. + +Nevertheless, and largely with Danbazzar as interpreter, he had begun +his ambitious work. The first and second sections of the book came +within scope of his personal knowledge. He believed that they were, +now, comparatively valueless without the third. Therefore, beyond +arranging his bulky notes, he had done little in this direction. His +interest was with Zalithea’s story, and this she surrendered only in +provoking fragments, imperfectly understood by Danbazzar. + +For instance, urged on one occasion to describe Pharaoh’s court, she +became unusually voluble. Danbazzar looked puzzled, thought over what +she had said for some time, and then: + +“It sounds to me,” he confessed, “uncommonly like back stage at the +Metropolitan Opera House!” + +And a day was to come when those words should recur to Barry +Cumberland. + +Social invitations hailed upon them. No door in New York was closed to +Princess Zalithea. But She Who Sleeps was as capricious as she was +lovely. Modern ideas of good behaviour she simply didn’t understand. +They had learned from painful experience, to consult her, _vide_ +Danbazzar, before accepting proffered hospitality. + +She would inquire closely into the character of the household and the +probable guests before consenting to go. More often than not she +flatly declined to be present. + +And they knew that social embarrassment would almost inevitably follow +if Zalithea were urged against her will. This knowledge had come as +result of a disaster at the apartment of a prominent member of +Washington’s diplomatic set who was entertaining in New York. + +Zalithea, reluctantly, had agreed to go. She had looked radiant. She +was the sensation of a brilliant gathering. Then, Mrs. Uffington had +arrived. As that gushing lady crossed with extended hands: + +“Bahree,” Zalithea had said, in her imperious way. + +Ignoring Mrs. Uffington, ignoring everybody, she had glided, a +slender, stately figure, out of the room--and out of the building! + +It was a moment which Barry sometimes lived over again, memory of +which brought cold perspiration. He had been furiously angry with her, +and had been unable to conceal his anger. Unmoved, apparently, as an +ivory statue, she had sat beside him in the car, while he had poured +out the vials of his wrath. Perhaps she had understood, perhaps she +had not. + +But when he saw her face, as they alighted before the door of his +home, he would have given much for power to recall those words. Her +beautiful eyes were glassy, like those of a tortured animal. Then, as +she turned to run up the steps, he saw the long-repressed tears +gathering under the dark fringe of her lashes.… + +She had refused to see him that night and for half of the next day. +His father, and Aunt Micky, who had been left behind to face the +appalling task of explaining, arrived later--and were denied +admittance to Zalithea’s apartments! + +Danbazzar was summoned. Barry knew no sleep that night. He paced the +big library, a man demented, knowing--if he had ever doubted it--that +the happiness of this girl meant more to him than the opinion of every +hostess in America; than any friendship; than anything in life. + +Reconciliation had come. But they had all learned their lessons. + +Invitations to the Cumberland home were eagerly sought for. It came to +be regarded as a sort of mark of distinction to be honestly able to +say that Princess Zalithea had consented to know one. What guided her +in her selections and rejections, John Cumberland could never make +out. + +Slowly, provokingly slowly, Zalithea was learning English. There was +no lack of voluntary (male) tutors. In fact, by painful degrees, the +fact dawned upon Barry that he had to count not only with that +intangible dread, his knowledge of the true age of Zalithea, but also +with more than one rival. + +“There’s something I want to know, young Cumberland,” said Aunt Micky +on a certain afternoon when Barry was lounging in her private sanctum. + +This room was notable chiefly because of the fact that it differed +from every other in the house; it contained not a single Egyptian +relic. + +“What’s that, Micky?” + +Aunt Micky puffed reflectively at her cigarette; then: + +“When is Zalithea going home?” she inquired. + +“What!” + +Barry sat up with a jerk. + +“Don’t get excited,” she went on. “It’s a perfectly reasonable +question. And as I can’t talk to the girl, and your father won’t talk +to _me_, I’m asking _you_. Have we adopted her?” + +Barry laughed to hide his embarrassment. + +“I suppose in a way we are responsible for her,” he answered +evasively. “What does Dad say?” + +“Nothing!” Micky replied promptly. “That is, nothing sensible. He told +me, only yesterday, that her history was so strange I should never be +able to believe it.” She took a fresh cigarette from the box. “He’s +very likely right,” she added. + +“No, Micky!” Barry protested. “Something has upset you. What is it?” + +“It isn’t one thing; it’s several.” + +“Tell me one of them.” + +“In the first place, who is this girl?” + +“It’s very difficult to explain, Micky.” + +“Ha!” She lighted her fresh cigarette with the stump of the old one. +“That’s what John says--and Blackwell! You’re all lying--all the damn’ +lot of you! You can’t tell fairy tales to Micky Colonna! And where, +exactly, does the man Danbazzar come in?” + +Again Barry hesitated. It was hateful to lie to Aunt Micky. Hitherto, +by skillful evasion, he had dodged the necessity. He determined to +endeavour to do so again. + +“Well,” he replied, “Danbazzar is the only one of the party who knows +her language. He knows--all about her father, too.” + +Aunt Micky stared at him hard; then: + +“_I’ve_ been in Egypt, young lad,” she said, “and although I never +went so far, I know where the desert Arabs live--and what they look +like. This girl isn’t one! Also, when Dr. Davidson called, why did old +Blackwell hurry him away without seeing Zalithea?” + +“I don’t know, Micky.” + +“But _I_ do! Because Dr. Davidson has just come back from a journey +through Zalithea’s home country, among the Senussi Arabs! Teach your +grandmother to suck eggs, young Cumberland!” + +“Does all this mean you don’t like her?” + +“I’d like her well enough if I knew who she _was_. But all I know is +that she’s a little impostor and the whole gang of you are backing her +up.” + +“She isn’t an impostor,” Barry retorted hotly. “No! I didn’t mean to +be abrupt, but you don’t understand, Micky. It’s the rest of us who +are impostors!” + +Aunt Micky shaded her unflinching gray eyes with one upraised hand, a +mark of disapproval; then: + +“Liars! all the lot of you!” she commented. “I knew it. But what’s the +object? Is she wanted by the Egyptian police?” + +Barry laughed. + +“Not exactly,” he replied. “But there is a likelihood of +complications, all the same. You see, we brought a stack of stuff +away. It’s all at Danbazzar’s place, now.” + +“What has this to do with Zalithea?” + +“Well, in a way---- Oh, I can’t explain, Micky! What’s the use of +trying?” + +“Tell me what your father told me yesterday--that I wouldn’t +understand--and I’ll heave this ink-well at you!” + +The interview left Barry in a very unsettled frame of mind. He simply +could not foresee the future otherwise than through a storm cloud. As +he came down into the lobby, Zalithea was just crossing. She was going +out to dinner and a theatre with a party that included Monty Edwards, +a moneyed undesirable whom Barry detested. She disliked parties but +loved theatres, they had discovered. + +She was dressed already, and made a sweet picture against a background +depicting the wars of Rameses II. + +Barry’s heart jumped ridiculously; for she was so close to him that by +extending a hand he could have touched her. He suppressed an +impulse--which seemed quite natural--to take her in his arms and hold +her and kiss her. + +“Zalithea,” he said, “you are adorable.” + +She paused, looking sideways at Barry. Her smile maddened him. + +“You like?” she asked naïvely. + +“Yes.” + +“Bahree-geeve me-er-kiss,” she invited. + +He felt a hot flush rising to his forehead. Truly his sins had found +him out! At some time he had murmured those words, and Zalithea, who +seemed so slow to learn many things, had seized upon them +mysteriously. Perhaps the syllables chanced to resemble those of her +own language. + +“I shall have to, one day!” he said. “I shan’t be able to help +myself!” + +The maddest impulses surged up in his brain. Her eyes were beckoning +to him. But she was helpless--their guest--to be guarded and +protected. + +He laughed--quite mirthlessly--turned, and walked across to the +library. He never glanced back. + +Jim Sakers was calling for him later. They were dining at a club and +doing nothing in particular; what Jim termed “a night of well-earned +rest.” Barry was looking forward to the evening with great interest, +because he had determined, guardedly, to voice his difficulties to his +friend and to get the opinion of this honest, worldly soul. + +Of Zalithea he purposely saw no more. He heard the others arrive and +heard the car drive off. A few minutes later Jim arrived. + +At a corner table, placed before a high oak settle, they presently +found themselves in one of the Bohemian clubs of which Jim was a +member. And Barry began by outlining the position that Zalithea +occupied in the Cumberland home. + +“I gather,” said Jim, “that your former flaming passion for the +balcony princess has now been transferred to the Egyptian princess?” + +“Don’t be silly,” Barry returned irritably. “I’m serious. Can’t you +understand that that was a vision of the girl I was going to meet?” + +“No,” Jim admitted, “I can’t. I have seen Mr. Brown’s house, and I +have interviewed Mr. Brown’s housekeeper. There’s nothing visionary +about either. Why should there be about Mr. Brown’s balcony?” + +“I don’t know; but there is. It’s utterly impossible that I should +have seen Zalithea there. It’s utterly impossible that I should have +seen her on Fifth Avenue.” + +“You saw her twin sister.” + +“Her twin sister, if she had had one, would have been dead long +ago----” + +He broke off. He had said more than he had intended to say. Jim stared +curiously. + +“How so?” he inquired. “Do they drown one of the twins in those parts? +Which one do they keep? Who decides? Answer me that--the local witch +doctor?” + +“Forget it!” Barry urged, “and talk sense. You have seen +Zalithea--many times, now----” + +“Undoubtedly. She’s A 1 at Cupid’s--a first-class risk--Bachelor’s +Bane, Incorporated.” + +“You know her rather imperious spirit.” + +“I do. She has practised hard on me.” + +“But _I’m_ crazy about her, Jim! And I’m dying to tell her so! But how +can I?” + +“How can you? Easily. You’re not dumb.” + +“She has scarcely any English.” + +“Press your hand to your heart and kneel at her feet.” + +“It isn’t that. She’s our guest. I have no right----” + +“Cable the sable parent. Say, ‘Dear Sir: With reference to your +charming daughter----’” + +“Jim! you’re not helping me! And, anyway, that’s not all.” + +Jim realized that his friend was really serious. He listened, without +facetious comments, while Barry hesitantly outlined a hypothetical +case. He spoke of a famous physician of the East who had discovered a +method of prolonging life for several hundreds of years. He could not +bring himself to speak of _thousands!_ He asked him if he should +expect the offspring of a marriage between such a subject and an +ordinary mortal, to be normal. + +But Jim was merely bewildered. + +“Are you hinting that Zalithea’s mother is three hundred years old?” +he demanded, incredulously. “Is _this_ the skeleton in the cupboard?” + +His tone was sufficient for Barry. Jim would never understand. How +could he be expected to understand? He was glad he had been no more +definite; and he clutched at this straw gratefully. + +“So we were led to believe,” he replied. + +Jim’s stare became that of a man hypnotized; but finally: + +“Does your father believe this?” he asked. “And old Blackwell, and +Danbazzar--do they believe it?” + +“Yes,” said Barry. “_You_ would have believed it if you had been +there.” + +But he knew, now, that he could look for guidance to no man. He and +those others who had entered the tomb of She Who Sleeps had entered a +world controlled by laws other than those known to the rest of +mankind. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVIII. + A DOOR CLOSES + +Barry returned home comparatively early. Neither Jim’s airy +philosophy nor his more serious sympathy, which was not without a +salting of worldly wisdom, had lifted the cloud of despondency that +had settled upon him. He felt utterly alone. Never, in the loneliest +hours he had known in the desert, had he experienced anything quite +like his mood of to-night. + +He had fallen in love with a shadow--a mirage; the shadow had +materialized; and now, the substance was less real than the shadow. + +The whole thing seemed to have gone out of tune. The Zalithea he +pictured as he walked along, the Zalithea who went to theatres and +parties, _was_ this the sleeping princess they had delivered from an +Egyptian tomb? Could it be the same, pale, slender girl from whose +lifeless body Danbazzar had torn those age-old wrappings? + +In short, where had delusion begun? Where did delusion end? + +The tired man smoking a soiled cigar lolled on the corner as Barry +approached his home. It occurred to him that it was the same cigar +that he had always smoked. It was unreal. + +Without removing the root, the man touched his hat as Barry went in +and took out his key. John Cumberland kept early hours; and, except +when entertaining, his household was abed by midnight. Barry did not +expect to find anyone up. + +On the tray in the lobby he discovered two letters. Neither was +important, but he switched on the light above the table and glanced at +them. As he stood there, dimly he could hear steamer whistles on the +river. One of them, a deep-throated blare, he thought he recognized as +the voice of the _Berengaria_. Even as his glance ran over the typed +page, in spirit he had crossed again to Southampton upon that quest +never to be forgotten which had led to Zalithea. + +Then, thrilling in the stillness of the big house, came a soft cry! + +Barry dropped the letter and turned, standing stock still, with +clenched hands. + +He stared across at the closed door of the library. It was from there +the cry had come. All was silent, however, as he stepped quickly in +that direction. But, as he reached the door, in a strangled voice: + +“Bahree!” he heard; then, in a coarse, laughing tone: + +“Don’t be so silly!” + +Zalithea was in the library--with Monty Edwards! + +Barry flung the door open and walked in. + +Across by the big, carved mantelpiece, with its overpowering +decoration from the wall of Medinet Habu, Edwards had the girl in his +arms. He was a thickset, coarse-grained type, whose boisterous good +humour served as a cloak for a rather nasty animalism. At the wrong +age for a man of his character he had acquired control of a fortune +little less than that of John Cumberland. + +Zalithea’s lithe body was bent back like a bow as she strove to avoid +his lips. Edwards, holding her fast, stooped lower and lower to the +alluring, forbidden red mouth. + +By what cunning strategy he had contrived to be left alone with her +Barry neither knew nor cared. It was the colossal outrage of the thing +that struck him dumb. The affront to him, to his father, was gross +enough. But the affront to this delicate, guarded treasure of some +long-forgotten court was beyond computation. + +To his imaginative mind it appeared that Monty Edwards had disgraced +irrevocably the name of American hospitality. + +So swiftly did he act, in his white-hot anger, that Edwards, hastily +releasing the girl, allowed her to sink down upon the carpet. He +turned in a flash--and Barry stood before him dumb with hate. + +Edwards’s high colour fled. He spoke huskily. + +“Hullo, Barry! Don’t get mad. It was only fun.” + +Barry was murderously pale. For ten--fifteen--twenty beats of the +library clock, he stood, quivering; then: + +“Get out!” he said. “Get out while I can remember you’re in _my_ +house.” + +Monty Edwards bandied no words with the speaker. He knew when a man +was seeing red. Head lowered and lips unsteady, he passed Barry and +walked out of the library. + +Zalithea stood up, breathing quickly. But Barry never moved, never +stirred a muscle of his tensed-up body, until the closing of the front +door told him that Monty Edwards had left the house. Then he turned to +Zalithea. + +She was dressed as he had seen her earlier in the evening. She was +pale but more utterly desirable than any woman in all the wide world. +Her long, dark eyes were fixed upon him in a sort of +wonder--questioningly--doubtingly. He unclenched his fists. No word +was spoken. But Zalithea stepped forward as if bidden. + +His arms went around her like steel bands. He uttered a queer, pent-up +cry. He kissed her lips breathlessly, her hair, her eyes, her smooth, +creamy neck. He was in the throes of a veritable madness. His +long-repressed passion swept him away.… + +When, at last, he released her, she fell back, raised her hands to her +eyes for a moment; then, giving him one long look of indescribable +intensity, as though she would imprint his image indelibly upon her +mind, she ran out of the room. + +Standing as she had left him, his back to the lobby, he heard the +light patter of her footsteps as she raced upstairs. + +Somewhere, above, a door closed softly. + +And to that sound Barry found himself listening with a strained +intensity. It seemed in some way to be an answer to a question--to a +subconscious question that his mind was incapable of framing. +Exhausted by the fiercest emotions he had ever known, he dropped into +a big padded rest chair in which, evidently, Monty Edwards had been +sitting. A still-smouldering cigar lay in the little Oriental tray +attached to the chair arm. + +Mentally, he was depressed. But his heart was singing. His former +experiences might have led him to doubt Zalithea’s sentiments. But he +could not forget that she had returned his kisses. + +For an hour he waited, hoping yet not expecting that she would come +back. He lived again through the strange days and nights he had known +since that evening when Fate had steered the Rolls into a private +road--and he had seen a vision of Zalithea. + +Imagination led him on. Once more he talked with Danbazzar and the +others in the tent in the _wâdi_ and walked beside Hassan es-Sugra +through those silent halls of the Great Temple. So walking in spirit, +with gods and Pharaohs beckoning secretly from moon-touched walls, he +fell asleep. + +The cigar, in the tray at his elbow, smouldered on. In the still air +of the library, a bluish pencilling of smoke stole straightly upward. +It burned until only a powdery shell remained attached to a leafy +stub. But Barry never stirred. The night sounds of New York did not +reach him in his dreams. And the detective on duty outside the house +wondered why the library lights were still burning when dawn’s gray +mystery crept over the city. + +Through the shades, morning light was competing with the electric +lamps when soft footsteps sounded on the thickly carpeted stairs. +Barry slept on. The footsteps crept lower and lower… and Zalithea +stood peeping in at the doorway. + +She turned swiftly at sight of the sleeper, her fingers raised to her +lips. Old Safîyeh’s wrinkled face appeared in the lamplight. Then +Zalithea looked again at Barry, his ruffled curly head resting on one +shoulder. She watched him longingly, as a woman watches a sleeping +child. Once she stole forward, but hesitated and went back.… Very +softly she drew the door partly to. + +The man on duty at the corner saw the two women come out and walk +away. He was not surprised. They frequently went for a walk in the +early hours of the morning, although he could not recall that they had +ever set out quite so early before. + +As the front door closed, Barry moved. The movement rasped his neck +against his collar--and he awoke. Cramped, stale, heavy-headed, he +stared about him. Swiftly memory reasserted itself. + +He stood up, stretching his cramped limbs. Then he crossed and +switched off the lights. The library clock registered half-past five. +He went upstairs, pausing outside Zalithea’s door and listening +intently. He could detect no sound. He passed on, mounted to the floor +above, and went to bed. + +His next awakening was a tragic one. + +John Cumberland burst into his room, with: + +“Barry! Barry! Zalithea has disappeared!” + +“What!” + +Barry sprang out of bed, his eyes wide in sudden fear. John +Cumberland’s face was pale. + +“She and Safîyeh went out at half-past five this morning. They have +not returned. It’s after ten o’clock.” + +Half-past five… what memory did this awaken? Of course!… + +“But I was in the library at that time!” Barry cried. “They must have +seen me!” + +“Explain,” said John Cumberland. “What were you doing in the library +so early?” + +Barry, very briefly, told the story, mincing no words, concealing +nothing. As he spoke, he was dressing in feverish haste. + +“The door was closed, I suppose?” his father asked dully. + +Barry paused in his task. He looked up. + +“By heaven,” he said, “she must have closed it! Edwards left it open, +and I fell asleep watching the lobby. But it was half to when I woke +up!” + +“Do you realize, Barry,” his father asked, “that it was probably the +shutting of the front door that awakened you?” + +“I can’t bear to think of it.” + +The house was in an uproar. Remembering that Zalithea knew next to +nothing of the language, and Safîyeh little more, it was impossible +to imagine their plight. In one fact, that Zalithea was not alone, +Barry found comfort. + +John Cumberland’s private secretary was already in touch with the +police; and, as Barry came hurrying downstairs, Professor Blackwell +arrived. + +“Cumberland!” he cried. “What’s this they tell me?” + +“She’s gone, Blackwell,” was the reply. “No news.” + +The Professor dropped into a lobby chair. + +“Somehow, I can’t grasp it,” he said pathetically. “If she had been +alone I should have feared an accident, but as Safîyeh is with +her----” + +“That’s what I think!” Barry interrupted eagerly. “An accident is out +of the question.” + +“This being so,” the Professor went on, “what are we to conclude? Is +Danbazzar here?” + +“Expected every minute,” John Cumberland replied shortly. “I naturally +’phoned there first, as she is used to visiting him.” + +“She had not been there?” + +John Cumberland shook his head. + +“Tell him what happened last night, Barry,” he said, and hurried away. + +Barry, hoping against hope that something in the occurrences of the +night might suggest to the scientific brain of Professor Blackwell a +clue to Zalithea’s motive, gave him an account of the matter. At last: + +“It may be some primitive reaction,” the Professor murmured. “The +psychology of Zalithea is of course an unknown quantity.” + +“You think she is frightened and so has run away?” + +“Frankly, I don’t know what to think.” + +“I can’t believe she would voluntarily leave the house,” Barry +declared. “Just think. Where could she possibly go to?” + +Professor Blackwell shook his head. + +“That is a question I cannot pretend to answer.” + +At this moment Danbazzar arrived. As the door was opened he came into +the lobby, a big, dominating figure. But his stock was not quite so +perfectly knotted as usual, and his strange eyes held a very wild +light. + +“Still no news?” he asked. + +The blank faces about him were sufficient answer. + +“Have her apartments been searched to make sure there’s nothing +there?” + +Aunt Micky, very stern-faced, came downstairs. + +“I have searched thoroughly,” she answered. “But it might be as well +if you looked, also.” + +Danbazzar bowed and walked upstairs. Barry followed. + +In the suite of apartments which had been furnished for the use of +Zalithea, a very faint perfume lingered. It caught Barry by the +throat. It spoke to him intimately. It was as though he had buried his +face in her fragrant hair; as though she were in his arms again. + +The rooms were strangely appointed. They were scantily furnished in +the Eastern manner, with little inlaid tables and cabinets, and many +richly cushioned divans. Perforated silver lamps concealed the +electric lights, and the windows were screened with _mushrabiyeh_ +work. The bedroom struck a more Western note, being equipped with a +wonderful dressing table possessing wing mirrors and laden with every +imaginable luxury of Paris. + +There was no evidence of disorder or of hasty departure. The bleak +chamber adjoining in which the old Arab woman spent a great part of +her days afforded no better evidence. + +Danbazzar crossed to a window and threw back the near-by _mushrabiyeh_ +screen. For a long time he stood there, looking out. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIX. + THE HIEROGLYPHIC LETTER + +A period of anxiety now commenced to which it seemed impossible to +imagine any end other than the return of Zalithea. The idea that he +should never see her again was one that Barry simply could not +contemplate. The mystery of her disappearance baffled all conjecture. + +Short of the theory of drowning both in the case of Zalithea and of +Safîyeh, no feasible explanation presented itself. At John +Cumberland’s urgently expressed wish publicity was for long avoided. +But neither police headquarters nor the private experts employed on +the case could offer any hypothesis covering the facts. + +Since Zalithea spoke no English and her companion very little, it was +difficult to imagine how they could have gone far without attracting +attention. Further, it appeared that neither had any money, beyond, +possibly, some small change. + +To Barry, every waking hour seemed like a week. He had fits of anger +during which he bitterly reproached the girl for the pain which she +was inflicting. Then, his mood changing, he would mourn her as dead. +Every time the ’phone bell rang his heart leaped wildly. Hope and fear +alternately gripped him, threatening to drive him mad. + +Secrecy at last became impossible, if not unwise. + +“There’s only one theory that covers all the facts,” said the +detective in charge of the inquiry. “They must be in hiding; either +because they want to hide for some reason, or because they are being +detained.” + +“Detained!” cried John Cumberland. “By whom? For what purpose?” + +“Well,” was the reply, “such things have happened before, you know. It +may develop into a demand for ransom. But my point is this: apart from +the fact that the lady’s disappearance is beginning to be talked +about, we are neglecting a very valuable weapon, in a case of this +kind, by avoiding publicity.” + +“I agree with you,” Barry said. + +“If these two are hiding somewhere,” the detective went on, “offer of +a big reward will tempt someone to give them away. If they’ve been +kidnapped, offer of a reward is what the kidnappers are waiting for. I +know it’s going to make things mighty unpleasant for you, and you’re +in no sort of humour to be badgered by newspaper reporters. But it’s +all that’s left. The cat’s out of the bag, anyway. Hundreds of people +know. You might as well tell the world.” + +Reluctantly, sick at heart, John Cumberland consented. The notoriety +which he knew must follow was appalling to his sensitive nature. But +anything that might lead to the recovery of Zalithea he was prepared +to face. + +And so, on the following morning, New York revelled in full details of +perhaps the most romantic mystery that had ever spread itself over the +city’s front pages. Photographs of Zalithea there were none available. +Those taken on the day of her arrival, showing her muffled in veils, +were at a premium. + +Danbazzar supplied a brief and strictly untruthful biography of “The +Lady Zalithea el-Aziza ed-Dhahir (daughter of the Sheik Mohammed Abd +el-Ghuri, of the direct line of the last of the Khalifs and a +descendant of the Prophet) entitled by Moslem law and usage to the +designation, Princess Zalithea.” + +As this corresponded with the particulars entered in her passport, no +doubts of its accuracy were entertained. A description of Safîyeh was +also given. She was cited as a native of Cairo. + +“This is going to reach Egypt,” said Danbazzar gloomily. “And if I +know anything about Tawwab, it’s going to reach the Sheik Mohammed. If +it’s made worth his while, he’s sure to say he never had a daughter. +What happens next we have to wait and see.” + +The sensational report issued, John Cumberland and Barry entrenched +themselves behind secretaries, refusing to receive any newspaper +representatives. Danbazzar discreetly disappeared. So intense was the +public curiosity aroused that Professor Blackwell was forced to cancel +a course of lectures and to retire to the home of relatives in the +Middle West. + +Wild rumours were circulated freely. Anybody who had ever met Zalithea +was interviewed and cross-examined. Thousands who had never even seen +her claimed acquaintance for the sake of a brief moment in the +limelight. Reports flowed in from places as widely removed as +Marseilles and Hollywood. + +At a cost appalling to estimate, John Cumberland had every one of them +taken up and tested. All proved to be mare’s nests. + +Aunt Micky’s life became a perfect burden to her. If it had not been +for her recognition of the fact that Barry was breaking his heart over +the affair she would have fled long since. Instinctively she had known +from the first that there was some secret in connection with Zalithea +which she did not share. Her resentment had been sharpened by what she +termed “this damnable publicity.” + +Save for very old friends, Jim Sakers, Jack Lorrimer, and a few +others, society she had none in these days, but was compelled to hide +like a fugitive from the tireless persecution of paragraph writers.… + +Then, it happened--the inexplicable thing; the event that, while it +aroused a momentary hope, did so only to dash hope to the ground +again. + +Barry and a secretary were going through the voluminous mail one +morning. Barry’s high spirit had quite deserted him. He looked +physically ill, and was morose and silent. He hoped for nothing, in +all these letters, but inquiries prompted by idle curiosity or lies +designed to torture him. Then: + +“Here is a letter addressed to you, Mr. Cumberland,” said the +secretary, “and unstamped. It must have been delivered by hand. It is +marked ‘Private and Personal.’” + +Barry stretched apathetically across the table and took the envelope, +upon which his name was neatly typed. It seemed to contain a quantity +of correspondence and also some small, hard object. + +He tore it open listlessly. + +A large double sheet of some very thick, tough kind of writing paper +was inside. And, as he pulled it from the envelope, a ring fell out +upon the table. Barry’s heart seemed to miss a beat. What change had +come over his face he could only guess by the secretary’s horrified +expression. + +“Mr. Cumberland!” she cried--and stood up. + +But Barry motioned to her to sit down again. He was +staring--staring--at the ring which he held in his hand. It was an +oddly mounted and very perfect piece of lapis lazuli. + +He had bought it in the Rue de la Paix for Zalithea! + +Uttering a stifled moan, he dropped the ring, and, with wildly +unsteady fingers, unfolded the thick sheets of paper. + +They were covered with Egyptian hieroglyphics! + +One glance he gave at the writing, and: + +“Quick! Quick!” he shouted. “Get my father!” + +He sprang from his chair and began to pace the room like a madman. His +brain was working feverishly. The letter was from _her!_… The letter +was from _her!_ Even if John Cumberland could decipher it, he could do +so only very laboriously, perhaps inaccurately. + +“Mr. Cumberland is coming,” the secretary announced. + +“Call Danbazzar,” Barry directed. + +“He is out of town. Mr. John Cumberland received a note from him this +morning saying he would be away for two or three weeks.” + +“Of course,” cried Barry. “I don’t know what I’m talking about!” + +He clutched his head, trying to think clearly. Horace Pain was abroad +and not expected back for a long time. But Dr. Rittenburg had been +home when they arrived. He had dined with them only two weeks ago at +Danbazzar’s apartment and had had a private view of the contents of +the tomb when these had reached New York through some mysterious +channel controlled by their host. + +“Look up Dr. Rittenburg’s number,” he said. “Get him at all costs.” + +And the secretary was engaged with the directory when John Cumberland +burst in. + +Barry could not speak. He merely pointed to the ring and letter--and +went on walking up and down. + +“Good God!” + +John Cumberland’s voice shook emotionally. He was staring at the +writing, pale-faced, incredulous. + +“It’s… from _her!_” Barry whispered. “She’s alive! She’s alive!” + +“Come down to the library, my boy,” said his father, regaining his own +self-control in presence of the distracted Barry. “Wallis Budge can +help us here. I fear my knowledge is not sufficient.” + +As they left the room: + +“Dr. Rittenburg has gone out,” the secretary reported, “but they have +given me a number where they think I can find him.” + +“Tell him to come along at once,” John Cumberland directed, “or, if +he’s engaged, put him through to me in the library.” + +A few minutes later they were engrossed in study of the extraordinary +letter; and from the well-laden shelves Barry, at his father’s +instance, had taken Budge’s standard work on the language of Ancient +Egypt, Erman’s _Egyptian Grammar_, and other handbooks on the subject. + +“It’s going to be a hard job for me, Barry,” John Cumberland +confessed. “But it would be easy for Rittenburg or Danbazzar. It’s +hieratic writing, of which I know very little.” + +“Is it--” Barry began, trying to steady his voice, “is it the sort of +writing _she_ might be expected to use?” + +“Undoubtedly,” his father answered. “It was the form of writing +employed by the priests and scribes. The papyrus and the formula are +written in this style. But the characters in both are much more +carefully drawn.” + +“For heaven’s sake, let’s begin. Does it read from left to right or +right to left?” + +“That’s the trouble,” John Cumberland replied. “Sometimes it reads one +way and sometimes the other!” + +“Can you find any clue--or any word you recognize?” + +“That’s what I’m looking for,” his father murmured, bending over the +page of hieroglyphs.… + +And for the greater part of an hour he looked, seeking aid in his +researches from the pages of Budge, Petrie, and others. But he had +made no progress whatever when Dr. Rittenburg arrived. + +As the library door opened and the round, red face of the +distinguished Egyptologist was thrust into the room, Barry rose from +the table with a cry of welcome. Dr. Rittenburg bent forward, his +large, round spectacles shining as he peered in the direction of the +students. As is the way of the human brain, an idea suddenly presented +itself to Barry now, in this hour of intense anxiety--that Dr. +Rittenburg was a reincarnation of Mr. Pickwick. + +Greetings were very brief, and: + +“I must ask you, Rittenburg,” said John Cumberland, “to treat the +matter about which we want to consult you as strictly confidential.” + +“Certainly, certainly,” Dr. Rittenburg agreed. “Count on me. What’s +the problem?” + +Barry held out the letter. + +“This!” he replied. + +Dr. Rittenburg glanced at him curiously, noted his condition of +tremendous nervous excitement, then changed his large, round +spectacles for a larger pair, equally round. He seated himself and +bent over the writing. + +John Cumberland and Barry stood before the high, carved mantelpiece +watching him. Courtesies were forgotten. They had not even offered the +doctor a cigar. + +For perhaps five minutes he peered down intently; then: + +“H’m!” he murmured. “Very curious, if I may say so. Very, very +curious.” + +He looked up. + +“Can you read it?” Barry demanded. + +“Certainly I can read it!” the savant returned brusquely. “But as I +assume you have not asked me to do so merely as a test of my ability, +may I inquire who wrote it?” + +An eager answer was on the tip of Barry’s tongue when his father +checked him with a gesture. + +“This is our real problem, Rittenburg,” John Cumberland explained. “We +have certain reasons for believing, or hoping, that we know the +writer. But we look to you for internal evidence, in the letter +itself, to confirm our hopes.” + +“I see,” said Dr. Rittenburg, glancing queerly from father to son. +“The internal evidence is here. And knowing what I already know of +certain occurrences, I may say that this letter astounds me--literally +astounds me!” + +Barry could scarcely contain his impatience; but: + +“While it is not perfectly formed in many places,” the doctor went on, +“it nevertheless contains phrases that are beyond the compass of the +ordinary student. In fact”--he removed his spectacles and polished +them with a pocket handkerchief--“I doubt if there are six people in +the United States of America who could have written it!” + +“Is it--signed?” Barry asked. + +“Yes!” Dr. Rittenburg replaced his glasses and bent once more over the +letter. “It bears a name which I should be tempted to translate in a +certain way if I were not afraid that my knowledge of other matters is +unconsciously prejudicing my judgment!” + +“For God’s sake, read it!” + +John Cumberland was the speaker. + +“Very well.” Dr. Rittenburg cleared his throat and read: “‘Because I +can be with you no more I send the ring’”--he glanced up, and: “I am +almost sure that ‘ring’ is meant,” he said, and read on: “‘By this you +will know. Do not lament me or look in many places. Forget. There is +nothing else. My heart I leave behind!’” + +Again Dr. Rittenburg looked up, and: + +“To the best of my knowledge,” he added, “the next, and final word, is +_Zalithea!_” + + + + + CHAPTER XXX. + MARGUERITE DEVINA + +“The Moving Finger,” which waits for no man, moved on. But Zalithea +did not return. The police had relaxed their efforts. They had nothing +to work upon. It was obviously impossible to place the hieratic letter +in their hands. Nor did its arrival assist the investigations of the +private agency employed by John Cumberland. + +He allowed them to examine it, saying that the writing was believed to +be in Princess Zalithea’s hand. They tried to trace the maker of the +paper and of the envelope which had enclosed it, but failed. Their +final effort was directed to the discovery of the messenger who had +put the letter in the box. A reward of five thousand dollars was +offered. No one claimed it. + +During these anxious days, Barry had not neglected the house of Mr. +Brown. In a despairing effort, he had had the history of this country +home examined--in vain. The property had changed hands during his +absence in Egypt, and little could be learned of the former owner or +of his associates. Agents had handled the transactions in both cases. +The housekeeper--once interviewed by Jim Sakers--could not be traced. + +The nine days’ wonder lived its allotted span; and the world in +general began to forget Princess Zalithea, who had flashed, a dazzling +meteor, across the social sky of New York, and, like a meteor, had +vanished. + +But Barry did not forget. He was not of those who love and ride away. +For him a dream had come true--a dream held like a crucifix through +years of waiting. He had lived in a heaven of moments. He had been +snatched back to earth. And he was lonely. + +One faith he had. To this he remained true; it saved him from despair. +Zalithea was alive; so was Safîyeh. Somewhere, they were together. +And one day he would find them. Despite official evidence proving that +no such persons had departed from the port of New York, a conviction +was growing in his mind that Zalithea had returned to Egypt. + +John Cumberland’s anxiety, divided from the first, began now to centre +upon Barry. Professor Blackwell, feeling that he might hope to walk +the streets again without being accosted by newspaper representatives, +had returned to his usual quarters. And one evening the two old +friends dined together at the University Club, to discuss the question +of Barry’s welfare. + +“Bob Sakers couldn’t join us for dinner,” said Cumberland, when the +Professor arrived, “but he’s dropping in later.” + +“Danbazzar is still away?” + +“Yes,” John Cumberland nodded. “The publicity attaching to this +unhappy affair came very near home, I think. His apartment is shut up. +I shouldn’t wonder if he stays away for a long time.” + +“Quite--quite,” murmured the Professor. “Of course, for my part, I +confess I am floored. I don’t dare to think about it. The whole thing, +from that unimaginable moment in the tomb up to the time that you +received this incredible letter, often seems to me to be unreal--a +nightmare.” + +“Yes,” John Cumberland agreed, “it doesn’t seem real. But--” he +sighed--“it has ruined Barry.” + +“Poor boy--poor boy. She was very lovely, Cumberland.” + +A long silence fell between them, until: + +“Do you ever ask yourself,” said John Cumberland, “if she +was--natural?” + +“My dear fellow,” the Professor returned, “I have asked myself that +question a hundred times! And I think it has been answered for us.” + +“How? In what way?” + +“By her disappearance.” + +John Cumberland stared, and: + +“I don’t think I follow,” he declared. + +“If,” explained Professor Blackwell slowly, “Zalithea was +supernatural, certainly Safîyeh was not. But Safîyeh disappeared +with her!” + +His friend considered the words for some time, and at last: + +“I see the point,” he said. “It’s a new one, I admit.” + +When, later, Jim Sakers’s father joined them, he put the case before +him bluntly. + +“This thing has knocked Barry sideways,” he told Robert Sakers. “In +confidence, it’s touch and go. Blackwell will bear me out.” + +“I have watched Barry,” the latter admitted; “and I am certain that +he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He is crazy to go back to +Egypt, via London and Paris. We don’t hope that he will find the girl, +Sakers; we don’t expect so much. But I am quite positive that the +journey will save him. Now--he can’t go alone. It’s out of the +question. Jim is his oldest friend, and you can very well spare him +for a month or six weeks----” + +“I’m not asking you to stand the damage, Sakers,” John Cumberland +interrupted. “It wouldn’t be fair on top of the inconvenience of +losing your right-hand man.” + +“Leave that part out,” said Robert Sakers. “Let’s get down to dates.” + +And as a result of the conference which followed, some ten days later +Jim Sakers found himself, with Barry, bound for Europe. His profound +and ceaseless amazement, expressed at great length, was an antidote to +poor Barry’s melancholy--as it was designed to be. + +New environment and the magic of sea breezes aided the cure; and after +an idle week in London, during which Barry’s restlessness seemed to +have abated in a measure, they crossed to Paris. + +The faithful Jim cabled an enthusiastic report home; and perhaps +Barry, by this time, had begun to realize that the journey was +intended to be a “cure” and to reconcile his overwrought mind to the +idea of resignation. But what he did not realize, what neither of them +realized, was that they were helpless in the “moving row” of which old +Omar spoke, and that they were being danced impotent toward that +inevitable end designed by “the Master of the Show.” + +Paris proved rather a setback. It provoked memories which brought +about in Barry a relapse into melancholy. Jim worked like a Trojan to +arouse him from his mournful apathy. + +“Regard, oh, regard the glitter of the boulevard,” he invited, as they +sat outside a popular café in the sunshine. “Unknown to the old folks +at home, in their sleepy village adjacent to the delta of the +Hudson----” + +“The Hudson has no delta,” Barry murmured. + +“Let that pass. But still unknown to them, whether they have a delta +or not, here we sit sipping perfectly good wine at a price for which +we could not obtain a cup of coffee in our little home town. +Therefore, let us rejoice! And, lo! here come soldiers--complete with +band! Let us cheer!” + +A small party of infantry marched past, accompanied by a large band. +Jim stood up, watching them enthusiastically and talking away all the +time. Receiving no criticisms from Barry, he turned. + +His flow of nonsense was checked. + +Barry, pale as death, clutching the edge of the marble-topped table, +was staring--staring--across the street, his ghastly features those of +one who sees a ghost! + +“Barry!” Jim gasped. “Barry!” + +Barry did not stir. When he spoke his voice was a whisper. + +“Jim,” he said, “_I have seen her!_” + +“What!” + +“She has just gone into the perfumers’ shop opposite.” + +“Barry!” Jim grasped his shoulder. “Wake up, man! You are +daydreaming.” + +“Watch until she comes out,” the monotonous whisper went on. “Don’t +let her see you, for God’s sake. But follow her, Jim--don’t lose sight +of her--until you find out where she is living.” + +“But, Barry,” Jim began, a note of profound anxiety in his voice, +when: + +“Quick! There she goes!” he was interrupted. + +He looked across the street. He gasped audibly; then: + +“Wait for me here!” he said tersely. + +Zalithea, carrying a small parcel, had just come out of the shop and +was walking away! + +Jim Sakers experienced a sense of sudden acute exhilaration. The +wildly unforeseen had happened! And at last he was going to be of real +use to his friend! What it all meant was outside the province of his +mental powers. Who this mysterious girl really was who had so +hopelessly bewitched Barry he had never been able to understand. Nor +could he comprehend how she could possibly have reached Paris without +the knowledge of the American authorities. + +But unmistakably it was Princess Zalithea and none other who walked +along before him. Her lithe figure, her graceful carriage, the very +turn of her head when she paused to look in a shop window were +familiar to the man who had met her many times in New York. + +From the crowded boulevard into which she had turned on coming out of +the perfumers’ she entered a side street. Jim didn’t know the name +either of the street or the boulevard. His bump of locality was low. +But he knew that he wasn’t going to lose sight of her if he had to +follow her around Paris all day! + +He was turning a problem over in his mind as he tracked the trim, +leisurely figure. What should he do if she saw him? + +Zalithea came out onto another boulevard and waited at the corner of +the street for a moment. Evidently she was going to cross. She did so, +and Jim was delayed by the eccentric Paris traffic. When he finally +ran over, for a moment he lost her. Then, just disappearing around the +corner of the next street along, he saw the smart figure again. + +He hurried to the spot, swung round the corner--and saw Zalithea +entering a discreet-looking hotel on the same side. He was in the +lobby a minute later--and she was talking to a clerk at the desk! + +Jim turned his back and stared out into the street through the glass +doors. The lobby was small. He could hear every word spoken at the +desk. And what he heard gave him the crowning surprise of the morning. + +“No, madam--” the clerk spoke perfect English--“no American mail has +come in yet.” + +“Thank you. If any comes later will you please send it right up?” + +_The speaker was Zalithea!_ + +Astounded--thrown off his guard--Jim turned and met Zalithea face to +face! + +“Princess!” he said. “You remember me!” + +The girl’s white teeth closed sharply on her lower lip. She nearly +dropped the parcel she was carrying, but just managed to recover it. +She flushed and as quickly paled. But she looked at him +unflinchingly--and he knew her long, dark eyes. + +“You have made a strange mistake,” she said, evenly. “I am not a +princess and I don’t know you.” + +Jim wondered if he were going mad. The clerk was watching him +dubiously, so was a hall porter. + +“But--” he floundered--“but----” The dark eyes remained fixed upon him +inscrutably. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. But it’s miraculous.” + +She turned and walked out of the lobby. Jim did not afterward remember +having seen her leave. It was the scrutiny of the officials that +brought him to his senses and sharpened his ready wits. He turned to +the clerk, taking a card from his wallet. It was the card of a member +of the agency recently employed by John Cumberland! + +He tossed it on the desk, and: + +“You no doubt wonder what I’m up to?” he said breezily. “There’s the +answer!” + +“Oh!” muttered the clerk, glancing at the name. “I see. But you were +wrong, weren’t you?” + +“I’m afraid so,” Jim confessed--“quite wrong!” He stared at a menu +that chanced to lie near and learned that he was in the Hôtel +Chatham. “Nothing for the Chatham to worry about!” he added +reassuringly. “But I should like to make my apologies. _We_ have a +reputation, too!” He drew a pencil from his pocket. “What is the name +of the lady I so unfortunately insulted?” + +“She is a Miss Marguerite Devina of New Jersey, U.S.A.” + +“Thanks,” said Jim, making a note of it. “Here alone?” + +“Yes. I believe she is expecting relatives to-day.” + +“Much obliged.” + +Jim nodded in a brusque fashion based upon that of the lawful owner of +the card and stepped out into the street. + +The street gained, his assured manner deserted him. He was the most +hopelessly bewildered American in Paris. What in the name of sanity +should he tell Barry? That this _was_ Princess Zalithea he would have +been prepared to declare upon oath. Besides, good actress though he +granted her to be, she had failed to hide her surprise at sight of +him. He had seen her bite her lip--to check what? A sudden utterance +of his name? Probably. Her changed colour, her trembling hands, proved +that she had recognized him. + +It was she. But what did it mean? + +How could he face Barry with such a story? + +Turning these problems over in his mind, he plodded back to the café. +From afar he saw Barry--watching. At sight of Jim he jumped up and ran +to meet him. + +“Tell me!” he cried, his eyes feverishly bright. “Where does she +live?” + +“At the Hôtel Chatham.” + +“Thank God! And she didn’t see you?” + +“But she did!” + +“What!” + +“Come back and sit down, Barry,” Jim urged. “Get a grip on yourself. +We’re together in this thing. Let me order you a glass of good +cognac.” + +“You’re hiding something!” + +“I’ll give you the story word for word when you have sat down and had +a drink and lighted your pipe. Not a damn’ syllable before!” + +He had his way, for he could be very truculent at times; and poor +Barry Cumberland was a parody of his old masterful self. So, while +Barry smoked furiously the story was told--a stranger story than any +Jim had ever expected to have to tell. In conclusion: + +“If _you_ are mad,” he said, “I’m mad, too! Because Miss Marguerite +Devina is Princess Zalithea. But Princess Zalithea only spoke +_gazoobi_ or _swahili_--and Miss Devina speaks perfect English. Now +search me! _Garçon, deux cognacs!_” + +The chairs about them were becoming filled with loungers, as the day +wore on to noon. A cosmopolitan crowd thronged the street and the +neighbouring boulevard. Somewhere near by an orchestra had begun to +play a melody very popular in New York. Newsboys shouted. Drivers of +carts shouted. Everybody shouted. + +But Barry was silent. At last: + +“Well?” Jim inquired. “What do we do now?” + +“I have just decided,” Barry replied quietly. “It will be best for you +to stay where you are at the Meurice. We don’t want to frighten her. +But I shall transfer to the Chatham, at once.” + + + + + CHAPTER XXXI. + THE MEETING + +If Barry Cumberland had his weaknesses--and who has not?--he had one +marked virtue. He knew what he wanted, and always headed straight for +his objective. In fact, his impulsiveness was excessive and sometimes +overrode his practical common sense. + +He was wise enough to know this, for he was well stocked with +imagination; and, safely lodged at the Hôtel Chatham that afternoon, +he made a direct move, which was characteristic, but one that allowed +of safe withdrawal in the event of failure. This was sound strategy. +His tentative advance was suggested by the name of the mysterious +guest--“Devina.” + +John Cumberland sometimes spoke of a Madame Devina, a once famous +operatic soprano of the Metropolitan Opera; an idol of New York who +had disappeared from the musical world at the height of her success. +She had been entertained at the Cumberland home more than once during +a brilliant season notable for her singing of Thaïs--the rôle which +had made her reputation. Those days Barry could just remember and no +more. They belonged to the dreams of childhood in which his dainty +mother figured as the centre of a wonderful world. + +Now, those memories served a good purpose, and, seated in his room, he +wrote the following note: + + + Dear Madam: + + Please forgive an impulsive countryman for intruding. But I chanced to + see your name in the register to-day, and it reminded me of the fact + that my father, John Cumberland, and my mother, were formerly friends + of Madame Devina. As the name is an unusual one, I venture to ask if + you are related to that lady. If you are, I should be more than happy + to make your acquaintance, and my father, I know, would be delighted + to hear of you. + + Respectfully, + Barry Cumberland. + + +This he directed to “Miss Marguerite Devina” and gave to a page to be +delivered to her in person. + +His letter dispatched, Barry restlessly crossed to the window, which +he threw open. It overlooked a garden courtyard, which for some reason +cast his memory back to Shepheard’s in Cairo. Many balconies looked +down upon this sheltered oasis, and he allowed his imagination to tell +him that one of them belonged to the room of Zalithea.… + +Zalithea! Was there any such person as Zalithea? Had there _ever_ been +a Zalithea? + +Once, this thing which had happened would have frightened him and set +him questioning his own sanity. But now, as Jim had said that morning, +“If _you_ are mad, _I’m_ mad, too!” + +Would she answer? Would she consent to see him? If she refused, what +next? + +His anxiety and impatience made it impossible for Barry to keep still. +He walked away from the window; paced the room; listened at his door +for the footsteps of the returning messenger; then went across to the +window again. + +For long minutes he stood there, moving restlessly. He lost track of +time. A knocking on his door recalled him to reality. He turned, his +heart leaping. + +“Come in!” he cried. + +The page entered. At a glance Barry saw that he brought no note. + +“Miss Devina will be downstairs at four o’clock, m’sieur.” + +No doubt the world went on as usual during the next hour, and Paris +lived and loved and laughed as Paris has done from time immemorial; +but to Barry the interval afterward appeared to have been a blank--a +hiatus in existence. Four o’clock came at last.… + +She was seated in a cane chair before a little round table set for +tea. She stood up as he crossed to her. + +“It was nice of you, Mr. Cumberland,” he heard her saying in +Zalithea’s unforgettable voice! + +He found himself seated beside her. A waiter was serving English tea +and handing little dishes of cakes, biscuits, and sweetmeats. This +Barry saw and heard through a sort of fog. Everything was muffled. His +sensations were almost identical with those he had known toward the +close of his farewell college supper. Presently, in a voice not unlike +his own: + +“You have not told me,” someone said, “if my guess was right. Are you +related to Madame Devina?” + +“Devina was my mother.” + +The fog was cleared away by that definite, simple statement. The +merciful numbness which alone had enabled Barry to behave himself +rationally thus far left him. He looked into long, dark eyes. + +“You know that we have met before?” he said. + +Marguerite Devina watched him unflinchingly. + +“You had an accident some months ago right outside my door,” she +replied. “But I didn’t know that you saw me. You were unconscious when +we found you.” + +Barry clenched his teeth. An insane desire to laugh came to him. He +knew he must fight it. + +“You are referring to my crash in New Jersey?” he said evenly, +tonelessly. + +“Yes. You must have wondered why we behaved so oddly afterward. The +fact is that my guardian and I were booked to sail for Europe, and we +realized that if we appeared in the matter it would almost certainly +mean delay. We couldn’t afford that, you see.” + +“Your guardian? Mr. Brown?” + +“Oh, no!” she laughed--Zalithea’s beloved laughter!--“Mr. Brown was +the man who drove you to the hospital and took care of your car. We +were tenants of his.” She hesitated, bit her lip, and: “When did you +see me?” she asked--“before or after the accident?” + +“Before,” said Barry. “On the balcony.” + +“Yes,” murmured the girl, bending to pour out tea--“It’s a queer thing +to admit, but I’m fascinated by lightning. Do you think--it was seeing +me there that--caused you to crash?” + +“No,” Barry replied promptly. He was watching the slim hands, the turn +of her wrists, the line, seen below a smart little hat, of her creamy +neck. “You were dressed very oddly.” + +She stooped forward over the sugar bowl. + +“Yes; I was--trying on a fancy costume.” She glanced up quickly. “Two +lumps?” + +“One, please.” He watched her dazedly. “It’s amazing to think that my +father knew your mother. I have heard him speak of her singing +Thaïs.” + +“The critics said she did not merely _sing_ Thaïs, she _was_ Thaïs.” + +“Is she----?” + +“She died when I was a baby,” the girl replied simply. “Here, in +Paris.” + +“You were born in Paris?” + +“Yes.” + +“How did you come to live in America?” + +“My foster-father is an American. He was once engaged to marry my +mother, you see. But she changed her mind--unfortunately.” + +As she spoke the final word, an expression of such implacable hatred +crept over her beautiful face that Barry flinched. It was so that he +remembered her on that night in the _wâdi!_ + +“It’s dreadful to say and dreadful to hear,” she went on; “but my +father ruined my mother, in every sense of the word. She would have +died in a pauper’s hospital but for Paul Ahmes.” + +“Who is Paul Ahmes?” Barry asked, a sort of new awe in his voice. + +Marguerite Devina glanced up at him, and her eyes were very bright. + +“He is the greatest-hearted soul in the world,” she answered in a +queer tone of challenge. “My mother brought him nothing but sorrow. +Yet he spent all he had to try to make her happy--at the end. And he +took the place of my father--afterward.” + +“And is he, also, an operatic artist?” + +She gave a little choking laugh. + +“No,” she replied. “He is, or used to be, a vaudeville artist! He +retired years ago. He was known throughout Europe as ‘The Great +Ahmes.’ He was an illusionist. Not so famous as Houdini, but equally +clever in his own way.” + +Watching her closely and trying to steady his voice: + +“Ahmes is surely an Egyptian name?” said Barry. + +“Yes,” she replied composedly. “He used to work as an Egyptian. There +is Arab blood on his father’s side. He was always billed as ‘The +Wizard of the Sphinx.’” + +With a curious eagerness she poured out these confidences. Obviously +she wanted to do so. She watched Barry with those long, lovely eyes, +as if inviting further and closer cross-examination; as if challenging +him to put her upon trial. + +“Is--your guardian--in Paris?” + +“I expect him to-day.” + +“Did you expect _me?_” + +The abruptness of the thrust startled her, Barry determined. But if it +were so her defence remained impregnable. + +“No,” she replied, laughing; “how could I?” + +And even as she lowered her dark lashes and looked in her bag for a +cigarette, sanity whispered: “How could she? This girl, whose every +movement, every expression, every feature, and every mannerism are +familiar, yet is not, cannot be, Zalithea!” + +Memory plays odd tricks at times, and as Barry struck a match to light +their cigarettes, a hitherto forgotten remark of Professor Blackwell’s +flashed, intact, through his mind. It had been made on the evening +that the Professor had examined Zalithea. “There is a small scar under +the hair, just above the right ear, which suggests that the +theory--now generally accepted, I believe--that surgery was practised +by the ancients is not without foundation.” + +“Have you a small scar under your hair above the right ear?” he asked +suddenly. + +At this Marguerite Devina unmistakably grew pale. + +“Yes,” she answered, and looked at him with half-veiled alarm. “How +strange you should know that!” + +“Professor Blackwell told me.” + +“Is he a clairvoyant?” + +“No,” said Barry, and laughed without mirth. He met the glance of the +dark eyes. “I once thought _I_ was, though. Now--I don’t know what to +think. But there’s something I must tell you. Perhaps I should have +told you right away. You are the living image, a miraculous double, of +someone----” + +“Someone?” + +“Someone I love very dearly. There! I’ve told you! I came here, to +Paris, to find her. And when I saw _you_----” + +His voice failed him. He turned his head aside miserably. + +The girl was silent for a time; then, very gently: + +“Do you mean,” she asked, “that you have come from America to--look +for her?” + +Barry nodded. + +“What made you think you would find her in Paris?” + +“I don’t know. We were--very happy in Paris. But I’m on my way to +Egypt.” + +“To Egypt!” + +“Yes. That was where--we met.” + +“And you really expect to meet her again, in Egypt?” + +“I don’t dare to expect. But if I left off hoping----” + +He did not complete the sentence. Marguerite Devina had abruptly stood +up. Her head was averted. + +“Please forgive me,” said Barry. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” + +Even as the words left his lips, he remembered where he had last +uttered them--and to whom. She turned to him impulsively, and the +memory was complete. Her lashes were wet with tears. + +“You haven’t!” she said. “But I must go.” + +Barry reached out a detaining hand. + +“Please,” he pleaded, “let me see you again!” + +She averted her head once more, and: + +“If I can,” she murmured. “I’m sorry--but I must hurry away now.” + +And, stumbling in her haste, she walked around the little table and +ran across the lobby.… + +Back to his room Barry went in a state of mind which he found himself +incapable of analyzing. Was it possible, in the natural order of +things, for two human beings to be so absolutely alike? As well ask +himself if it were possible for a girl to live three thousand years! +One being possible, why not the other? + +He was curiously reluctant to leave the hotel. Therefore Jim dined +with him in the grill room whose chef has been preserved for posterity +by Orpen’s brush. Of Marguerite Devina they saw nothing. At the end of +dinner: + +“If I don’t stop thinking about this muddle,” Jim declared, “I shall +become completely cuckoo. It’s the Folies Bergères or a lunatic +asylum for mine. Make your selection.” + +The selection was made. And it was at a late hour (Paris time) that +Barry returned to the Chatham. The night porter handed him a letter. + +In his room he tore open the envelope. He began to read. Then, rushing +to the telephone, he banged the lever up and down in a frenzy of +impatience. At last: + +“Hullo! Hullo!” he called, in a high, unnatural voice. “Ring Miss +Marguerite Devina!” + +“Miss Devina left this evening, m’sieur.” + +And when dawn came it found Barry haggard, wild-eyed, pacing the room, +ever and anon taking up a crumpled letter and reading and rereading +it. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXII. + THE GREAT AHMES + + “Barry Dear: + + “I don’t ask you to forgive me. I never meant to see you again. But + when Jim spoke to me to-day I realized, somehow, that _you_ were here. + And I knew you would come. And I knew I would have to see you. I + didn’t know how hard it would be--because I never believed you cared, + like that. + + “I don’t know how to tell you what I see now, I _must_ tell. It all + began, really many years ago, when I was a baby, and when Paul Ahmes + was giving up everything to make my mother’s last days bearable. She + had never loved him, but they had one thing in common. It was their + passion for Egypt. She made her great success in an Egyptian opera and + he as an Egyptian performer. He used to buy Egyptian antiques with all + he could save. He knew more about these things than any dealer in + Europe. Most of his stage properties were real. They inspired him. + + “One day my mother read that a ring which had been the property of the + real Thaïs was being auctioned at Sotheby’s in London. This ring had + once belonged to her. She never sang Thaïs without wearing it. But + poverty had forced her to sell it. Paul Ahmes, knowing what happiness + the recovery of this ring would give her, went to London to buy it. + This was like him. He did not bid, himself, as all the auctioneers + knew him. He sent someone. + + “Barry--your father was at that auction--and he has the ring to-day! + When Ahmes heard that John Cumberland had secured it, he wrote to him, + and without mentioning my mother’s name told him all the + circumstances. Your father did not believe him. + + “My mother died the night after Ahmes returned. + + “Soon after that, before I can remember, we left Paris and went to + live in America. I grew up to look upon Ahmes as my father. I was + always surrounded by things belonging to Egypt, for my guardian had + left the stage and become a professional dealer in antiques. He was + sometimes away for months together, in Egypt, where he had agents now + that his business had grown so big. He had changed his name. John + Cumberland was one of his clients. + + “But, Barry, very few of the wonderful and beautiful things he + received from Egypt ever left Ahmes’s possession. They went into his + own collection--which is priceless; for this was his ruling passion + now that my mother was dead. He sold copies, or restored originals + mostly, to his wealthy customers. Some of the most famous museums in + the world contain his work! His love of everything belonging to Egypt + simply wouldn’t allow him to sell a genuine piece. His genius for + making duplicates (for he is, truly, a genius) made it easy for him to + keep them. + + “And all the money he earned in this way was spent acquiring more and + more rarities for his private museum. + + “Then--this was years ago--he stumbled upon the tomb of Zalithea. He + reached it through a long narrow passage cut at some time by Arab + robbers. He found there the great stone sarcophagus, and he raised and + wedged the lid. The sarcophagus was empty. + + “Thinking that one day this discovery might profit him, he reclosed + and concealed the opening. This opening, I must tell you, came out in + another valley, _behind the tomb_, and it led, through a hole in the + roof, into the _shaft_ between the first and second portcullis. You + remember where the roof had fallen? This second portcullis the thieves + had broken, and also the door of the chamber where the sarcophagus + was. + + “I unknowingly inspired him to what followed--I and his wish to score + over John Cumberland, whom he had taught me to detest. He said I had + the true Egyptian profile. The showman in him came to life--this part + of his strange nature was only sleeping; and he thought of the wildest + plot that surely any man ever attempted to carry out. + + “He said to me, ‘I will sell _you_ to John Cumberland! And if you play + your cards properly you will marry a millionaire!’ I was completely + under his influence, Barry. I had never known any other kind of life + but this commercial use of Ahmes’s genius as an illusionist. I don’t + want to excuse myself. I prepared for the thing with enthusiasm! + + “This was when we came secretly to New Jersey. Mr. Brown, who took the + house, was formerly Ahmes’s stage manager. His wife acted as cook. + There were other members of my guardian’s old company there as well. + For no one who had ever worked for Ahmes wanted to leave him. + + “Here for a long time I lived like a nun. No one outside our small + household ever saw me. When I went anywhere I was always heavily + veiled. Ahmes taught me to speak _Coptic_. This was the mysterious + language of Zalithea! Arabic I knew, because I had had an Arab nurse + from childhood--an old member of Ahmes’s company--Safîyeh! + + “A year before the papyrus was brought to your father, Ahmes went to + Egypt. He erected the screen, as you know, his agent, Hassan es-Sugra, + having traced the real, or front, entrance to the tomb. He broke + through as far as the first portcullis, which he knew was intact. Then + he reclosed and hid the entrance as you found it. The hieroglyphic of + ‘She Who Sleeps’ he himself carved in the rock. + + “By the other tunnel, the one he first discovered, he took in lifting + gear and swung up the stone sarcophagus lid. The painted sarcophagus, + which he had made in New Jersey and shipped out, he put inside. Then + he lowered the stone lid again. The tables, lamps, couch, and other + things he set in place. Some of these were genuine. Some he had made. + He also added the cartouche of ‘She Who Sleeps’ to the ancient + inscriptions painted on the wall. + + “He cemented the door and, from the tunnel above, blocked the secret + entrance. Then he came back to America. The stage was set for his last + and greatest illusion. + + “The ‘Zalithea Papyrus’ and the ‘Formula’ Ahmes had been at work upon + for two years. They were the biggest achievements of his career! The + materials had cost him no end of research. But no other man in Europe + or America could have written them--to pass Horace Pain and Dr. + Rittenburg! + + “Yes, Barry! I’m proud of him! Until you came, it never occurred to me + to question his way of life. Besides, he had taught me to hate the + name of Cumberland. It was a mania with him. I believe for a long time + he held John Cumberland responsible for my mother’s death. + + “The Zalithea dress, the strange ingredients mentioned in the Formula, + and all the other things, he got from many sources, working patiently + for months and months. He put his whole soul into the affair. + + “Then, just as we were ready, you had an accident right outside the + house! + + “We were in an awful panic. But Ahmes was always at his best in an + emergency. You know how we managed to keep out of the matter. The + household was dispersed. Only Mrs. Brown stayed to clear things up. I + was hidden in my guardian’s apartment in New York. And I nearly ruined + everything one evening by going out to our old garden in New Jersey to + get some flowers. Yes! I was there that day when you came! + + “As soon as the date of departure was fixed, Safîyeh and another + Arab, called Omar, were sent to Egypt. Soon afterward I went, also. I + sailed on the same ship, to Cherbourg, as Professor Blackwell! But it + didn’t matter, because we had arranged that I should stay in my + stateroom all the way. + + “I remained hidden with Safîyeh in Luxor until the night before the + tomb was opened. That night I was smuggled across--and you heard my + voice as I stumbled in the little valley where Omar was waiting for + me! Omar you saw once. He is tall and thin, and you thought he was a + ghost! + + “In a ruined tomb in that little valley I was dressed for the part of + Zalithea. Safîyeh was there with me. But she went back to Luxor in + the early morning. + + “You understand, now, that when you first discovered the painted + sarcophagus I was not in it? He carried me up to the tomb during _the + second watch_ on the night before the lid was raised! I was placed + inside. Then the lid was fastened down! I was frightened, although the + gold mask allowed me to breathe freely and there were lots of air + holes in the sarcophagus. + + “I had to lie there for nearly three hours! But I had been training to + do this for months before. + + “Never shall I forget my relief when you came at last to unwrap me! Of + course I had been prepared in all sorts of ways for the ordeal. And + you will remember, Barry, that none of you had a chance to touch me or + even see me properly up to the time that I opened my eyes. + + “Yes! You were in the hands of a master illusionist! + + “As for the rest--I was prepared to hate you! But on the night you + came to my tent and said, ‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ I + couldn’t hate you, somehow. + + “Ahmes, too, had changed his mind about John Cumberland. He had + learned to respect him; in fact, to love him. But he had to go on + then! So did I! + + “Sometimes it was good fun. Sometimes, when your father talked to me, + not knowing I understood, I couldn’t bear it. But we didn’t know how + to end it! + + “You ended it! The night when you found me with that pig Edwards I + knew it must finish. While you were asleep I went to Ahmes and told + him. + + “He was sorry--for me; but glad that we were through. Safîyeh went to + Montreal and sailed, under her own name, for England, three days + later. I was here, in Paris, before you allowed the news of my + disappearance to be published. Ahmes wrote the hieroglyphic letter to + relieve your mind. It was delivered by the same messenger who brought + another letter. He is here, now, with the others. That is why you + failed to trace him. + + “That’s all, Barry dear. We have a house in Paris. It had been closed, + though, and so I stayed at the Chatham for a short time. But Ahmes + arrived to-day, and I am going to join him. He knows I have told you. + + “Do what you like. But I shall be punished enough. + + “You see--I love you. + + “Marguerite.” + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIII. + A FLASH OF LIGHTNING + +“Jim,” said Barry miserably, “what else can I do?” + +“Well,” Jim replied, thoughtfully rapping on the café table to +attract the waiter’s attention, “you can order another half bottle of +this very good wine, and then perhaps ideas may come.” + +The order given: + +“It’s Kismet,” Barry went on. “If she had confessed to murder I should +still have wanted her! In fact, mad as it may seem, I love her better, +now, knowing her to be what she is, than I did before.” + +“Not mad in the least,” Jim commented. “Taking into consideration the +way she was brought up, I, myself, harsh though my judgments of frail +humanity notoriously are, should feel the same. I could both love and +respect the Marguerite who wrote that brave letter. I don’t think I +could ever have worked up any real enthusiasm for a living mummy.” + +“I _know_,” said Barry emphatically, “that one day I shall find her +again. When I do, I’m going to marry her if she’ll have me!” + +“Strong, sound sentiments,” Jim replied. “It is men such as you are +who make men such as I am love men such as you are! But the old +problem arises; your father.” + +“I have made up my mind on that point,” Barry declared. “He must not +know--yet. It’s hateful, but I mustn’t shatter his illusion. I shall +write and tell him I have met the girl of the balcony, and that she is +the double of Zalithea--and the daughter of Devina. Those who knew +Zalithea will soon forget the resemblance when they hear Marguerite +speak. Then, one day, he shall know the truth. Nobody else must ever +know.” + +“We shall have to lie like the Brothers Ananias,” said Jim sadly, “for +a time. This prospect appalls my proudly virtuous spirit. But it’s up +to you. What you say, goes. Meanwhile, a full week has elapsed and our +patient inquiries have merely yielded, No, sir. Shall you go on +advertising in the Paris papers?” + +“Yes,” was the answer. “My advertisement means nothing to anyone else. +It might as well stand. Who knows?” + +“Nobody knows,” Jim murmured. “It is ignorance and not knowledge which +makes us lose faith in Santa Claus. And this afternoon? Shall I scour +the district in and about Batignolles as you so kindly suggest?” + +“Jim, you’re a brick! This ‘scouring’ is no sort of way to enjoy a +holiday in Paris. Just say you’re tired, and I’ll do that part myself +to-morrow.” + +“No, no, Horatio. Batignolles appeals to me because I can’t pronounce +it. And have I not said many times that I long for the life of a +detective? ‘All forms of shadowing undertaken. Your pay roll guarded +by machine-gun experts (in uniform). Missing relatives traced by our +special staff of lady searchers. Our watchword----’” + +“Jim! I love you, but----” + +“Guilty! Dismiss the jury. We reassemble at the Chatham at six for +cocktails.” + +And so the quest went on. Barry had in mind a neighbourhood he had +noted during a drive on the outskirts near the old fortifications. +Here were discreet villas sheltering behind little gardens which, like +the _yashmak_ of a Turkish beauty, merely provoked without concealing. +He felt sure that the house he sought would have a garden. + +Barry had considered the idea of engaging a detective agency to trace +Zalithea, so strangely found only to be lost again. But, in the +circumstances, he had decided that to do so would be unwise. + +Marguerite’s letter he almost knew by heart. At first, the shock of it +had stunned him. The readjustment of perspectives which it entailed +appalled his brain. But out of all the chaos one fact emerged--a fact +brooking no denial. He loved her. He could not imagine life without +her. + +His eagerness was eternally conjuring up mirages. A group at a café +table would suddenly come into view--and _she_ was there. As he drew +nearer, all resemblance would disappear. He hated those unconscious +mimics, some of whom were astoundingly unlike Marguerite at close +quarters. Perfumery stores he unfailingly explored. And a hundred +times he had run like a madman to overtake some girl seen in the +distance--only to alarm a stranger. + +More than one gendarme had eyed him with suspicion. A tall, +distinguished-looking old gentleman, wearing the ribbon of the Legion +and escorting a very pretty girl whose figure and carriage certainly +resembled those of Marguerite, demanded the name of his hotel and +promised to send his seconds to Barry in the morning. + +And now he was on the outskirts of the woods. Just ahead lay the group +of villas which had attracted his attention on the previous day. He +proposed to pursue a plan adopted on other occasions: viz.--to call at +a likely-looking house and ask if Miss Devina and her father were at +home. Being assured that he had come to the wrong address, he could +inquire if two Americans resided anywhere in the vicinity. + +Following an unseasonably hot morning, clouds had begun to gather +shortly after noon. Now, it was growing very dark. The woods on his +right were haunted by ghostly shadows. From somewhere beyond the +western outskirts of Paris echoed ominous rumblings, to remind good +Parisians of that black day when Von Kluck’s Prussians came hammering +at their gates. + +Then, suddenly, the downpour started. In sight of a charming little +villa whose green shutters and green balconies were visible above a +guardian row of dwarf acacias, Barry darted to cover. His back against +the trunk of a tree the dense foliage of which promised shelter, he +stood, looking up. + +A black thunder pall hung directly above. Except for the sound of +falling rain, a profound stillness had come. Then, blindingly, +lightning flicked its venomous fang from the heart of the cloud. The +house opposite was illuminated ice blue, eerily. Every leaf upon the +trees was lent a momentary hard, individual existence. Every nail in +the woodwork of the villa gate, every piece of gravel on the garden +paths, summoned attention vividly, alone, aloof from the rest.… + +And a window directly facing the tree beneath which Barry stood was +thrown open. + +Marguerite came out onto the green balcony! + +Her lips were parted in a half-frightened smile. Exultant, like a roll +of Titanic war drums, thunder crashed and boomed and beat out its fury +in dying echoes. + +Across the feathery crests of the acacias their glances met.… + +Barry uttered an involuntary cry. The storm was forgotten. The world +was forgotten. Out into the drenching downpour he ran, across to the +gate and on, up the gravelled path, to the discreet, glazed door. She +had fled at sight of him. The balcony above was empty; but the window +remained open. + +He rang, but without result. He rang again--and again--and again. He +rang continuously. + +The door was opened. + +And he found himself looking into a wrinkled Arab face. + +“Safîyeh!” he exclaimed. + +She smiled, unsurprisedly, and stood aside to allow him to enter. + +He discovered himself in a little lobby furnished throughout in +Egyptian fashion. There were antique tables and figures of the gods of +the Nile. There was a fresco of subjects from Der-el-Bahari. A +perforated silver lamp hung from the ceiling. And the air was laden +with a faint perfume, the indescribable smell of Egypt. + +Safîyeh raised a tapestry curtain and again stood aside. Barry went +into the room beyond. + +This apartment was littered with every imaginable kind of relic, from +exquisite enamel necklaces to mummied cats. At sight of the treasures +contained there, Barry was transported in spirit to a similar room +high above the turmoil of New York, where once he had sat in +conference with Horace Pain, Dr. Rittenburg, and others. + +Leaning upon a mantelpiece composed of carved red granite fragments +adapted to the purpose was a tall man, the collar of whose white shirt +fell open at the neck, while the sleeves were rolled up on muscular +arms. One elbow rested on the ledge; the clenched fist supported a +handsome, leonine head. A scarab ring glittered on his finger, as, +raising the other hand to remove a cigar which he was smoking, he +bowed in courteous greeting. + +“Danbazzar!” cried Barry. + +A roll of distant thunder from the moving storm echoed and reëchoed +over Paris. + +“Paul Ahmes, at your service, sir!” Danbazzar corrected him. “But the +former, if you prefer it. One’s as much mine as the other! Sit down +and let’s talk this thing over.” + +Fascinated against his will, as he had always been fascinated by this +man’s extraordinary personality, Barry dropped onto a divan, +silenced--stupefied--by the entire self-possession of the speaker. +Here was no recognition of wrongdoing; this was not a detected +impostor; this was the masterful man to whom obstacles were merely +stepping stones, who was fearless as he was unscrupulous. This was +Danbazzar. + +“Margot told me what she had said in her letter,” he went on. “I +agreed. Get that clear. She did nothing behind my back. What she wants +goes with me, and she wanted you to know the truth. You’d never have +known if you hadn’t followed her to Paris. But I’m not sorry, anyway. +I have retired from business. Zalithea was my last deal. I regretted +it long before the end came, because I found out that John Cumberland +was white clean through. So, listen. Tell him if you like. I’ll hand +you a complete list of all the stuff he’s got that isn’t right, and he +can sell it back to me for just what he paid. I’m not playing tin +angels: I’ve got a market for it at big profit!” + +Barry was unable to restrain a smile. + +“If you ask me,” Danbazzar added, “he’d be happier left alone. But do +as you damn’ please. There’s no committee of experts in the world +would say any piece from my workshop was faked--and you can lay your +last dollar _I’m_ not going to say it! As for the job at the +tomb--we’re all in the dock together. Pirates can’t afford to quarrel! +And now I’m going to talk to you about Margot. I’m going to talk +straight, and I expect you to talk straight.…” + +He talked, and talked straight, for the better part of an hour. He +displayed a side of his complex, twisted character, that Barry had +never suspected to exist. And, at one point, when he spoke of +Marguerite’s remorse for the part she had played, the words of Hassan +es-Sugra recurred to Barry: “Be not angry with her.” Finally: + +“Now we’ve got it all set,” said Danbazzar. “I’ve quit the United +States for keeps. You know where I stand. We’re agreed about the bunch +in New York. And I know where you stand. Settle the rest with the +kid.” + +He walked out of the room, stately, unperturbed; the Great Ahmes, +master of the situation. Barry stood up. Suddenly, he had grown +appallingly nervous. He paced up and down once or twice, among those +priceless relics of an age whose loves and hates were forgotten before +Paris arose from the forests. On one long, low wall, Pharaohs, gods, +and goddesses made mysterious signs to one another, signalling: It was +so in our day; it is so in this. + +The rustle of the tapestry portière told him to turn. + +He faced Marguerite.… + +She stood on the threshold watching him. Her long dark eyes held the +same expression as on that night when, unseen by Barry, she had stolen +to the library door to take her last look at him. + +Yet something else was there, and slowly she came forward to where he +stood. When she was close to him: + +“My darling!” he whispered. + +His arms went around her very tightly but very gently--not as in that +first fierce embrace. And when he kissed her it was a lingering tender +kiss. + + THE END + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. El Kasr/El-Kasr, Kûrna/Kurna, +etc.) have been preserved. + +Alterations to the text: + +Abandon the use of drop-caps. + +Punctuation: fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings and missing +periods. + +[Chapter I] + +Change “with never a word of _farwell_, urged by a sudden irrational” +to _farewell_. + +“_Same_ classic analogy cropped up in his mind” to _Some_. + +[Chapter XI] + +“and ponds and gardens of _flourishng_ trees” to _flourishing_. + +[Chapter XII] + +“Hassan es-_Sufa_ extended his palms and softly intruded” to _Sugra_. + +[Chapter XIII] + +“He seemed _scarely_ to have closed his eyes before” to _scarcely_. + +[Chapter XIV] + +(“By _jove_!” John Cumberland exclaimed.) to _Jove_. + +[Chapter XV] + +“His _foosteps_ might be heard receding along the wâdi” to +_footsteps_. + +[Chapter XVI] + +“_It_ we had known, sir, with a little more time and trouble we” to +_If_. + +[Chapter XX] + +(This was _Kyphi_, mentioned in the “Papyrus _Embers_,” and) to +_Ebers_. + +[Chapter XXIV] + +“set upon Barry with an _expresison_ of childish eagerness” to +_expression_. + +[Chapter XXVI] + +“_Priness_ Zalithea has very little English, so excuse her” to +_Princess_. + +[Chapter XXVII] + +“he saw the _long repressed_ tears gathering under the dark fringe” to +_long-repressed_. + +“Do they drown one of twins in those parts?” add _the_ after _of_. + +[Chapter XXXI] + +“who drove you to the hospital and took care of _you_ car” to +_your_. + +“suggests that the theory--now generally _acepted_, I believe” to +_accepted_. + + [End of text] + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77092 *** diff --git a/77092-h/77092-h.htm b/77092-h/77092-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d36478f --- /dev/null +++ b/77092-h/77092-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14326 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + She who sleeps | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +/* Headers and Divisions */ + h1, h2, h3, h4 {margin:4em 0em 1em 0em; page-break-before:always; text-align:center;} + +/* General */ + + body {margin:0% 5% 0% 5%;} + + .nobreak {page-break-before:avoid;} + + p {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:justify; text-indent:1em;} + .center {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + .noindent {text-indent:0em;} + + .toc_l {font-variant:small-caps; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + + .rt1 {margin:0em 1em 0em 0em; text-align:right; text-indent:0em;} + + .chap_sub {font-size:80%;} + .font80 {font-size:80%;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + +/* special formatting */ + + .stanza {margin:1em 0em 0em 0em; text-indent:0em;} + .i0 {display:inline-block; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + + blockquote {margin:1em 2em 1em 2em;} + + .mt1 {margin-top:1em;} + .mt4 {margin-top:4em;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77092 ***</div> + +<h1> +SHE WHO SLEEPS +</h1> + +<p class="center"> +A ROMANCE OF NEW YORK<br> +AND THE NILE +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +<span class="font80">BY</span><br> +SAX ROHMER +</p> + +<p class="center mt4"> +1928<br> +DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY, INC.<br> +<span class="font80">GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK</span> +</p> + + +<h2> +[COPYRIGHT] +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1928, BY DOUBLEDAY, DORAN &<br> +COMPANY, INC. COPYRIGHT, 1928, BY LIBERTY<br> +WEEKLY, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +FIRST EDITION +</p> + + +<h2> +CONTENTS +</h2> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch01">I. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch02">II. THE DIVIDING LINE</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch03">III. A WEEK LATER</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch04">IV. SHADED WINDOWS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch05">V. BARRY IS HAUNTED</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch06">VI. DANBAZZAR</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch07">VII. ZALITHEA</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch08">VIII. SPECIAL OPINIONS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch09">IX. EGYPT BOUND</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch10">X. CAIRO</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch11">XI. LUXOR</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch12">XII. THE CAMP IN THE DESERT</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch13">XIII. THE EXCAVATORS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch14">XIV. THE HAUNTED VALLEY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch15">XV. THE HAWWARA</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch16">XVI. THE HOLE IN THE WALL</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch17">XVII. MR. TAWWAB COMES TO TERMS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch18">XVIII. THE LOTUS SARCOPHAGUS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch19">XIX. THE VOICE IN THE VALLEY</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch20">XX. THE RITUAL</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch21">XXI. THE AWAKENING</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch22">XXII. A SUMMONS FROM THE PRINCESS</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch23">XXIII. AN ENGLISH LESSON</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch24">XXIV. THE RETURN TO LUXOR</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch25">XXV. SOCIAL AMENITIES</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch26">XXVI. IN NEW YORK</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch27">XXVII. ABOUT IT AND ABOUT</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch28">XXVIII. A DOOR CLOSES</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch29">XXIX. THE HIEROGLYPHIC LETTER</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch30">XXX. MARGUERITE DEVINA</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch31">XXXI. THE MEETING</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch32">XXXII. THE GREAT AHMES</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch33">XXXIII. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING</a> +</p> + + +<h2> +SHE WHO SLEEPS +</h2> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="ch01"> +CHAPTER I.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A FLASH OF LIGHTNING</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Barry Cumberland</span> pushed on through a growing darkness. There seemed +to be an unfamiliar quality in this darkness which he first noticed +when, quite mechanically, he stooped to switch on his headlights, and +in doing so saw the time by the clock in the car. He slowed down for +a moment, on a crossways, and stared into the west. +</p> + +<p> +A great cloud, black as the pall of Avalon, was draped before the +sinking sun. +</p> + +<p> +As he watched, it crept farther and farther up the dome of blue, like +a velvet curtain drawn by giant hands. Through a gap in the trees +which had closely beset the path for some distance now, Barry looked +down into the valley along which his route lay to the highroad and New +York. +</p> + +<p> +Three hundred feet below, perched apparently on the edge of a ravine, +he saw a house. Some rent in the curtain of the storm had allowed a +ray like a searchlight to break through and to shine upon a sort of +turret which crowned the building. Shrinking behind guardian walls and +overhanging yet lower depths, the effect was that of a drawing by +Sidney Sime. Beyond, the road zigzagged, disappeared into shadow, +later to reappear in the form of a bridge, until it finally became +lost to sight before the plain was reached. +</p> + +<p> +The moving curtain blotted out the light. Where a fairy castle had +been, eerily illuminated, came blackness. He looked ahead sharply, +accelerated, and knowing the violence of these sudden storms in the +mountains, prayed that his Rolls would deliver him from treacherous +byways before the blinding rain began. +</p> + +<p> +He had only himself to blame if he should be stormbound. For no reason +that he could have defined he had left a cheery crowd at the club, +with never a word of farewell, urged by a sudden irrational impulse to +reach home in time for supper. Such abrupt changes of plan were +characteristic of Barry, annoying to his friends, but in no way +destructive of his popularity. +</p> + +<p> +A young man endowed with good looks, charm of manner, and John +Cumberland for a father is not dropped socially merely because nature +has designed him for a poet in a material age. +</p> + +<p> +Through this ever-growing darkness he drove on; and although the route +was one which normally carried little traffic, it seemed that this +evening not a soul rode or walked upon the length of it. But +loneliness dovetailed with his mood. He welcomed it. And so, when a +sharp bend leading to a long descent set the storm behind him, he +thought of it as a pursuer. He took the slope in breakneck fashion. It +was a race against the pursuing darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Presently came a dangerous turning which he remembered. But he had +possessed the Rolls—a birthday present from his father—long enough +for it to have become a part of him, responsive almost to a thought, +nearly to a mood. +</p> + +<p> +He checked where a ragged fence appeared suddenly ahead like a barrier +and negotiated a tortured figure S which brought him out above a sheer +drop. Beneath lay meadows where late corn showed speckled gold in the +crawling shadows. Down, the road led, and still down. A gallant ray +from the stifled sun alighted momentarily upon white walls of a +building far ahead. He was aware of a flowered porch, a window, a low +roof. +</p> + +<p> +Vaguely he recalled this little home. Something had drawn his +attention to it upon the outward journey from New York. Then it was +blotted out like a house of dreams; but he was losing nothing on the +storm. The race grew more and more real. +</p> + +<p> +Some classic analogy cropped up in his mind; a fragment of half +forgotten studies which he could not identify. He became a mortal +defying the gods. But from this flight of imagination he came sharply +back to earth. The house by the roadside passed—and even now he was +bearing down upon it—what lay beyond? +</p> + +<p> +Jim Sakers, his pilot on the outward run, now was many miles behind, +probably dancing; happily unconscious of the fact that his friend, +bareheaded, in dinner kit, was racing for New York, a victim of moods, +pursued by the storm. +</p> + +<p> +There was a bridge, Barry remembered. They had passed a Studebaker on +it; very nice navigation, for the bridge was narrow. Yes! Here was the +bridge. The Rolls went booming across it at fifty-five. And now Barry +sighted his first pedestrian: an old man with a clean-shaven upper lip +and a tufty white beard. He wore blue overalls, a huge plaid cap which +would have suited Harry Lauder, and smoked a very short pipe. Pausing, +he stepped hurriedly aside as the bareheaded madman swept by in a +cloud of dust. His cap went up like a Scotch balloon. +</p> + +<p> +Barry clenched his teeth. The shadow was gaining upon him. Oh! for a +long, straight turnpike where he could open up. But memory warned him +that there were many tortuous miles in which no such race track +offered. Now came a long sweeping curve which he recalled clearly, +tree bordered on the one side, and, on the other, outlining an upcrop +of primitive sandstone, where sparse vegetation and scattered rocks +formed an isthmus around which his route lay. +</p> + +<p> +Here for a moment he could glance aside. The black curtain was still +gaining. The storm promised to win. +</p> + +<p> +Into a cutting he plunged, high-banked, tree-topped, through the +blackness of which his headlights carved like a gleaming scimitar. +Some little animal shot across the blade of silver. He resigned +himself to his mood, wondering in what way he differed from his +friends, what barrier it was that would intrude at times between him +and those enjoyments for which others never lost zest. +</p> + +<p> +In the games and amusements to which they devoted much of their lives +he took part; and most of the things that Barry Cumberland attempted +he did well. His sports record was good, but not excellent. He was +happy in athletic pursuits, but could never screw up any enthusiasm +for pot hunting. Cards frankly bored him. He danced well, except when +abruptly, unaccountably, his dancing mood left him and he experienced +a sudden longing for the silence of imaginary forests. +</p> + +<p> +The girls about whom other men raved stirred him but slightly. They +were all too true to pattern. The thought of home life with any one of +them was definitely objectionable. +</p> + +<p> +He took a sharp bend at dangerous speed, wondering if, during a +long-projected but never accomplished tour of Europe, he should meet a +girl having power to arouse that curious state of unrest which he had +sometimes noted in his friends and vaguely wished he could experience. +No doubt he was a visionary. He had often been told so. Perhaps the +influence of his own home might be to blame. +</p> + +<p> +It was only reasonable to suppose that an establishment which is less +a residence than a museum of Ancient Egyptian antiquities, should +contribute something to the character of one born and reared in it. +Those almond-eyed, slender priestesses, so alluring, so aloof, had +possibly played a part in disabusing his mind of any romance in +connection with the girls of that very modern set to which he +belonged. Since childhood they had looked down upon him, from wall +paintings, vases, bas-reliefs, those cloudily robed, sinuous +Egyptians, whose long eyes were wells of feminine secrets; who had +never smoked or tasted cocktails, but who lived in a mysterious world +which for some reason he identified with the deep notes of an organ. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, it was their mystery that appealed to him. Mystery was what he +sought, but never found, among the women of his acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +The road became a high ledge, a thread encircling a bowl of shadow. +The gradient grew dangerously steep, and Barry checked speed almost +unconsciously. +</p> + +<p> +His musing had carried him many miles. Startled, he became aware of +the fact that he could recall no point of the route from the spot +where he had passed that solitary pedestrian. But the black cloud had +won; for a darkness like night had fallen all around him. He must +think what lay at the bottom of this winding road, and how they had +approached it. He seemed to remember that there was a fork; that they +had come out upon the valley side by one of three ways. But by which +of them? +</p> + +<p> +He slowed down more and more as he reached the bottom of the slope, +which now turned sharply eastward out of the valley. He had been +right. Three roads opened before him. His decision was promptly made. +He swung into the middle route, confidently giving the Rolls her head +again. On he raced, along a smooth avenue, overshadowed, and so dark +that midnight might have come. +</p> + +<p> +During that momentary check he had heard the booming of thunder, away +behind him in the west. The avenue began to curve south. It seemed to +be unfamiliarly narrow. More and more southerly it inclined, until at +last came a crossroad. He pulled up, hesitated, and knew definitely +that he had made a wrong choice. It was the north fork he should have +taken. Therefore he turned left into the crossing, presuming that it +must bring him out upon his proper route. +</p> + +<p> +Going was very bad. The Rolls bumped and shook from stem to stern. But +he pursued his way and swore under his breath when he found that this +road also inclined to the south. But now, through an opening in the +trees, he saw yet another crossway. Left again he swung, pursued by +louder rumbling of thunder. Rain was beginning to fall. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, his head lamps flooded a high wall. He wondered, but drove +on; when—blinding, awesome—the lightning came… and he saw Her! +</p> + +<p> +There was a stone-faced house not twenty yards ahead, and on a balcony +high up before an open window she stood. She wore some kind of cloudy +robe—a jewelled girdle—the dress of a Theban priestess! One hand +upraised rested against the sash of the window, the other upon the +curve of her hip. +</p> + +<p> +She had long dark eyes which seemed to be watching him, and her lips +were parted in a slight smile.… +</p> + +<p> +“I am dreaming,” he said aloud. “An Egyptian princess!” +</p> + +<p> +Save that it seemed to live, the beautiful figure was one of those out +of a dim past which had watched over him from childhood! +</p> + +<p> +And now the wheel was wrenched from Barry’s grasp—he was aware of a +cry—a loud, splintering crash—a sickening blow on the skull—of no +more.… +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch02"> +CHAPTER II.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE DIVIDING LINE</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Very</span> slowly Barry Cumberland opened his eyes—took one look straight +before him—and then shut them again quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Something was wrong. He could swear he had been sitting but a moment +before with his back against the giant pillar of an Ancient Egyptian +building, staring at a window high up in a temple wall. In the +moonlight he had seen a beautiful priestess standing at this window; +and he had been waiting patiently—patiently—for a black cloud to +pass, a cloud that had suddenly obscured the moon and hidden the +slender figure. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, those were the facts, he felt fairly confident. He opened his +eyes again. He saw a small, very clean white room; and he was lying in +a very clean white bed. He seemed to be propped up in some way, and he +experienced great difficulty in moving his head, together with great +disinclination to do so because of a dull pain above his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +There were some medicine bottles and cups upon a glass-topped table, +and there was a tall white screen of some very glossy material. The +only spot of colour in the room was a bowl filled with red roses, +which also stood upon the table. He wondered idly what was behind the +screen, and then closed his eyes once more. +</p> + +<p> +There was some mistake. No doubt the explanation was simple enough, +but his brain seemed to be tired, physically tired. He found himself +incapable of grappling with the problem. In one respect, of course, he +must have been wrong: In regard to the Egyptian temple. He had never +been in Egypt. In his idea that he lay in this unfamiliar white room, +no doubt he was wrong, also; although the red roses were suspiciously +like the handiwork of his Aunt Micky. +</p> + +<p> +Without Barry becoming aware of any movement, a cool hand was +presently laid upon his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +For the third time he raised weary lids—and found himself looking +into a pair of kindly eyes, their kindliness magnified by the glasses +which their owner wore. A white-capped nurse was bending over him! She +was entirely dressed in white, too. Everything in the place seemed to +be white, except the roses, which were red, and the nurse’s eyes, +which were blue. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she said, speaking in a low, soothing voice which yet had a note +of gaiety in it, “so you have decided to wake up.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry Cumberland tried to say Yes, but only achieved a whisper. Great +heavens! He had never felt so cheap in his life! What was it all +about? +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t bother to talk,” the soothing voice went on. “When you have had +another little sleep you will feel ever so much better. I have brought +you a drink.” +</p> + +<p> +She held a glass to his lips. He drank, looking into the kindly, +smiling eyes; and fell asleep again. +</p> + +<p> +The next time he awoke, the nurse was sitting in a chair beside him, +reading. Presumably it was night, for a silk-shaded lamp was lighted +upon the table at her elbow. +</p> + +<p> +Barry stirred slightly and turned in her direction. She looked up at +once. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-evening,” she said; “is there anything you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you.” His voice was very low, but at least he could make +himself understand. “Except—where am I?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the first place, you are quite all right,” she replied in her +gentle way. “You were thrown out of your car, you know, and really +had—a most lucky escape. In the second place, you are in the +Elizabeth Foundation Hospital.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thrown out of my car?” Barry muttered. “Elizabeth? How did I get to +Elizabeth?” +</p> + +<p> +The nurse looked at him doubtfully, stood up, and: +</p> + +<p> +“I am not at all sure that you should be allowed to talk yet,” she +said in a tone of authority. “At any rate, it is time for your +medicine.” +</p> + +<p> +She measured out a dose from a graduated bottle on the table, and held +it to his lips. He drank, watching her, and vainly trying to grab at +any one of a thousand ideas that were dancing wildly through his +brain. Yes, of course!—there <i>had</i> been a crash! He remembered, now. +He had been driving the Rolls—when was it? Some time earlier in the +evening, no doubt. And there was something about Egypt. Had someone +been talking to him about Egypt? He could not capture this idea at +all. +</p> + +<p> +As the empty glass was set down: +</p> + +<p> +“Please tell me,” he asked, and found that he had already more control +of his voice, “did I crash near here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some little distance away,” the nurse answered, resuming her seat and +smoothing a white apron with sensitive fingers. +</p> + +<p> +Barry considered this reply for a long time. His brain was working +with unfamiliar and amazing slowness. Then: +</p> + +<p> +“Was I alone?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“You were alone in the car—yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure there was no lady with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then how do I come to be here?” +</p> + +<p> +“You were brought here by someone who found you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean a friend?” Barry asked. +</p> + +<p> +And as he spoke an explanation came to him of that extraordinary +pressure about his skull for which he had hitherto been unable to +account. His head was tightly bandaged! +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid you are talking too much,” the nurse said with gentle +sternness. “It is contrary to Dr. Barton’s orders for me to allow you +to talk. But I will answer your question. The man who brought you was +a stranger, and his finding you a pure accident. And now please close +your eyes and stop thinking about it.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry smiled, and, in regard to closing his eyes, obeyed. But he did +not stop thinking about it. He lay there endeavouring to capture those +maddeningly elusive ideas which scampered about his mind like so many +rabbits. Yes—he had crashed in the Rolls. He had been bound for New +York. He remembered so much, clearly. He could not remember why he was +bound for New York, nor from where; but New York had been his +objective. He opened his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“How was I dressed when I was brought in?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“You were wearing your dinner clothes,” the nurse replied distinctly, +raising her eyes from the book which she had resumed reading. “Please +ask no more questions, because I shall be unable to answer them. In +ten minutes I am going to turn the light out and leave you. So try to +get to sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Barry, and continued his reflections. +</p> + +<p> +He had been wearing his dinner clothes. Where on earth could he have +been coming from? He opened his eyes, another point having occurred to +him which might help to throw light upon the problem. But, slowly +turning his head aside and noting the firm little chin of the girl as +she bent over her book, he hesitated and did not ask the question. +Nevertheless, he determined to remain awake until he had the facts in +order. With which idea firmly in mind, he immediately fell asleep +again. +</p> + +<p> +When next he awakened, morning sunlight flooded the room, and he saw, +standing beside the white-capped nurse, a cheery-looking, gray-haired +man, having a very ruddy complexion. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Mr. Cumberland,” said the cheery man in a cheery voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning,” Barry replied—and, in the act of speaking, knew that +he was himself again and that he had not been himself during those +earlier conversations with the nurse. +</p> + +<p> +He raised his hand to his bandaged skull. It was singing and +throbbing, but that curious dull pain had gone. +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Dr. Barton,” the other went on. “Feel better?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather!” said Barry. “What the deuce happened to me? Did I try to +take a high jump or something?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly,” Dr. Barton replied, sitting on a rail at the end of the +bed and addressing Barry over his shoulder. “You seem to have tried to +climb a tree.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry grinned feebly. +</p> + +<p> +“How’s the Rolls looking?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“That I can’t tell you,” was the reply. “I understand it has been +towed to a garage some miles from here.” +</p> + +<p> +But, even as he listened to Dr. Barton’s answer, Barry’s mind had been +actively at work. A phantom that had been haunting him took human +shape. He recalled every circumstance that had led up to the accident. +His smashed car ceased to interest him. His own condition became a +very trivial matter. One thing, and one thing only, he wanted to know, +and: +</p> + +<p> +“I remember it all clearly,” he said. “I had lost my way. One point I +<i>must</i> clear up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, get busy with it,” the genial doctor directed, “because we are +going to have you out of bed, presently, and see how you feel on your +feet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Splendid,” Barry replied. “What I want you to tell me is this: the +exact spot at which the crash took place.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Barton shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t the faintest idea!” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” Barry exclaimed. “But whoever brought me here must have known +where he found me!” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt,” Dr. Barton admitted, “but he didn’t think it necessary to +mention the fact.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you don’t understand,” Barry went on patiently, “that it’s +rather important. Could you possibly ring up this Good Samaritan and +arrange for me to see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“We <i>could</i>—if we knew his number.” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t he leave it?” +</p> + +<p> +“He left nothing!” was the astonishing answer. “He drove you here in a +Studebaker—it was a Studebaker, wasn’t it, Nurse?” The nurse +confirmed his statement with a nod; and: “In a Studebaker,” Dr. Barton +continued, “at somewhere around ten o’clock. Dr. Perry was in charge +and admitted you. You looked like a serious case, you understand. +You’re not, but you looked like it. Who you were we found out from +your cards, license, and what not. Then this dark horse in the +Studebaker faded out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Faded out?” Barry echoed. +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely!” Dr. Barton inclined his head in solemn fashion. “Faded +out. He didn’t leave so much as his best wishes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean you have no means of tracing him?” +</p> + +<p> +“None whatever,” the nurse assured him. “Dr. Perry told me he was a +rough-looking man. I was on duty that night. And no one was more +surprised than Dr. Perry when we learned that he had driven off.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see, it looked suspicious,” Dr. Barton explained; “and we have +been manhandled by the police about it. I mean, there was nothing to +show that you had not been assaulted and robbed.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry stared at the speaker unseeingly. He was thinking again. +</p> + +<p> +“Whoever towed my car to the garage,” he mused aloud, “will tell me +where I was found—or where the car was found.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry,” Barton declared, “but he won’t! The garage telephoned +here the same night to say they had the car. We had a police officer +on the premises at the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said Barry eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“A man driving a Studebaker towed the car in,” Barton went on; “said +it was the property of Mr. Barry Cumberland and that Mr. Cumberland +would settle with them for repairing it. Then he faded out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leaving no name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Leaving no name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was this last night?” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Barton glanced at the nurse, smiled, and then: +</p> + +<p> +“It was on <i>Wednesday</i> night,” he returned. “You were semiconscious +for forty-eight hours! And now, stop talking. I’ve got my work to do. +Stand by, Nurse.” +</p> + +<p> +“One moment!” Barry pleaded. “My father?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your father has been in constant touch. We advised him at once. He is +downstairs now, waiting to see you.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch03"> +CHAPTER III.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A WEEK LATER</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">She</span> might have stepped down from that painting!” said Barry, +pointing to a reproduction of part of a wall of the great temple at +Medinet Habu, above the carven mantelpiece of the library. +</p> + +<p> +His father nodded and smiled, but not unkindly. He was strangely like +his son, except that John Cumberland’s curly hair was gray and Barry’s +curly hair was brown. +</p> + +<p> +At the present moment Barry did not look his best, owing to the fact +that a patch of the said curly hair was very neatly shaved and the +corresponding portion of his skull decorated with unattractive +surgical dressing. +</p> + +<p> +They both possessed fresh, healthy colouring and steadfast gray eyes. +Both were virile, real, and would have been unusually handsome except +that both had “the Cumberland nose,” which was quite frankly +tip-tilted. But, in spite of it, there were many girls in New York who +invariably referred to Barry Cumberland as good-looking. And indeed he +was, as his father still remained. +</p> + +<p> +No two men could have seemed more strangely out of place in this +setting. John Cumberland might have passed for an old-fashioned +English squire; Barry was as typical a young man of to-day—sane, fit, +keen—as one could find anywhere in the English-speaking world. Yet +this library more closely resembled one of the Egyptian rooms at the +British Museum than the favourite haunt of a prosperous man of +affairs. +</p> + +<p> +Egypt—unaccountable though it appeared to his friends—was John +Cumberland’s hobby; a hobby in which he had sunk a not inconsiderable +fortune; in which he had sought, and ultimately found, it would seem, +consolation for the loss of Barry’s mother, who had died when Barry +was seven years old. +</p> + +<p> +To-day the Cumberland Collection ranked as the second finest of its +kind in the United States. It was representative of Egyptian +civilization in all its phases—save that it contained no mummies. It +was not confined to the library, but overflowed into practically every +room in the house. Yet nowhere were there any mummies. This was a +concession to Aunt Micky, John Cumberland’s sister, who acted as the +widower’s housekeeper and hostess. +</p> + +<p> +Whereas the loss of his wife had occasioned a wound to John +Cumberland’s heart that only time had healed, the loss by his sister +of the dissolute Count Colonna had left her a grateful if somewhat +embittered woman. The later years of her married life had been years +of hidden misery, during which she had realized to the full that, if +she had married a title, Colonna had married a dowry. Time, however, +had sweetened her even as it had healed her brother. She tasted the +strange fruits of our modern orchard with astonishment but without +dyspepsia, nevertheless firmly declining to remain under the same roof +with a mummy. +</p> + +<p> +“This girl on the balcony seems to have made a tremendous impression +upon you,” said John Cumberland, keenly watching his son across the +library table. +</p> + +<p> +“I can never forget her,” Barry declared; for between these two was +that rare comradeship which makes secrets unnecessary. “I don’t mean +that I have fallen in love at first sight, or anything ridiculous like +that! But I have an intense curiosity to know who she is.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are quite sure,” his father went on, carefully selecting a cigar, +“that the order of events was: the girl and the crash?—not the crash +and the girl? You see what I mean, Barry? You have always had an +interest in these things—” he waved his cigar vaguely in the +direction of the library walls—“which I suppose I have encouraged. +You had it in mind to get back here to supper, and so it is just +possible——” +</p> + +<p> +“I quite see what you mean,” Barry interrupted: “that the girl on the +balcony was the beginning of delirium <i>after</i> I had banged my head? +Well, of course, it’s impossible to explain how I know it, but you are +wrong. I certainly saw her. And what adds to my certainty is the +curious behaviour of the people who took care of me afterward.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean the man who brought you to the hospital and the one who +towed your car to the garage?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, certainly!” Barry replied. “As not a thing was stolen, either +from me personally or out of the Rolls, why should these people have +deliberately kept in the background?” +</p> + +<p> +“I see your point,” said his father slowly; “but I rather think there +was only one man concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you are right,” Barry agreed; “and I believe that this man +was acting for the girl I saw at the window!” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland looked up, fumbling for his lighter. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” he confessed, “I don’t entirely follow you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, Dad,” Barry explained excitedly, “that she must have seen me. +She was looking at me. If I saw <i>her</i>, she certainly saw <i>me!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland lighted his cigar. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I begin to follow,” he nodded. “You mean that she didn’t want you +to trace her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure she saw you? A flash of lightning such as you describe +would have a very blinding effect.” +</p> + +<p> +“It did,” Barry admitted ruefully, “in <i>my</i> case! But the crash took +place less than twenty yards from the spot where she was standing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” his father mused; “probably you are right. You think that she +sent this mysterious man with the Studebaker to your assistance, had +you taken to the hospital in Elizabeth, and then had the Rolls towed +to a distant garage, with the idea that you would be unable to find +the spot later? Rather a hazard. How was she to know that you were +unfamiliar with the neighbourhood?” +</p> + +<p> +“She might have thought it worth a chance, at any rate.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the object?” John Cumberland exclaimed. “What could be the +object? Was she very inadequately dressed? I mean was she likely to +feel ashamed of having been seen in such a condition?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, no,” said Barry reflectively. “She was very strangely dressed, +and, as far as that goes, scantily. But in these days that wouldn’t +upset her. There’s some mystery about it—of this I am certain. +To-morrow I am going exploring. I wish you could come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately I can’t,” was the reply. “I have two important +conferences. But if you go, let Hemingway drive you. You have had a +devil of a knock on the head, my boy, and you shouldn’t overtax +yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry, however, had planned to go with Jim Sakers, who claimed to know +the country like the palm of his hand. And on the following morning +the two made an early start, beneath a cloudless sky which lent the +towering buildings of New York an unfamiliar ethereal quality. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Sakers, in appearance and in temperament, was as different from +Barry Cumberland as a Gruyère cheese is different from an ivory +Buddha. He was dark and of a lovable ugliness; practical to a degree +that his friend sometimes found irritating; invariably good-humoured; +and frankly ignorant of everything that could not be dealt with on +Wall Street. An enthusiastic sportsman to whom the Arts were an awful +mystery, he, withal, regarded the moody Barry more tenderly than +Horatio looked upon Hamlet. +</p> + +<p> +Once extricated from the crossword puzzle of New York’s traffic and +clear of Hoboken’s shores, they began to make speed, Jim commenting +continuously upon sights by the way, as was his manner, Barry +answering only in monosyllables and being entirely wrapped up in his +own thoughts. Presently: +</p> + +<p> +“When we get to the house,” he said, “I propose to call.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cheers!” cried Jim. “I hope the Egyptian princess keeps a good +cellar. But what for?” +</p> + +<p> +“To thank her for looking after me. I shall take it for granted that +she did.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait until we find the house,” Jim warned; “and then, wait until we +get in!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry smiled lightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course we shall find the house,” he asserted. “You know the way, +don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely,” Jim assured him, “as far as the forks. I simply couldn’t +go wrong. But from there onward, I am entirely in your hands. You say +you took the middle road?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Barry nodded. “The middle one.” +</p> + +<p> +He became lost in thought again, paying so little attention to his +companion’s cheery remarks that presently these ceased, as mile after +mile was left behind and New York seemed to become very remote, in the +peace of the countryside that they were traversing. +</p> + +<p> +And now, undaunted, Jim began to sing, loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘<i>Dear one, the moon is waiting for the sunshine</i>——’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up!” Barry implored. “Don’t sing. Or, if you <i>must</i> sing, sing +the right words. It isn’t ‘the moon’—it’s ‘the world.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” Jim stared. “I don’t believe it. But, anyway, I like ‘the moon’ +better.” +</p> + +<p> +“The tune is all wrong as well.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re too blamed particular!” said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +Engaged in this argument they came sweeping down a long, straight +road, turned sharply to the right, and Jim pulled up. +</p> + +<p> +“Behold!” he cried, and pointed. +</p> + +<p> +Barry could not conceal his excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“Gad!” he muttered. “It looks all different, now. But, yes, that’s the +road.” +</p> + +<p> +“Middle one, boss?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, boss.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim grinned cheerfully and swung around into the thoroughfare +indicated. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me when to stop, boss!” he shouted. “ ‘<i>Dear one, the moon</i> …’ ” +</p> + +<p> +He sang lustily, and inaccurately, for half a mile or more; until: +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are! Left!” Barry shouted. +</p> + +<p> +Jim obediently turned into the narrow way indicated by his companion, +raced along it, and then: +</p> + +<p> +“What’s this?” he exclaimed, and pulled up sharply. A barrier +confronted them. “We’ve got into a private road! And it’s closed for +repairs. Look!” He pointed to the board which clearly stated this +fact. “It’s been closed for a long time, too, from the look of it. +You’ve muddled the contract, you poor nut!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry sat staring blankly ahead. At last: +</p> + +<p> +“Try back,” he suggested. “I can’t make this out.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim grunted, backed out to a gap, turned, and retraced the path to the +high road. Slowing up: +</p> + +<p> +“Now, boss,” he demanded, “what next? Where’s the princess?” +</p> + +<p> +Barry, who had been sitting with knitted brows, looked up sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Jim,” he declared, “that <i>was</i> the right road—and it was open on the +night I drove along it!” +</p> + +<p> +“We might park the bus and walk,” Jim suggested helpfully. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Barry replied; “I don’t feel fit enough. Besides——” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” Jim prompted. +</p> + +<p> +“Why was the road closed? There’s a mystery here, Jim, and I shall +never solve it by blundering in like a bull at a fence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what do we do now, boss?” Jim demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Go home!” was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Right!” said Jim, and headed east for New York. “<i>Once upon a time</i>,” +he recited, in a loud singsong, “<i>there was a princess</i> …” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch04"> +CHAPTER IV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">SHADED WINDOWS</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">In the</span> days that followed, Barry Cumberland resigned himself to +waiting. He was soon practically fit again, however, and he made up +his mind to employ his first morning of freedom in a methodical search +for the scene of his accident. +</p> + +<p> +Working from the nearest base where he could garage the convalescent +Rolls, he set out on foot; and in something less than half an hour had +reached the barricaded road. He had come alone. Jim Sakers’s open +scepticism upon the subject to which he usually alluded as “Barry’s +princess” had begun to jar upon the victim’s sensitiveness. +</p> + +<p> +He made a slight detour through close-set trees and came out upon the +private road twenty yards beyond. There was nothing to show that +anything in the nature of repairs was taking place, and he proceeded +confidently, looking about him in quest of some landmark. He found +none. But presently an opening appeared on the left. Barry turned into +it, pulled up, and suppressed a cry of triumph. +</p> + +<p> +Hitherto completely hidden by embracing woods, a house lay forty yards +back from the road. Its grounds were surrounded by a high wall, and +its construction was memorable because of a turret which crowned the +easterly wing of the building. +</p> + +<p> +Barry stood watching it for a time, and groping for another memory +which the sight of the house provoked, but which nevertheless eluded +him. He realized from its situation that upon the southeast it must +look sheerly down into a valley. When, and where, before, had he seen +such a house? Try how he might he could not remember. Had he seen it +in a dream? Surely he had looked down upon it from a great height! But +when? Had the vision been prophetic—an omen? If so, an omen of what? +</p> + +<p> +He advanced slowly. He bent, studying the road and the unkempt +shrubbery on his left. The track was altogether too deeply rutted to +have retained any imprint by which the passage of his own tires could +be identified. +</p> + +<p> +But now, in the very shadow of the building, he pulled up sharply, +staring. There was a tree stump some four feet out from the wall, its +bark newly gashed in a rather peculiar manner. The undergrowth about +here, too, had an odd appearance. It was dying in patches. +</p> + +<p> +Stepping back to the middle of the road, he looked up across the wall. +He found that he was staring directly at a window of the house +beyond—a window before which a small balcony projected! +</p> + +<p> +He had made no mistake! Here it was—at this very spot—that he had +crashed! Dr. Barton had been nearer to the truth than he knew when he +had declared, “You seem to have tried to climb a tree.” +</p> + +<p> +Exhilaration came. This provoking mystery was about to be solved. +</p> + +<p> +Passing along the entire length of the wall without coming to any +gate, Barry reached the corner and looked across a sloping lawn beyond +which stone steps led down to a sunken garden. Far below lay the bowl +of the valley through which ran the high road to New York. A +semicircular path swept around before the long, low porch of the +house, which, as he immediately noted, appeared to be deserted. All +visible windows were shaded. There was no evidence of life whatever +about the premises. His hopes fell to zero. +</p> + +<p> +Stepping onto the porch, which looked very dusty and unswept, he +pressed the bell and waited, lighting a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +There was no response; not even the barking of a dog. A second and a +third time he rang with equally negative results. The thing was +growing more and more extraordinary. +</p> + +<p> +Since this road, now closed, clearly led to nowhere but the house, if +he had imagined that figure of a girl at the window, by whom had he +been taken to the hospital? +</p> + +<p> +Baffled, but not beaten, he walked down the steps again. He had noted +a path which clearly led to a garden at the back—a garden concealed +behind that high wall against which he had crashed. He turned into it, +passed under the very window in which the girl had stood, and came out +at the rear of this house of mystery. +</p> + +<p> +He paused in sight of the garden. Beside him was a door. It was partly +open—and from beyond came an unmistakable sound of clattering pots +and pans! +</p> + +<p> +Barry raised his hand and rapped sharply. The sounds ceased. A minute +passed in silence. Barry rapped again, more loudly. +</p> + +<p> +The door was suddenly opened—so suddenly, he realized, that the woman +who now stood before him must have crept forward to peep at the +intruder. He found himself confronted by a truly formidable female, +built for cargo rather than for speed. Her arms appeared to be wet to +the elbows, and were, in the words of Jim Sakers, to whom Barry later +gave an account of the interview, “as per specification. See ‘Village +Blacksmith,’ page 1.” Her muscular hands rested upon her hips. She was +iron-jawed, and her regard was a challenge. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning,” he began. “My name is Barry Cumberland.” +</p> + +<p> +The woman did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +“I could get no answer to the bell,” he went on, “and came around in +the hope of finding someone at home.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no one home but me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you tell me when they will be back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—particularly the lady. The lady whom I really came to thank for +her service——” +</p> + +<p> +“Say it again.” +</p> + +<p> +“The lady who witnessed an accident which took place outside this +house two weeks ago.” +</p> + +<p> +The Amazon stared in silence, until: +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me,” said Barry patiently, “but did you hear what I said?” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why don’t you answer?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” +</p> + +<p> +“But a lady <i>does</i> live here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does she?” +</p> + +<p> +Barry was torn between laughter and indignation, but he feared an +assault might follow any manifestation of either; therefore: +</p> + +<p> +“I think I told you that my name was Barry Cumberland?” he said in his +most amiable manner. +</p> + +<p> +“You surely did.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may have heard the name?” +</p> + +<p> +“You said it twice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hang it all! At least you must know I mean no harm. I want to thank +the owner of the house for taking care of me when otherwise I might +have died on the roadside.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no one home.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you have told me! But surely I can communicate with him somewhere? +What is his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Brown.” +</p> + +<p> +“But there are so many Browns! What is his first name?” +</p> + +<p> +“John.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry, stifling his rising anger, drew out a pocket case and pencil. +Solemnly he noted the name “John Brown”; then: +</p> + +<p> +“And at what address can I write to Mr. Brown?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, is it anywhere in America, or has Mr. Brown gone to Europe?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +Apparently by accident, a ten-dollar bill dropped from the case, and +Barry held it out insinuatingly. Thereupon, with suddenly dilated +nostrils, the formidable guardian of the empty mansion slammed the +door in his face! He distinctly heard a bolt being shot. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll be damned!” said he. +</p> + +<p> +There are some situations from which retirement in good order is the +only possible course; and Barry Cumberland recognized the fact that +this was one of them. Returning his wallet to his pocket, he began to +retrace his steps. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil does it mean?” he muttered. +</p> + +<p> +Of the woman’s antagonism there could be no doubt, nor of her loyalty +to her employer. “John Brown!” Of course, it was a fabrication. She +was lying, deliberately. Her instructions plainly were to give no +information—and she had followed them to the letter. +</p> + +<p> +The object of it all defied his imagination, but he was more than ever +certain that the girl at the window overlooking the garden had been +real and no figment of delirium. +</p> + +<p> +As he walked slowly out to the road again, his mind was busy with +possible theories. He had learned much but little. Suspicion created +by the barred road was strengthened by what he had found at the house. +For some unfathomable reason, the girl at the window and those +associated with her were peculiarly anxious to avoid meeting him. +</p> + +<p> +But the longer he considered the problem, the more hopeless it became. +He determined to consult the local real estate people, to endeavour to +trace the ownership of the place, and to identify this “John Brown” +who was so pointedly anxious to avoid him. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch05"> +CHAPTER V.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">BARRY IS HAUNTED</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">In short</span>,” said Jim, “the princess may be described as still at +large?” +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up about ‘the princess,’ ” Barry retorted. “At least I have found +out that the woman didn’t lie. The house actually belongs to someone +called John Brown.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, in private life, the—the lady—must be a Miss or a Mrs. Brown. +Not a romantic name. But what did the realty sportsman tell you about +this mysterious citizen Brown?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very little. Said he had never seen him. And, for your enlightenment, +there is no Mrs. Brown and no Miss Brown.” +</p> + +<p> +“Odder and odder. Have you thought that she may have been the daily +help bound for a fancy-dress orgy?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, think about it. Sherlock Holmes would have thought about it at +once. Another theory. Mr. Brown may be a bootlegger! A third +theory——” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to hear it!” +</p> + +<p> +Jim Sakers looked at Barry reproachfully. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not tackling this thing in the light of pure reason,” he +protested. “The proper method is to think of every possible solution, +jot ’em all down, and then pick out the right one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go to blazes!” said Barry. +</p> + +<p> +He had begun to cultivate a sort of New Jersey complex, and was +forever driving out into the hills which had been the scene of his +strange and unfortunate experience. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon he drove as far as the club from which he had been +returning when the accident had occurred. He had no particular purpose +in view, beyond that of travelling over the now familiar route. The +golf course was thickly dotted with players, but none of his intimate +set seemed to be in the clubhouse or on the tennis courts. He smoked +a reflective pipe on the veranda, watching long drives and short +drives from the first tee, and then set out for home again. +</p> + +<p> +Rain threatened; indeed, was only checked by a high wind. And at a +point in the descending road which seemed to be peculiarly familiar +for some reason, he pulled up and sat staring as one who has seen an +apparition. +</p> + +<p> +A long-dormant memory awoke. +</p> + +<p> +Through a rift in the driving clouds sunlight poured suddenly upon a +building halfway down the slope beneath, surrounded by high walls and +having a curious turretlike structure at one corner! +</p> + +<p> +Good heavens! It was <i>the</i> house—her house; and he had first seen it +under very similar conditions on the evening of his crash! The clouds +swept on, and shadow came where there had been light—just as had +happened before. +</p> + +<p> +He had not dreamed it, after all. But, nevertheless, his first glimpse +of the building had been in the nature of an omen. Considering the +fact that it lay a mile or more back from the main road, his +subsequently coming to disaster under its very walls was at least an +amazing coincidence. +</p> + +<p> +Automatically he took out his case and lighted a cigarette, all the +time watching the mystery house nestling there far below in its +enclosing gardens. Once he glanced away. It was to see what prospect +offered of sunlight again flooding that part of the landscape. Even as +he looked back, the desired effect came about. Some quality in the +atmosphere seemed to bring out details very sharply; and the result +was that effected by a reducing glass. He saw the house as through the +lens of a camera. +</p> + +<p> +Smoke from his newly lighted cigarette rose before his eyes. Abruptly +he tossed the cigarette away, and watched—watched; eagerly, fixedly. +</p> + +<p> +A tiny but clear-cut figure in the distance, a girl moved in the +walled garden! +</p> + +<p> +She appeared to be gathering flowers.… The shadow of a cloud crept +across and across; until once more the picture was blotted out. +</p> + +<p> +Barry’s heart gave a great leap. At crazy speed he swept down the +valley road, taking one keen bend on two tires. Of his going he +afterward remembered nothing. When, for the second time, he stepped +upon the porch of “John Brown’s” house, he recalled the remark of a +girl he had once overheard: “Barry Cumberland is picturesquely mad,” +she had said. +</p> + +<p> +“She was right,” he reflected and pressed the bell. +</p> + +<p> +The place looked as it had looked before. All the windows were shaded. +There was dust on the porch. No one answered his repeated ringing. +</p> + +<p> +In a state bordering upon stupefaction, he went to that side path +which led to the garden. He found only a barred gate, at which he +stared in unbelieving wonder. Beyond, he could see the door where he +had held his interview with the unrelenting caretaker. But all around +was silence. To-day there was no rattling of pots and pans. +</p> + +<p> +Could it be, as his father had hinted, that imagination was playing +tricks with him? Had the vision at the window indeed been the outcome +of an injury, and was this phantom of the garden an aftermath of it—a +second illusion—a mirage? Back along the ill-kept road he walked to +the barrier, where, heedless of possible loss, he had left the Rolls. +</p> + +<p> +What ailed him? Was he going mad? Was his interest in this house and +its occupants due to frustrated curiosity? If so, did this fully +explain his waking and sleeping dreams of a dark-eyed girl in a cloudy +robe, watching him from a high balcony? +</p> + +<p> +Barry was taking Aunt Micky to dine that evening at a restaurant on +Forty-seventh Street, which legitimately enjoyed the reputation of +owning a good cellar. Jim Sakers was joining them, and bringing Jack +Lorrimer. Jack was Barry’s cousin. She was very pretty, having missed +the Cumberland nose. Following dinner, they were going to see the most +improper play on Broadway. The event was in honour of Aunt Micky, who +occasionally indulged in what she termed “a night of pure sin.” +</p> + +<p> +Having dressed, Barry was sitting smoking in the library when she came +down. He had been studying the figure of a slender priestess from the +temple at Dendera. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, young Cumberland,” came a deep female voice, “dreaming again?” +</p> + +<p> +Barry turned—he was seated on the edge of the library table—and +smiled at the speaker. Countess Colonna was a woman of medium height, +sturdily built, and deep-chested, as were all the Cumberlands. Her +crisp gray hair was closely bobbed; her unflinching steel-gray eyes +looked out from under thick, dark eyebrows to tell the world that a +dissolute husband had not crushed her spirit. She had been handsome in +her youth. The Cumberland nose in a woman was not unattractive. +</p> + +<p> +Her dress was somewhat masculine, consisting of a smart dinner jacket +with white silk waistcoat—the latter cut moderately low—a short +black skirt, black silk stockings, and chic black shoes. That she had +hitherto refrained from wearing trousers Barry regarded as a +concession, for which he was duly grateful. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Micky,” he said—“all set?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely,” his aunt replied, lighting a very large cigarette and +replacing the lighter in the pocket of her jacket. “I have always +avoided your speak-easy, young Cumberland, because I don’t want to be +mixed up in a raid. But, as I don’t care for whisky with dinner, I +have fallen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Splendid,” replied Barry, laughing. “We shall make you a complete +sinner yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“I aim to be,” said Aunt Micky, “on my ‘night.’ The night over, there +isn’t a better citizen in the United States than Michael Colonna.” +</p> + +<p> +“There isn’t a better sport in the world,” added Barry affectionately. +“Pity you never married again, Micky.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be a damn’ fool!” was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +As they came down the steps to the street: +</p> + +<p> +“Hello!” said Barry, “why have we got the big car?” +</p> + +<p> +“John has taken the other,” his aunt replied. +</p> + +<p> +She wore a French cape, red-lined, with which in the high wind she was +struggling valiantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Where has he gone?” Barry asked, as Hemingway held open the door of +the car. +</p> + +<p> +“He is dining with the man Danbazzar,” Aunt Micky answered, getting +in. +</p> + +<p> +“That means he’s spending money,” Barry mused as he dropped down upon +the seat beside her. “What is it this time? A scarab or half the side +of a temple?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t say.” His aunt shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t like Danbazzar. +Fascinating man, but don’t like him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oddly enough, I have never met him,” Barry said. “But I know he has +done business with Dad for years.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently the car pulled up before an ordinary-looking chop house, and +Barry jumped out, helping Aunt Micky to alight. She stared in through +the open windows, beyond which rows of tables might be seen, some +already occupied; she glanced up at the signboard and looked into the +narrow doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly Ritzy,” she commented. +</p> + +<p> +“Not to look at,” Barry admitted. “But the wine is <i>bon</i>; so are the +liqueurs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well,” his aunt mused, “sin leads our footsteps into strange +bypaths.” +</p> + +<p> +They went in. Barry had reserved a table to which a very gentlemanly +Irishman conducted them. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t my friends arrived, Pat?” Barry inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Mr. Cumberland. But you are a shade early.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry glanced at his watch and then at the clock. +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” he agreed. “What about two special cocktails?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely,” his aunt inquired, ignoring all offers of assistance and +throwing her cavalry cloak across the back of a chair—“precisely what +is a ‘special cocktail’?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is clearly indicated to-night,” Barry assured her. +</p> + +<p> +“Then let it be brought,” said Aunt Micky. +</p> + +<p> +The cocktails had just been served and Barry was studying the menu +when Jim appeared in the open doorway, staring from table to table in +quest of his party. Beside him stood a pretty girl wearing a very +modern dance frock, a fragment of silvery gauze. Barry stood up, +waving, and Aunt Micky shaded her eyes with her hand, a mannerism +indicating disapproval. She drew a deep breath as the new arrivals +approached, Jack Lorrimer observed of many observers. +</p> + +<p> +“H’m,” she murmured—“silver currency coming in again. Young Lorrimer +has a dollar in front, a dollar behind and no change. Barry, the +girl’s nude!” +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up, Micky!” said her embarrassed nephew. “Hello, Jack! Hello, +Jim! They are bringing your cocktails.” +</p> + +<p> +When everyone was seated, Aunt Micky shaded her eyes again, surveying +Jack from shingled nut-brown hair downward to the table edge. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you liking my frock,” the girl asked, “or hating it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither,” was the reply. “I am looking for it.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim applauded softly, and Jack turned to Barry for sympathy, leaning +forward so that two curly heads were very close together. +</p> + +<p> +“Do <i>you</i> see anything wrong with me?” she pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +Jim watched in tragic disapproval, then rested his hand upon Aunt +Micky’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at them!” he said—“admired, self-satisfied—pink and white. +Micky, we brunettes must hang together!” +</p> + +<p> +The dinner turned out a great success. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Micky followed a routine on these occasions: drinking red wine +because of its pleasing resemblance to blood, eating a prodigious +quantity of celery, taking the blue-plate item in the menu regardless +of its constitution, and winding up with rum omelette in flames, +because it was “so hellish.” +</p> + +<p> +The notorious play bored her. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going home to read in bed,” she declared, as they waited outside +the theatre for the car. “I shall read <i>The Sorrows of Satan</i>, by +Marie Corelli.” +</p> + +<p> +They dropped her at the Cumberland town house, an old-fashioned +mansion in one of those sections of the big city where a few historic +families still linger. A tired-looking person was smoking a slightly +used cigar and supporting the iron post which decorated a neighbouring +corner. As the door closed and Barry came down to reënter the car, +the weary man saluted him. +</p> + +<p> +“Bloated capitalist,” Jim murmured; “living in constant terror of the +honest but starving burglar. Your wretched treasures guarded night and +day by detectives——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Barry, laughing, and directing Hemingway through the tube. +“It seems funny to me. Because I can’t imagine the most hard-working +burglar staggering away with a couple of hundred-weights of granite +sphinx on his back.” +</p> + +<p> +“I much prefer the detective’s life,” Jim continued irrepressibly. +“The detective’s life is the life for me. ‘All forms of shadowing +undertaken. Divorce and blackmail our specialties. Order your armed +guards by telephone. One to five thousand—in uniform—at a moment’s +notice. Our watchword: Shoot to Kill. Telegraphic address: Confidence, +New York’——” +</p> + +<p> +“For the love of Mike,” Jack implored, “be quiet for five minutes!” +</p> + +<p> +The car threaded its way through Fifth Avenue, and, at the very moment +of its turning into that thoroughfare sacred to prohibitive prices, a +traffic signal checked them. A French limousine shot past ahead, its +occupants clearly visible. They were two; and as the man was seated on +the off-side, Barry had never a glimpse of his features. But the girl +wore a curious black veil, of a fashion neither Oriental nor Spanish. +</p> + +<p> +She had apparently just raised it, but dropped it again swiftly on +seeing another car so near. Yet she failed to veil quickly enough to +prevent Barry obtaining a glimpse of her face. He uttered a loud cry. +To the astonishment of his friends—even Jim was silenced—he wrenched +open the door and leaped out into the street! +</p> + +<p> +He ran three or four paces and stood there like a madman, right in the +traffic fairway, glaring after the retreating car! Its number was +indistinguishable. He turned, staring back at Hemingway, who was +regarding him with deep concern. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I really going mad?” he muttered. +</p> + +<p> +The girl in the car was the girl of the balcony! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch06"> +CHAPTER VI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">DANBAZZAR</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> abstracted mood of Barry during the remainder of the evening was +too noticeable to pass without comment. His dance partner, Naomi, a +girl friend of Jack’s grew very petulant, until Jack was really sorry +for her. This wouldn’t have mattered, but Jack showed it. Whereupon +Naomi became furious. +</p> + +<p> +Barry knew that he would not lack successors, however, for a lot of +their crowd were there, and Naomi was what Jim termed “a star looker.” +Accordingly he excused himself early on some imaginary pretext and +started for home. He had let Hemingway go, and he taxied back. He +longed for the solitude of his own room—for reflection. +</p> + +<p> +He wanted to argue this thing out with himself once and for all. He +wanted to know if he had been purposely mystified by the occupants of +the hillside house, or whether he was succumbing to a delusion. This +he must determine, for his highly sensitive nature demanded it. The +family physician had warned him that the blow to his skull had been a +severe one, and that he must on no account overtax his brain for at +least a year to come. Somewhat belatedly he began to take this warning +to heart. +</p> + +<p> +Had it been a covert intimation that he was threatened with insanity? +</p> + +<p> +The detective on duty at the corner saluted him again as he discharged +the taxi. Jim Sakers’s words returned to his mind while he fumbled for +a key. He remembered too that his father had advocated a long vacation +abroad. +</p> + +<p> +What did this mean? Should he regard it as confirming his worst +theories? Or did his father suspect that there was some deep plot +afoot? Reared from childhood in an atmosphere of luxury, he had never +hitherto appreciated, in all its significance, the fact that he was +the son of a millionaire. +</p> + +<p> +As he was passing the library he heard voices; one of them +unmistakable, the other deep, resonant—equally unfamiliar. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland as a rule retired early, and Barry paused, wondering +whom this late visitor might be. Curious, he rapped and opened the +door. +</p> + +<p> +He looked down the long rectangular room. The Cumberland library was +one of the acknowledged “sights” of New York, but to Barry it was a +commonplace. It was lined with relics of that wonderful civilization +which flourished under the Pharaohs. Its very atmosphere was +reminiscent of the Nile land, of the indescribable smell of Egypt. +</p> + +<p> +His father was seated in the big armchair, looking up at a wall +painting from Medinet Habu. Facing him, and seated on a corner of the +library table—a favourite perch of Barry’s—was a man of arresting +appearance. +</p> + +<p> +He was in dinner kit, but in lieu of the more regular black bow +displayed a stock. His hair, brushed back from a fine brow, was +silver-gray; his head leonine; the pale chiselled features were of +Moorish severity. He wore a short moustache and a small tuft beneath +his lower lip, of that kind once known as an imperial. He was built +massively, imposingly. His eyes, which at Barry’s entrance had turned +in the direction of the door, were light brown and, in their piercing +regard, resembled the eyes of an animal. He stood up, revealing his +height, which Barry estimated to be more than six feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Barry!” said John Cumberland. “Glad you looked in. I should +like you to meet Mr. Danbazzar.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar raised his hand in a slow, majestic movement, and: +</p> + +<p> +“I am delighted to meet Mr. Barry Cumberland,” he replied, and his +voice possessed a deep organ note. “But you forget, Mr. +Cumberland”—turning to the elder man—“that I lay no claim to the +title of Mister. I am Danbazzar; neither Danbazzar Esquire, Sir +Danbazzar, nor Lord Danbazzar; merely Danbazzar.” +</p> + +<p> +He came forward, extending his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Barry Cumberland, I hope you and I will be friends, as your +father and I have been for many years.” +</p> + +<p> +Half attracted, half repelled, Barry took the extended hand—and +experienced a mighty grip, which greatly reassured him. He smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“You can be sure of it, Mr.—I beg your pardon—Danbazzar,” he +returned. “I heard voices. That was why I came in.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar inclined his head graciously and placed a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you would like to sit here?” he said. “We are discussing a +matter upon which I think your father would welcome your views.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry sat down, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so, Dad?” he asked. “What’s the big argument?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no argument, Barry,” was the reply; “there isn’t room for +any. It’s a proposition, and it’s up to me to say Yes or No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely,” Danbazzar murmured; and resumed his seat upon the corner +of the library table. +</p> + +<p> +He had an odd trick of tensing and then relaxing his lips. He did it +now, looking from the older to the younger man. Then, from a box upon +the table, he selected a cigarette, lighted it, and reflectively blew +a puff of smoke toward the dancers and other ladies of Pharaoh’s +golden court displayed upon the wall above him. +</p> + +<p> +Barry, his mind full of his own affairs, settled down rather +reluctantly to listen. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid this is going to be right over my head,” he confessed. +“But it’s bound to be interesting, so fire away. What is it all +about?” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar waved his cigarette in the direction of John Cumberland, and +the latter, smiling, replied: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a deal in Egyptian antiquities, Barry, as no doubt you surmise. +But in a new kind of antiquity—different from any Danbazzar has ever +offered me before; different in every way.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” boomed the deep voice. “No such proposition has been +made to any living man, I should guess, since the days of Rameses the +Ninth.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar imparted a quality of awe to this extraordinary statement +which was not without its effect upon Barry. He found himself studying +the large, well-shaped hand holding a lighted cigarette and discovered +a curious fascination in a little scarab ring on the fourth finger. As +one does upon meeting a man of whom one has heard much, he endeavoured +to sum up his impressions of Danbazzar and to compare the result with +what he had hitherto learned about him. +</p> + +<p> +He was reputed to be the agent of an individual or a syndicate in +Egypt, and it was rumoured that his activities had more than once +attracted official attention. Certainly, he had been the medium +through which many rare antiquities had reached collections of wealthy +connoisseurs, and indeed, more than one public institution. John +Cumberland’s museum had been enriched by not a few items obtained in +this way. And since the export of such antiques was contrary to the +laws of the Egyptian government, and their importation subject to a +heavy tax by that of the United States, it was only reasonable to +suppose that Danbazzar was a smuggler. But he was master of his +subject, a fact to which the names of his patrons testified. His +nationality was unknown. +</p> + +<p> +“It is some years since we have met,” John Cumberland pursued, “On the +last occasion, if I remember rightly, you brought me——” +</p> + +<p> +He pointed to a very beautiful enamelled casket enclosed in a glass +case. +</p> + +<p> +“Correct,” Danbazzar nodded. “There are only two of that period in +existence, and the other is in the Louvre. I had the honour to supply +it to France, as I told you at the time of our deal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I remember,” said John Cumberland. “And now, Barry—” turning to +his son—“I have been given first refusal of a proposition which, if +it matures, will win me a place among the <i>real</i> Egyptologists; let me +in on the ground floor, in fact.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar raised his hand, checking the speaker. +</p> + +<p> +“One moment, Mr. Cumberland,” he interrupted, and turned to Barry, +fixing upon him a penetrating glance from his extraordinary eyes. “You +quite understand that what you are about to hear must not be mentioned +in any shape or form to anyone now outside this room?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite,” said Barry, almost startled by the intensity of the speaker’s +gaze. “You may rely upon me.” +</p> + +<p> +He glanced at his father, and realized that he was labouring under the +influence of intense excitement. His voice, his colour, his movements +betrayed him. +</p> + +<p> +Enthusiastic though John Cumberland had always been upon this subject, +Barry could never remember to have seen him quite so roused before. He +felt, suddenly, that he stood upon the verge of something momentous. +The shadow of Ancient Egypt at last was reaching out to touch him. He +experienced a momentary shrinking, followed by a thrill of +anticipation, communicated, possibly, from father to son. +</p> + +<p> +“I have seen a papyrus to-night, Barry,” John Cumberland went on, +“which even my limited study of the subject”—he acknowledged with a +smile Danbazzar’s gesture of denial—“shows me to be unique. You shall +see it presently, if you wish—that is, with my friend’s consent.” +</p> + +<p> +Consent was given in a gracious gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“It may mean little to you, but it has meant much to me. I foresee +that reproductions of it will occupy a place in the library of every +student of Egyptology. It will be more sought after than the Papyrus +Harris, or the Papyrus Ebers. The discovery of the Rosetta Stone, +itself, will almost be dwarfed by the publication of the Danbazzar +Papyrus——” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Cumberland!” Danbazzar’s voice broke in imperiously. “You have +heard my proposition with all its conditions. If you accept them, the +papyrus shall be known as the ‘Cumberland Papyrus.’ Upon this I +insist. It is no more than your due. By your efforts its authenticity +must be established.” +</p> + +<p> +“A minor point,” John Cumberland assured him. “My share will be that +of a backer. You are the discoverer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not of the sarcophagus,” was the reply. “This has yet to be +discovered, and can only be discovered by your help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tremendously thrilling!” said Barry, standing up restlessly and +lighting a fresh cigarette; “but, as I expected, right over my head. +Does it mean a job of exploration or something?” +</p> + +<p> +“It does,” said his father, looking at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Might I take a peep at this papyrus?” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar bowed gravely, and from the other side of the library table +took up a large portfolio having double locks. He opened it carefully +and spread out a stained fragment, some three feet in length, part of +which was clearly missing and other parts of which were defaced by +curious stains. +</p> + +<p> +It bore rows of figures of a type quite familiar to Barry, but +nevertheless meaningless, and some of the colouring retained much of +its original freshness. It seemed to deal with the inevitable subject +of burial, but upon one figure, perfectly preserved, he fastened his +gaze as if hypnotized. It was that of a slender girl, more delicately +drawn than any he ever remembered to have seen. But that which held +him enthralled was the resemblance, the uncanny resemblance, of this +figure to the girl of the balcony. +</p> + +<p> +Allowing for the conventional methods of the ancient artist, it might +have been her portrait! +</p> + +<p> +He heard Danbazzar speaking. +</p> + +<p> +“My own translation is here,” he was saying, indicating a manuscript +which he held in his hand. “I have asked your father to have it +checked by any two authorities he may select. But the theory that I +have based upon this is the point that will interest you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will startle you out of your life!” John Cumberland interjected. +</p> + +<p> +Barry looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“What <i>is</i> the theory?” he asked, looking from face to face. +</p> + +<p> +“The theory is,” Danbazzar replied, “that unless some unforeseen +accident occurs, or has already occurred, we shall shortly be in a +position to learn some of the secrets of Ancient Egypt from the lips +of one who lived there!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch07"> +CHAPTER VII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">ZALITHEA</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">I should</span> be glad,” said John Cumberland, “if you would just run +over the main facts again for Barry’s benefit.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar inclined his head in that courtly manner which was his and +glanced aside at the younger man. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so,” Barry agreed. His original purpose was forgotten, for here +apparently was an even deeper mystery than that which had been +puzzling him. “At the moment I simply don’t know what to make of it +all, so please start right at the beginning.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar took up a position before the mantelpiece. Barry could not +help thinking that the background suited the figure. The man had the +majestic presence of a Pharaoh. +</p> + +<p> +“The facts,” he began, speaking slowly and impressively and +emphasizing his statements with graceful and unfamiliar gestures, “are +of a sort which you would be justified in doubting if you met them in +a Sunday newspaper. My reputation, though, gives them a greater value. +But in spite of a life devoted to these subjects, I’m not infallible, +and I won’t consent to go any further, as I have already told you, Mr. +Cumberland”—turning in the latter’s direction—“until two other +opinions have been taken.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your proposal is fair and reasonable,” was the reply; “and I have +already agreed to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well!” Danbazzar resumed. “The story starts from five years ago, +when I was paying one of my periodical visits to Egypt, and when I +discovered”—he pointed—“this papyrus. I won’t bore you with +particulars of how it came into my possession as Mr. John Cumberland +has these already. Nor can I account for its presence in the place +where it was found. Enough to say that I recognized it to be genuine +and immediately set to work to decipher it. I tried to restore, as far +as possible, those parts which had become defaced. +</p> + +<p> +“A first glance had shown me that it was not the ordinary ritual +buried with most mummies. A very short study proved that is was +unique—unique in every way—and that it dated from the latter part of +the reign of Seti the First.” +</p> + +<p> +“When did he reign?” Barry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Roughly, about thirteen hundred and sixty years before Christ!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens!” Barry stared again at the fragment with its amazing +freshness of colouring; “then this thing is something over three +thousand two hundred years old?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely,” Danbazzar nodded. “In other words, it dates from a time +when the art of mummifying human bodies had reached a very high state +of perfection. One day, perhaps very soon, you will see the mummy of +Seti himself in the Cairo Museum. You will never forget the majesty of +his features preserved by that lost art for over three thousand years. +I mention the fact of the high development of the art of the mummy +maker at this period, because the contents of the papyrus show that +this had been achieved by long years of study, and that even more +extraordinary results were looked for by a certain group of students +closely associated with Pharaoh’s court. +</p> + +<p> +“I found it to consist of two parts. The first, fortunately, almost +complete, the second, as you see, with a great part missing. How much +is missing I can’t even surmise, but I should say that from this +point”—he bent forward and laid a long finger upon the papyrus—“to +the end where it is torn covers a period of some two hundred and +eighty years. It bears the names, or as we should say, the signatures, +of six generations of priests. +</p> + +<p> +“The first and shorter part, written toward the end of Seti’s reign, +if I’m not mistaken, states that in accordance with the wishes of a +certain learned high priest of the Temple of Amen Ra at Thebes and +with the consent of Pharaoh, an attempt was made to prove that not +only the physical frame but human life itself could be preserved +indefinitely under peculiar conditions.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” Barry exclaimed incredulously—“that a living person could be +mummified and remain alive?” +</p> + +<p> +“This priest,” Danbazzar replied, “referred to in the papyrus—his +name would mean nothing to you—believed that he had perfected a +process for accomplishing this! It was all an outcome of that peculiar +egotism which belonged to the Ancient Egyptians. And in this way, no +doubt, he interested Pharaoh in his experiments. +</p> + +<p> +“You get what I mean? The statues and records which had preserved for +posterity the principal events of earlier reigns weren’t good enough +to tell coming ages of the greatness of Seti the First! To <i>his</i> glory +a <i>living witness</i> should be left behind to testify to the ancient +grandeur of Egypt. This is stated at the beginning of the papyrus, +which then goes on to relate that a beautiful captive, attached to the +person of the Queen, was selected for this high honour.” +</p> + +<p> +“High honour!” cried Barry. “You mean she was selected to be put to +death!” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar smiled slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“As it is stated that she was of great beauty and bodily perfection,” +he admitted, “it is just possible that an element of jealousy entered +into this selection. At any rate, for whatever reason, this girl was +chosen, and she is referred to in the writing as Zalithea, a Princess +of Unu, taken captive in the wars of Seti. As Egyptologists have never +succeeded in identifying this island of Unu, we can’t even guess at +the nationality of Zalithea. But she possibly came from the +neighbourhood of Cyprus. +</p> + +<p> +“Now—” he paused, raising his finger—“the nature of the process by +which this suspension of life was induced, and that by which it was to +be ended, or the subject awakened, is not mentioned. This papyrus”—he +lowered his finger and pointed again—“is no more than a brief +statement of the fact that, in accordance with the wishes of Pharaoh, +Princess Zalithea was selected for this high honour and laid in a +certain tomb under the guardianship of a group of priests appointed as +custodians. +</p> + +<p> +“Certain funds were set aside for the upkeep of the small temple +attached to the tomb, and one of the most extraordinary experiments +ever attempted by man had begun.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” Barry objected, “while I’m not in a position to dispute the +genuineness of this writing, it’s—well, what shall I say?—it’s +really a nightmare—the dream of a madman—who unfortunately had power +enough to carry it out and condemn this poor girl to a living death! +Thank God we live in an age of <i>real</i> civilization!” +</p> + +<p> +His father caught his eye, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t judge until you have heard all the facts,” he said. “The +civilization of Ancient Egypt was more real, and higher, than you +appreciate.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true,” Danbazzar resumed, unmoved by Barry’s criticism, “as +the second part of the papyrus bears out. This roughly covers the +reigns of seven kings. In the ages that have since gone by time has +reduced the whole of the papyrus to a more or less uniform colour. In +fact, some of the earlier colouring is brighter than the later, but +here”—he stepped forward to the table—“we move from somewhere around +1365 up to somewhere about 1200 B.C. It was the duty of the priests, +to which they were sworn, to examine the sleeping Zalithea at certain +periods which I estimate to have been fifty years apart.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean to awaken her?” Barry demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely!” said Danbazzar. “They were entrusted with a certain formula +by means of which, in the belief of its inventor, the sleeping woman +could be aroused from her trance. It was their duty at specific dates +to record the results. Here we have five such records, covering a +period of some two hundred and fifty years, as I estimate. Each, as +you see, is confined within a ruled space, and every one is +undoubtedly the work of a different scribe and possesses recognizable +characteristics of the period in which it was written. Each also bears +what we may term the signature of the chief priest in office at the +time, and the accounts, while the wording varies slightly, all tally. +The last, or the last to be preserved, states as the others state, and +is attested by three witnesses, priests of the temple, that at this +time <i>the Princess Zalithea was still living!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” Barry exclaimed. “It simply isn’t credible! Don’t +misunderstand me! I am not doubting your translation or the +genuineness of the thing! But there must be some mistake!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are entitled to suppose so,” Danbazzar admitted. “It was because +I supposed so myself that I allowed several years to elapse before +making the proposition that I have made to-night to your father. +During those years I have not been idle. A trusted agent of mine in +Egypt, working upon such information as I could give him, had been +searching—secretly, of course—and twelve months ago his search was +rewarded.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was he searching for?” Barry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He was searching for the tomb of Zalithea! You see, it would be +unlikely to attract the attention of the ordinary excavator, its +historical importance being slight—except in relation to this +papyrus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean that he found it?” Barry demanded amazedly. +</p> + +<p> +“He found it!” Danbazzar replied. “There <i>is</i> such a tomb!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you understand, Barry?” said John Cumberland excitedly. “Do you +understand what this may mean?” +</p> + +<p> +Barry in bewilderment looked from his father to Danbazzar and then +stared down at the papyrus on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“I worked on it all last winter,” Danbazzar went on quietly. “I opened +a way in—and I found myself checked by a great stone portcullis.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean,” said Barry dazedly, “you spent last winter in Egypt, +actually excavating?” +</p> + +<p> +“Actually on the job! I got away with murder. I had no permit to dig. +But I’ve explained my system to your father. I’d hoped to go back this +season; but funds won’t allow. It’s going to be ruinously expensive to +complete that excavation. But the man who <i>does</i> complete it will make +a name for himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“If,” John Cumberland went on, “she remained alive for three hundred +years, Barry, why not for three thousand?” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Dad,” said Barry, “this is raving lunacy!” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems so,” Danbazzar admitted gravely; “but five generations of +learned men whose names we have here testify to the fact. Are we to +assume that they were all liars? If so, with what object did they lie? +I found the tomb—unopened, untouched!” +</p> + +<p> +But Barry’s attention had wandered again, and the words reached him +but vaguely. He was staring intently at the graceful figure in the +papyrus which aroused such strange memories. And now, turning to +Danbazzar, and resting his finger upon that part of the record: +</p> + +<p> +“What does this mean?” he asked. “Is it a symbol?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” was the reply. “You will notice on the right of the figure what +looks like a cartouche. I have been unable to identify it, though. +Translated, it means, ‘She Who Sleeps but Who Will Awaken.’ For this +reason I take the figure to be a portrait of the Princess Zalithea.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch08"> +CHAPTER VIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">SPECIAL OPINIONS</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">The</span> last time the man Danbazzar was about,” said Countess Colonna, +“the result was that a motor lorry and ten men arrived. The front +doors were taken off their hinges and a stone figure as big as the +Statue of Liberty was carried into the library.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think it will happen this time, Micky,” Barry assured her. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope not,” was the reply. “I don’t like Danbazzar. I always imagine +him living in a harem.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t met the sportsman,” said Jim Sakers, “but I am going to +crash into the University Club to-night and look him over keenly. If I +don’t approve, Barry, I shan’t hesitate to advise you to drop him. On +the other hand, I may be favourably impressed. And as is only fair to +him, if this should prove to be the case, I shall relieve your mind at +once and let you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” Barry replied. “I shall be in a frightfully unsettled state +until I have your opinion.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s quite natural,” Jim agreed; “but I promise not to keep you in +suspense.” +</p> + +<p> +“It occurs to me, young Sakers,” Aunt Micky broke in, “that you and I +are being deliberately kept in the dark about this thing. Young +Cumberland here has a secret eye. It’s his left!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You hit the nail on the head, Micky,” he admitted. “Danbazzar has +come across with a proposal about which I have promised to say +nothing. It’s a very queer business—more than queer, in fact; but +to-night I shall know more about it. Dad has invited him to join us at +the University Club with Dr. Rittenburg of the Smithsonian, Horace +Pain, the big Oriental man, and Dad’s old friend, Dr. Blackwell of +Yale.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a wild party!” Jim commented. “I suppose you are going on to the +Earl Carroll Vanities after dinner?” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary,” Barry assured him, “we are going on to Danbazzar’s +place.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t delude me,” cried Jim scornfully. “I see Dr. Rittenburg and +Professor Blackwell dancing far into the small hours of the morning in +some small but costly cabaret. I can see you all, haggard-eyed, +flushed with wine, a really shocking Six, taking breakfast at Child’s +on Fifth Avenue as the morning sun peeps in upon the end of your +debauch. Barry, I’m sorry, but you are making the pace too fast.” +</p> + +<p> +The dinner turned out more successful, however, than Jim had +predicted. Barry’s father had never before so taken him into his +confidence in regard to this hobby of his life, and under different +circumstances he would certainly have come prepared to be bored. As it +chanced, the company proved to be so amusing that he was amazed to +find how quickly the time passed. +</p> + +<p> +Horace Pain, the celebrated Orientalist, was all that he had expected +of him; a dry, slow-spoken scholar, whose only enthusiasm was for his +subject. But Dr. Rittenburg proved to be a comedian who would have +rejoiced Jim’s heart. He was a round little man—a study in curves. +His red face was round, his bald head was round, and he wore very +round glasses. He and Professor Blackwell succeeded in keeping the +party in a state of continuous laughter; for Professor Blackwell, +tall, gaunt, and saturnine, had a fund of wit, as Barry knew, which +seemed to be inexhaustible. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar, too, was a delightful companion. There seemed to be few +spots in the world, civilized or uncivilized, that he had not visited, +from the headwaters of the Amazon to the monasteries of Thibet. The +real purpose of the meeting was not touched upon, however, until the +party had adjourned to the library of the club. Here, as they took +their seats in an alcove, Barry observed Jim. Faithful to his promise, +he had “crashed in.” +</p> + +<p> +With an exaggerated air of secrecy, based upon the Charlie Chaplin +tradition, he crept around the gallery above, turning his back swiftly +whenever one of the party looked up, and apparently searching for some +book which he always failed to find. Crouching low behind the rails, +so that only the top of his head and his eyes were visible, he peered +down intently. This amazing piece of pantomime was only interrupted by +the decision of the party to adjourn serious discussion to Danbazzar’s +apartment. +</p> + +<p> +But, as they quitted the club and got into John Cumberland’s big car +which waited outside, Jim Sakers, his face buried in an evening paper, +hat brim pulled down over scowling features, stood beside the steps +watching intently. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar’s apartment, Barry had always been given to understand, +contained a number of literally priceless objects, every one unique +and irreplaceable, and any one of which he could have sold over and +over again for incredible sums. Used to the orderly neatness of his +father’s collection, he came prepared to find something similar, +although probably on a smaller scale. +</p> + +<p> +The address proved to be situated amid some of the loudest noises of +New York. He had thought vaguely, before, that it was an odd spot to +live in. But he had not allowed for the fact that Danbazzar lived on +the roof. Here, like a priest of Bel, high above all the buildings +surrounding him, Danbazzar from a cloudy silence looked down upon +teeming streets, thousands of lighted windows, dwarfed sky signs. +</p> + +<p> +His apartment was virtually a bungalow from the porch of which one +stepped into a sort of Japanese garden, with flowering vines and +tortuous, spiny cacti. A large pond was approached through a loggia +and peopled by golden carp. From little arbours around the wall one +might look down upon a muted New York. An Arab servant, who apparently +knew not one word of English, attended upon the guests; and presently +they entered a large, low room, in which the famed collection was +housed. +</p> + +<p> +Here, Barry had a shock. The value of the statuettes, vases, mummies, +caskets, items of jewellery, and other nameless relics of Egypt he +could not dispute. But instead of being formally lined up in wall +cases and cabinets, they were littered about the place in the utmost +confusion. +</p> + +<p> +A magnificently painted sarcophagus had been converted into a cupboard +to contain bottles of Scotch whisky, old brandy, champagne, and other +material comforts. Cigar butts disfigured the polished floor. There +were books and papers lying about anywhere and everywhere. +</p> + +<p> +The effect was that of a second-hand dealer’s establishment in which +somebody had been trying to rope a steer. He was unable to conceal his +amazement, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever see anything like it, Barry?” his father said, speaking +in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Never!” he confessed. “Are these things really valuable?” +</p> + +<p> +“Valuable!” exclaimed Dr. Rittenburg, who stood near. “There is a +fortune in this room.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar cleared a space upon a large table and set out the papyrus. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, gentlemen,” he said in his courtly manner, “let us get to the +business of the evening. I have given you, Dr. Rittenburg, and you, +Mr. Pain, an opportunity of examining and testing this piece of +writing. I await your opinion.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have anticipated it,” said John Cumberland, in a voice that +betrayed suppressed excitement. +</p> + +<p> +Horace Pain removed the cigar from between his teeth, cleared his +throat, and: +</p> + +<p> +“I know Professor Rittenburg’s opinion,” he said, “and he knows mine. +The papyrus is undeniably genuine. It has points of resemblance to the +Turin Papyrus which I shall presently point out, as I have already +pointed them out to my friend Dr. Rittenburg. Respecting the claims of +its writer, or writers, I shall have nothing to say. This is outside +my province. As, I take it”—turning to John Cumberland—“it is +outside yours? I mean, your interest, like mine, is in the writing +itself, not in what it states.” +</p> + +<p> +“Partly,” John Cumberland replied, glancing swiftly in Danbazzar’s +direction. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” Pain went on, in his dry, hard voice, “I mean to say that a +parallel is the medical papyrus in Berlin. No one would think of +making up a prescription from it. You agree with me, +Professor?”—turning in the direction of Professor Blackwell. +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with you entirely,” was the reply. “It contains among other +things a prescription for a hair restorer which, I will guarantee, +would turn Paderewski bald in a fortnight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly,” Dr. Rittenburg agreed. “I look upon this business of the +sleeping Princess as a sort of religious ritual, Cumberland, similar +to the worship of the Apis Bull—only kept up for political reasons to +delude the people, and to preserve the immortal name of Seti. +Something of that kind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite beside the point, gentlemen,” Danbazzar’s deep voice broke in. +“The fact that the papyrus is genuine and, in your opinion, dates from +the time of the Pharaoh mentioned in it is the thing of interest to +Mr. Cumberland and to myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of this I am certain.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Rittenburg nodded his round head vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +“So am I,” Horace Pain admitted. “Of course, its publication will +create a profound sensation, and the museums of the world will outbid +one another to get it.” +</p> + +<p> +“They will bid in vain,” Danbazzar replied. “Mr. John Cumberland has +acquired it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” exclaimed Dr. Rittenburg. “But of course you will publish a +reproduction? Every student in the world is entitled to access to such +a discovery.” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland smiled happily. No triumph that his business had +offered or could offer compared with the thrill of such a moment as +this. +</p> + +<p> +“In due course,” he said, “but not yet.” +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon a debate arose concerning certain papyri, with the mere +names of which Barry was unacquainted, and their points of resemblance +to this one. Much excellent old brandy aided the debate. The two +experts disagreed fiercely; but at a late hour, Dr. Rittenburg and +Horace Pain having departed quite reconciled: +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said John Cumberland, “with Danbazzar’s consent, I shall +discuss this matter with you, Blackwell. Your province is rather +physiological than archæological. We have had expert opinion on the +papyrus itself, and now we should like to have your opinion upon the +feasibility of the claims made in it.” +</p> + +<p> +The silent Arab replenished the guests’ glasses, except the +Professor’s; for Blackwell, who was already lost in thought, waved him +aside. The distinguished scientist was a tall man, though not so tall +as Danbazzar, and built bonily. He was clean-shaven, with a long +strong nose; and from his high brow, hair which was beginning to go +gray was carelessly brushed back. His clothes would have fitted +someone else better than they fitted the Professor, and he wore a low +double collar with his dinner jacket, allowing free play to an +enormously developed Adam’s apple. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes, behind the thick pebbles of his glasses, resembled two +interrogation marks. +</p> + +<p> +“I never jump to conclusions,” he began, thoughtfully selecting a +cigar from a box which Danbazzar slid across the table in his +direction. +</p> + +<p> +The box was an Ancient Egyptian curiosity, but Professor Blackwell had +not even noticed the fact: his thoughts were elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +“Life,” he went on, “considered in the abstract, is the one thing of +which Science knows nothing. Adolf Weisman maintained that duration of +life is dependent upon adaptation to external conditions. We may take +the case of what is sometimes termed ‘mummy wheat.’ Personally, I +cannot vouch for these stories.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>I</i> can,” Danbazzar said gravely. “I myself have seen grains of wheat +taken from a tomb of the fourteenth dynasty cultivated.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did they yield any crop?” the Professor inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Danbazzar acknowledged. “They shot up a very tender green to a +height of six inches and then died.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite, quite,” murmured the Professor, “but the life principle was +present, you see—dormant, but present. There is the case of a toad +imprisoned in a rock cavity for several generations, vouched for by +persons of repute, and I once examined, in India, a fakir who claimed +the power to unhitch his spirit from his body. Under these conditions +he presented every appearance of death and existed without visible +wasting for a long period unsustained by food or drink of any kind. +The question really is whether the tissues could be preserved over so +long a period as this”—nodding toward the papyrus—“indicated.” +</p> + +<p> +“If for three hundred years, why not for three thousand?” John +Cumberland demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite, quite,” the professor murmured; “but unfortunately this fact +rests upon what I may term ‘hearsay.’ The people who wrote it have +been dead for some little time, you must remember!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a short silence, broken by Danbazzar. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you ever seen the mummy of Seti the First?” he demanded in his +deep, impressive tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” Professor Blackwell looked up slowly. “Curiously enough, I was +thinking about him. He, of course, dates from somewhere about the same +period as Princess Zalithea, and the preservation in this case is +remarkable. But the system of mummifying employed on Seti could not be +employed on a living person. It is very interesting, though—very +interesting. A German physiologist whom I met in Berlin recently—I +forget his name, but he was a knowledgeable man—was anxious to +attempt some experiment of the kind, in a small way, upon a hypnotized +subject. The difficulty, of course, was to find the subject.” +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally!” said Barry, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +The Professor glanced aside at him over his spectacles. And then: +</p> + +<p> +“I pointed out to my German acquaintance,” he went on, “that normal +processes of decay would proceed under these conditions quite +inevitably. And if there is anything in the extraordinary claims made +in this papyrus, I can only assume that some formula must have been +invented to check these processes. Of course, it is frightfully +empirical. One dare not raise such a thing seriously before modern +science. It would spell ruin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless,” said Danbazzar, “you are right—there <i>was</i> such a +formula.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” exclaimed John Cumberland, “if only we could recover it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I <i>have</i> recovered it,” Danbazzar replied calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” +</p> + +<p> +“I acquired it at the same time that I acquired this other papyrus. It +is locked in that safe over there.” +</p> + +<p> +“That settles it,” said Cumberland, standing up. “My other plans are +made. What do you estimate it would cost, Danbazzar, to finance the +expedition?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two hundred thousand dollars,” was the prompt reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Be ready in a fortnight,” said Cumberland. “I must start then or +postpone the journey till next season.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch09"> +CHAPTER IX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">EGYPT BOUND</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Some</span> people are so indecently lucky,” Jim Sakers protested. “It has +been my ambition from childhood to visit the interior of the Sphinx.” +</p> + +<p> +“You poor nut!” said Barry. “The Sphinx is solid. You mean the +interior of the Pyramid!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so hasty,” Jim rebuked him, “not so hasty, my friend. My +ambitions are not the ambitions of an ordinary man. Any fool can visit +the interior of the Pyramid if he’s lucky enough to get to Egypt. +Nothing so commonplace as that appeals to me. I said, and I repeat, +that it has always been my ambition to visit the interior of the +Sphinx. I hope I make myself clear.” +</p> + +<p> +“You expose fresh views of your ghastly ignorance at every turn,” +Barry said. “If you can think clearly for two minutes, concentrate on +what I’m going to say. Everybody seems to think that I need a +vacation, and Dad has decided to pay a visit to Egypt and to spend the +beginning of winter there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lucky, lucky man,” Jim murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“He is keen for me to go with him,” Barry went on; “and as I have +never been out of America yet, the idea rather appeals——” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather appeals!” Jim echoed. “Oh! the blasé youth of this +generation! I should cheer for an hour without stopping if my honoured +parent could be induced to get out of touch with Wall Street for a +week-end!” +</p> + +<p> +“In brief,” Barry pursued patiently, “the idea that I am trying to +drive into your thick skull is this: I am going to Egypt, and I am +going next week.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is dreadful,” Jim declared. “Think of the broken hearts in New +York. Besides, what about the Princess?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is about the Princess,” Barry returned, “that I want to speak to +you. Several people, yourself included, have tried to convince me that +I’m suffering from a delusion where this girl is concerned. But I am +just as certain as ever that I have seen her, definitely twice, +possibly three times. What I want to ask you is this: Once in a while, +when you are in that neighbourhood, see if you can find anything out.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean,” Jim suggested, “drop in on Mr. Brown and say that I have +called about the electric light, or the installment due on the Ford, +or something of that kind?” +</p> + +<p> +“Something of that kind,” Barry agreed. “Do it your own way—but just +keep a sharp lookout. And if you should pick up any information, send +me a cable. I can’t give you the route. When we get to some place up +the Nile where we are going to camp, I shall have to let you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Consider it done,” said Jim. “And now, <i>I</i> have a request to make. +Bring me back a large bottle filled with the sand of the unchanging +desert. By sprinkling this in my bathroom and walking about in bare +feet, I shall be able to imagine that I am a son of the mysterious +East. Ho, there! Fatima, my dark-eyed ship of the desert!” +</p> + +<p> +“The expression ‘ship of the desert,’ ” Barry interrupted, “usually +refers to a camel!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am talking about a camel,” Jim assured him. “The affection of the +Arab for his camel is an historical fact.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are thinking about his horse!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not thinking about his horse!” Jim cried. “The Arab I am talking +about <i>has</i> no horse, he has a camel.” +</p> + +<p> +And now: “What’s the row?” demanded a deep voice. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Micky intruded, carrying a large hatbox. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello! Micky!” Barry exclaimed. “Been shopping again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” was the reply; “it has just arrived. The best that Dobbs could +do for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Opening the box, she produced a sun helmet of dazzling white, +decorated with a puggaree band in silver, violet, and maroon. +</p> + +<p> +“Great shakes!” Jim exclaimed. “Is this for Barry?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is,” Aunt Micky returned firmly. “It is most important that he +should not expose his skull to the rays of the sun. John always wears +a helmet in the East.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know he does,” Barry admitted ruefully, contemplating this +“creation,” “but the one he wears is a decent sort of putty shade—and +without ribbons. However! Is it the right size?” +</p> + +<p> +He tried it on. +</p> + +<p> +“Really smart people,” Jim commented, “wear a feather—a small, neat +feather—stuck in the band just above the left ear. I am told that +everyone will be wearing them this season. Didn’t they tip you this at +Dobbs’, Micky?” +</p> + +<p> +“They tipped me a lot of things,” Micky returned, lighting a +cigarette, “and there are lots of things I could tip <i>you!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it,” he said; “my ignorance is appalling. But on one point +Park Avenue is agreed. I <i>do</i> know how to dress. Further, I don’t +merely put on my clothes—I wear them! Allow me, Barry.” +</p> + +<p> +He raised his hands and settled the helmet at an angle over Barry’s +right ear, then took a step back to contemplate the result. +</p> + +<p> +“Better,” he muttered, “better. That is the British Army rake. Of +course—” again grasping the helmet and tilting it forward—“there is +the Rajah rake, very popular in India, and <i>also</i>——” +</p> + +<p> +He was about to take further liberties when Barry gave him a playful +but powerful punch in the chest. +</p> + +<p> +“And <i>also</i> there is the complete limit,” he said, “and you reach it +every time, Jim.” +</p> + +<p> +Taken all around, however, the period of preparation was an exciting +one for Barry. His father was an experienced traveller and, under his +guidance, Barry acquired all sorts of equipment for the journey. On +the advice of Danbazzar, most of the camp gear, the firearms, and the +impedimenta of the excavator, they were picking up in London. +Danbazzar had prepared a formidable list of these, and Barry +discovered a great fascination in merely reading it. +</p> + +<p> +The papyrus had disappeared into Danbazzar’s great safe, and Barry +often wondered if his imagination had played him tricks in regard to +the portrait of Princess Zalithea. He had abandoned hope of ever +seeing this girl of dreams again; but Fate had one more curious +experience in store for him, and it came about in this way: +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell was leaving for Europe a week ahead of them, and +later joining the party in Egypt. Bound to strictest secrecy regarding +the nature of the expedition, his scientific curiosity had been +greatly aroused, and he had consented to be present at the opening of +the tomb when that time came. +</p> + +<p> +The steamer sailed at midnight, and Professor Blackwell had dined at +the Cumberland home prior to joining her. Barry and his father went on +board with him, inspected his stateroom, ascertained that his baggage +had arrived safely, and then: +</p> + +<p> +“There is no point in waiting,” said the Professor. “We don’t sail for +another twenty minutes or so, but it is my custom on these night +sailings to turn in. I leave unpacking until the morning. I hate all +this fuss and bustle!” +</p> + +<p> +“As you like, Blackwell,” said John Cumberland. “See you in Cairo—or, +if you have gone up the river, in Luxor. Hope you have a nice +crossing.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry and his father came down the gangway, turned to wave to the +tall, gaunt Professor at the top, and then made their way along the +pier toward the staircase. They reached the street level at +practically the same moment that the elevator started up. +</p> + +<p> +Through the iron grille of the car a girl was looking out, apparently +directly at Barry. +</p> + +<p> +He stopped dead, stared at the ascending elevator, and then, with no +explanation to his father, turned and fled back up the stairs like a +man demented! +</p> + +<p> +His behaviour was so extraordinary that a Customs official intercepted +him at the top. +</p> + +<p> +“Kindly stand aside!” Barry said breathlessly. “I have seen someone I +want to speak to—<i>must</i> speak to!” +</p> + +<p> +“Go easy, go easy!” The man persistently intruded his burly form. +“Wait a minute! Who are you running away from?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not running away from anybody!” cried Barry angrily. “Let me +pass! I want to go on board.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go easy!” the man repeated. “You can’t go on board. The last visitors +are just coming ashore. In three minutes the gangway will be +cleared——” +</p> + +<p> +And then John Cumberland, even more breathless than Barry, arrived on +the scene. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” he asked; and, to the man: “It’s all right,” he +explained. “My name is John Cumberland. My son has seen someone he +thinks he knows.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can guess who it is!” the latter returned. “And I’ve lost her +again!” +</p> + +<p> +Slipping past the mystified Customs officer, he raced out along the +pier. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond exciting amusement and astonishment among the onlookers, his +reward was nil. Of course! He was too late! And he was sure, +absolutely sure, that this time he had not been mistaken! Could it be +that she had gone on board the liner?—that she was leaving +America—still unknown, elusive to the end! +</p> + +<p> +He was prevented from reaching the gangplank. The order “Clear away!” +was given as he ran up. Realizing the hopelessness of the thing, he +turned and went back to where his father waited. His manner was +constrained. +</p> + +<p> +As they drove home, John Cumberland was very sympathetic, but secretly +was glad to think that the journey to Egypt would prove a powerful +distraction, which he considered his son badly needed. He was growing +more and more anxious about this odd obsession of Barry’s. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We are no other than a moving row</span><br> +<span class="i0">Of magic shadow-shapes which come and go,</span><br> +<span class="i0">Round with the sun-illumined lantern held</span><br> +<span class="i0">In midnight by the Master of the Show.</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The Master of the Show had many more queer tricks and illusions in +store. But neither Barry nor John Cumberland, being poor mortals, +could peep behind the scenes. The ensuing week passed like a feverish +dream, so magically does time dissolve on such occasions—and the +night of their departure for Egypt came. +</p> + +<p> +A tremendous crowd of friends turned up to see them off, Aunt Micky +more iron-jawed than usual, and full of dark theories respecting +missing baggage (which was really safely on board, of course). +</p> + +<p> +“Clean your teeth in Vichy water,” was her last injunction to Barry. +“Once you are out of England, all water is poison.” +</p> + +<p> +Then came the final shouted farewells, Danbazzar, Barry, and John +Cumberland standing at the rail as the liner crept out of her dock. +Much cheering and waving of hats. Great excitement, to be followed by +depression. And over it all came a clarion cry from Jim Sakers, +standing bareheaded far below, a megaphone upraised. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t forget, Barry!” he bellowed—“a bottle of the Unchanging +Desert! I am an Arab brave and free!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch10"> +CHAPTER X.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">CAIRO</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">From</span> the balcony of Shepheard’s Hotel, Barry fascinatedly watched +the life in the street below. This was Cairo!—real yet less than his +imaginings concerning it. +</p> + +<p> +Vendors of fly whisks, of scarabs incredibly old, of necklaces from +the tombs of queens, of red slippers, of all sorts of Birmingham ware, +clamoured in a group beneath him. They poked their offerings through +the railings at his feet. The instinct of these people was wonderful. +His father was never solicited in this way. One glance the sidewalk +merchants would give him, smile sadly and pass on. While of Danbazzar +they seemed to be positively afraid. +</p> + +<p> +The passers-by absorbed his attention. He had learned to pick out the +residents from the tourists, to recognize the curious air of +detachment, that quiet fatalism which is the seal of Africa. He had +also grown used to the <i>tarbûsh</i> worn by the British officers. At +first he had mistaken them all for Turks. But he was not yet entirely +reconciled to the presence of laden camels and smart automobiles in +the same street. +</p> + +<p> +In some of the cars he had glimpses of veiled women, whose long dark +eyes provoked him. Whenever such a <i>harem</i> car went by he craned +forward eagerly, vaguely expecting to meet the glance of eyes that he +knew. +</p> + +<p> +During the journey, he had torn himself free in a measure from this +strange infatuation, but Egypt had revived his dreams. +</p> + +<p> +He had dressed early this evening, and now, sipping a cocktail, sat +waiting for his father to join him. It was too hot yet for the big +tourist invasion, but the advance guard was already in possession. +Guide books were in evidence at several tables in his immediate +neighbourhood. To whatever government, Turkish, French, British, or +Egyptian, the people may from time to time acknowledge obedience, +everybody knows that Egypt really belongs to Thomas Cook & Son. +</p> + +<p> +To-night, Danbazzar was expected back from Luxor, where he had been to +select a base of operations and to check the information furnished by +his agent. This agent, Hassan es-Sugra by name, had met him there four +days earlier and was returning with him to Cairo. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland’s excitement had been intense all day, and Barry’s +little less. Never, until now, had Barry fully understood the hold +that Egypt and the things of Egypt had over his father. It was a +complete, an absorbing passion. The John Cumberland of New York was +barely recognizable in this keen, alert, bright-eyed man to whom the +African air was an elixir of youth, and who now crossed the terrace +and joined him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Barry,” said he, “has the spell of the Nile got hold of you +yet?” +</p> + +<p> +“It has, Dad,” Barry admitted, looking at the healthily tanned face of +the speaker; “I’m simply dying to start. I went again to-day to look +at the mummy of Seti; and even now I find it hard to believe that this +man ruled over Egypt, a civilized country, at a time when Europe was +peopled by savages, and when the American Continent was probably a +mix-up of mountains, forests, swamps, and rivers. That man was no +savage, he was a ruler of great power and intellect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly he was,” John Cumberland agreed, nodding to an acquaintance +coming up the steps. “We are very proud of our new wisdom, Barry. I +wonder how much of it is in advance of the old?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hadn’t been altogether able to believe in your hopes of success,” +Barry went on, “but the figure of Seti is beginning to make me share +them. There he lies in the flesh for everyone to see. I looked at him +yesterday for nearly half an hour, and I realized that he had known, +probably had many times spoken to, the Princess Zalithea! Dad, I’m +just crazy to be on the job! Isn’t Danbazzar late?” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland glanced at his watch; then: +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he replied. “The train got in about ten minutes ago. He should +be here at any moment now.” +</p> + +<p> +And even as he spoke an <i>arabiyeh</i> pulled up at the steps and +Danbazzar got out. +</p> + +<p> +He wore a white drill suit, the coat cut tunic fashion and buttoning +close up to the neck. His light gray felt hat with its very wide brim +awakened in this Eastern scene memories of the West. His pale skin had +assumed a deep, even tan, and, with his aquiline features, he looked +more truly of the Orient than any of the Cairenes about him. +</p> + +<p> +His gaze sought and found John Cumberland on the terrace, and he +raised his right hand in a slow, graceful gesture. A second traveller +descended from the carriage and followed Danbazzar up the steps. +</p> + +<p> +This was an æsthetic-looking Egyptian, black-robed and +white-turbaned, slender, with small delicate features and the gentle +eyes of a gazelle. He carried an ebony cane and possessed a curious +dignity, utterly unlike that of Danbazzar, yet in its way equally +impressive. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland sprang up eagerly and extended his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Is everything all right?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Everything is fine,” Danbazzar replied, and, turning, greeted Barry. +“I want you to meet our Chief of Staff, Hassan es-Sugra. What I don’t +know about the Valley of the Kings, Hassan can tell us.” +</p> + +<p> +Hassan saluted profoundly, and Danbazzar now gave him permission to be +seated. Discreetly, he took a chair a little removed from the others +and waited to be addressed. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland glanced around to make sure that he could not be +overheard; and: +</p> + +<p> +“How many men have you got?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Hassan has engaged fifteen,” was the reply. “Most of them are already +in Luxor.” +</p> + +<p> +“No suspicion has been aroused?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely none,” Danbazzar assured him. “So far, there hasn’t been a +single hitch.” +</p> + +<p> +“I take it these men are living in Luxor at present?” Barry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. In the native quarter, where most of them have friends; for they +are all excavators and used to the work.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will have cocktails in my room,” said John Cumberland. “One never +knows who may overhear us.” +</p> + +<p> +The party went upstairs to Cumberland’s suite, which overlooked the +romantic gardens of the hotel, and cocktails were ordered. Hassan +es-Sugra was a devout Moslem, one who had made the pilgrimage to +Mecca. He drank coffee, which, when the waiter presently appeared, he +took with him out on to the balcony, bowing deeply as he retired. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a mysterious fellow!” said Barry. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar fixed the speaker with his piercing regard, and: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right,” he agreed. “He’s quite a lot of mystery. But he holds +some kind of position in the Moslem world that gives him complete +control of the natives. He’s the best man at the job in Egypt. He can +get things done that you or I couldn’t manage if we spent a million +dollars. Yes, sir, Hassan es-Sugra is worth his weight in gold, and he +knows the game from A to Z.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” commented John Cumberland. “I know the type and I believe you. +Wasn’t he with Flinders Petrie at one time?” +</p> + +<p> +“The tomb?” asked Barry Cumberland eagerly. “It has not been +disturbed?” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar stood up, and slowly crossing to a side table, dropped ash +into a tray. He turned and: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s absolutely untouched,” he replied. “The entrance where I +reclosed it is almost hidden by sand. You can rest easy.” He paused +impressively. “No one has disturbed her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gad!” Barry brought his hand down upon his knee. “It sounds almost +too good to be true! But how did Hassan identify the tomb in the first +place? How was he sure? How can <i>you</i> be sure?” +</p> + +<p> +“You can take it I made sure before I started,” Danbazzar answered +calmly, “but, anyway, Hassan never makes a mistake. You remember the +cartouche in the papyrus? It was not that of any Pharaoh or any member +of any known royal family. It was clearly meant to represent Princess +Zalithea.” +</p> + +<p> +He stooped over the cane table at which John Cumberland and his son +were seated. With a pencil he roughly outlined upon a newspaper which +lay there a design of four figures. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re agreed,” he said, glancing up, “that its meaning is: ‘She Who +Sleeps but Who Will Awake.’ Both Mr. Pain and Dr. Rittenburg have +checked this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” said Barry eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” Danbazzar replaced the pencil in a breast pocket of his tunic. +“This same inscription is cut in the rock before the entrance of the +tomb!” +</p> + +<p> +“I have sometimes wondered,” said John Cumberland, “why it has been +overlooked so long.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar stared at him for a moment, and then: +</p> + +<p> +“Have you stopped to think,” he asked, “how many tombs there are in +that valley? Why should those few people with powers to excavate open +an obscure one? What’s more, the tomb is in an unfrequented spot, +almost due north of the Tombs of the Queens and on the edge of the +western valley, more than half a mile from the Tombs of the Kings. The +nearest place ordinary tourists ever visit is the tomb of Queen +Nefertari and that of Seth Ra, the wife of Seti the First. This was +about where I figured to find it. Seven miles farther west, and about +a mile and a half north of the caravan road from Farshût to Kûrna, +Hassan has put up our men. There’s a small Hawwara village there, and +the Sheik is a good friend of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“When do we start?” cried Barry eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“I can see no reason,” Danbazzar replied, “why we shouldn’t leave for +Luxor in the morning. We shall be wise to take every advantage of the +slack season before the tourist rush begins.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry watched the speaker fascinatedly. During his short stay in +Cairo, he had been out to visit the Sphinx, that long-cherished +ambition of Jim’s; he had penetrated to the interior of the Great +Pyramid, and had wandered through the fascinating bazaar streets of +the Mûski. He had known the whole indescribable atmosphere that +creeps over the most modern and garish hotel in Cairo when night drops +its cloak upon Egypt. Now, it seemed to him, watching Danbazzar, that +of all the mysteries that the Nile has known, this man was the +greatest. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, I suggest that we consult with Hassan,” Danbazzar went on. +</p> + +<p> +He stood up, clapping his hands sharply. From the shadowy mystery of +the balcony, Hassan es-Sugra entered, a slim, impressive black figure. +He bowed low upon the threshold. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch11"> +CHAPTER XI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">LUXOR</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> Nile was high. Much of the Memnonia was impassable. The Colossi +sat lonely in the midst of a great lake, when Barry came to Luxor. In +this way he saw the City of the Sun under advantageous conditions. +</p> + +<p> +The Winter Palace Hotel, whose impudent modernity aspires to dwarf the +majesty of the great temple, was in a comatose state. Its palatial +suites which later in the season would echo Wall Street quotations, +its public rooms where, anon, much talk would be heard about the +situation in the English coalfields and the cheery optimism of Mr. +Baldwin, these were empty. Empty was the dragomans’ bench before the +entrance. No guttural German voices were raised in argument against +the soft music of Arabic impostors, relative to the cost of donkeys +from Kûrna to Dêr-el-Bâhari. The tourist steamers were missing; yet +Barry did not miss them. +</p> + +<p> +Sighing wearily at the end of her summer sleep, the City of the Sun +looked wistfully down the Nile from which at any time now invasion +might be expected. +</p> + +<p> +Barry had conceived something very like friendship for Hassan +es-Sugra. The man fascinated him. Delicate in form and features, +soft-spoken and mild-eyed, slow of movement and speech, invariably +unruffled, Barry had detected beneath the velvet surface an +indomitable will, and something else. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of their arrival, leaving Danbazzar and John Cumberland +at the hotel poring over rough plans, Barry had set out with Hassan to +view the celebrated spectacle of Karnak by moonlight. The evening was +oppressively hot. The sky looked like a dome of lapis lazuli. The moon +was such a moon as gave birth to Isis; fronds of palms seemed to be +carved out of ebony; and the whiteness of the buildings was dazzling. +Plaintive notes of a reed pipe crept up from the river, with more +distant throbbing of a <i>darabukkeh</i>. +</p> + +<p> +A great zest of life, an eagerness to inhale, as it were, the +unfamiliar perfume of this strange land, possessed Barry. He hurried +as though bound for his father’s New York office. But: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Hassan, in his soft, caressing voice, “there is no need +for haste, and the evening is hot.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry pulled up and glanced aside at his companion. The gaze of the +gazelle-like eyes met his own. Hassan smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Always,” the speaker went on hesitantly yet with perfect expression, +“always the gentlemen who come from America and from Europe are in so +great a hurry; particularly the gentlemen from America. Yet there is +so much time, and life in Egypt is very beautiful for those who will +rest and enjoy it.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“No wonder you always look so cool,” he commented. “Now I come to +think of it, I have never seen you hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +Hassan extended his slender brown hands, his ebony stick held lightly +between the first and second fingers of the left. +</p> + +<p> +“What is there to hurry for?” he asked softly. “We are all going the +same way. Why should we try to pass one another? Everything that life +has to give us is ours to-night. Let us enjoy it, for to-night will +never come again.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry stared curiously at this survival of the Arabian philosophers, +but checked his eager steps and walked on sedately beside the +dignified Egyptian. +</p> + +<p> +Spots of interest were pointed out by Hassan, and, as they moved +through the streets, it became apparent to Barry that his companion +possessed many acquaintances in Upper Egypt by whom he was held in +high esteem. +</p> + +<p> +A most notable demonstration of this came when they passed a café in +the native town. A number of men sat smoking outside. Five of them, on +sight of the approaching figure, sprang up and performed a graceful +Arab salute with the right hand. All were fine types, tall muscular +fellows, and different from the townsmen surrounding them. Hassan +es-Sugra gravely returned their salutation, but they remained standing +until the café was passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Who were those men, Hassan?” Barry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“They are some of our excavators, sir,” Hassan replied. “Most of them +are already at the camp: these are late arrivals who go to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry glanced curiously at the delicate, almost effeminate face of the +speaker, and he wondered, as he had wondered many times before, how +Hassan es-Sugra had inspired, and how he retained, the profound +respect of these men. +</p> + +<p> +And so, pursuing their leisurely way, they presently found themselves +on the ancient road to Karnak, formerly bordered by Sphinxes +throughout the mile of its length. The silence now was broken only by +the distant note of a pipe, the faint throbbing of a drum. Barry grew +silent, too, awed by the sleeping past upon which he intruded. At that +point where the road turned left into the Avenue of the Rams he +sighted the great shadowy ruins and hastened his steps. +</p> + +<p> +“It is fortunate, sir,” Hassan said, laying one slender hand upon +Barry’s arm to check this impetuous increase of pace, “that we have +been able to begin while the Nile was in flood.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why is that?” Barry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” Hassan replied, “the tomb, which is on high land, can only +be approached from above at this season and is cut off from those +routes along which people generally come. We are less likely to be +disturbed.” +</p> + +<p> +At the entrance to the Temple, the <i>Ghafîr</i> appeared, mysterious, out +of a bank of shadow. Barry, a law-abiding citizen, had been given to +understand that he must show his ticket here, but Hassan es-Sugra +waved him aside, saluted the guardian, was saluted deeply in return, +and they entered the great, silent building. +</p> + +<p> +Again Barry found himself glancing curiously at the face of his +companion, delicately beautiful in the moonlight. He was learning a +lesson that anyone susceptible to truth learns in Egypt. He was +learning to look with less satisfaction upon the hurriedly grasped +successes of modern life, and to experience an unpleasant sense of +inferiority in the company of this dignified, placid, yet majestic +Arab. +</p> + +<p> +Those who are sent to govern in these lands must be of a type immune +from such impressions. Barry had too much poetry in his nature to be +blind to some strange spiritual calm possessed by Hassan es-Sugra +(whom Aunt Micky would have briefly classified as a heathen), the +secret of which has been lost during generations of feverish +endeavour. +</p> + +<p> +He found himself amid a forest of vast columns; statues looked down +upon him scornfully; and all about him upon painted walls were those +Pharaohs and gods whom the imagination of Pierre Loti has depicted as +eternally signalling to one another. Bats haunted high, shadowy +places, and the note of some night bird sounded eerily. +</p> + +<p> +Hassan es-Sugra walked through the mysterious darkness as confidently +as Barry would have walked along Fifth Avenue, until they came to the +Great Hall, most awe-inspiring of all the Egyptian monuments. He +seemed to know every inch of the place. The hieroglyphics held no +mystery for him. Raising his stick he pointed to an inscription, +translating slowly: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“I did the best I could for the Temple of Amen, as architect of my +Lord. I placed obelisks, their height reached to the world of heaven. +A propylon is before the same in sight of the city of Thebes; and +ponds and gardens of flourishing trees.…” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“Who made this inscription, Hassan?” Barry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He was the First Prophet of Amen,” was the reply, “in the reign of +Rameses the Second, who was the son of Seti the First.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry did not reply. A new idea had possessed him; a new magic had +invested the building. Here, in this vast, wonderful temple-place, +<span class="sc">she</span> must have walked—the Princess Zalithea!—the beautiful, +mysterious girl of the past who was so like that other, who lived, who +surely lived, in the present! His blood tingled, impatience claimed +him, and, suddenly turning to Hassan: +</p> + +<p> +“When do we begin to excavate?” he asked abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope, sir, the day after to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” said Barry. +</p> + +<p> +The magic of Egypt had got into his veins. He knew that whatever else +life might hold for him, wherever Fate should guide his steps, always +until the end he would hear it calling him—calling him back to the +Nile. +</p> + +<p> +Later that night in the almost deserted lounge of the hotel he got +into conversation with a very bored young man whose job was connected +with the Irrigation Department. In a less virulent case this young man +could not have failed to prove a perfect antidote. +</p> + +<p> +“Dead-alive hole, this,” he declared, “out of the season. Did you stay +long in London?” +</p> + +<p> +“A week,” Barry replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Lucky man!” sighed the other. “I would cheerfully sell all Egypt, if +it belonged to me, for a week in London. See any new shows?” +</p> + +<p> +“One or two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gad! I’d see one every evenin’! And after the show I’d go on to the +Kit Cat, first night; the Embassy, next night; Ciro’s, third night. +And so forth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really?” said Barry. “That’s odd! The life in London or New York or +Paris seems to be much the same. I’ve been fed up with the usual round +for years!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never had a chance to get fed up,” the other declared +plaintively. “I went straight from Oxford to the war, straight from +the war to hospital, and straight from hospital to this blasted hole.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you get a vacation sometimes?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Sometimes</i> is right,” said the other. +</p> + +<p> +Barry laughed at his acquaintance’s pessimism and ordered another +drink. As the waiter brought it: +</p> + +<p> +“You are not here for fun, are you?” the irrigation man inquired +wearily; “because there’s nothing funny about Luxor.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Barry guardedly. “My father and I are here on a job of +work.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not goin’ to try to Americanize Egypt, are you?” the other +suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly,” Barry replied. “Dad has a scheme for exploiting the old +caravan road to the Dakhla Oasis.” +</p> + +<p> +“What for?” drawled his acquaintance. “Nobody wants to go there!” +</p> + +<p> +“They might,” Barry returned, “if the journey were easier.” +</p> + +<p> +“Goin’ to build a hotel there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite know, but we are starting out to-morrow to prospect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good luck!” murmured the irrigation gentleman, raising his glass. “If +I’m still alive when you come back you might bring me a few dates. +They are the best dates in Egypt. I don’t think they grow anything +else.” +</p> + +<p> +Their chat was interrupted at this point by the sudden appearance of +Professor Blackwell, expected that evening from Assouan and evidently +newly arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Professor!” cried Barry, jumping up. “Glad to see you! Does Dad +know you are here?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” the Professor replied, dropping into an armchair. “I have only +this very moment come in.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry introduced the Professor to the irrigation expert, who +presently, however, having offered to buy more drinks, withdrew to +what he termed his “fly trap,” nodding gloomily to Barry as he went. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t forget the dates,” were his parting words. +</p> + +<p> +Going back to their rooms, Barry ushered in Professor Blackwell. John +Cumberland, who was seated at a table studying some maps, stood up +gladly to greet him. Danbazzar, his broad back to the room, was +staring out of the open window across the Nile to where, sharp in the +moonlight, the Libyan Hills were outlined against the sky. He turned, +fixing his penetrating regard upon the new arrivals; and: +</p> + +<p> +“Hassan tells me,” Barry began eagerly, “that we start operations on +Thursday. Is that correct?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s surely correct,” came Danbazzar’s deep voice. “I don’t know +who’s been giving public recitations, but it looks like some of our +plans have leaked out. Yes, sir, we start on Thursday.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch12"> +CHAPTER XII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE CAMP IN THE DESERT</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Barry</span> now entered upon a period of existence widely different from +any he had known. Danbazzar’s camp was in the neck of a <i>wâdi</i> on the +north of the caravan route from Thebes to Farshût. Further north, and +visible from the tents, on the summit of a mountain stood an ancient +watchtower, used in the days of the Pharaohs by the tomb guard. All +about were remains of stone huts which had probably been the quarters +of these guards. On the right, above terraced, desolate hills covered +with débris of abandoned excavations, rose the stately mass of El +Kurn, the Horn. +</p> + +<p> +Here in this weird quarry to which no one ever penetrated, they had +their base of operations. The native excavators, in charge of a +headman who proved to be one of the group that had been seated outside +the Luxor café, had their quarters several miles distant, in a sort +of tumbledown village principally inhabited by dogs. Native life in +the towns had offered novel features, but the conditions prevailing in +this desert village surpassed anything Barry could have imagined. An +entire absence of sanitary arrangements was the outstanding novelty; +next to which he never got used to the spectacle of a considerable +family, a number of dogs, chickens, and sometimes a donkey, residing +happily together in one apartment which could have been covered by a +full-sized dining table. +</p> + +<p> +They reached camp at dusk, although they had crossed the river in the +morning, having travelled by a circuitous route over high ridges and +through gloomy passes, to find that a native cook had prepared dinner +and that Hassan es-Sugra, who had gone ahead, was waiting to receive +them. +</p> + +<p> +Before attacking the meal, Barry, tired though he was, climbed the +side of the <i>wâdi</i> and stood on the edge of a small plateau, looking +out to the rosy haze that marked the course of old, distant Nile. The +unforgettable dusk of Egypt was falling. Rocks showed like black +smudges on a gray canvas, and the sky was passing through an amazing +transformation of delicate blue to shell pink, which, by some natural +magic, combined to form the violet afterglow which is not the least of +this country’s beauties. +</p> + +<p> +From below came a faint clattering of cooking utensils, and a dog was +howling somewhere, probably in the village where the workmen were +quartered. The great adventure had begun. To-night he was to see for +the first time the tomb of Princess Zalithea! +</p> + +<p> +He uttered a deep sigh, which was a sigh of contentment, and climbed +down the steep descent again to the camp. +</p> + +<p> +They dined inside one of the tents, Danbazzar deeming it unwise to +court attention from any chance travellers upon the ridge above. +</p> + +<p> +Barry stooped and entered the little canvas dwelling which was to be +his home for some time to come. It presented a spectacle, on that +first night, which was always to remain with him as an odd memory. +</p> + +<p> +Plates of steaming tomato soup (Heinz tinned variety) were set upon +the small square table, which even boasted a white cloth. The cook, a +big, bearded fellow from the Fayyum, his magnificent teeth revealed in +a constant grin, was just placing loaves and a pitcher of water upon +the hospitable board. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar, wearing a white shirt open at the neck, riding breeches, +and gaiters, seemed utterly appropriate in that setting. His pale skin +had assumed an even, dark tan, his magnificent composure was an +unspoken retort to Barry’s sudden idea that this was some solemn +farce—a dream from which he would presently awaken. John Cumberland, +also coatless, sat on the right of the table. He seized a loaf and +began to carve it vigorously, looking up as Barry entered. +</p> + +<p> +It was hard to recognize the John Cumberland of New York in this +sun-baked adventurer, and the only member of the party who seemed out +of place was Professor Blackwell, who faced his friend across the +table. He wore a black alpaca jacket and had omitted to remove his sun +helmet. He was gazing in gloomy disapproval at a large beetle of the +<i>Scarabæus</i> family which appeared to be attracted by the odour of his +soup. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Barry!” John Cumberland greeted him. “What do you think of our +new quarters?” +</p> + +<p> +“First rate!” was the laughing reply, as Barry took the vacant chair. +“If we go on in this style we shan’t starve.” +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell bent toward him; and: +</p> + +<p> +“There’s plenty of liquor,” he whispered in his ear, “but all these +fellows are strict Moslems, and we should lose their respect, so +Danbazzar informs me, if they knew we drank anything stronger than +water.” +</p> + +<p> +The soup dispatched: +</p> + +<p> +“Stick your head out and tell Mahmoud we are ready for the chicken,” +said John Cumberland. +</p> + +<p> +Barry nodded, stood up, and stepped outside the tent. The camp kitchen +had been established in a sort of cave in the side of the <i>wâdi</i>, +suspiciously like the entrance to a partially opened tomb. The +glistening, smiling face of Mahmoud, the cook, showed in the reflected +light. He smiled as he cooked and sang soft Arab love songs. +</p> + +<p> +Before the entrance to this little tunnel, leaning upon his ebony +cane, Barry saw Hassan es-Sugra, reflectively studying the efforts of +the chef. At the same moment he detected a faint, sweet sound. From a +great distance it seemed to come—above and beyond—a rhythmic, +silvery jingling. He had just opened his mouth to shout “Mahmoud,” +when Hassan turned toward him and raised his hand in warning. +</p> + +<p> +Night now had fallen, swiftly, blackly. +</p> + +<p> +Ebon shadows lay in the <i>wâdi</i>; above, on crags and terraces of the +mountains, were gleaming high lights where the moon shone. The musical +sound went on uninterruptedly. Danbazzar’s precautions had been +justified. +</p> + +<p> +Spiritually transported to the realms of the Arabian Nights, Barry +stood, silent, listening. Camel bells! It was the sound of camel +bells! High above on the mountain ridge a caravan was passing on its +way from Thebes to Farshût.… +</p> + +<p> +After dinner, pipes and cigars being lighted, they held a council of +war, seated around the table in the tent. At this council Hassan +es-Sugra attended. +</p> + +<p> +“Although no precautions have been neglected,” said Danbazzar, “there +appears to be suspicion about the object of our journey in certain +quarters. I had an interview yesterday with the secretary of Mudîr of +Luxor. We have known each other for some years, and he gave me a big +dose of advice about the route beyond El Kharga.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar paused, tensing his lips so that his abbreviated beard stuck +out truculently, a peculiar mannerism which Barry had noted before. +Then: +</p> + +<p> +“The Mudîr’s secretary was most hospitable,” he went on, “and so +anxious for our comfort that I’m dead sure he knew I was lying. He +knew we had no more intention of visiting the oasis than he has.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how could the truth have leaked out?” John Cumberland asked. +</p> + +<p> +“What about these people in the village,” Barry suggested, “where the +men are quartered?” +</p> + +<p> +Hassan es-Sugra extended his palms and softly intruded with a remark. +</p> + +<p> +“They are of the Hawwara,” he explained, “or claim to be. They owe +allegiance to their own sheik, and he is my friend. No, it will be +some of the workmen, while in Luxor, who have been talking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what can we do?” John Cumberland demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“I could thrash two or three of the men,” Hassan suggested gently, +“until I found one to speak the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry stared in amazement at the æsthetic face of the speaker, +thinking that he jested; but no smile appeared. This was apparently a +firm offer. +</p> + +<p> +“No!” Danbazzar’s deep voice broke in. “It would do no good. If this +fellow Tawwab suspects anything——” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly,” said Professor Blackwell uneasily; “that is just what I am +wondering. If he suspects anything, what will he do? Inform the +Inspector of Antiquities?” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar knocked ash from his cigar. The scarab ring upon his finger +twinkled in the lamplight. He stared fixed at the Professor; then: +</p> + +<p> +“He is an Egyptian,” he replied. “What would he gain by that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” John Cumberland exclaimed. “<i>Gain!</i> That’s the +answer—<i>bakhshish!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Under the present government,” said Danbazzar gravely, “always!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” Cumberland shrugged his shoulders. “I came prepared to pay! Is +it safe to start?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was about to ask the same question,” declared Professor Blackwell, +raising his gaunt and ungainly form from the low camp chair in which +he was seated. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar spoke deliberately, and without betraying any of the +excitement which the Professor had been unable to conceal, which +obviously possessed John Cumberland, and to which Barry was a restless +prey. He turned to Hassan es-Sugra. +</p> + +<p> +“Hassan,” he directed, “make sure that all’s clear.” +</p> + +<p> +Hassan saluted deeply and went out of the tent. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a bit of a scramble,” Danbazzar warned. “Everybody in fibre +shoes, and don’t forget your flasks.” +</p> + +<p> +Their preparations were complete when Hassan returned with the news +that the road was clear; whereupon, they set out. +</p> + +<p> +The route they followed was merely a native path and not one of the +roads ordinarily used. For a goat or a barefooted Egyptian it was +navigable enough, but what with leaping over chasms of unknown depth +and scrambling up narrow funnels composed of crumbling rock, brittle +as a cracker, it was not all that might have been desired by a party +of townsmen out for an evening stroll. +</p> + +<p> +At last they came out on the hummock of a hill, and below them, +magnificently outlined in shadow, lay the Valley of the Queens. Above +towered that strangely shaped mountain once sacred to the goddess +Hathor. Breathless, Barry leaned upon a block of stone, listening to a +duet in hard breathing contributed by his father and Professor +Blackwell. Danbazzar’s cigar glowed in the shadows of a neighbouring +rock, and Hassan es-Sugra exhibited no evidence of fatigue. +</p> + +<p> +Awhile they paused there, and then set out again, Danbazzar and Hassan +leading, John Cumberland and the Professor following, Barry bringing +up the rear. Thus they went, except where broken formation of the +ground necessitated single file. +</p> + +<p> +By what sailing marks the pilots traced their course was not apparent. +But through the desolation of this land of tombs they passed, the way +twisting and turning, their route being sometimes upward and sometimes +downward, until at last: +</p> + +<p> +“Here it is!” said Danbazzar. +</p> + +<p> +Barry’s weariness departed; his heart leaped. +</p> + +<p> +They stood before a sheer rock face, its irregular surface pitted with +openings. Above a mound of drift, Hassan es-Sugra began to dig with +his stick, clearing sand and rubbish away. Barry watched him +abstractedly: he was fighting to conquer the reality. +</p> + +<p> +Somewhere here, deep in the heart of this rock, she lay, the princess +of long ago! She whose picture, portrayed in the papyrus, was a vivid +representation of the girl he had seen on that balcony in faraway New +Jersey! Here! somewhere in this ancient mountain where she had lain +for thousands of years! +</p> + +<p> +What was the link? What did it mean? Useless! His mind refused to +grapple with so monstrous a problem. +</p> + +<p> +“See!” Hassan es-Sugra turned, extending his palms. “The cartouche, +sirs! As I found it a year ago!” +</p> + +<p> +A ray from Danbazzar’s electric torch shone on to the rock. All bent +forward eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite! Quite!” murmured Professor Blackwell. “Yes, it is the same, +unmistakably!” +</p> + +<p> +Deeply carved in the surface, it was there for all to see—the curious +sign which translated, meant: “She Who Sleeps but Will Awaken.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch13"> +CHAPTER XIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE EXCAVATORS</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Nothing</span> succeeds like impudence. The original plan had provided for +work at night only; but the flooded state of the Nile Valley was so +discouraging to tourists and interruption of labours in the remote +spot where the tomb was situated so unlikely that Danbazzar at the +outset decided upon day shifts and night shifts. +</p> + +<p> +Now definitely launched upon this unlawful project, a sort of unholy +joy fired the party. It was even shared by Professor Blackwell. +</p> + +<p> +The plan of operations was worthy of its inventor. The entrance to the +tomb lay in a fairly deep recess; and Danbazzar had constructed, in +convenient sections, a huge screen—practically a piece of scenery. +The material for this accounted for the presence of several strangely +shaped cases among their baggage for which Barry had hitherto been +unable to account. +</p> + +<p> +Set in place before the entrance to the tomb, with top pieces and side +pieces, or wings, it was joined with sand and rubbish to the rubble of +the valley path. When lovingly finished by Danbazzar—seated upon a +light scaffold—with odd dabs of paint applied to a wet surface upon +which sand had been thrown, the result was magical. While it slightly +altered the conformation of the landscape, it was utterly impossible +to detect the presence of this screen even by the closest scrutiny. +One would have had to tap it to learn that it was of wood and canvas, +and not of rock. +</p> + +<p> +Access to the interior was gained by an ingenious door, low down at +one corner. This door was in reality a shallow box filled with rubble +and cement and opening upward. In the space between the screen and the +rock there was ample room for work, which was carried on by lantern +light. With two men always on duty, one at the high end of the valley +and one at the low, to give warning for operations to cease, detection +was next to impossible, short of treachery on the part of an employee. +</p> + +<p> +On the morning that this screen was completed, Danbazzar, paint brush +in hand, stood surveying his work with the pride of an artist. He +turned to Barry, who stood beside him and: +</p> + +<p> +“Some illusion, I think!” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s simply amazing!” cried John Cumberland. +</p> + +<p> +“I worked behind that screen, sir,” said Danbazzar, “for three months, +and not a soul but my men ever knew I was there! The last month I +spent covering up what I’d found.” +</p> + +<p> +“I take it,” said Cumberland, “we can soon demolish what you +reconstructed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty soon,” Danbazzar agreed. “But I had to make a sound job of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anyway,” said Barry, “from now onward we are safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you say—” Danbazzar bowed as one who acknowledges applause and +gave the signal for the scaffolding to be demolished—“the dangerous +part is over. Rain is the worst we have to fear now.” +</p> + +<p> +He touched Hassan es-Sugra upon the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Hassan,” he directed, “let the first party begin at three o’clock. +You have my instructions. I shall be back at five.” +</p> + +<p> +Hassan saluted, and leaving Mahmoud in charge of the clearing-up +operations, walked away, slow and stately, down the valley. +</p> + +<p> +As it chanced, their belief in the artistic genius of Danbazzar was +very shortly to be put to the test; for, returning to the camp, where +they intended to remain during the heat of noon, they were met by a +very courteous Egyptian official. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland started at sight of the figure wearing the <i>tarbûsh</i>, +but Danbazzar exhibited neither surprise nor alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Mr. Tawwab!” he cried genially. “It was real good of you to hunt +us up!” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Tawwab’s smile was noncommittal. +</p> + +<p> +“The Mudîr felt anxious about you,” he explained; “and learning that +you had not yet started for the oasis, suggested that I should see +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are honoured and delighted,” Danbazzar declared. “Allow me to make +known to you Mr. John Cumberland and Professor Blackwell—Mr. Barry +Cumberland. This is Mr. Ahmed Tawwab, secretary to the Governor of +Luxor. Coffee, I believe, is prepared. You will join us, Mr. Tawwab?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +The Egyptian bowed, and they all entered the tent which served as +dining room, office, and council chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar entered last, behind Barry, and, in his ear: +</p> + +<p> +“Mischief!” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +The boring ceremony of coffee and cigarettes, which is indispensable +to any piece of Arab business, having been duly performed: +</p> + +<p> +“The Mudîr,” Mr. Tawwab explained, turning the gaze of his languorous +eyes upon Danbazzar, “learns from the Mudîr of Asyut, that a +considerable party of Hawwara Arabs, led by a sheik of the Hamman +family and plainly meaning mischief, has been reported from El Kharga, +in the Great Oasis. It is perhaps a political or a religious +demonstration, but the Mudîr thought it wise to advise you that there +may be danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Convey my thanks to His Excellency,” said Danbazzar gravely. “We are +all most indebted.” +</p> + +<p> +His deep voice was lowered to a sort of caressing purr; which, +however, resembled that of some large member of the cat family. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” Mr. Tawwab pursued, rolling a cigarette between his flexible +fingers, “I understand that you are a fairly large party, and, of +course, you can make choice. He will be glad to learn, nevertheless, +that his information was correct, and that this warning has reached +you before your setting out.” +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +Mr. Tawwab having presently departed: +</p> + +<p> +“What does this mean, exactly?” John Cumberland demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“It means, sir,” said Danbazzar grimly, “that our screen was only +erected in the nick of time! We shall be watched!” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” exclaimed Professor Blackwell with alarm; “but we may be +arrested!” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar turned his strange eyes in the speaker’s direction, studying +him silently for a moment; then: +</p> + +<p> +“Before that time comes,” he replied, “we shall be invited to <i>pay</i>. +But if we can get through without paying, all the better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you believe the story of the Arabs?” Barry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Danbazzar answered promptly, “I don’t!” His fierce eyes grew +very reflective. “Nor do I believe that Ahmed Tawwab came from the +Mudîr at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t follow,” said Barry. “What is your idea about it, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“My idea is,” Danbazzar answered, “that Mr. Tawwab has discovered the +identity of your father and has simply called as an ordinary matter of +business. He has got wise that we’re here with some secret purpose, +and he’s going to make us pay. It was against grafting of this sort +that I budgeted when I mentioned the price for the expedition, Mr. +Cumberland.” +</p> + +<p> +Undeterred by these vague threats, operations were commenced that day. +A tiny opening, a mere crevice, had been left by Danbazzar in the +reclosed entrance, some ten feet above, and to the left of the +inscription on the rock. +</p> + +<p> +The first party set to work to enlarge this, and two guards were +placed where they could command all possible approaches. By nightfall, +enough had been done to show that this indeed was the entrance to a +narrow, sloping shaft, carefully closed at the top with stone blocks. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland’s excitement became intense. Professor Blackwell +experienced much difficulty in persuading him to sleep. Throughout the +afternoon and the evening not a soul had appeared in sight of the +excavation, and the first day promised well for the enterprise. Barry +only deserted the job when a night shift of excavators came on duty, +walking back, tired but mentally exhilarated, to the camp with Hassan +es-Sugra. +</p> + +<p> +As they pursued their way through moonlight and shadow down to the +little <i>wâdi</i>, Barry glanced many times at his silent companion. The +wonder of it all swept over him—the insanity of their dreams; the +almost incredible fact that less than a month before he had been +leading a rather empty life in New York. +</p> + +<p> +Now, he was walking through a vast cemetery peopled with kings and +queens, princes, princesses, councillors, of a glorious civilization +which the desert had reclaimed long ages before the name of America +was known to men! +</p> + +<p> +The stillness seemed to become oppressive. Not even the bark of a dog +could be heard. And to-night no camel bells jingled on the ancient +caravan road. Barry spoke at random. +</p> + +<p> +“How long, Hassan,” he asked, “should it take to reach the tomb?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is doubtful, sir,” was the reply. “Perhaps, if the stones are not +too hard to be broken, only a few days, for we have many men at work. +Perhaps longer; and then, we do not know if the passage is clear +beyond the first portcullis. Sometimes there are two; sometimes three. +And, at the bottom of the shaft, the entrance to the funeral chamber +will have to be broken.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the way in from the top? The part you closed up again last year?” +</p> + +<p> +“That should be easy, sir. Perhaps by to-morrow. But there is still +all the shaft.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that a long job?” +</p> + +<p> +“Always,” Hassan replied, “it is a question of the conditions. +Sometimes the air is so bad that men cannot work in these tombs.” +</p> + +<p> +“A question of Kismet, eh?” said Barry. +</p> + +<p> +“Kismet, yes!” Hassan es-Sugra smiled in his sweetly grave way. “If it +is written that we succeed, we shall succeed. If not”—he shrugged his +shoulders—“no matter!” +</p> + +<p> +Dog tired, Barry undressed and threw himself upon his camp bed. He +shared the tent with Professor Blackwell, and his last waking +recollection was of the sonorous snores of that weary scientist. +</p> + +<p> +He seemed scarcely to have closed his eyes before he was awakened by a +stray beam of morning sunlight. Someone had raised the flap of the +tent. He opened his eyes. Professor Blackwell was still sleeping +peacefully; but the bearded, grinning face of Mahmoud appeared in the +opening. +</p> + +<p> +Mahmoud had a little English; and: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir!” he said. “I come to tell you. They make a small opening—too +small for me. But this morning Hassan es-Sugra goes through!” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” Barry was out of bed in one bound. “You mean he has gone into +the tomb?” +</p> + +<p> +“He goes in, Effendim, and comes out again!” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is there, in the valley.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” came a harsh, sleepy voice. +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell turned over on his elbow. +</p> + +<p> +“They’ve reopened the tomb, Professor!” Barry cried excitedly. +“They’ve reopened the tomb!” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible!” the Professor muttered, sitting upright. “I never heard +of such a thing!” +</p> + +<p> +“But Hassan es-Sugra has been in! Mahmoud has told me so!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes!” said the Professor, fumbling under his pillow for his +glasses. “Quite! Quite! Of course I was forgetting that it had been +opened before.” +</p> + +<p> +Mahmoud departed, grinning broadly, as Barry made a grab for his +clothes. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland and Danbazzar were not in camp; and, having hastily +disposed of hot coffee and biscuits, Barry and the Professor started +for the excavation. +</p> + +<p> +They had actually come out onto the plateau looking down upon the +valley, when both pulled up dead, exchanging a swift, significant +glance. +</p> + +<p> +Unmistakable upon the still desert air, the note of a police whistle +reached them! The guards were armed with these, but this was the first +time there had been occasion to use them. +</p> + +<p> +“Damnation!” Barry muttered. “Who can it be? Come on, Professor, let’s +hurry!” +</p> + +<p> +To the great discomfiture of the older man, they performed the +remainder of the journey at a fairly rapid trot. And, coming out of a +narrow ravine which opened some twenty yards above the site of the +excavation, they almost literally ran into Mr. Tawwab! +</p> + +<p> +He was standing not more than a dozen paces from Danbazzar’s screen, +smoking a cigarette and looking about him curiously. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch14"> +CHAPTER XIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE HAUNTED VALLEY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Prone</span> upon a high crag Danbazzar lay, watching a horseman making his +way down the slope of a distant valley and heading in the direction of +the Nile. At last: +</p> + +<p> +“He’s gone!” he said, and looked back over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland heaved a great sigh of relief and, standing, stretched +his cramped limbs. One long last look Danbazzar took at the receding +figure, and then the two climbed down to the path below where +Professor Blackwell and Barry awaited them. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think I got away with it?” the latter asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No!” Danbazzar said promptly—“not entirely. Your explanation that we +had gone out for jackal was good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Excellent, in my opinion!” Professor Blackwell murmured. “You are +really an accomplished liar, Barry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” Barry explained, laughing, “I knew we shouldn’t find you in +the camp, and some sort of explanation had to be offered. I spoke +loudly enough for you to hear me behind the screen, so that if he +insisted upon staying till you returned, your story would correspond +with mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately,” said John Cumberland, “he must have heard the +whistle.” +</p> + +<p> +“He did!” declared the Professor—“although he never once mentioned +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is why I know he didn’t believe you,” Danbazzar added. “I shall +go into Luxor on Monday and talk business to Mr. Tawwab.” He turned to +Barry. “You haven’t heard the good news yet! Can you imagine that I +was forced to stop work last year within a matter of hours of breaking +through that portcullis?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” Barry cried. +</p> + +<p> +“They cleared the entrance,” his father replied excitedly, “which +Danbazzar had reclosed, without difficulty. You see, Barry, we are +provided with the very best and latest gear. They set about the +portcullis, and Hassan found a flaw in the rock itself beside this +otherwise immovable stone door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t we find it last year!” boomed Danbazzar. “I figured that +portcullis was a long, tough job!” +</p> + +<p> +“They worked on it all night,” John Cumberland went on, “enlarging +it——” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you actually been in!” cried Barry. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” was the reply; “the opening isn’t big enough. But Danbazzar and +I were looking along the passage when we heard the whistle!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hassan has been down,” said Danbazzar. “There’s an obstruction twenty +feet below, but he reports the air is fairly good.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what’s the obstruction?” Barry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear another portcullis,” said Danbazzar. “But the roof of the +shaft seems to have collapsed at this point, or partly collapsed, and +Hassan is uncertain whether there’s another portcullis or not. It may +be a month’s work, or our job may be nearly finished. Remembering the +purpose for which it was constructed, I look for a simple tomb. I +should be surprised to find wells or dummy passages.” +</p> + +<p> +“Could I possibly get through?” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar looked him over briefly; and: +</p> + +<p> +“No!” he replied, “but we have dropped a light into the shaft and you +can look down. The men are at work again now.” +</p> + +<p> +Excitement rose to fever pitch. Constant relays of skilled excavators +could not work fast enough for John Cumberland or for Barry. By +nightfall, the hole beside the mighty stone door which closed the +passage had been appreciably enlarged. But whereas their first success +had been due principally to a flaw in the rock tunnel itself, progress +beyond this stage was a matter of patient drilling and chipping. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar’s optimism was shown to have been excessive. Hours went by +in constant work; blazing days and nights of ceaseless toil; but still +the great portcullis defied them. Hassan es-Sugra, with the smallest +men of the party, had attacked the lower obstruction. But conditions +were bad. Both air and proper light were lacking. Since they could not +be relieved, their progress was necessarily slow. And, meanwhile, the +main gang chipped and chipped patiently at the rock tunnel surrounding +the stone door. +</p> + +<p> +By Monday success seemed to be in sight; and as Danbazzar set out for +Luxor to interview Mr. Tawwab, he gave orders touching the work on the +lower passage. And so, this day, which it was written should be a +memorable one, wore on. +</p> + +<p> +When the wonderful curtain of dusk was drawn over the valley, +Danbazzar had not returned from his interview with Mr. Tawwab. Barry +pictured him patiently drinking numberless cups of coffee and smoking +scores of cigarettes. +</p> + +<p> +Mahmoud had been out for quail in the morning, and the savoury odour +of his cooking increased the appetite of the party, already keen +enough at the end of an arduous and exciting day. Having performed +their somewhat limited ablutions, they assembled in the tent over a +surreptitious cocktail, perforce without ice. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me,” said John Cumberland, “that this thing has developed +into a race. The man Tawwab is out for blackmail. That’s clear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can we keep him off until we succeed, or will he hold us up?” +murmured Professor Blackwell. “Success might come almost any day. What +is beyond that further obstruction no one can pretend to guess. But as +to what it <i>is</i>, from my scanty observations—for the light was very +bad—I have formed a theory.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s your theory, Blackwell?” John Cumberland asked. +</p> + +<p> +“It is this,” the Professor continued: “That first portcullis blocking +the passage was built to be raised—I am sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you are right,” said Barry; “and it worked in deep +grooves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite! Quite!” The Professor nodded. “By what means such a vast lump +of rock was lifted, I leave to the greater knowledge of Danbazzar to +explain. I am no Egyptologist. But I think the obstruction twenty feet +down, from what I can see of it, is, or was, a second portcullis. The +broken pieces look of about the same thickness as that at the top.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why should the second be broken and not the first?” Barry +demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Which brings me to my theory,” the Professor continued. “I think the +second portcullis, at some time when it was raised, fell and was +shattered.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove!” John Cumberland exclaimed. “You may be right!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am almost sure I am,” the Professor said. “I think I can see one of +the deep grooves it worked in. If this is so, it should be fairly easy +to clear the débris, and, unless there is a third portcullis, intact, +why should we not then find ourselves in the actual burial chamber?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s possible,” his friend admitted. “Let’s hope you’re right.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are no inscriptions to be seen on the walls of the passage,” +Barry remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the Professor; “but I understand that this is usual. Am I +right, Cumberland?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite right. But we may look for something very <i>un</i>usual in the +chamber itself.” +</p> + +<p> +They were all feverishly restless, but as their presence at the +excavation merely interfered with the work, for this restlessness +there was no proper outlet. +</p> + +<p> +Dinner concluded, and Mahmoud having cleared the table, the Professor +and John Cumberland, shirt sleeves rolled up and cigars lighted, +settled down to poker. Barry, pipe in mouth, sauntered out into the +<i>wâdi</i>, vaguely wondering why Danbazzar had not returned. +</p> + +<p> +Without consciously intending to do so, he found himself following the +familiar path, to which he no longer required a guide. On he went and +down, until he came to that little ravine which opened into the valley +just above the tomb. In the nick of time he remembered the usual +routine and clapped his hands sharply three times. +</p> + +<p> +Had he forgotten, the result would have been a blast of a police +whistle and the suspension of operations! +</p> + +<p> +The ingeniously screened working lay in deep shadow. He could see +neither of the guards, but, standing there, silent, he could hear +vaguely, deep in the heart of the rock, a sound of regular muffled +blows. He was tempted to open the sand trap and to penetrate to the +scene of activity, but overcame the impulse and turned right, walking +up the valley to where it came out on the shoulder of a hill. Here, +squatting under a curious mass of rock roughly resembling a giant +skull, was one of the guards, who stood up as Barry approached. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Lêltak sa’ îda!</i>” said the man, saluting him. +</p> + +<p> +Barry echoed the words, to which he was now becoming accustomed, and +passed on. The guard reseated himself under the rock. +</p> + +<p> +He determined to walk up as far as the ancient caravan road which +crossed the crest above, a spot from which, Danbazzar had informed +him, the view by moonlight was remarkable. He had counted, however, +without the natural difficulties of the route. The path which he had +intended to follow disappeared into midnight gullies and twined about +upstanding crags. The shadowy places might be full of pitfalls. Barry +paused, looking up at the ridge sharply outlined against the clear +blue of the sky. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps, after all, discretion was the better part of valour. He might +quite easily break his neck if he attempted this climb in the +darkness. He stood there for a while looking about him, and knocking +out his pipe upon the heel of his bass-soled shoe. +</p> + +<p> +These slopes above and below he knew to be literally honeycombed. This +weird place, almost unreal in its colouring under the moon, was no +more than a vast necropolis. A month before, with New York’s life +pulsing around him, the thought of this desolation and of being lonely +amid it would have been appalling. Yet so adaptable is human nature +that already he was growing accustomed to these haunted solitudes. +</p> + +<p> +He began to refill his pipe. Upon a ridge fifty yards away, sharply +outlined in the moonlight, a slinking shape appeared for a moment and +as quickly disappeared. A jackal! Only the night before one had +visited Mahmoud’s pantry, had succeeded in some mysterious fashion in +opening the door, and had absconded with a cold chicken, a portion of +a tin of sardines, and a piece of cheese. Another, even more original +in his tastes, had stolen one of Professor Blackwell’s slippers. +</p> + +<p> +Barry determined to return to the camp by a circuitous route which he +knew, and which would bring him out at the lower end of the <i>wâdi</i>. +Having satisfactorily lighted his briar, he set out, now walking more +briskly and wondering if the night shift at work in the tomb of +Zalithea had succeeded in penetrating to the second portcullis. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar, an old hand at the business, had arranged a sort of bonus +system which was a constant urge to the men, and effectively abolished +any possibility of slacking. If the shift which changed at twelve +o’clock or that which changed at four should be in a position to +report that their immediate objective had been gained, they were +instructed to awaken Danbazzar, or in his absence John Cumberland. +</p> + +<p> +Barry, stepping out briskly upon the comparatively clear path which he +had chosen, conjured up a vision of the chamber in which, if their +hopes should be realized, they would find Zalithea. +</p> + +<p> +Prior to their final departure from Luxor he had visited several +characteristic tombs under the guidance of Hassan es-Sugra. He +imagined that the chamber of the sleeping princess would be different +from any of these. His impatience was so great that he could scarcely +contain himself. He doubted if even his father’s enthusiasm was +greater than his own. Danbazzar, whatever he felt, revealed little. +Hassan es-Sugra seemed to be removed from all human emotions. +</p> + +<p> +Coming to the lowest point in his descent, about half a mile below the +excavation, he paused, looking about him. +</p> + +<p> +By moonlight the place was different. But he recalled that it did not +matter which of the several paths to the left he took, since any of +them would ultimately bring him to his destination, and if one should +prove impassable he could always return. Crossing a flat-topped mound, +he descended the slope beyond and saw beneath him a rugged bowl dotted +with minor ruins, probably of those stone huts which occurred in the +Valley of the Kings. He stood looking down. It might be wise to avoid +this valley, which no doubt contained pitfalls and across which he +would have to climb rather than walk. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as he hesitated, suddenly he saw something—something that +caused him to shrink back, to inhale sharply—to wish he were not +alone. +</p> + +<p> +A figure was moving in the deep shadows of the hollow—a figure +definitely horrible in such a place at that hour. It presented the +appearance of a tall, gaunt man! There was a faint light, too, a +fitful, elfin light which rose and fell—rose and fell—among the +ruins! +</p> + +<p> +All the old confidence with which Barry had walked through this place +of the dead now deserted him. He recognized that he was afraid—and +was ashamed of the recognition. But he retraced his steps swiftly, +never pausing or glancing back until he had regained the main path. +</p> + +<p> +Then, from behind him, far behind him, came a sound.… +</p> + +<p> +Someone or something was climbing up from the bowl of the little +valley! +</p> + +<p> +In the profound silence of that place the noise was clearly audible. A +jackal was out of the question; for no four-footed creature is more +silent than a jackal in its comings and goings. He stood still, +listening intently. Footsteps!—unmistakably those of a man and not of +any four-footed beast! +</p> + +<p> +Immediately facing him where he stood was an irregular mound of rock +and sand, outlined on the right by the silver of the moon, but a place +of ebony shadows on the left. He crossed into the shadow and waited. +Nearer and nearer came the approaching footsteps. Whoever was coming +up from the valley of the ruined huts was about to enter that narrow +gully through which Barry had walked! +</p> + +<p> +Half a dozen reasonable explanations presented themselves, but his +mind rejected them one after another. Eeriness touched him with a cold +finger. He watched the vague slash in a wall of darkness, which, from +his present position, represented the entrance to the gully. Now, the +one who approached was coming along it. In another moment he would be +out. Three more paces must bring him into the light. +</p> + +<p> +Barry’s heart was beating rapidly. He was afraid—and did not know of +<i>what</i> he was afraid. +</p> + +<p> +And now he realized that the one who walked had cleared the gap, +although he could not yet see any movement in the shadow. A +second—two seconds—three seconds elapsed… and a man came out into +the moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +It was Danbazzar! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch15"> +CHAPTER XV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE HAWWARA</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Automatically</span> Danbazzar’s hand dropped to his hip, the first +intimation Barry had of the fact that he carried arms; then: +</p> + +<p> +“All right!” cried Barry, and stepped out of the shadow, conscious of +an almost ridiculous sense of relief. +</p> + +<p> +But, for a moment, Danbazzar did not move. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing here!” he demanded—for it was less a question +than a demand. +</p> + +<p> +Barry experienced a momentary vague resentment. +</p> + +<p> +“If it comes to that,” he replied, “what are <i>you</i> doing here?” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar smiled and came forward, shrugging his broad shoulders and +dismissing the matter with a slow, graceful wave of his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe,” said he, “that we have both got the ‘jumps.’ <i>I</i> am here +because my donkey boy refused to come beyond the end of the valley at +this time of night. And as we have no accommodation for a donkey, I +let him return to Kurna. As a matter of fact, I helped him start!” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said Barry, meeting the fixed stare of those strange eyes. +“For my part, I was taking a walk because I couldn’t sleep. But +weren’t you prowling about in the hollow down yonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was,” Danbazzar replied gravely. “I had an idea that someone was +hiding there, watching me—and I won’t be spied upon.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s odd!” said Barry; “because <i>I</i> had a notion I saw someone +there about five minutes ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so? What was <i>your</i> impression—a tall thin man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Barry nodded, “unpleasantly like an unwrapped mummy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Humph!” Danbazzar lighted a cigarette. “Very queer! Evidently you’re +not aware of the fact that that little hollow is supposed by the Arabs +to be haunted!” +</p> + +<p> +Side by side they proceeded up the slope, Danbazzar heading +confidently for the camp. He seemed to know these desolate hills as he +knew every street and every alley in Cairo. For Danbazzar, Egypt had +few secrets. +</p> + +<p> +“However,” said Barry, “if we really saw anybody, it was probably some +harmless eccentric who lives alone in one of the ruins.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may have been,” Danbazzar murmured, “or it may not! What news of +the tomb?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are still enlarging the opening, but except for Hassan and the +younger Said, no one has been through yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very anxious,” Danbazzar declared. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t be more anxious than I am!” cried Barry. +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly not,” the other admitted, “but my anxiety may be different +from yours. I have spent several hours to-day with Mr. Tawwab.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Barry prompted eagerly—“what do you think he knows?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think he knows anything. He’s just guessing. But he takes it +for granted that we’re digging somewhere—for something. We’re going +to be watched, or intimidated, or both!” +</p> + +<p> +“Intimidated!” Barry echoed. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly!” Danbazzar nodded in his slow, grave fashion. “I practically +made Tawwab an offer in the roundabout ceremonious fashion which alone +they understand. He intimated with equal circumlocution that he didn’t +think the price high enough. I told him in a complimentary speech of +fifteen minutes to go to the devil. He pressed on me several cups of +coffee and nasty musk-scented cigarettes. Then he gave me to +understand in the course of twenty minutes or more that I had his +official permission to go to hell likewise. We parted perfectly good +friends, though. It was a question of terms. But I think he holds the +winning card.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” Danbazzar shook his leonine head. “Mr. Tawwab reverted to the +story of these Hawwara Arabs reported from El Kharga. I thought it was +just plain lying when he spoke of it at first, but as he came back on +the matter to-day I knew there was more in it. He informed me, with +deep regret, that a party of the Hawwara had been reported on the +caravan road some five miles south of Araki.” +</p> + +<p> +Coming from moonlight into shadow at that moment, Barry met the glance +of the speaker’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean,” he asked, “that they are coming in this direction?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what Tawwab implied,” Danbazzar admitted. “They must have come +from the Farshût road, and now they’re heading our way. He professed +to be much concerned about our safety, pointing out that at this +season our camp was a very lonely one. It’s true enough that, after +leaving Kurna, except for a few scattered houses we’re pretty well +isolated.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what do you think he was driving at?” said Barry. “These Arabs +are surely peaceable enough?” +</p> + +<p> +“As a rule they are,” was the reply, “but a wave of fanaticism will +sometimes pass through a tribe, or a section of a tribe, and then they +go Mad Hatter. However, I certainly know why Tawwab kept coming back +to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“To drive the price up! He was good enough to mention that his +relations with the sheik who seems to be at the head of this +mysterious movement have always been of a most cordial character.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil take it!” Barry muttered. “Why can’t he mind his own +business!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” Danbazzar smiled, “departmentally speaking, this <i>is</i> his +business! If he handled it properly we should find ourselves under +arrest to-morrow! No!”—he shrugged his broad shoulders—“Mr. Tawwab +holds the cards. We’ll play as long as we can play, after which we +must <i>pay</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +A beam of light shining out across the bottom of the <i>wâdi</i> and the +unmistakable rattle of poker chips signified that John Cumberland and +the Professor were still at their game. The appearance of Danbazzar, +however, broke it up, and, eagerly listened to by the party, he gave a +detailed account of his visit to Luxor. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t imagine any reason for the Arabs coming in this direction,” +said John Cumberland, when Mr. Tawwab’s warning had been repeated to +the party. +</p> + +<p> +“There can be only one reason,” Danbazzar returned gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“This camp!” +</p> + +<p> +He tensed his lips in a grim manner, reaching across for the bottle of +Martell Three Stars, his favourite beverage in moments of reflection. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” Professor Blackwell broke in, “they may assume that we +have large sums of money in our possession.” +</p> + +<p> +“They would assume rightly!” Barry remarked. “Can you count on the +men, Danbazzar?” +</p> + +<p> +“On the excavators?” the latter inquired, pouring out a drink and +turning his eyes toward the speaker. “On every man of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“We haven’t arms enough to go round,” John Cumberland murmured. “Oh! +it’s unthinkable, anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“All the same,” said Barry, “I suggest we mount guard in future—here +as well as at the tomb. And as it’s too late to make any other +arrangements to-night, I think we ought to take watches ourselves. +What do you say, Dad?” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree,” John Cumberland replied quietly. His face was very grave. +“This is something I had not counted upon.” +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell raised his gaunt form, ducking his head to avoid +contact with the sloping roof of the tent. +</p> + +<p> +“I appoint myself first guard,” he announced. “I’ll take the +Lee-Enfield.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you like,” said Danbazzar. +</p> + +<p> +With the heel of his riding boot he pushed a long wooden chest in the +Professor’s direction. +</p> + +<p> +Stooping, Blackwell unlocked the box. It contained a moderately +extensive collection of arms. And he selected a rifle of the British +service pattern. The Professor was an old campaigner; and, having +charged the magazine with care, he lighted a fresh cigar, and, nodding +to the others, strolled outside the tent. His footsteps might be heard +receding along the <i>wâdi</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“For many reasons, I hope we break through in the next three days,” +Danbazzar went on, ending a short, uncomfortable silence. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded his massive head in the direction of his own tent, which lay +to the south. +</p> + +<p> +“It took years to collect the ingredients mentioned in the formula. +Some of them are perishable. One oil I got from Persia six months ago +is already changing colour under the influence of climate. Besides, if +these things were destroyed, God knows when I’d assemble them again.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have the case well hidden,” said John Cumberland. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s buried in the sand under the floor of my tent, but I don’t feel +too happy about it, all the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“The papyrus!” cried Barry eagerly—“you have that with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not on your life!” Danbazzar returned. “No, sir, I have a photograph +of it, and one of the formula as well. The originals are in the vault +of my New York bank.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” John Cumberland nodded, turning to Barry. “I thought I had +mentioned this to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Dad; I imagined we had them with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said Danbazzar, standing up, “I’m going along to look at +the work. If that second portcullis is broken, there’s no reason why +we shouldn’t be down to the mummy chamber to-morrow. We’re reaping the +benefit of what I did last year. It would be better if you both +remained in camp till I return. We shall have to follow some rule of +this kind for the present.” +</p> + +<p> +He took a small repeater from his pocket and dropped it in the arms +chest, taking in its place a heavy revolver. When he had gone, John +Cumberland looked at his son rather blankly. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope and believe, Barry,” said he, “that this thing is a big bluff. +If it isn’t, I shall feel inclined to withdraw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Withdraw!” cried Barry. “You surely wouldn’t do that!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not thinking of the danger,” the older man went on quietly, “but +of the impossible position we should find ourselves in if we +definitely came to blows with these Arabs. The whole plan would be +exposed. I can’t afford to take that risk, even if Danbazzar can.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are thinking of the Egyptian authorities?” suggested Barry +slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“I am.” His father nodded. “Imagine the disgrace if we were arrested! +No. If it comes to shooting, this party must break up. We could only +hope to return at some future time, when the district was more +settled.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never heard of such a thing,” Barry declared. “Of course, I know +nothing of the country. It’s most unusual, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Most unusual,” John Cumberland agreed. “I confess I can’t understand +it. But I don’t like it.” +</p> + +<p> +In short, Mr. Tawwab’s conversation with Danbazzar had created an +unpleasant feeling of tension. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take the next watch, Dad,” said Barry; “you might as well turn +in. If nothing happens, we shall have a busy day before us to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland hesitated for a moment, and then stood up. +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” he agreed; “I will. Good-night!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night, Dad.” +</p> + +<p> +For a few minutes afterward he could hear his father talking to +Professor Blackwell at the top end of the <i>wâdi</i>. Then came silence +again. He lighted a cigarette and helped himself to a nightcap, +reflecting that he might as well have two or three hours’ sleep, +although the novelty and excitement of the situation were by no means +conducive to easy slumber. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, however, he got up and walked in the direction of his own +tent. Outlined against the sky beyond he could see the gaunt figure of +Professor Blackwell, rifle on shoulder; and: +</p> + +<p> +“Is all well, Professor?” he called. +</p> + +<p> +“All’s well!” cried the Professor, his voice echoing eerily from wall +to wall of the <i>wâdi</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Barry turned in fully dressed, and lay on his bed for some time +listening, although he did not know for what he listened. Somewhere in +the distance a jackal howled—a second—a third—a fourth—a fifth: a +regiment of jackals. Then silence fell. Once he heard a distant voice. +Finally he fell asleep.… +</p> + +<p> +He dreamed he was standing in the tomb of Zalithea. He was alone, and +had reached the place by no visible entrance. On his right, against +the wall was a wonderful gold sarcophagus. He found himself in a +dreadful, pent-up condition. He was utterly panic-stricken. His heart +was beating like a hammer. For the lid of this sarcophagus, which was +hinged, was slowly, slowly, very slowly opening! +</p> + +<p> +Then he saw a hand appear, and in the semi-darkness of the painted +tomb chamber a light shone out from the interior of the sarcophagus. +It grew brighter and brighter. The hand grasping the lid was a gaunt, +long-fingered hand. He did not know what to expect. He was in that +curious state in which one realizes that one is dreaming, yet is +horrified by the incidents of the dream. +</p> + +<p> +The lid had opened nearly wide enough to reveal the occupant, when +Barry shook off the horror of the nightmare which had him in its +clutch and sat suddenly upright. +</p> + +<p> +A sharp sound had awakened him. He was bathed in cold perspiration. +And, as he leaped from his bed to the sandy floor, this sound was +still echoing in the hills around. He knew, in the very moment of +awakening, what it had been. +</p> + +<p> +The crack of a rifle! And now, here was an explanation of his +half-waking dream. +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell was holding the tent flap aside. Outlined against +reflected moonlight he bent, looking in. Barry heard dim voices. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” he demanded hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +“Ssh!” the Professor warned. “The Arabs!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch16"> +CHAPTER XVI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE HOLE IN THE WALL</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> position of the moon had cast the greater part of the <i>wâdi</i> +into deep shadow. There was a gap in the irregular wall nearly +opposite to Barry’s tent through which a certain amount of light came, +but right and left of it lay ebony darkness. +</p> + +<p> +As he came out and joined Professor Blackwell: +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a party of Arabs up on the caravan road!” said the latter in +a low, urgent voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is my father?” Barry whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Here I am, Barry!” came a reply out of the darkness. “Speak softly. +Voices carry for miles in this place.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry groped his way in the direction of the speaker. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Danbazzar here?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m right here!” Danbazzar answered in a harsh whisper; then, +speaking more softly: “Who fired that shot?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” Professor Blackwell returned. “It came from high up in +the mountains. It must have been one of the Arabs.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder!” murmured John Cumberland. “I make the time half after two. +The second shift comes on at four. So that no one is likely to have +been moving—unless one of the watchmen may have seen something.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Sssh-ssh!</i>” came a warning. “Look!” +</p> + +<p> +High on the ridge above them, like some spirited ebony statue, the +figure of a horseman appeared, a magnificent silhouette against the +deepening blue of the sky! A moment he remained there. Then—no sound +reaching their ears—he disappeared magically, as he had come! +</p> + +<p> +“I want someone to go up to the excavation.” It was Danbazzar speaking +in a suppressed undertone. “Shall <i>I</i> go and leave you in charge, Mr. +Cumberland, or——” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go!” Barry volunteered promptly. “You may be wanted here.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s just possible,” Danbazzar went on, “that something may have gone +wrong there. It is also possible they mayn’t know the Arabs are here. +Order everybody to stay under cover except the guards. All work to be +suspended till further instructions. Got it clear?” +</p> + +<p> +“All set,” Barry replied promptly. +</p> + +<p> +“Be careful, my boy,” said John Cumberland; “and don’t forget the +signal, or our own men may attack you, if they are on the <i>qui vive</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +A big muscular hand grasped his. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” said Danbazzar, “take this.” +</p> + +<p> +He found a service revolver thrust into his fingers. Thereupon he set +off, rejoicing in the adventure yet wishing that Jim Sakers could have +been there to share it with him. He moved with great caution. In this +desert stillness, the slightest sound was audible for miles.… +</p> + +<p> +At some points in the journey, the <i>wâdi</i> left behind, that ridge +along which the caravan road ran was visible; at other points it +became lost to view. But always Barry slunk in the shadows, sometimes +dropping prone and wriggling for several yards, in order that he might +take advantage of some narrow belt of shadow; ever conscious, when the +dangerous ridge was in sight, of the possibility of being seen, or +worse—of being shot. +</p> + +<p> +Yet the very shadows that befriended him held their own terrors. Some +spies of the fanatical Arabs might lurk there. But without sight of +the band, and having heard no sound to indicate the presence of any +living thing on the plateau above, he came to that midnight gully +which opened out immediately above the tomb. +</p> + +<p> +Peering from the end of it, he clapped his hands very softly. +</p> + +<p> +An answering signal came from the top of the slope. He surmised that +the guard at the lower end was out of hearing. Mentally reviewing what +he knew of the course of the caravan road, he determined that from no +point upon it was this valley visible. +</p> + +<p> +He surveyed the rocky face of the mountain before him, his glance +travelling along uninterrupted by any oddity due to Danbazzar’s +screen—that miracle of camouflage. He crossed and hurried to the +trap, pausing a moment before he raised it. +</p> + +<p> +Very softly he clapped his hands again. An answering signal came from +beyond the canvas. +</p> + +<p> +Gently he lifted the shallow box of sand, turned, and groped with his +foot for the first of the wooden steps below. Finding this, he stood +upon it, ducked his head, and lowered the trap. He took three steps, +walking backward, then turned, and stared up a little incline. +</p> + +<p> +Above him, a lantern was set upon a heap of débris in the yawning +entrance to the tomb. And where dim light shone upward upon his +ascetic face stood Hassan es-Sugra, smiling with gentle melancholy. No +sound came from the depths of the tunnel. +</p> + +<p> +“Hassan!” said Barry. “The Hawwara Arabs are here!” +</p> + +<p> +Hassan bowed gravely and extended his hand to help Barry up the slope. +</p> + +<p> +“I know, sir,” he replied. “We heard the shot, and I ordered everyone +to be silent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did they fire at one of the watchmen?” Barry asked, scrambling up +beside the speaker. +</p> + +<p> +Hassan shook his head slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said, “I do not know why the shot was fired, but everything +was stopped until news came from outside.” +</p> + +<p> +His gentle eyes, which were so like the eyes of a gazelle, held a +curious light. Later Barry determined that it had been an indication +of excitement. Now, squatting about among the débris of the +excavation in the curious artificial cave created by the screen, he +saw a group of workmen. Some chewed, one of them was smoking, and they +all regarded him with glances in which only smiling curiosity could be +read. +</p> + +<p> +He stared down into the haunted depths of the shaft, and then back +again to Hassan es-Sugra. +</p> + +<p> +“It was written that we should succeed,” said Hassan. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” Barry demanded, conscious of a new tingling in his veins. +</p> + +<p> +“It was the work done last year,” Hassan continued calmly, “which made +it possible. If we had known, sir, with a little more time and trouble +we could have completed. The second portcullis is broken. I cannot say +how it was broken. But we have made a way through.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” Barry cried. “What’s below?” +</p> + +<p> +“A small square chamber,” Hassan replied, “without any decorations. On +the right is a doorway. It has been closed with square blocks and +cemented up. We have removed one of these blocks without great +difficulty. When the warning came I had just shone the light of a +torch through the opening, sir, which the workmen had made.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry grasped his arm hard. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the burial chamber,” Hassan went on calmly. “A great granite +sarcophagus is there, untouched.” +</p> + +<p> +Almost too excited for speech, Barry pointed, and Hassan, gravely +inclining his head, took from beneath his robe a pocket torch. +</p> + +<p> +Stooping, he led the way down the shaft. +</p> + +<p> +At the side of the first portcullis was an irregular opening wide +enough for a man to squeeze through. Hassan went first and then so +directed the light of his torch as to assist Barry to follow. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, sir,” he said, as the latter joined him in the lower part of the +tunnel, “be careful here. The roof has fallen. It is this, I think, +that broke the second door.” +</p> + +<p> +Bending forward, and at one point going on all fours, the two pressed +on. Presently, climbing through a gap not more than eighteen inches +high, over a mass of broken granite which seemed to have fallen from a +deep cavity in the roof, Barry suddenly remembered Professor +Blackwell’s theory about the second portcullis. +</p> + +<p> +The heat in the lower part of the shaft was oppressive, but having +proceeded for another twenty feet the descent ceased. They found +themselves in a small, square chamber hewn out of living rock, some +three paces across, and perhaps nine feet high. +</p> + +<p> +At first glance the wall upon the right resembled that in front and +that upon the left; but the trained eye of Hassan es-Sugra had almost +immediately detected the trick. It was plaster covering square +blocks—in part at least. This plaster had been chipped away—it was +several inches in thickness—over a space of a square yard or so. +Beams of wood and all sorts of excavators’ implements lay about the +apartment. And, presumably by means of these, one of the blocks had +been forced into the chamber beyond. The effect was that of a small +square window in a very thick wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Take the torch, please,” said Hassan, “and shine it through and a +little to the left.” +</p> + +<p> +He passed the torch to Barry. And the latter was surprised to find +that his hand was shaking slightly. Hassan es-Sugra smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Triumph is sometimes terrible, as well as defeat,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Barry grasped the light and thrust it forward into the opening. A beam +shone out before him, upon a rose sandstone sarcophagus! The covering +was accurately in place. Clearly no human hand had touched it for +centuries. +</p> + +<p> +He experienced a curious choking sensation. He turned the light +slowly, so that the beam moved along the top of the sarcophagus lid +and beyond, upon the wall of the chamber. +</p> + +<p> +The wall was brilliantly and beautifully painted. Immediately before +him, slightly to the right of the sarcophagus, the disk of white light +came to rest. Barry could feel his heart thumping against the rough +stone upon which he rested. He was staring at a symbol in high relief, +exquisitely coloured. It was that which meant: “She Who Sleeps but Who +Will Awaken.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch17"> +CHAPTER XVII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">MR. TAWWAB COMES TO TERMS</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">In my</span> opinion,” said Professor Blackwell, “the whole thing might be +described as a demonstration.” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with you,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” Danbazzar confirmed, “and we’ll have proof of it in +the next few hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“In what form?” Barry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A visit from Mr. Ahmed Tawwab!” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar tensed his lips, looking fiercely from face to face. The +anxious night was ended, and in the light of early morning this was a +somewhat haggard company. Danbazzar with Hassan es-Sugra had been up +onto the crest and had explored the Farshût caravan road for some +five miles northwest of the camp, but had found no trace of the Arabs. +It was possible that they were still somewhere in the vicinity, but +Danbazzar considered this unlikely. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll drive right on!” he boomed. “I wouldn’t check now for a million +dollars! The work below can’t be heard in the valley, and all we have +to watch for is that we’re not seen coming or going.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mahmoud tells me that two or three of the men are nervous,” said +Barry. +</p> + +<p> +“What about?” his father inquired—“the Arabs?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“They’d better keep their nerves out of sight!” roared Danbazzar’s +great voice. “If Hassan sees any signs of nerves he’ll knock stars out +of them!” +</p> + +<p> +“A most surprising character,” Professor Blackwell murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s the most efficient headman, sir,” Danbazzar assured him, “at +this kind of work that ever came out of Egypt. We’re surely lucky to +have him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite!” said the Professor. “I quite agree.” +</p> + +<p> +Mahmoud, grinning cheerfully, appeared with steaming coffee, and as +the sun crept up into the sky the vapours of the night disappeared. +Triumph was in sight. The discovery of the granite sarcophagus, alone, +in John Cumberland’s opinion justified the expedition. +</p> + +<p> +“Even if it were empty,” said he, “its existence confirms the +authenticity of the papyrus.” +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t be empty,” Danbazzar asserted confidently. “That lid has +never been moved since a Rameses reigned in these parts. When early +tomb robbers have been at work, it’s generally found smashed. +Certainly they would never have taken the trouble to put it back +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is another possibility,” Professor Blackwell interrupted. “I +believe it was Dr. Rittenburg who mentioned it: the possibility that +the story of Princess Zalithea was merely a sort of religious +ceremonial. I am disposed to share his theory. I seem to recall that +no bull has ever been found in the Apis mausoleum. The sarcophagi are +all empty.” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland, behind the speaker’s back, pulled a wry face. +</p> + +<p> +“True enough, Blackwell,” he admitted; “but then the lids had all been +moved!” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite, quite!” the Professor said. “The parallel is not exact, I +agree.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no damned parallel at all!” boomed Danbazzar. “Inside this +granite sarcophagus there’s a wooden sarcophagus, and in that there’s +a mummy!” +</p> + +<p> +“How long will it take to remove the other blocks?” Barry asked +excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +“We ought to be in to-night!” was the reply. “It’s an easy job. That +doorway was only temporarily walled up—as we might have expected.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what about lifting the lid?” +</p> + +<p> +“We have a set of jacks for the purpose, Barry,” his father replied. +“They are in the cases that were shipped from Birmingham to Port Said. +It is this sort of heavy gear that makes our position so dangerous. If +Mr. Tawwab saw those jacks, for instance——” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite!” said Professor Blackwell, and poured out another cup of +coffee, to which he added a finger of rum. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar had brought some mail across from Luxor, including a cable +for Barry from Jim Sakers, which had infuriated the former to the very +limits of endurance. It was conceived as follows: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +Called on Mr. Brown yesterday afternoon. Door was opened by Princess. +Recognized description. Height five eight. Age fifty-two. Weight +thirteen ten. She carried a rolling pin at beginning of interview and +threw it at end of same. Congratulations. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">Jim</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +There was also a letter from Aunt Micky touching briefly upon the +principal causes of dysentery in hot climates and emphasizing the +claims of Vichy water as a dentifrice. There was much home chat about +mutual friends, and then a brief postscript which read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +Avoid Nile boils. I had one on my honeymoon. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Barry hurried back to the excavation, his father accompanying him. +Danbazzar had a number of arrangements to make in regard to the +transport of necessary implements to the tomb, and it was considered +desirable that one representative of the party should remain in camp. +Therefore Professor Blackwell remained. +</p> + +<p> +And so it happened that late in the afternoon, while the Professor sat +in the shade before his tent, studying through a magnifying glass a +number of small bones from the arm of a mummy, neatly arranged upon a +sheet of white paper, he started suddenly and looked up from his task. +</p> + +<p> +The cause of his disturbance was a distant shot. It came from +somewhere between the camp and Kurna, and ordinarily it would not have +aroused especial interest. This morning it had a particular meaning. +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell placed the specimens inside the tent, and, +standing up, clapped his hands sharply. An Arab appeared from the +kitchen. In the absence of Mahmoud, who was a specialist in the kind +of work now going forward in the tomb of Zalithea, this man was +preparing the midday meal. But he had other duties; and, as he saluted +the Professor: +</p> + +<p> +“Danbazzar Effendi!” said the latter, and pointed southwest. +</p> + +<p> +The Arab saluted again and set off at a steady trot along the <i>wâdi</i>. +Professor Blackwell peered into the kitchen. He found nothing more +formidable going forward than the slow stewing of a sort of vegetable +ragout; and so he contentedly lighted his pipe, which had gone out. +</p> + +<p> +Already the morning was uncomfortably hot, and Professor Blackwell’s +costume must have occasioned some little comment had he seen fit to +wear it before a class of students at Columbia. It consisted of canvas +shoes, B.V.D’s and a sun helmet. The more exposed parts of his person +presented a glistening appearance, occasioned by the presence of a +certain pungent oil with which he anointed himself against the onset +of mosquitoes and sand flies. +</p> + +<p> +About half an hour later Danbazzar appeared, followed by the Arab +messenger. His was a picturesque and attractive figure. His great +height and breadth of shoulder appeared to best advantage in such +attire as he wore now: A very clean white shirt with sleeves rolled up +above the elbow, the low pointed collar unbuttoned, white breeches, +and tan riding boots. He wore also a soft felt hat, wide brimmed, +light gray in colour, and he held a cigar between his small, +strong-looking teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“You got the signal?” he asked abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Half an hour ago,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Then we can expect him almost any time,” said Danbazzar. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got everything ready to be moved up to the tomb?” the +Professor asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” Danbazzar nodded. “I’m only waiting to get the measure of +Tawwab. Then I’ll shoot it all along.” +</p> + +<p> +They were apparently deep in conversation and quite unaware of the +presence of any stranger, when presently Ahmed Tawwab strolled into +the <i>wâdi</i>. He was smoking a cigarette and looking about him, as one +who lounges in Bond Street, or idly glances at the notices in the +lobby of his club. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar suddenly saw him, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Why! Mr. Tawwab!” he exclaimed, and jumped up. “Look, Professor, +who’s here!” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, Mr. Tawwab?” the Professor murmured. “How fortunate you find +us at home!” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Tawwab agreed that Fate had indeed been very kind, coffee was +prepared, and a perfectly meaningless conversation began. After a long +time: +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Cumberland and your other young friend will be returning +shortly?” Mr. Tawwab inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Probably in an hour or so,” Danbazzar assured him. “They are visiting +one of the more interesting tombs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! the tombs—Yes. I thought they might be shooting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shooting?” Danbazzar echoed. “No, I don’t think so; not this +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I heard a shot,” Mr. Tawwab explained, “down on the edge of +the swampy ground, to the left of the road. You know the spot I mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite!” murmured Professor Blackwell. “Quite! It might have been one +of our fellows after quail.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure it might,” Danbazzar agreed. “We’re devils for poultry in this +camp.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are wise, however, in delaying your departure,” said the +Egyptian. +</p> + +<p> +“How is that?” Professor Blackwell asked politely. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” Mr. Tawwab extended his palms apologetically, “it is not to +our credit to say so, but the whole of the country west of the Nile, +from here across to Farshût or even further north, is in a somewhat +disturbed condition. In fact”—he sighed reflectively—“the Mudîr, I +am sure, would feel more happy if you would return to Luxor.” +</p> + +<p> +“That would cheer him up, would it?” said Danbazzar. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be most agreeable to him,” Mr. Tawwab assured the speaker. +</p> + +<p> +“Much as we are indebted for the offer,” said Danbazzar gravely, “I +fear that to return to Luxor would interfere with our plans.” +</p> + +<p> +“We should never forgive ourselves,” Mr. Tawwab murmured, “if you were +molested in any way. Even if you were not harmed personally, your +property might be destroyed, or stolen. I dislike to think of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“So do I,” Professor Blackwell declared. +</p> + +<p> +“We know rather more about the nature of the disturbance,” Tawwab +pursued evenly, “than when you called upon us. It is a matter +concerning the collection of certain revenues. Concessions demanded by +the Sheik Ishmail we are not, as a matter of fact, prepared to grant. +But, oddly enough, the negotiations have been left practically in my +hands, as I know the Sheik Ishmail quite intimately.” +</p> + +<p> +“I rather thought you did,” said Danbazzar, with a large, amiable +smile. +</p> + +<p> +He exchanged a significant glance with Professor Blackwell, and the +latter, by a prearranged plan, stood up glancing at his wrist watch. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a few notes to make on the subject of those mummy bones,” he +murmured, “and there’s only just time before lunch. Perhaps, Mr. +Tawwab, you will excuse me for a few minutes?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Tawwab also stood up and bowed most ceremoniously as the Professor +departed to his own tent. This haven reached, Blackwell produced the +paper of small bones again, and ostentatiously spread them upon a +table before his door. +</p> + +<p> +The interview between Danbazzar and Mr. Tawwab occupied an +inordinately long time. Two relays of coffee were requisitioned, and +at intervals Danbazzar’s great voice was raised in a manner rather +unparliamentary. But as the debate was throughout conducted in Arabic, +Professor Blackwell could only assume that the question was one of +terms. +</p> + +<p> +It was ultimately settled amicably, however, Mr. Tawwab expressing his +profound regret that he could not wait for the return of Messrs. John +and Barry Cumberland. But important official business demanded his +speedy reappearance in Luxor. +</p> + +<p> +As Danbazzar walked beside him along the <i>wâdi</i>, one large hand laid +caressingly on his shoulder, the contrast between his slight Egyptian +figure and the great bulk of his companion was notable. Professor +Blackwell derived an odd impression that Danbazzar would have loved to +twist Mr. Tawwab’s neck. +</p> + +<p> +Having escorted him to where a servant waited with two horses, +Danbazzar threw a stump of cigar upon the sand and selected a fresh +one from several which he kept loose in the breast pocket of his white +shirt. He bit off the end and spat it out reflectively, standing, a +huge, picturesque figure, staring after the horsemen. +</p> + +<p> +When presently he rejoined Professor Blackwell: +</p> + +<p> +“How much?” the latter asked, standing up to greet him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten thousand piastres for the first week,” Danbazzar replied calmly, +and critically surveyed the end of his lighted cigar, which he +extracted from between his teeth apparently for no other purpose; +“twenty thousand piastres for the second week; forty thousand piastres +if we stay over into a third, and so on. In other words, if we stayed +for three months we’d need to send an SOS to Mr. Rockefeller! That’s +our rent, and we’ve got to pay it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite, quite!” the Professor murmured. “Five hundred dollars for the +first week, a thousand dollars for the second, and two thousand +dollars for the third, or any part of the third, during which we +remain here. Is that the figure?” +</p> + +<p> +“You said it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And suppose John Cumberland declines to submit to this extortion?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s suppose.” Danbazzar dropped down upon a small packing case +which sometimes served as a chair. “In the first place, we’d be raided +to-night by some scurvy bunch of Arabs in the pay of Tawwab. If we +came out smiling, from to-morrow onward we’d be watched so closely the +game wouldn’t be worth the candle. He would then threaten official +interference. And if we kept right on smiling, there’d be another +raid—and they’d take our shirts! They’d also take our excavation and +every damn thing they could find in it! The real shape of our job in +the valley shown up, Mr. Tawwab would next suggest, say a hundred +thousand piastres to let us go home to America. Alternative—send us +to Cairo for trial! Professor”—he extended his palms in an +extravagant imitation of Ahmed Tawwab’s favourite gesture—“he has +walked away with my check on the National Bank of Egypt for ten +thousand piastres. We’ve got a clear week.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think he will stick to his bargain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not!” roared Danbazzar, and brought his hand down with a +resounding bang on the side of the box, so that it emitted a drumlike +note. “If we were ready to move in three days, it would make no +difference. He’d want at least another fifty thousand piastres to let +us leave Luxor.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is expensive,” the Professor murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“It <i>would be</i>,” Danbazzar returned, “if we paid it.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch18"> +CHAPTER XVIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE LOTUS SARCOPHAGUS</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> sun was casting its last shafts of gold across the fringe of the +Libyan Desert when Barry Cumberland stepped over the threshold and +entered the tomb of Zalithea. He had pleaded for this privilege, and +it had been granted to him. Danbazzar and John Cumberland followed, +Professor Blackwell hard upon their heels; and Hassan es-Sugra, +smiling in gentle triumph, brought up the rear. +</p> + +<p> +Sweat-grimed workmen crowded the outer chamber.… +</p> + +<p> +No inscription of any kind appeared upon the sides or lid of the great +granite sarcophagus, but the walls were very beautifully painted. The +atmosphere was so oppressive as to be almost insupportable. +</p> + +<p> +There was something awesome in this sudden silence which had succeeded +upon clamour. Danbazzar was the first to break it. +</p> + +<p> +“The name of Princess Zalithea,” he said, his deep voice oddly hushed, +“occurs, as you can see, in several places.” He directed the ray of +his torch from point to point. “Much of the decorations—such as the +procession of boats, the Sem-priest in his mystic trance, the funeral +offerings, and so forth—are quite conventional in character. You will +notice, though, that the Lotus constantly occurs, as well as the Ankh, +emblem of eternal life.” He shone the light all around. “There are +other important points, too,” he mused, “which we can look into later. +Be very careful. Touch nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry, wholly absorbed in his own peculiar reflections, was passing +around the sarcophagus; feeling its surface with his fingers; peering +into the tiny crevices between the lid and the lip. Meanwhile, +Danbazzar and John Cumberland were bending almost reverently over a +strangely shaped, squat table on which were salvers, bowls, +curious-looking phials, and a number of tall, slender lamps. +</p> + +<p> +“Observe,” said Danbazzar, a note of triumph in his deep voice: +“<i>these</i> are not the usual funerary offerings!” +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell’s long bony fingers were extended toward one of +the phials, but: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! Blackwell!” cried John Cumberland excitedly. “Don’t touch it! +Touch nothing! It may crumble!” +</p> + +<p> +The Professor withdrew his greedy hand reluctantly. +</p> + +<p> +“And I wonder what that casket contains?” he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +The casket to which he referred, an exquisitely carved object, stood +by itself upon a sort of pedestal, some little distance from the table +and beside a long, low couch, the legs carved to represent the feet of +a leopard. Danbazzar almost imperiously waved him to silence. Then, +turning his back to the sarcophagus, the table, and the pedestal, he +addressed them as a speaker addresses an audience. +</p> + +<p> +“The casket, gentlemen,” he said, “as well as the bowls and bottles, +contains the ingredients mentioned in the formula! I have seen enough +already to tell me my preparations are complete. Presently, +Professor”—he turned to Professor Blackwell—“maybe you can assist me +in checking these; but the task of preserving many of the fragments is +going to be a delicate one. We mustn’t forget they’re three thousand +years old.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is almost more than I can believe!” declared John Cumberland +rapturously. +</p> + +<p> +Barry, one hand resting upon the sarcophagus, faced him, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Dad,” he said, “it’s <i>altogether</i> more than <i>I</i> can believe!” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” Danbazzar demanded. “That here before us, perished but +recognizable, lie the ingredients of the formula as they were prepared +by the last priest to wake Zalithea, for the use of his successor?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Barry replied: “<i>that’s</i> hard enough—but what I cannot believe +is that the woman who is the centre of this incredible story lies +<i>here</i>, in this sarcophagus!” +</p> + +<p> +“Personally, my mind is open!” Professor Blackwell asserted, glancing +around him. “There is no other entrance to this chamber?” +</p> + +<p> +“None whatever,” Danbazzar confirmed. +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore,” the Professor went on, shaking perspiration from his high +brow, “we are the first explorers, since this amazing ritual came to +an end for reasons which, probably, we shall never know.” He glanced +aside at the sarcophagus. “It’s uncanny,” he murmured, “the thought +that inside those walls of granite—— But, no! I stick to my +opinion!” +</p> + +<p> +“How long will it take to raise the lid?” Barry interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland, hot, tired, met his son’s glance with one fired by no +less enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +“With the aid of the apparatus which we have with us, Barry,” he +answered, “not long. You agree, Danbazzar?” +</p> + +<p> +The latter, who was less excited than the others—always excepting +Hassan es-Sugra—bowed in his old-world manner. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll have that lid off in an hour!” he declared. “But before we +start there are quite a lot of precautions we have to take.…” +</p> + +<p> +Two hours later the gear for lifting the great granite lid was brought +from its hiding place; and everything was put in order for the +operation, the result of which would prove or disprove Dr. +Rittenburg’s theory (now shared by Professor Blackwell) that Princess +Zalithea was a myth; that no such person had ever existed; that the +tradition was a priestly invention designed to impress the vulgar +mind. +</p> + +<p> +Ever distrustful of Ahmed Tawwab, guards armed with rifles had been +placed at selected spots northwest of the camp along the caravan road +to Farshût; these reinforcing the ordinary guards in the valley. +</p> + +<p> +The wildest excitement prevailed among the party. Apparently, as well +as Barry could make out, apart from the problematical contents of the +sarcophagus, the objects found in the tomb were in many ways unique. +</p> + +<p> +There was an exquisitely embossed bowl, which, he learned, was of pure +gold. The figures upon it were apparently different from any found +hitherto. Professor Blackwell succeeded in identifying seven of the +substances found, in the vials and the casket, as identical with those +mentioned in the formula possessed by Danbazzar. One or two defied +speculation, or the Professor’s knowledge, until Danbazzar enlightened +him as to their nature. Whereupon he recognized them, but raised his +voice in doubt respecting the possibility of obtaining these at the +present day. +</p> + +<p> +“I <i>have</i> obtained them!” Danbazzar assured him. “When the time comes, +you shall see them. Oh! I’ve been busy, Professor. Where the Ancient +Egyptians got these things God only knows! They can’t have had a +colony in Russia in those days.” +</p> + +<p> +“Russia!” the Professor echoed. +</p> + +<p> +“I said Russia,” Danbazzar affirmed. “One of the ingredients—the one +we have been arguing about—I ultimately got from Russia!” +</p> + +<p> +“You refer to the substance which you tell me is of mammalian origin?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mammals have been found in Africa,” the Professor murmured.… +</p> + +<p> +And so in the atmosphere of excited debate and unceasing toil the day +wore on. +</p> + +<p> +Hassan es-Sugra never left the tomb. It would have been impossible for +any workman to remove a grain of dust from it and escape the scrutiny +of those gazelle-like eyes. Barry’s enthusiasm was such that the +tedious methods employed by Danbazzar for raising the lid of the +sarcophagus tortured him to the borders of frenzy. At one point: +</p> + +<p> +“Why all these precautions?” he cried. “It would need a steam hammer +to crack that lid!” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely it would,” Danbazzar returned gravely. “What’s the big point?” +</p> + +<p> +“The point is,” said Barry, “that you are making a perfectly +preposterous fuss about lifting it—as though it would matter very +much if we dropped it!” +</p> + +<p> +“I see!” Danbazzar spoke softly, regarding the younger man through +half-closed eyes. “If you were lying in a stone chest next to +hermetically sealed, and somebody dropped half a ton of granite on top +of it”—his voice suddenly rose, booming around the enclosed +chamber—“where in hell do you think you’d be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” Barry was startled. “Of course! You are quite right!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d be dead of concussion!” Danbazzar shouted. “Thundering +concussion! This is my business—and I’ll do it my own way!” +</p> + +<p> +He was formidable in his sudden anger, and Barry realized that he had +committed an unforgivable <i>faux pas</i>—that of criticizing an artist in +the practice of his profession.… +</p> + +<p> +The coming of dusk found the raising gear in place to Danbazzar’s +satisfaction, at which point he cleared the tomb, leaving Hassan +es-Sugra on guard in the outer chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“The eight o’clock shift will start the lifting,” he pronounced. “We +all want dinner, so we’ll all have it.” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland, sweat-grimed but happy, looked up from the task which +he had been performing side by side with the Arab workmen. Barry +leaned up against the rugged masonry beside the opening and mopped his +forehead with a very dirty handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s torture to quit,” he declared honestly, “but you are right, +Danbazzar. I am dead tired. Aren’t you, Dad?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am!” his father admitted. “I would give a big price for a real hot +bath before dinner!” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be most acceptable,” declared Professor Blackwell. +“Association with these very worthy natives adds to one’s knowledge of +humanity but results in so many fleas!” +</p> + +<p> +They returned to camp in the <i>wâdi</i>, taking turns in the portable +bath supervised by the grinning Mahmoud. This was a rare luxury, for +water had to be brought a great distance, and inadequate though these +baths might be, they were keenly appreciated by the party. +</p> + +<p> +All brought keen appetites to dinner, which was well up to Mahmoud’s +standard. Having reached coffee (into which they were forced to pour +their cognac, lest Mahmoud should see the bottle which they kept +concealed in the sand, or, worse, smell the glasses): +</p> + +<p> +“To-night,” said Danbazzar, selecting a cigar, “the lid of the +sarcophagus will be raised.” +</p> + +<p> +“What then?” cried Barry. +</p> + +<p> +“There’ll be an inner sarcophagus,” was the reply, “probably of +sycamore and elaborately painted. Our next task will be to raise that, +which won’t be difficult. Nor will the opening of the wooden lid; +but—” he paused, carefully lighted his cigar and rolled it between +his fingers for a moment—“I’m going to give orders, and in these +orders you are included, Mr. Cumberland.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am at your service,” said John Cumberland. “You know more of this +business than I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” Danbazzar went on. “The raising of the second lid will be +easy. But it won’t be raised until I say the word.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” cried Barry. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar turned to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” he answered, “the raising of that lid will be the first +critical moment. We don’t know what we shall find. We don’t care to +think what we shall find. But we have to suppose that there is a woman +there—in what we might describe as a trance. Now”—he performed a +slow, impressive gesture—“according to the formula, as you’ll +remember, Mr. Cumberland, there must be no delay between the opening +of the sarcophagus and the beginning of the ceremony for waking the +sleeper.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens!” exclaimed Professor Blackwell. “Is this some strange +dream?” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be,” Danbazzar admitted, “but we have to suppose that it +isn’t. Also, we have to suppose, or rather to remember, that the +Princess Zalithea, if she’s there and still living, last saw this +world in the days of the Pharaohs!—according to my calculations, +about the time of Rameses the Ninth. Let’s put ourselves in her place. +If we aren’t all crazy—if those old priests weren’t all crazy—she +will suddenly find herself surrounded by a group of wild-eyed +devils—I include myself—wearing fantastic clothes and speaking a +barbaric language! Now this can’t be. Think a minute!” +</p> + +<p> +“I follow you entirely,” said Professor Blackwell. “Quite! Quite! And +I see what you are about to propose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good for you, Professor!” Danbazzar nodded appreciatively. “We’ve got +to dress the part, and I came prepared for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” Barry exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” Danbazzar went on; “when we take that lid off, we have got +to be dressed like Ancient Egyptians!—and we have got to be silent! +Leave the talking to me. I have the outfit. Does everybody agree?” +</p> + +<p> +Everybody agreed.… +</p> + +<p> +They did not linger long over their coffee, but hurried back to the +excavation. +</p> + +<p> +Guards were posted as on the previous night. Excitement ran higher +than ever. They worked, and the Arabs worked, under the direction of +Hassan es-Sugra, like men whose lives depended upon their speedy +success. +</p> + +<p> +But the eight o’clock shift had returned to quarters and the twelve +o’clock shift were near to their time of departure, before the great +lid was raised high enough to enable them to explore the interior of +the granite coffin. +</p> + +<p> +Not one of the party was wholly master of himself. Barry experienced +an unfamiliar desire either to laugh or to cry. But, composure +regained, light was directed into the interior.… +</p> + +<p> +It contained a magnificent wooden sarcophagus, highly gilded and +painted. The lid, which was in relief, represented the figure of the +occupant—a girl, clad in a gauzy robe, her hands clasped upon her +bosom and holding a Lotus flower. The Ankh—symbol of life—was at her +head and her feet. The presentment was wonderful—uncanny. +</p> + +<p> +Barry’s mood changed. He felt suddenly sick. He believed that he was +likely to swoon. +</p> + +<p> +The eyes, the hair, the full lips, the slender, cloudily clad figure! +This was madness! He stood upright, his hand on his brow. Perspiration +was dripping into his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +It was <i>she!</i> It was the girl of his dreams! More, far more than a +coincidence, this was a miracle—or a delusion! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch19"> +CHAPTER XIX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE VOICE IN THE VALLEY</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> hours that followed were feverish hours. They were marked by at +least one strange event. +</p> + +<p> +Barry’s excitement grew so intense that the mere idea of sleep was out +of the question. If he had had his way, the wonderful painted lid +would have been torn off and the occupant revealed within a very few +minutes of its discovery. But Danbazzar sternly took command. The tomb +was cleared; the triumphant workmen were sent off to their quarters; +all operations were suspended until morning. And on this point +Danbazzar proved adamant. +</p> + +<p> +In view of the advanced state of the work, and of what interference at +this critical step would mean, he determined to supplant the ordinary +guards. It was arranged that John Cumberland and Barry should take a +dog-watch (two hours) at the high and low ends of the valley; then +Hassan and Danbazzar; and finally Professor Blackwell and Mahmoud. All +would be armed. +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll take me right through the first spell,” said Danbazzar, “and +most of the third, to collect up the stuff I want to get along. Maybe +I’ll make more than one journey each time, and Hassan can help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t forget the signal!” Professor Blackwell warned. “We are all +tuned up above concert pitch!” +</p> + +<p> +And so, beneath a glorious moon that painted the Valleys of the Kings +and Queens with silvern mystery, Barry and his father began the first +watch. Wholly animated now by the spirit of adventure, they tossed for +positions—and Barry got the low end. +</p> + +<p> +Shouldering his rifle, he marched down the slope; and, his post +reached, gave himself over to reflection. The first idea to claim his +mind was a grotesque one. Here were a group of eminently respectable +Americans mounting armed guard over a tomb that belonged to the +Egyptian government! True, they had evidence pointing to the +possibility that it contained a living woman; but to pretend that they +were in any sense actuated by the motives of a rescue party would be +sheer hypocrisy. +</p> + +<p> +The spot, if somewhat inaccessible, was nevertheless open to the +public. He experienced momentarily the sensations of one who claims a +certain mound in Central Park and posts sentinels over it. +</p> + +<p> +Then, swiftly, his thoughts changed. Zalithea! To no living soul had +he breathed his conviction that Zalithea—if she really lay under that +painted cover—had already appeared to him, perhaps in visions, but +apparently in the flesh! He knew that he had not spoken of this +because he had not dared. Even now he was afraid to think of the +painted figure, afraid to face the question: What does it all mean? +</p> + +<p> +He tried to banish these ideas. They definitely disturbed him. And the +morrow would show—what? +</p> + +<p> +Resting his rifle against a rock, he filled and started a pipe. The +flame of the little gold lighter—a parting present from Jim +Sakers—made grotesque shadows. He remembered that at this point he +was no great distance from the haunted valley where he had seen the +mummylike figure moving. +</p> + +<p> +The thought was unnerving. He imagined that gaunt, half-human shape +creeping toward him, secretly, through the darkness. In the little +hollow were ruins of those huts which had been built in a remote age +for the accommodation of the tomb guards. +</p> + +<p> +If the spirit of such a guard could revisit that spot, how bitter—and +how just—would be his resentment! +</p> + +<p> +He toyed with this idea. And, largely because of an unpleasant +tingling of his scalp which he was brave enough to admit to himself +betokened approaching panic, he argued that the case presented +peculiar and extenuating features. Here was no violation of the mighty +dead. On the contrary, they were carrying on the labours of the +priests who had begun this amazing experiment. They were attempting to +make possible that dream of Pharaoh in which he had seen men of a +future age listening to a story of his grandeur from the lips of one +who had witnessed it! +</p> + +<p> +From this convincing argument he derived much comfort. The +supernatural dread which had threatened to claim him receded like a +real presence—only to return suddenly, magnified a hundredfold. +</p> + +<p> +Coming unmistakably from the direction of the haunted hollow, a sound +broke the profound silence of the night—<i>a woman’s voice!</i> +</p> + +<p> +Utterly unexpected, wholly incomprehensible, it seemed to make Barry’s +heart stand still. No word reached him; merely the silvery tones. From +a great distance it came—and ceased abruptly—almost as though the +speaker had been silenced. +</p> + +<p> +A woman—in that place—at that hour! The idea simply wasn’t +admissible. Yet he had heard her voice! His hands closed like a vise +upon the rifle. He gripped his pipe between his teeth desperately. +Compromise with himself was no longer possible. For this was no trick +of his imagination. Beyond shadow of doubt he had heard a thing +admitting of no reasonable explanation; and he was definitely, +dreadfully scared. +</p> + +<p> +Intently he listened, but could hear only a drumming in his ears. The +tinkle of a camel bell up on the caravan road would have been as balm +to his fevered mind; for it would have offered a possible solution of +the mystery. But nothing stirred. +</p> + +<p> +He longed to join his father, to tell him of the phenomenon. But he +knew that he must not desert his post. Nor could he conscientiously +convince himself that there was justification for blowing the whistle +he carried—a signal that would summon John Cumberland. +</p> + +<p> +And so he stood there, holding grimly onto his slipping courage—while +minute after minute passed in profound silence, that great, deep +silence of the desert which can almost be heard. +</p> + +<p> +Hours seemed to elapse in this way. But, when Barry glanced at the +luminous dial of his wrist watch, he learned that he had been on guard +for less than half the allotted span. In the act of consulting the +watch, his heart gave a great leap. +</p> + +<p> +Another sound had broken the stillness. +</p> + +<p> +Then he heaved a sigh of relief. It was the signal, higher up the +valley. Someone had clapped his hands three times. Immediately, John +Cumberland’s voice came: +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Danbazzar,” Barry heard. +</p> + +<p> +After this, words became indistinguishable; but a human link had been +established; he no longer felt alone with the shadows. And his dread +slipped from him like a discarded garment. +</p> + +<p> +He wondered, practically, if he should report the occurrence. He +decided to wait until he was relieved by the next watch. +</p> + +<p> +So the second hour of his duty wore on, uneventfully, and at last came +the familiar signal again. Some conversation there was; then an +interval of silence. Finally, he heard the voices of John Cumberland +and Danbazzar drawing nearer as they walked down the slope. Coming +around the last bend: +</p> + +<p> +“Two more loads will do it,” Danbazzar was saying. “I’ll bring them up +while Blackwell and Mahmoud are on watch. Then everything will be +safely planted by daylight.” As they came into view: “Hullo, there!” +Danbazzar called. “All clear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Barry, “except that I heard a most extraordinary thing +about an hour ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” Danbazzar demanded sharply. +</p> + +<p> +He bent forward, so that even in the darkness of the <i>wâdi</i> Barry +could see the gleam of his fierce eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“A woman’s voice!” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh!” John Cumberland exclaimed. “You must have been dreaming, Barry!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t dreaming, Dad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did it come from?” Danbazzar asked rapidly. “Which direction?” +</p> + +<p> +Barry pointed. +</p> + +<p> +“Down there—where we saw the mummy man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens!” said his father—“the haunted valley!” +</p> + +<p> +He was acquainted with the story of the apparition seen by Danbazzar +and Barry, and had even explored the hollow by daylight, but had found +no evidence of human habitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Strange,” Danbazzar muttered, in his deep voice. “Did she seem to be +speaking English?” +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t say. No words were distinguishable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it a young voice?” John Cumberland asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar and John Cumberland exchanged swift glances. Then: +</p> + +<p> +“Is it possible,” asked the latter, “that some camping party has +crossed?” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” Danbazzar spoke confidently. “I’d have had news of it from +Hassan. He knows everything that’s arranged in Luxor. And there’s no +<i>dahabîyeh</i> up either. I can’t account for it.” +</p> + +<p> +He stared hard at Barry. +</p> + +<p> +“I heard it,” the latter repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t doubt you heard <i>something</i>,” Danbazzar admitted. “But I’m +just wondering what it was. There are night birds that have a note not +unlike a woman’s voice. Some small animals, too, when a jackal gets +them, squeal like hares. And the cry of a hare is very human. Did you +know that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew it,” Barry replied, “although I never heard one. But this was +no animal or bird. It was a woman a long way off, but unmistakably a +woman.” +</p> + +<p> +The mystery unsolved, they presently parted; Danbazzar taking over the +watch, and John Cumberland and Barry returning to camp. They exchanged +greetings with Hassan es-Sugra, posted at the head of the valley, and +then, silent for the most part, tramped on to the tents. +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell was very much awake. In fact, he had got Mahmoud +to prepare coffee for them. Sandwiches consisting of Huntley and +Palmer’s biscuits, native butter, and bottled prawns were also in +readiness. +</p> + +<p> +“Highly indigestible,” the Professor admitted. “But one or two extra +nightmares count for little upon such an expedition.” +</p> + +<p> +The phenomenon of the mysterious voice was discussed at length. +</p> + +<p> +“I vote for some kind of nighthawk,” John Cumberland finally declared. +</p> + +<p> +“It was no nighthawk,” Barry assured him. +</p> + +<p> +“H’m!” murmured Professor Blackwell. “I am consistently unfortunate at +games of chance. But I venture to hope that on my watch I may draw the +upper end of the valley and Mahmoud the lower!” +</p> + +<p> +How this fell out, and what Danbazzar and Hassan had to report, Barry +did not learn. Determined though he had been not to close his eyes +until the night was ended, tired nature prevailed. Not even the prawns +and coffee could keep him awake. He found himself nodding over his +pipe. John Cumberland was deep in slumber in a chair, and Professor +Blackwell’s snores rang out sonorously upon the desert silence. +</p> + +<p> +Barry aroused himself, and: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s no good, Dad!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland started into wakefulness. The Professor snored on. +</p> + +<p> +“We must turn in,” Barry continued. “We are both dead beat!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right, my boy,” his father agreed. “But who’s going to wake +Blackwell when the time comes?” +</p> + +<p> +Barry pointed, laughing sleepily. +</p> + +<p> +A cheap alarum clock, set for fifteen minutes ahead of the Professor’s +watch with Mahmoud, stood only six inches from the sleeper’s head! +</p> + +<p> +“The scientific mind,” murmured John Cumberland—“always methodical. +Good-night, Barry. I’m for bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night,” said Barry. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes later he was fast asleep. +</p> + +<p> +No dreams visited him to-night. He slept the sleep of utter weariness. +A gunshot would not have awakened him. And the sun was high above the +valleys where those who ruled Egypt in the golden past slept even more +soundly than he, when a booming voice ended his slumbers. +</p> + +<p> +“Turn out!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry opened his eyes. Danbazzar stood looking into the tent. This +extraordinary man, from his leonine head with its well-brushed gray +hair down to his polished riding boots, was spruce as though the dust +of deserts positively avoided him. +</p> + +<p> +“We open the sarcophagus in an hour!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch20"> +CHAPTER XX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE RITUAL</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Barry</span> looked around the square, rock-hewn chamber communicating with +the tomb, and wondered why he felt no inclination to laugh. Had Jim +Sakers formed one of the party, his mood might have been different; +but, in the company of his father, Danbazzar, and Professor Blackwell, +he found himself touched by awe. +</p> + +<p> +They wore robes, sandals, and curious linen skullcaps which entirely +concealed their hair. Danbazzar, so arrayed, presented an impressive +picture. He did not look like an Egyptian priest, but he might have +been a Pharaoh disguised as one, except for his moustache. The others, +save for their deeply tanned skin, could by no stretch of the +imagination have been mistaken for anything but American citizens +masquerading. +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell, oddly enough, was more convincing than the rest. +Without his spectacles, although he could see little, he had a +distinctly hieratic appearance. +</p> + +<p> +Hassan es-Sugra was not present. With Mahmoud he mounted guard in the +valley, above. +</p> + +<p> +A richly embroidered curtain hung in the now demolished doorway of the +tomb chamber. The heat was almost insupportable; and the smell of some +kind of incense which was burning on the other side of the curtain +added to the oppressiveness of the atmosphere. This was <i>Kyphi</i>, +mentioned in the “Papyrus Ebers,” and, according to Danbazzar, only +twice hitherto prepared in modern times. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar gave his final instructions. +</p> + +<p> +“To the best of my knowledge,” he said, “everything is ready. One +essential oil—you know the one I mean, Professor—has changed colour +since I had it distilled. I can only hope that its special properties, +whatever they are, remain the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“It has no special properties that I am aware of,” the Professor +murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall see,” the deep voice went on. “The seven lamps are ready to +be lighted. You know when to light them and which lamps each of you +must light. The last one, I light. The two unguents are in the bowls. +You”—turning his piercing regard upon Barry—“will put the taper to +the liquid in the perfume burner when I give the signal. +</p> + +<p> +“The wine for the final draught, you”—indicating John +Cumberland—“will pour into the cup onto the powder at the last +moment—when she opens her eyes. I consider the wine to be the most +doubtful item. It’s Madeira wine, over a hundred and fifty years old, +but I’m not sure of it all the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“That contained in the flagon found here was undoubtedly a similar +vintage,” Professor Blackwell said. “It was a grape wine. My +microscope has convinced me of this.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can only hope you’re right,” said Danbazzar. “And now—the most +important point of all. The sarcophagus I’ve had lifted out onto a +sloping trestle. The implements for raising the lid are ready. The +couch, described in the formula, is still serviceable, if we take +great care. Directly the lid is off, she must be taken out of the +sarcophagus and laid on the couch. I’ll do it. From that moment on, no +one must speak! No one must make a sound! Just do your jobs. And, for +God’s sake, don’t bungle!” +</p> + +<p> +He held the curtain aside, and the party filed into the tomb. +</p> + +<p> +It presented a picture that time could never efface from the minds of +those who saw it. Dimly lighted by an ancient lamp set upon a +pedestal, the air was misty with clouds of incense arising from a +tripod placed on the right of the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +The lotus sarcophagus rested, slanting, near to the great granite box +which had contained it for generations. Upon a low table were two +bowls containing some kind of ointment; a metal perfume burner; a +jewelled cup in which was some gray, powdery substance; a stoppered +flagon; and a curiously shaped lamp. The table was set close to the +head of a long, narrow, gilded couch, having legs carved to represent +those of an animal, and found in the tomb. +</p> + +<p> +Six other lamps were placed at intervals around the walls. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar pointed to a bundle of tapers. They were made of some +inflammable resinous substance. +</p> + +<p> +“The moment I lift her out,” he directed, “light those tapers at the +brazier. The wrappings I look to find perished, and I shall set to +work right away. Say all you want to say before I get the lid off. I +shall work fast, even if I do damage. Once the thing is open—not a +word from anybody.” +</p> + +<p> +He stooped over the sarcophagus, with its startling presentment of the +occupant. His shadow, gigantic, moved upon painted walls and ceiling. +A sound of wrenching, cracking wood broke the oppressive silence.… +</p> + +<p> +Barry clenched his teeth hard. He glanced at his father. Even through +the tan one could see that John Cumberland had grown pale. Professor +Blackwell’s gaunt features glistened with perspiration. Barry +wondered—as though newly faced with the problem—what he should do if +the sarcophagus really proved to contain a woman! A sudden +unaccountable conviction had come to him that it was empty. +</p> + +<p> +The heat in the tomb seemed to be growing greater every moment.… +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland stepped forward, in response to a signal from +Danbazzar. Together, they raised the painted lid and rested it upright +against the nearest wall. +</p> + +<p> +Through a mist that was not wholly due to the incense, Barry saw the +figure of a woman lying in the sarcophagus! +</p> + +<p> +The figure was swathed in saffron-coloured wrappings. The arms and +hands were enwrapped also. But within a sort of aperture where the +face should have been appeared a thin gold mask. He experienced a +sense of suspended animation. He seemed to watch that rigid figure +through a vast period of time. Then, casting an imperious glance +around him, and raising a finger significantly to his lips, Danbazzar +stooped. +</p> + +<p> +Lifting the mummylike form, he placed it on the couch. +</p> + +<p> +With a pair of surgical scissors he began to cut through the +wrappings.… +</p> + +<p> +A hand touched Barry’s arm. He started wildly. +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell, his features strangely haggard, handed him a +taper and pointed to the tripod. +</p> + +<p> +Barry, by dint of a stupendous effort, regained control of himself. He +remembered that it was his duty to light the first two lamps. +</p> + +<p> +This duty he performed blindly. A sound of tearing linen seemed to +fill the chamber. The perfume of the oil in the lamps began to mingle +with that of the <i>Kyphi</i>.… +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland lighted two more lamps. +</p> + +<p> +Barry turned and looked. Like lilies blooming in corruption, he saw +two slender, exquisite arms peeping out from the torn and powdered +wrappings… bare, creamy shoulders gleamed in the lamplight. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar gently detached the gold mask and removed the turbanlike +swathings which confined a mass of short, wavy dark hair. +</p> + +<p> +A pale, exquisite face was revealed, delicate as a Greek cameo. Long, +curling black lashes rested on the youthfully rounded cheeks. The +pouting lips seemed to smile.… +</p> + +<p> +In on the hush of it burst a loud, harsh cry: +</p> + +<p> +“My God!” +</p> + +<p> +Even as he met a furious glance of Danbazzar’s blazing, wild animal +eyes, Barry did not realize that it was <i>he</i> who had cried out. But +instantly came recognition of the fact. +</p> + +<p> +He clapped his palm over his mouth, literally choking back the words +he had been about to utter. John Cumberland had his hand raised in +warning—a hand that shook wildly. Professor Blackwell lighted the +last pair of lamps. His face looked waxen—ghastly. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar, icily calm again, proceeded to carry out the singular +formula. A wave of embarrassment swept over Barry, making his very +scalp tingle. He turned aside. +</p> + +<p> +But his heart was leaping—leaping… +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar lighted the seventh lamp—and glared at Barry. +</p> + +<p> +Barry plunged a taper into the brazier and applied the little tongue +of flame to an oily liquid in the perfume burner. It ignited at once. +Danbazzar, bending over the girl blew the aromatic smoke gently over +her face. +</p> + +<p> +At which moment, Professor Blackwell staggered toward the curtained +doorway. John Cumberland, his face masklike, waved to Barry to assist +the Professor. Danbazzar never even glanced aside, as Barry threw a +supporting arm around the tottering man and helped him to gain the +outer chamber. There: +</p> + +<p> +“Air!” he whispered. “I must have air.” +</p> + +<p> +The task of getting him along the sloping passage was no easy one; for +Professor Blackwell was heavily built. Especially it was difficult at +the point where the roof had collapsed, since here he must negotiate +an opening only about eighteen inches high. +</p> + +<p> +But it was done at last. The Professor sank down in that little +artificial cave created by the screen, and shakily produced his flask. +</p> + +<p> +“Go back,” he said in a low voice—“go back. You will want to see +if——” +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t think of it,” Barry returned. “Not until you feel better. +Was it the heat down there, Professor?” +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell returned his flask to his pocket. Some trace of +normal colour was showing again in his cheeks. From a hiding place +beneath his priest’s robe he produced his spectacles and set them in +place. He made a very grotesque picture. Then: +</p> + +<p> +“Not entirely,” he replied. “That was not without its effect, of +course. But I confess that my threatened collapse was not entirely due +to it. Your training, Barry, has not followed the same lines as mine. +You are not only a younger man, but you are plastic minded. The sight +of a person defying the law of gravity without mechanical aid, for +instance, would not appall you?” +</p> + +<p> +“It would certainly interest me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite, quite. There’s the difference. It would horrify <i>me!</i> And +to-day I have witnessed a thing that has knocked the keystone out of +the structure upon which my professional life rests. Those scientific +principles to which, as a sane man, I have adhered unquestioningly +throughout my career have been ruthlessly destroyed. Either modern +physiology is fit only for the scrap heap or the claims of so-called +occultists are worthy of close examination.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think she is really alive?” asked Barry eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Think!” retorted the Professor. “I <i>know</i> she is! Whether the +madhouse treatment now being employed by Danbazzar will terminate her +miraculous trance or not I cannot say. But, quite definitely, she is +alive! Go back, Barry. <i>I</i> dare not!” +</p> + +<p> +Eagerly Barry obeyed. He returned to the scene of the poor Professor’s +seizure in a quarter of the time it had taken to come out. Softly +raising the curtain he entered the chamber, all but intolerable, now, +because of the clouds of incense. +</p> + +<p> +He found his father and Danbazzar bending over Zalithea, their +expressions tense. The slender curves which it had seemed desecration +to uncover were hidden beneath a fine Egyptian shawl, but it revealed +the delicate lines of her slim, still body. +</p> + +<p> +Barry feasted his eyes on that pale face. Zalithea! Speculation was +ended. Doubt was done with. By some unsuspected gift of prevision, of +clairvoyance—call it what he might—he had been enabled to see her, +though she lay deep in this rocky tomb, long before he had ever set +foot on the black soil of Egypt! It was, therefore, predestined. As +Hassan would have said, “It is written.” For this he had been born. +Because of this wonder which was to come, he had never found his ideal +woman but had dreamed of dark mysterious eyes which one day would +beckon to him.… +</p> + +<p> +A faint sigh broke the deathly stillness. Princess Zalithea raised her +drooping lashes—and looked long and wonderingly into the faces +bending over her. Then, without otherwise stirring, she turned her +dark, beautiful eyes in Barry’s direction. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar, that man of steel, gripped John Cumberland’s shoulder and +indicated the stoppered flagon. Cumberland, making a visible effort to +steady his hand, poured the old wine into the goblet. +</p> + +<p> +Never removing that fixed, childlike look of inquiry from Barry, the +girl allowed Danbazzar very gently to lift her up. He held the draught +to her lips and spoke a few words in a language entirely unfamiliar to +the others. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea glanced swiftly up at him and swallowed the drugged wine. +</p> + +<p> +Then once more she looked at Barry, smiled like a tired child, and lay +back, closing her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar pointed to the doorway. As John Cumberland and Barry tiptoed +out, he extinguished the seven lamps, joining them in the outer +chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“She is now sleeping normally,” he whispered. “She should wake in +eight or nine hours’ time—and resume life!” +</p> + +<p> +He reeled, clutched at Barry, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Get me out,” he said hoarsely. “I’m through.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch21"> +CHAPTER XXI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE AWAKENING</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Perhaps</span>, in his heart of hearts, no one of the party—excepting +Danbazzar—had ever really counted on success. Certainly, in their +wildest imaginings, they had not schooled their minds to acceptance of +the miracle; had not realized what success would mean. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, and by different mental processes, realization came in turn to +John Cumberland and to Barry, as it had come, instantly, +insupportably, to the scientific mind of Professor Blackwell. A girl +who had lived during the reign of Seti I—a girl barely out of her +teens—was living now. She must be, according to ordinary human +computation, fully three thousand two hundred years old; but, +according to all the laws of modern physiology, she was still no more +than nineteen or twenty! +</p> + +<p> +To the Professor, the problem presented was one of scientific faith. +Acceptance meant destruction of his life’s labour, the tearing up of +every textbook written on the subject; it assailed the very throne of +reason itself. Rejection, with Zalithea living, meant closing his eyes +to the truth. For a long time he remained alone in his tent and could +not be induced to see her. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland’s problem was a legal one. To whom did Zalithea +belong? Since she antedated any government of which documentary trace +remained, surely not to the authorities at Cairo? The thought that a +false step might result in her loss was terrifying. +</p> + +<p> +But, if these two found their ideas chaotic, how infinitely more so +were those of Barry. At one moment he was raised to a poetic heaven. +In the next he found himself plunged in an inferno of such torturing +doubts that he longed for the power to run away from himself. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the realization of his shadowy ideal, the proof that the unknown +might become known, had followed, what? A knowledge that he must +either fly from Zalithea or learn to love her—and that she was, to +all intents and purposes, a supernatural being! +</p> + +<p> +Such were the early reactions of these three to a phenomenon—and a +phenomenon in the form of an unusually lovely girl—which struck deep +at the roots of human credulity; which forced them to accept the +inacceptable, to remain sane though face to face with madness. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar alone attacked the problem with confidence. A large Bell +tent was set up at the lower end of the <i>wâdi</i>, and furnished, though +simply, in Ancient Egyptian fashion. The necessary materials he had +brought with him and Hassan es-Sugra supervised the work. His +optimistic foresight had not stopped here. A messenger who had been +dispatched to Luxor at dawn returned before midday with an elderly +Arab woman. +</p> + +<p> +“She has been standing by over a week,” said Danbazzar. “Hassan +engaged her. She’s a trained servant and was seven years in the harem +of the last Khedive. Remember!” he warned. “Hassan doesn’t know what +we found in the sarcophagus! Nobody outside of this party knows. +Zalithea is the sick daughter of a friend of mine in El Kasr who has +come down for treatment by Professor Blackwell. That’s the story, and +we’ve got to stick to it. The sarcophagus was empty.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly Safîyeh was installed, with her few belongings, in the +new tent. A covered litter was extemporized and Hassan dispatched on a +mission to Kurna. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar, following two hours of profound sleep, had become his +capable self again. Three visits he had made to the tomb, and reported +that Zalithea slumbered soundly. John Cumberland’s anxiety was +intense. He had urged the immediate removal of the girl from that +nearly unbreathable atmosphere but had been overruled. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll stick to the formula,” said Danbazzar truculently, “with or +without your permission. She has to stay there eight hours. After that +we have nothing to go upon.” +</p> + +<p> +They carried the litter up to the tomb, setting it close to the +screen. Professor Blackwell mounted guard at the top of the valley and +Barry at the bottom. They wore their ordinary working kit; but John +Cumberland and Danbazzar had arranged to put on the Ancient Egyptian +dresses under cover of the screen before awakening the sleeper. +</p> + +<p> +That Danbazzar could make himself understood in the long dead language +known to Zalithea had been already proved. It was one further item of +evidence showing his knowledge of Egyptology to be masterful. +</p> + +<p> +“I know very few words,” he admitted, “and until to-day I couldn’t +tell if my pronunciation was understandable. Others have claimed to +know how to speak the language. But no living man for a thousand-odd +years back has been able to prove it! I shall have to try to talk to +her. She is sure to be frightened. I expect she’ll be as weak as a +kitten. And it’s going to be no easy job to carry her up past that +broken door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me help!” said John Cumberland eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Just stand by with the litter,” he directed. “The fewer strange faces +she sees the better. I can manage alone.” +</p> + +<p> +But the wonder of Egypt’s sunset was stealing over the Valleys before +the litter was borne down the <i>wâdi</i> to the tent and a slight, +muffled figure tenderly carried inside. +</p> + +<p> +Barry was wild to see her. Danbazzar would not consent. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s frightened to death,” he said, “poor little girl. When she saw +old Safîyeh she just fell into her arms and hid her face against +her.” +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell looked up. They were seated in the big tent. +</p> + +<p> +“I have been endeavouring to do as you requested,” he said. “But to +prescribe any routine or diet for such a patient is quite beyond my +powers. I have somewhat recovered from the first shock, however, and I +am prepared to give her an examination at any time that may be +convenient.” +</p> + +<p> +“When she has bathed and recovered from the journey,” Danbazzar +replied, “I should like you to see her. I think I have made her +understand that the High Priest is coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“The High Priest!” exclaimed Professor Blackwell. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you must remember,” said Danbazzar, “the priests were the +doctors in her time. And I figured out that someone must have looked +her over on the other occasions.” +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell clutched his high brow. +</p> + +<p> +“I was about to say something insane,” he murmured. “I was going to +ask if she seems to remember her last awakening. It suddenly occurred +to me that this took place roughly three thousand years ago!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet she <i>does</i> seem to remember it,” Danbazzar declared. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried John Cumberland. “You have gathered this?” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar inclined his head in that graceful manner which was his. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not certain,” he confessed. “But I think so. I realize I only +know enough of her language to act as a link. From this we must build +up and teach her English as though she were a child. Her difficulties +are going to be worse than those of an ordinary foreigner. We shall +never be able to find any analogies! The objects, the customs—all are +different.” +</p> + +<p> +Hassan es-Sugra, it appeared, had been prepared for the coming of the +mythical sheik’s daughter. He expressed no surprise on his return from +Kurna, nor did he inquire what had become of her escort. +</p> + +<p> +He had been making certain mysterious arrangements for transporting +the tomb furniture to some place of safety. Work was to be resumed on +the shaft next morning, with the object of widening it sufficiently to +allow of the removal of the sarcophagus, and the unusual wall +paintings were to be photographed before the tomb was reclosed. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Professor Blackwell had completed a professional +examination of his strange and beautiful patient. He returned to the +tent where the other members of the party awaited him, in an +indescribably puzzled frame of mind. Removing his skullcap, he lighted +a cigar and fortified himself with a peg of whisky from one of the +bottles buried in the sand. +</p> + +<p> +“Amazing!” he declared; “quite, quite amazing! Her pulse, respiration, +and temperature are absolutely normal! Her flesh is firm and healthy. +Her hair is vigorous; her teeth are perfect. I could swear that her +nails were manicured yesterday!” +</p> + +<p> +“They were last manicured around 1360 B.C.!” said Danbazzar. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a small scar under the hair just above the right ear which +suggests that the theory—now generally accepted, I believe—that +surgery was practised by the ancients is not without foundation. She +is in extraordinarily good spirits. I twice caught her laughing at +me!” +</p> + +<p> +No one seemed very surprised, but: +</p> + +<p> +“What about diet?” asked John Cumberland. “Surely she should be +treated as an invalid?” +</p> + +<p> +“Frankly,” the Professor returned, “I see no reason whatever to treat +her as an invalid. Apart from the fact that she seems to be rather +tired, I can detect no abnormal conditions of any kind. She addressed +me several times during the interview, but her remarks were naturally +unintelligible. They seemed to afford her considerable amusement, +nevertheless. And the old woman from Luxor must have gathered +something of their gist. She, also, appeared to be highly +entertained.” +</p> + +<p> +“Safîyeh can’t possibly have understood one word,” said Danbazzar +quickly. “Arabic is the only language she speaks, except for a +smattering of English; and we have told her that Zalithea talks +Kabyle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which,” added John Cumberland, “judging from her style of beauty, she +certainly never did!” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll know one day!” said Danbazzar. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think there’s any danger,” Barry broke in, “of—of——” +</p> + +<p> +He fumbled for words, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Of her crumbling to dust, or something of that sort?” the Professor +concluded for him. “Your frame of mind, Barry, is gradually beginning +to resemble my own! Frankly, I cannot answer your question. According +to my personal observation, the young lady is as healthy as she is +beautiful. According to my training and beliefs, she ought to have +been dead for three thousand-odd years!” +</p> + +<p> +“What amazes me,” Barry declared, “is her cheerfulness! Just think. +Everyone she ever knew is long forgotten. She found herself in a tomb, +buried alive, this morning. Yet this evening you say she is laughing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Her laughter may have been hysterical,” murmured the Professor, +pulling up his robe for greater comfort, and revealing the fact that +beneath he wore a pair of very soiled gray flannel trousers rolled up +some six inches above his sandals. “No doubt a visit from a High +Priest is somewhat awe-inspiring.” +</p> + +<p> +At the end of further discussion, a dinner menu for Zalithea was +decided upon, and Mahmoud given the necessary orders. A new spirit of +restlessness had descended upon the party. If they had solved their +first great problem, another faced them. +</p> + +<p> +Barry, having prepared for the evening meal, climbed the side of the +<i>wâdi</i> to that spot from which on the night of their arrival he had +watched the sun setting. It was not so long ago. It seemed an age. He +knew that something had happened in the interval which marked the end +of one phase of his life, the beginning of another. +</p> + +<p> +Now that he had actually seen Zalithea, that vague dread which had +sometimes troubled him when he had found himself thinking of the girl +on the balcony had gone. Yet, he asked himself to-night, did not his +recognition of this girl increase rather than solve the mystery? +</p> + +<p> +Since it could not possibly have been Zalithea he had seen on that +balcony in New Jersey, then in the garden of Mr. Brown’s house, and +later on Fifth Avenue, it must have been her living double!—this or, +as others had suspected, a delusion. But why should he have suffered +this delusion, not once, but many times, immediately prior to the +night that the papyrus came into his father’s possession? +</p> + +<p> +Surely he was justified in believing that only some form of telepathy +or clairvoyance could explain it… and that this explanation +presupposed a mysterious bond of sympathy between himself and the girl +he was destined to meet? +</p> + +<p> +The Ancient Egyptians, he understood, believed in reincarnation. Since +their wisdom was so great in such matters, as the extended life of +Zalithea proved, quite possibly they were right. <i>She</i> had slept, +miraculously, living on; but <i>he</i> had died, in the ordinary way, and +was now reborn—in the ordinary way! +</p> + +<p> +He recalled, was ever recalling, how she had looked at him in the +moment of opening her long, dark eyes. Death had effaced physical +memory in his own case; only subconscious memory remained. But +Zalithea, never having died, remembered! They had met before, in those +remote days—and she remembered him! +</p> + +<p> +It was an idea that first delighted and then terrified Barry. He had +imagined, on that night in his father’s library, that the shadow of +Ancient Egypt was creeping out to touch him. +</p> + +<p> +He had been right! +</p> + +<p> +What this inexplicable discovery might mean to John Cumberland, to +Danbazzar, to Professor Blackwell, he could only dimly foresee. But +what did it mean to him? +</p> + +<p> +This he could not foresee at all. +</p> + +<p> +And then, as he began mechanically to climb down to the camp, the +sound of a distant voice reached his ears. It was a laughing voice… +and he knew that he had heard it before! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch22"> +CHAPTER XXII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A SUMMONS FROM THE PRINCESS</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">I have</span> reached a decision,” declared Professor Blackwell, “upon a +point that has been worrying me.” +</p> + +<p> +Dinner dispatched, they sat around the table in council, pipes and +cigars going. Safîyeh had reported that her charge had found the +soup, the fried chicken, the Château y’Quem—of which they had only +three bottles—and the peaches entirely to her satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“What point?” asked John Cumberland. +</p> + +<p> +“Distinctly,” the Professor resumed, “distinctly she is the property +of the Department of Antiquities.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that!” cried Barry. “What on earth are you talking about?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s talking sense,” Danbazzar’s deep voice broke in. “There are no +two ways about it. She is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you all mad?” said Barry. “You behave as though the Department of +Antiquities were an orphanage!” +</p> + +<p> +“Or a harem agency,” prompted the Professor. “Yet the fact remains +that they and no one else have a legal claim upon her person. We are +no more entitled to remove her from the country, alive, than we should +have been entitled to do so had we found her in what I may term a +normal state. I mean dead. She is as much the property of the +Department as the sarcophagus she lay in.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must agree with you,” John Cumberland admitted. “Our difficulties +are enormous. The more I think about them the bigger they get. For +instance—since none of us dare testify that he was present at the +discovery, how can we ever give an account of it to the world?” +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t!” said the Professor. “Distinctly and definitely, I for one +should not consent under any circumstances to lend my name to a +statement on the subject. In the first place, assuming I were safely +out of the country before the issue of such a report, criminal +proceedings would undoubtedly be taken by the Egyptian government! +This applies to all of us!” +</p> + +<p> +Some moments of uncomfortable silence followed, then: +</p> + +<p> +“The fact is,” Danbazzar stated, “the greatest find in Egyptology +since the game began has got to blush unseen. I hadn’t thought of it. +I’ll say so honestly. None of us had thought of it. But there it is +all the same. The testimony of this bunch would carry a lot of weight +in America. I don’t say we’d go unchallenged. But we’d be taken +seriously. We’re not going to get the chance. We started working in +the dark. We’ve got to go on that way.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish, now,” said John Cumberland regretfully, “that I had curbed my +impatience and formally applied for a permit to excavate.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d never have got it!” Danbazzar assured him. “You might as well +apply for a pass-out check to heaven! And once you’d applied and been +turned down, to come here as we’ve done would have been to ask for +trouble. No, sir, I’d worked on it from that angle before I put up my +proposition.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then where do we stand?” cried Barry in bewilderment. “What have we +gained if our discoveries can’t be published?” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar regarded him fixedly across the table. +</p> + +<p> +“We have gained knowledge,” he replied, “that has been lost for +thousands of years. With what we know, and what Zalithea can tell us +when we teach her English, we’re going to revolutionize archæology, +physiology, and psychology—to say nothing of chemistry!” +</p> + +<p> +“It appears to me,” murmured Professor Blackwell, “that this tent +contains the nucleus of a sort of New Rosicrucian order. We are bound +together by a living secret which none of us dare divulge. Our present +access of knowledge is very great. What we shall learn in the future +from this phenomenal girl is also sure to be valuable. But of what use +any of it is going to be to the world during our lifetime I confess I +fail to see.” +</p> + +<p> +Evidently nobody was very clear on the point, for not a suggestion was +forthcoming; but: +</p> + +<p> +“In one sense,” said John Cumberland, “our course is unavoidable. We +are committed to go on. Until we have got clear and reclosed the tomb, +we aren’t safe! Personally, I’m satisfied. Our very highest hopes have +been realized. We have triumphed! That’s good enough for me. Let the +future take care of itself. My present big worry is the girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“Explain what you mean, Dad,” said Barry. +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” his father agreed. “In the first place, as soon as we can +make her understand how much the world has changed, we have got to get +over to Luxor. Difficulty number one: How do we explain her to the +folks in Luxor? Assuming we manage this and arrive in Cairo, how in +the name of Mike do we get her a passport that will be accepted in New +York?” +</p> + +<p> +“Passport?” murmured the Professor. “Quite—quite. The point had not +occurred to me. Of course, a certain difficulty is bound to arise in +regard to a minor whose legal guardians have been dead for three +thousand years.” He scratched his head furiously. “There are times +when I doubt my own sanity,” he declared. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar flicked a cone of ash from his cigar. In the lamplight a +queer green spark moved on the face of the scarab in his ring. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave the story to me,” he said. “The stuff, I can get away. It’s +part of my business. The girl we’ll smuggle out nearly as easily. +We’ve got to lie like bond salesmen, but we’ll get her away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fried chicken,” murmured the Professor. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that, Blackwell?” John Cumberland asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I was reflecting,” the Professor explained, “upon the fact that a +princess who doubtless has dined in the palace of the Pharaoh Seti I +this evening partook of soup canned in Pittsburgh. I think I shall go +to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +He was as good as his word, departing almost immediately. Danbazzar +set out to learn if the two guards posted in the valley were on the +alert, and Barry and his father were left alone. Hassan es-Sugra, that +unfathomable man, was sleeping in the entrance to the tomb to insure +against pilfering. +</p> + +<p> +As the sound of Danbazzar’s receding footsteps died away in the +<i>wâdi</i>: +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t said much, Barry,” John Cumberland remarked, after an +interval during which he had been closely watching his son; “but I +think you have quite a lot to say all the same.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry started, looking up. Then he began to knock out his pipe on the +heel of his shoe. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean, about—Zalithea?” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Well—I have!” Barry admitted. “She is the girl I saw twice in New +Jersey and twice in New York!” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew it!” said John Cumberland. “I didn’t speak, when I saw it +first. I was waiting. Now that we have actually found her, alive, it’s +a different matter. Barry—I think I can explain the whole thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then go ahead, Dad!” Barry invited. +</p> + +<p> +“We have proof—living proof—that the Ancient Egyptians knew more +than <i>we</i> know. If they were wiser in one respect, it’s only +reasonable to suppose they were wiser in others. Now, here’s what I +believe: you didn’t see Zalithea in America. You had <i>prevision</i> of +her! Danbazzar spoke of what we know, upsetting physiology and +psychology. It’s going to upset religion as well. I believe you had an +incarnation in Egypt at the time of Seti I, and I believe Zalithea +remembers you!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry started up excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” he exclaimed, “I had come to just that conclusion only +to-night! It’s unavoidable, Dad! There’s no other explanation.” +</p> + +<p> +They discussed the problem at some length, with the result that they +agreed upon the main issue while differing about minor points. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor humanity’s unanswerable question—the destiny of the soul—has +been answered for <i>us!</i>” said John Cumberland. “I’m dazzled, Barry, by +the magnificence of all these revelations. We have learned something, +or are on the verge of learning it, which has taxed the greatest +intellects in history.” +</p> + +<p> +When finally John Cumberland turned in, Danbazzar had not come back +from his tour of inspection. Barry, feverishly restless, lighted a +fresh pipe and strolled out into the <i>wâdi</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The night was very dark. Leaving the door of the tent, he walked into +a wall of shadow, until, around a natural buttress, he saw a patch of +light upon the sand ahead. It came from the entrance of Zalithea’s +tent. Danbazzar was just coming out. He wore the priest’s robe and +linen skullcap. Barry paused: and in the next moment Danbazzar saw +him. +</p> + +<p> +“I was coming to get you,” he called. +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Is there anything wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar joined him. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he replied. “But old Safîyeh was hanging around to speak to me. +She caught me on my way back. Come along and get into a robe.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” Barry exclaimed. “Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because Princess Zalithea wants to see you!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry pulled up dead in his tracks. His heart began thumping. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know?” he demanded. “I mean, how did she make you +understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Largely by signs,” Danbazzar admitted. “My Egyptian is mighty +limited. But I’m learning.” +</p> + +<p> +That old sensation of unreality, phantasy, came to Barry again. Urged +by Danbazzar, he attired himself in the strange dress that they had +adopted with the idea that it would be more familiar to the awakened +girl. Then, not entirely master of himself, he walked back along the +<i>wâdi</i>. At Zalithea’s tent: +</p> + +<p> +“Wait outside,” Danbazzar directed. “Safîyeh will call you when I +have made her understand you are here. I’ll do my best as +interpreter.” +</p> + +<p> +He went in, leaving Barry alone in the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Vaguely, a sound of voices came to him where he waited. The deep, +subdued tones of Danbazzar made a marked contrast to the silvery note +of that other voice! How well he seemed to know it! +</p> + +<p> +Barry wondered why he was so nervous. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the flap was drawn open, and the old Arab woman looked out, +beckoning. Barry stooped and went in. +</p> + +<p> +He found himself in a sort of tiny antechamber or lobby constructed of +hanging tent cloths. An antique lamp hung from above. There were +carpets on the sandy floor, but no furniture. +</p> + +<p> +Safîyeh held one of the tent cloths aside and intimated that he was +to enter. He stepped forward. Some hazy impression he had of a silver +lamp, of embroidered curtains, of cushions, queer-looking inlaid +chests, but these were an indistinct background into which the tall +robed figure of Danbazzar merged appropriately. He was standing behind +a cushioned divan, or native mattress. +</p> + +<p> +Upon it, her cheek resting in her upraised hand, lay Princess +Zalithea. +</p> + +<p> +She was dressed in a manner which perhaps represented a compromise +between the ancient and the modern Egyptian style. Her beautiful arms +were bare to the shoulders, and she wore no jewellery of any kind. A +sort of tightly fitting tunic and some sort of gauzy dress disguised +in a measure the delicate shape which Danbazzar’s scissors had so +mercilessly revealed in the tomb. Her white ankles were bare, as also +were her little feet. It was so that he remembered her. +</p> + +<p> +Long, dark, heavily fringed eyes were raised to Barry as he entered. +They were the deeply mysterious eyes that had watched him since memory +began—the beckoning eyes of the women who lived upon the frescoes +surrounding his father’s walls—the eyes that had smiled down upon him +from a New Jersey balcony! +</p> + +<p> +How beautiful she was! But how pale and fragile. He found himself +unable to believe Safîyeh’s report that she had enjoyed the meal so +carefully prepared for her. Those full red lips, though, spoke of +health. He was hopelessly, speechlessly embarrassed, under the grave +scrutiny of unreadable eyes. But how beautiful she was! +</p> + +<p> +“Speak to her,” Danbazzar prompted. +</p> + +<p> +Barry bowed awkwardly. +</p> + +<p> +“Princess Zalithea,” he said, “I am deeply honoured.” +</p> + +<p> +She watched him, unmoved, for several moments more. Then, a slow, +delightful smile revealed her little gleaming teeth. She turned her +head slightly, looking up at Danbazzar. She spoke in soft, queerly +modulated syllables. One word which might have been “Zalithea,” but +accented very differently from Barry’s rendering, gave him a clue to +her question. Danbazzar replied, slowly, haltingly; then: +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” he said, “she is curious about how you learned her name. +She seems to have recognized it. I told her that you were a very +learned priest. She wants to know what you are called. Tell her.” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea turned her disturbing glance upon him again, as: +</p> + +<p> +“I am called Barry Cumberland,” he responded. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea considered the words, then: +</p> + +<p> +“Bahree?” she said—and nodded interrogatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—Barry; Barry Cumberland.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled, shaking her head in bewilderment. She looked up at +Danbazzar and addressed him again. He listened, interpolating hesitant +questions, while Barry watched, fascinated. Presently: +</p> + +<p> +“She understands that you are called Barry,” he explained. “Cumberland +is too much for her. Now, she is going to tell you how to pronounce +<i>her</i> name properly.” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea turned to Barry, and, laying one slender hand on her breast: +</p> + +<p> +“Zal’ith-<i>eeah</i>,” she said distinctly, and beckoned to him to approach +closer. +</p> + +<p> +He did so, almost trembling: the mad wonder of it all had seized upon +him anew. Zalithea, in a sweetly imperious way, intimated that he +should kneel. He obeyed, and she laid her hand on his breast. His +heart was thumping wildly. She looked fixedly into his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Bahree,” she said, and smiled. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch23"> +CHAPTER XXIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">AN ENGLISH LESSON</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> sound of a distant shot came—from the direction of the Nile. +Professor Blackwell looked up with a start. He was inclined to +nervousness in these days. Breakfast was temporarily suspended. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Tawwab has called for the rent!” said Danbazzar grimly. He raised +his great voice, looking over his shoulder. “Mahmoud!” he boomed. +</p> + +<p> +The grinning face of Mahmoud appeared in the opening of the tent. +Danbazzar spoke rapidly in Arabic. Mahmoud saluted and departed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve told him,” Danbazzar explained, “to warn Safîyeh that they must +keep under cover and then to go up and tell the guards, in case they +missed the signal.” +</p> + +<p> +It was now Zalithea’s custom to take exercise, veiled like a Moslem +woman, early each morning and again in the evening. In a manner +reminiscent of that adopted (by request) during the historic ride of +Lady Godiva, not a soul was visible about the camp on these occasions. +</p> + +<p> +Hassan es-Sugra, at a respectful distance, acted as escort. And he had +his instructions touching prohibited areas. After a time, Zalithea had +seemed to recognize where she was. At the first coming of this +recognition—realizing that she was in the Valley of the Dead—she had +been seized with terror. Danbazzar’s linguistic resources had been +taxed to the utmost to pacify her. +</p> + +<p> +Ultimately he succeeded in making her understand that she had slept, +magically, for a very long time; that Thebes (which she knew +apparently as Amen) had altered beyond recognition; and that they +wanted her to become accustomed to strange changes before taking her +there. +</p> + +<p> +Once having conquered her first natural terror, the girl accepted her +situation with astonishing philosophy. A reaction came. Perhaps she +had grasped the fact that a new lease of life had been granted to +her—and that life was sweet. At any rate, she developed a strain of +childish mischief at once delightful and disturbing. For Danbazzar’s +orders she had little respect, apparently; but that diplomat was quick +to learn that for Barry she would do anything. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust,” said the Professor, nervously glancing at his watch, “that +the young lady from Unu will subdue her high spirits while Mr. Tawwab +is in camp.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to send Barry along to keep her quiet,” replied Danbazzar. +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon Barry felt a hot flush rising to his cheeks and hastily +stooped to load a pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“A duty by no means irksome,” the Professor murmured. “I confess that +a woman of more than sixty is no longer attractive in the amorous +sense. I had never imagined that one over three thousand could be. But +I was mistaken. Indeed, all my life has been lived in error.” +</p> + +<p> +“In another three days,” said Danbazzar, flashing a triumphant glance +around the table, “we’ll be through! All the stuff is where Mr. Tawwab +will never see it. The photographs are finished. My drawings I can +complete when I like. It’s just a matter of building up the opening, +now, and striking the screen.” +</p> + +<p> +“My notes are fairly up to date, also,” John Cumberland added. “I have +material for a book that publishers would fight to get.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite, quite,” remarked the Professor. “But except as a work of +fiction you cannot publish it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall write it, nevertheless,” the other assured him. “It will be +in three volumes. The first volume will deal, exhaustively, with the +history of the papyrus and the formula. It will bring the account up +to the time of our arrival here. The second volume will be compiled +from notes made on the spot. It will deal with the excavation and end +with the discovery of Zalithea. The third volume will contain the +story of her life during the reign of Seti.” +</p> + +<p> +“Admirable,” the Professor agreed. “I shall be obligated, however, if +you will refer to me in your <i>magnum opus</i> as Doctor X.” +</p> + +<p> +And now, a slender, mysterious, black-robed figure, Hassan es-Sugra +bowed in the tent opening. +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon, sirs,” he said in his gentle way, “but Mr. Tawwab comes. +He will shortly be here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I vote we <i>all</i> see him!” cried Barry. “Why should we study his +feelings? He’s just a common grafter.” +</p> + +<p> +“In studying the sensibilities of Mr. Tawwab,” remarked Professor +Blackwell, “one would be studying the non-existent; a paradox. But our +own position is not too secure.” +</p> + +<p> +“We don’t have to jolt him,” Danbazzar agreed. “We’re not out of the +wood. But Mr. Cumberland and I can talk business. It’s just as well +that he should show his hand with a witness here. I guess, Professor, +you’d rather not stay. And I’m taking Barry along to the Princess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” Barry demanded, laughing to hide his embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +“Because you may be able to keep her in order. Nobody else can.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I can’t talk to her!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got to learn. Give her some elementary lessons in English.” +</p> + +<p> +The masterful Danbazzar had his way; and Barry found himself, a few +minutes later, in the little lobby of Zalithea’s tent. Danbazzar went +in to announce him, and almost immediately Safîyeh appeared, holding +the tent cloth aside and intimating that he should enter. +</p> + +<p> +He found this wonder girl who was so distractingly human, this +charming survival of a mystic past, stretched on the cushioned +mattress, her head buried in her creamy arms rebelliously. Danbazzar +stood looking down at her in an unfamiliar attitude of defeat. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a bit up-stage this morning,” he announced. “It’s so darned +hard to remember that she’s a princess and probably used to a lot of +ceremony. I thought I had her set about the robes. I tried to tell her +that we only wore them on religious occasions, and that other times we +dressed as we’re dressed now. I had to tell her something, because she +caught me on Monday, you remember, coming back from the tomb?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do remember,” said Barry. “But when I saw her, later, she seemed to +be used to our queer costumes.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar looked down at his white breeches and speckless tan riding +boots. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t that,” he explained. “She’s got the idea that the robes are +ceremonious and that we’re slighting her by not wearing them when we +come to see her.” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea half raised her oval face, so that one dark eye peeped out +over the rampart of her arm. A quick, disdainful glance she flashed +over Barry, from his bare head to his dusty shoes; and hid her face +again. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s that,” sighed Danbazzar. “There’s no time to go back. But wait +outside and I’ll have your robes brought down by Hassan.” +</p> + +<p> +They turned to go, when: +</p> + +<p> +“Dan-bazz-ah!” said a clear, imperious voice. +</p> + +<p> +Barry and Danbazzar turned, together. +</p> + +<p> +Princess Zalithea was sitting upright, her arms outstretched, her +hands resting upon the cushions on either side of her. From her pale, +beautiful features all expression had been effaced. They were like an +exquisite ivory mask into which a magician has blown the breath of +life. +</p> + +<p> +She spoke a sentence rapidly, her long, half-closed eyes turned +sideways upon Danbazzar. He bowed in his graceful manner and replied +very hesitantly. No expression stirred the girl’s lovely face. +</p> + +<p> +“I was right,” he explained. “She considers that we’ve insulted her! I +took all the blame and told her you had just come back from a journey +and asked to see her right away.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry frowned, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Is it necessary to tell her so many lies?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You bet it is!” Danbazzar assured him. “Look at her!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry glanced, guiltily, toward the divan. He started. Zalithea was +watching them with a stare of such murderous anger that his heart +seemed to turn cold! He would never have conceived it possible that +her youthful features could assume a look of such utter malignancy. +</p> + +<p> +Watching her, fascinated against his will, he experienced again that +awful tingling of the spine which he had known during his vigil in the +valley on the night he had heard the strange voice. Definitely, he +knew in this moment that it had been <i>her</i> voice… although she had +lain buried deep in the heart of the rock! Yes, this girl-woman, this +child-witch who had first seen the light in an island unknown to +modern geography, was uncanny! +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar’s deep tones broke in upon the silence; he addressed +Zalithea in the musical, oddly monotonous language which Barry was +beginning to recognize as that which the Pharaohs spoke. Then: +</p> + +<p> +“Come on!” he said abruptly. “I can hear Tawwab.” +</p> + +<p> +He raised the tent cloth. Barry was about to follow him out, when: +</p> + +<p> +“Bahree!” came softly. +</p> + +<p> +He turned. Danbazzar had gone, dropping the curtain. He was alone with +Zalithea! +</p> + +<p> +Half fearfully, he looked at her.… +</p> + +<p> +She was resting on her elbow, watching him, and her sweet lips were +arched in a smile which revealed little gleaming teeth! Her eyes, +widely opened now, were deep pools of contrition; her delicate +nostrils quivered. She was on the verge of tears! +</p> + +<p> +Barry experienced a dramatic revulsion of feeling. In his hard, +modern, Western self-sufficiency, he had wounded the tender +susceptibilities of this sheltered flower of the East. What did <i>he</i>, +or Danbazzar, for that matter, know of courts and palaces? Much less +they knew of the splendid ceremony of those old, dead days when Seti, +from Thebes of the Hundred Gates, ruled a mighty empire! +</p> + +<p> +He hated himself and hated Danbazzar. They had a princess among them, +and they treated her like a chambermaid! They discussed her as though +she were a marketable relic, to be bought and sold—this living, +lovely revelation of the wonder that was Egypt! +</p> + +<p> +Some remote ancestor who had known the meaning of homage came to life +in Barry; seized him by the scruff of the neck and forced him onto his +knees. Very near to Zalithea he knelt, his head bowed, waiting for +pardon. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly it was granted. +</p> + +<p> +A little hesitant hand touched his hair; and he looked up. The girl’s +long, curling lashes, the most perfect he had ever seen, were wet with +tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me!” he burst out, forgetting that she could not understand. +“I—he—neither of us—meant to hurt you!” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled through her tears and touched his hair again. +</p> + +<p> +“Bahree,” she said, and made a quaint gesture which conveyed dismissal +of the subject. +</p> + +<p> +And then, very close together, in silence, these two remained for long +moments, watching one another; the girl reclining on her cushions and +the man kneeling beside her. In that odd hush, the suave tones of Mr. +Tawwab were clearly audible as he entered the upper end of the <i>wâdi</i> +in conversation with Danbazzar. A subdued booming was all that could +be distinguished of the latter’s responses. Both voices presently +ceased. The party had met in the tent above. +</p> + +<p> +Barry suddenly grew self-conscious. He was kneeling beside Zalithea +and studying her raptly. It had occurred to him that this was the +height of rudeness. True, she had suffered his scrutiny without +complaint, but this did not excuse his bad form. +</p> + +<p> +In a nervous endeavour to break the tension, and recalling Danbazzar’s +instructions, he touched a symbol embroidered upon one of the tent +cloths draped beside the divan. It was the <i>crux ansata</i>, symbol of +life; and: +</p> + +<p> +“This,” he said, “means Life.” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea looked at it, then turned to him. She seemed to be trying +hard to grasp what he had in mind; and finally: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Ankh</i>,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“You call it <i>ankh</i>?” he asked eagerly; for he knew this to be the +Ancient Egyptian term for the figure. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea, listening and watching, smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Ankh</i>,” she repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“Life,” said Barry. +</p> + +<p> +“Lie-ef,” Zalithea whispered doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Life!” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. And Barry realized how, tempted by the fact that +he chanced to know its Egyptian name, he had chosen an object +impossible to explain in pantomime. Zalithea, laughing now, stretched +out a finger and laid it gently upon his eyelid. +</p> + +<p> +“Eye,” he said eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Eye,” she repeated. +</p> + +<p> +She touched his ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Ear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ee-ah!” +</p> + +<p> +So the first lesson began—a lesson in a science that was old even in +Seti’s days. Master and pupil forgot the passing of the hours in that +enthralling study. Old Safîyeh, squatting patiently on her mat beyond +the curtain, nodded as the sun climbed a blue highway toward the dome +of noon. Innumerable cups of coffee had been drunk by Danbazzar, John +Cumberland, and Mr. Tawwab, and entire boxes of cigarettes consumed. +But still Barry said, touching Zalithea: +</p> + +<p> +“Arm!” +</p> + +<p> +And Zalithea, watching him, replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Aah-em!” +</p> + +<p> +When, at last, a substantial check having changed hands, Mr. Tawwab +rose to take his departure, he showed a marked preference for a route +through the lower end of the <i>wâdi</i>. Mr. Tawwab was an observant man. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, raised voices disturbed the English lesson. Zalithea sat +very upright, listening. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t mind, yes!” Mr. Tawwab was saying. “Your camp is so +interesting. I should love to see your kitchen.” +</p> + +<p> +Placing a finger on her lips, Zalithea stood up. In her simple native +dress Barry thought she was the sweetest thing he had ever looked +upon. +</p> + +<p> +“Zalithea,” he murmured, “you are adorable!” +</p> + +<p> +She paused, glancing down at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Zal’ith-<i>eeah</i>!” she corrected; then: “You-ah-addorahble!” she added. +</p> + +<p> +Before he realized what she intended to do, she had glided to the tent +cloth, raised it, and gone out. He jumped up and followed her. He had +recalled, tardily, the real purpose of the interview. His duty was to +see that Zalithea did not make her presence known to Mr. Tawwab! +</p> + +<p> +In the tiny lobby, old Safîyeh had scrambled hastily to her feet. +Beside her mat was a bowl in which were some peaches which Zalithea +had evidently rejected as overripe. Some of them, presumably, Safîyeh +had consumed. The less desirable remained. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Tawwab’s voice came from immediately outside. He had paused on his +way down the <i>wâdi</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely a new tent?” he inquired smoothly. +</p> + +<p> +“Sure!” boomed Danbazzar. “An English Bell tent, sir!” +</p> + +<p> +“You have guests?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir! We’re hoping for guests—distinguished guests—and we’re all +ready. If ever you feel like spending a night with the boys, say the +word!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am deeply indebted,” Mr. Tawwab assured him. “It would be +delightful. But my duties do not allow.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a pity,” said Danbazzar. +</p> + +<p> +They moved on, slowly—and Zalithea, ignoring Barry’s restraining +hand, pulled the flap aside and peered out. Over her shoulder, he +could see Danbazzar, a great, towering figure, moving down the <i>wâdi</i> +beside the slight, red-capped form of Mr. Tawwab. +</p> + +<p> +Then, in a moment, it had happened. +</p> + +<p> +Displaying a deadly aim, Zalithea hurled an imperfect peach at the +retreating Mr. Tawwab! +</p> + +<p> +It struck him on the back of the head, squashed liberally, and +dislodged his <i>tarbûsh!</i> With a cry of mingled fear and anger, he +turned. Barry dropped the flap and sank back, aghast.… +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea, both hands held over her mouth, fled beyond the tent cloth. +Safîyeh, horror-stricken, followed. +</p> + +<p> +“Hell’s bells!” roared Danbazzar. “Mr. Tawwab, I can’t say what I +think! It’s that half-wit Said! Wait here, sir! Take my handkerchief! +By God! I’ll——” +</p> + +<p> +He ran back and burst into the tent in an apparent fury. Barry faced +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Zalithea?” Danbazzar whispered. +</p> + +<p> +Barry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Howl like fury!” Danbazzar directed—“not in English!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon he broke into a flood of Arabic, and clapped his hands, +simulating smacks. Barry yelled obediently. +</p> + +<p> +“You son of a mange!” Danbazzar concluded—and went out. “He’s crazy, +Mr. Tawwab,” he called. “Don’t blame me. Blame the people that hired +him to me.…” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch24"> +CHAPTER XXIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE RETURN TO LUXOR</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Work</span> in the valley was ended. The tomb, stripped of its contents, +had been reclosed so that even Mr. Howard Carter could not have found +it. The workmen, well paid and happy, had dispersed to their homes. +Most of them were men of the Fayyum. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar and Hassan es-Sugra had contrived the transport of Zalithea +from the camp in the <i>wâdi</i> to a carefully chosen suite at a Luxor +hotel without provoking comment. John Cumberland’s bank account had +silenced any criticisms regarding the nature of his interest in the +heavily veiled Moslem lady for whose accommodation he had arranged. +The thing had run on oiled wheels, dollars being the lubricant; but +since there is more grit in the world than there are dollars, this +smooth running inevitably couldn’t last. +</p> + +<p> +Barry, whose dream woman had miraculously come to life, found himself +in a frame of mind which he was sane enough to recognize as unique. +The Zalithea he knew, the adorable, winning, childish, petulant, +sometimes frightening girl, he was learning to worship. The Zalithea +of the papyrus, the princess of unknown origin who had been captured +by the troops of Seti in an unimaginable past, he fought to forget. +</p> + +<p> +Advance guards of the Thomas Cook army had already established +themselves in Luxor. A German party, some days earlier, and on the eve +of striking camp, had penetrated to the <i>wâdi</i>. Their insatiable +Teutonic curiosity was their only guide; Danbazzar’s lurid profanity +their only reward. Even the donkey boys had blushed. +</p> + +<p> +But the incident had gone to prove that they had achieved their +purpose only just in time. It was the tourist invasion which had +checked Danbazzar a year before. +</p> + +<p> +That remarkable man, whose resourcefulness knew no bounds, had long +since set out, accompanied by Hassan es-Sugra, two camel drivers and a +large sum of ready money, for the Great Oasis. Here he had arranged to +meet a certain sheik of the Shorbagis from Dakhla and to obtain from +him a document, suitably witnessed, authorizing John Cumberland to +escort the sheik’s daughter, Zalithea, to America for neuropathic +treatment prescribed by Professor Blackwell. +</p> + +<p> +“The Senussi,” Danbazzar had admitted, “are the most dangerous +fanatics in Africa. One of that bunch would be about as likely to send +his daughter to America as to burn his whiskers for firewood. But +nobody here will be any wiser, never having been to those parts, and +the American consul, who is a Greek from Alexandria, doesn’t know an +Arab from an onion. We’ll get her passport without any trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea’s balcony overlooked the Nile. Here she spent many hours +every day, watching the varied life of the river front. Her +bewilderment Barry found at once pathetic and delicious. The +dragomans, who were now beginning to put in an appearance, she mistook +for priests. The strangely garbed tourists she assumed to be foreign +captives! +</p> + +<p> +The advent of the first steamer from Cairo aroused such terror that +Barry grew alarmed. He found himself utterly incapable of explaining +this mystery, handicapped as he was. Automobiles, for some reason, +frightened her but little. Indeed, she managed to make him understand +at last that she wished to ride in one! +</p> + +<p> +That once vexed question of dress had been settled. Zalithea +understood that no slight was intended by the wearing of a lounge +suit. She seemed to think that the Winter Palace was the palace of +Pharaoh, and she tried to ask if the reigning monarch was absent at +war. +</p> + +<p> +She was extraordinarily observant. In the cool of the evening, with +Safîyeh in attendance, and escorted by Barry or John Cumberland, +Zalithea would walk along the bank as far as the old <i>shadûf</i>. The +really fashionable crowd was not yet in evidence, but, nevertheless, +she quickly noticed—since wealthy Moslem women rarely appear in +public—that except among the lower classes veils were nowhere to be +seen. +</p> + +<p> +This problem was quite beyond Barry’s power of explanation. But John +Cumberland, in his practical way, set to work to solve it. +</p> + +<p> +From Cairo one day stacks of boxes arrived and were duly carried up to +Zalithea’s apartment. Barry had just bought her a bundle of +illustrated magazines and was watching her, fascinatedly, as she pored +over pages of photographs showing society groups in various sun traps +from Mentone to Miami. +</p> + +<p> +What an exquisite profile she had! He wondered, was eternally +wondering, where the island of Unu had been. Zalithea’s long, narrow +dark eyes were of a kind he had never seen among the modern Egyptians, +but they were typical of the women depicted on the ancient wall +paintings. Her profile, too, was purely aristocratic and bore a +remarkable resemblance to that of the beautiful queen Ameniritis. His +rapt study of the girl was interrupted by the delivery of the boxes. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea ran in from the balcony immediately, filled with childish +interest. As box after box was laid on the carpet, her excitement grew +intense. Stooping, she touched a label, looked at Barry +interrogatively and then indicated herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said, “for you! All for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fo-ah you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—you! you are me! I don’t know how to explain!” He rested his hand +on her shoulder. “Me,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea, watching him eagerly, touched her own breast, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Me,” she echoed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” Barry nodded. “For me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fo-ah me.” +</p> + +<p> +She clapped her hands excitedly and indicated that he should cut the +fastenings. Happy because Zalithea was happy, he obeyed.… and out from +this box and from that, with a vast rustling of tissue paper, came +frocks, stockings, hats, flaky, delicate underwear—priceless loot of +Paris. +</p> + +<p> +Never had he seen Zalithea so excited. Taking up piece after piece, +she literally danced in her joy! +</p> + +<p> +Then, crying, “Safîyeh! Safîyeh!” she gathered up a great armful of +assorted garments and ran into her bedroom. She had apparently +forgotten Barry’s existence. But he walked out onto the balcony to +await her reappearance. Knowing his father’s thoroughness, he didn’t +doubt that John Cumberland would have found some way to obtain things +to fit. Zalithea had been early introduced to shoes; so that this part +of her equipment was comparatively simple. As for the other items, +perhaps he had enlisted Safîyeh’s aid. +</p> + +<p> +Barry looked out across the Nile to where the Libyan Desert baked +under the merciless sun. He could hear Zalithea’s delicious, childish +laughter and the harsher tones of Safîyeh. The miracle of it all +crashed down suddenly upon his mind like a palpable weight. +</p> + +<p> +This gay, light-hearted girl, whose laughter rang out clear as a bell, +happily as a child’s, had lain for three thousand years over yonder in +the Valley of the Dead! +</p> + +<p> +He picked up a magazine at random from the little table set upon the +balcony. There were things he couldn’t face—yet. He wondered if he +ever would be capable of facing them. He dropped into a cane chair and +began to scan the pictured pages. +</p> + +<p> +In a section devoted to the doings of New York Society, he came across +photographs of two or three people he knew. He stared at them as at +the pictures of strangers. He felt that a great gulf had opened +between himself and the empty life he had known. Upon one side of it +were the old set, Aunt Micky, Jim and the rest; upon the other he +stood, alone—with Zalithea. +</p> + +<p> +Beneath, beside the river, moved men and women to whom Thebes meant +sightseeing and sunshine—no more. He watched them as through a haze +or as in a glass, darkly. Then, from a minaret at the back of the +town, distantly, sweetly, came the voice of the <i>muezzin</i> raised in +the <i>adan</i>, or noonday call to prayer: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Alla-hu akbar.… La illa-ha illa Allah!</i> …” +</p> + +<p> +“God is most great.… There is no God but God!” He listened to those +words, which he knew, with a fresh wonder. For some reason they +soothed his troubled mind. The passive attitude of Islam toward life +was very wise, after all. He found himself thinking of Hassan +es-Sugra, that grave, graceful philosopher, when: +</p> + +<p> +“Bahree!” came a cry from the room behind him. +</p> + +<p> +He turned. His eyes, dazzled by the blazing sunlight, at first could +see little in the darkened room. Then, standing just within the +doorway communicating with her bedroom, he saw Zalithea. +</p> + +<p> +She wore a very up-to-date dance frock which displayed more of her +creamy skin than Barry had seen since that unforgettable hour in the +tomb when Danbazzar’s scissors had stripped off the wrappings. With +unfailing instinct she had selected shoes to harmonize with the frock, +which was very short. +</p> + +<p> +Manlike, he thought she looked exquisite—and showed that he thought +so. The admiring, grinning face of old Safîyeh appeared in the +doorway, as Zalithea, almost timidly, came forward into the room. The +girl’s wonderful, black-fringed eyes were set upon Barry with an +expression of childish eagerness. +</p> + +<p> +Something very unusual there was in her appearance, not due to her +wholly different style of beauty, but to some irregularity in her +attire which for a moment he failed to place. +</p> + +<p> +Then, all at once, he saw what it was. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea’s shapely creamy legs were bare! She had forgotten to put +stockings on! Watching him anxiously, she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Zal’ith-eeah!” she said. “You-ah-addorahble!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch25"> +CHAPTER XXV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">SOCIAL AMENITIES</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">On the</span> eve of Danbazzar’s return, Barry ran into his acquaintance, +the irrigation specialist, in the lounge of the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” said that chronically bored person, dropping into a +neighbouring armchair. “I’ve only just come in from Assouan, but I +heard you were back. How’s the oasis lookin’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Splendid,” Barry returned hastily, hoping that the other had +forgotten about the dates. “Dry Martini?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” was the reply. “Rumour has it that a charmin’ stranger has +joined your party.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Barry. “With which of her many tongues did Rumour whisper +this news?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tawwab,” drawled the tired voice. “Nasty bit of work. Know him?” +</p> + +<p> +Barry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I have that misfortune.” +</p> + +<p> +He experienced a vague uneasiness. To the best of his knowledge, Mr. +Tawwab’s hold upon them was no more. But the man’s insatiable appetite +for <i>bakhshish</i> on a grand scale might inspire him to some new piece +of interference. He wished Danbazzar were back. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea was dining downstairs to-night. It would be the first time +she had appeared in public unveiled. Barry had reserved a discreet +table, and when he had left Zalithea to dress, she had been wild with +excitement. A French chambermaid had been detailed to assist. +Inexplicably, the hotel seemed to have become filled up. The lounge +was crowded. A number of visitors had arrived during the afternoon. He +hoped Mr. Tawwab was not present. +</p> + +<p> +“Our guest is the daughter of a friend of Danbazzar’s,” he explained. +“Professor Blackwell is treating her for nerve trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” murmured the irrigator, sipping his drink and lighting a +cigarette. “Danbazzar is the sportsman like a Moorish pirate?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” said Barry, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Saw him when you were here before. Extraordinary lookin’ bird. Do you +grow ’em like that in America?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not in large quantities.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Rara avis</i>, eh? Tawwab was tellin’ me your girl friend only speaks +Kabyle. As I don’t know whether Kabyle is a vegetable or an ointment I +ain’t any wiser.” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be quite a good thing if Tawwab attended to his own +business, don’t you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather. It’d choke him—which would be toppin’.” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland and Professor Blackwell came down shortly afterward, +and the bored young man went off to join a friend who was dining with +him. While they waited for Zalithea, Barry related what he had heard. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Tawwab is a subject who was born to be poisoned,” said the +Professor. “I shall feel altogether more at ease when I find myself +outside his sphere of influence.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s disturbing,” muttered John Cumberland. “I fear he’s up to fresh +mischief. He hadn’t counted on our slipping away so soon and covering +our tracks. He probably considers we have bested him.” He broke of, +staring. “By Jove!” he exclaimed. “Barry! Did we dream it all? Look at +her!” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea had just come into the lounge, cynosure of many eyes. She was +a radiant vision in a zephyr-like Paris model. Whom John Cumberland +had commissioned to buy it and what he had paid for it only John +Cumberland knew. But he was satisfied. Marie, the chambermaid, had +done her work well. As they made their way to the table, soft music of +an orchestra stole through the hubbub. Barry thought that the lovely +girl beside him whose eyes were lighted up happily must have heard +other music and witnessed stranger banquets on this very spot… three +thousand years ago! +</p> + +<p> +That uncomfortable sense of unreality, a sort of veil through which he +saw and heard imperfectly, descended upon Barry during the early +stages of dinner. The irrigation man and his friend sat quite near and +were at no pains to hide their admiration of Zalithea. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, it gradually became apparent that the beautiful unknown was +being widely discussed. Barry wondered if the story of the sheik’s +daughter had spread farther than they supposed. He began to cast off +the Old Man of the Sea astride his shoulders—to disregard the inner +voice which whispered—whispered: “Yes, she looks young and lovely. +But you saw her in the tomb. You <i>know</i> she is the oldest woman who +has ever lived.” +</p> + +<p> +He was fully and finally aroused by a waiter who handed him a folded +note. It was from the young man at the near-by table, and it read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“Where can I take lessons in Kabyle?” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The smiling impudence of his acquaintance appealed to Barry’s sense of +humour. He showed the note to John Cumberland and the Professor. +Zalithea, while they read it, touched Barry’s arm, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Fo-ah me?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +He laughed outright. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” he nodded. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea held out her hand for the note. Professor Blackwell passed it +to her. And she studied it gravely. It was at this moment that a +high-pitched feminine voice made itself audible above the other +voices. +</p> + +<p> +“I really <i>must</i> just say how d’you do!” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland started and looked over his shoulder. A very smart, +hard-faced woman was making for their table. She seemed to be +possessed of volcanic energy, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Holy Mike!” said he. “Mrs. Uffington!” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” Barry muttered, and glanced in the same direction. “Good Lord! +All New York will have the story now!” +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, it was the famous Mrs. Uffington, most intrepid of lion +hunters: according to Jim Sakers, “The pride of Pierre’s and uncrowned +Pope of Park Avenue.” +</p> + +<p> +She swooped down upon them. Zalithea, dropping the note, fixed a stare +of cold hostility upon the face of the newcomer. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear John Cumberland!” she cried; “and if it isn’t our very own +Professor and Barry!” +</p> + +<p> +They rose to greet her—without enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +“I know all about you!” she ran on vivaciously. “John Cumberland, I +know all about you! <i>What</i> will Micky Colonna say? But, my dear—she’s +lovely! I can’t believe she’s a coloured girl—can’t believe it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Princess Zalithea is a member of a very old and distinguished +family,” said Barry coldly. “Allow me to present you.” He bowed to the +girl. “Mrs. Dudley Uffington.” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea did not move. Her unwavering stare never left Mrs. +Uffington’s face. It had an oddly quelling effect. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s rather queer, isn’t she?” asked the lady, in a lower tone. +</p> + +<p> +“She doesn’t speak English,” Professor Blackwell explained. +</p> + +<p> +“No! I was forgetting. But of course I have heard all about it. Do you +know who told me? Mr. Ahmed Tawwab—such a charming man, for an +Egyptian. He is looking in later, and I must really <i>insist</i> that you +and your delightful—protégée—join us for coffee. I shall expect +you!” +</p> + +<p> +And she was off. +</p> + +<p> +“Phew!” said John Cumberland. “Here’s a mess!” +</p> + +<p> +“Since she finds Tawwab so charming,” murmured the Professor, “I +sincerely wish she would marry him—and settle here.” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea, through half-closed eyes, watched the retreating figure. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Hafee!</i>” she hissed—or that was how it sounded. +</p> + +<p> +Barry began to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“I find I am learning Ancient Egyptian!” he said. “You may be amused +to know that, to the best of my knowledge, <i>hafee</i> means ‘snake’!” +</p> + +<p> +“Really!” said Professor Blackwell, glancing uneasily at the malignant +face of Zalithea. “It occurs to me that our foster child can be +definitely unpleasant. She should prove a revelation to the drawing +rooms of New York. Dear me, it’s all very extraordinary.” +</p> + +<p> +Any plans they may have had to evade the subsequent meeting were +frustrated by the energetic Mrs. Uffington. She had a table waiting, +with coffee, liqueurs, and cigarettes, outside, after dinner. She +swept them to it. And as they entered the palm-screened alcove in +which it was situated, Mr. Tawwab rose to greet them, bowing deeply. +He was accompanied by a lean, square-jawed man having small, fierce +eyes, a bristling moustache, and very large prominent teeth. He +resembled a mad horse. +</p> + +<p> +He was presented as Captain Quick. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea, trailing a light wrap, seated herself disdainfully on the +very edge of a tall chair, staring straight into the eyes of the two +men in turn as they were introduced, but giving not the slightest sign +of acknowledgment. Mr. Tawwab appraised her, critically and +ravenously. Captain Quick burst at once into a shouted conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“This is amazing!” he cried. “Positively! Never would have believed +you come from the Senussi country! Never! Was down there in ’nineteen. +What’s your part?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Tawwab exchanged a swift, malicious glance with Mrs. Uffington. +John Cumberland looked helplessly at Barry. Zalithea stared at the +speaker as though she had not heard him. It was Professor Blackwell, +husky in his embarrassment, who explained: +</p> + +<p> +“Our friend does not speak English, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, damn it! What a fool I am!” yelled Captain Quick. “Wait a minute! +Wait a minute! I know the lingo.…” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea stood up, leaving her wrap on the arm of the chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Bahree!” she said—and pointed to it. +</p> + +<p> +Then, without so much as a glance at any of the party, she walked +slowly, languidly, out of the alcove. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me!” Barry mumbled. +</p> + +<p> +He had flushed to the roots of his hair. Grabbing the wrap, he ran +after the girl. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea, moving with an unfamiliar, swaying movement of the hips +which he had always imagined characteristic of the women figured on +the ancient wall paintings, was making for the entrance. +</p> + +<p> +He came up with her, but she did not pause or glance aside. The night +was perfect, and there were groups assembled before the hotel: +visitors, residents, vendors of many wares, and guides clamouring to +conduct somebody, anybody, to the Great Temple by moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +Barry was longing to walk through those mighty halls with Zalithea, +but—incredible thought!—they had feared the memories which sight of +that stately ruin might arouse in the girl. Karnak she had seen. And +Barry could never forget her expression, in which sorrow, +stupefaction, and horror had mingled. She had retired to her +apartment, refusing to see anybody for a whole day afterward. +</p> + +<p> +How he longed to be able to talk to her! If his own brain became so +tumultuous when he thought of the history of this lovely, wayward, +yielding, imperious girl, what deathly terrors must she know when +realization of the truth was borne home to her? +</p> + +<p> +Side by side they walked on through the scented night. He placed the +wrap over her shoulders. She was following her favourite route—that +to the ancient <i>shadûf</i>. +</p> + +<p> +And so, presently, in silence, they were alone beside the Nile. +Zalithea paused, resting against a crumbling wall and staring out over +the whispering water. A boatman began to play a reed pipe. He played +that age-old melody which surely the boatmen of Seti knew. Barry +glanced at Zalithea. She was listening—intently. +</p> + +<p> +Her lips were slightly parted, her lashes drooped. She looked +beautiful. But—perhaps because of the Egyptian night and the music of +the reed—she seemed unearthly. +</p> + +<p> +A cold hand clutched his heart. Princess Zalithea! He was alone with a +ghost! +</p> + +<p> +She knew that music! What was she thinking? Whom was she remembering? +Did it bring dreams of happiness—of love? Or did it magically cast +her spirit back over the ages to the coming of that unnatural sleep? +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea sighed, shudderingly. Turning, she put her hand in his. +</p> + +<p> +Her hand was warm. The little slender fingers clung tremulously. At +their touch, his ghostly imaginings fled. She was real, a girl of +flesh and blood; not a phantom, but a living, lovely testimony to the +wisdom of a past science. If only he could get used to that idea! +</p> + +<p> +In silence, as they had come, they walked back; like two children, +hand in hand. And standing in the entrance to the hotel were Mr. +Tawwab and Danbazzar. +</p> + +<p> +“I am most indebted to His Excellency,” boomed the latter’s great +voice, “for this offer of his service. But the lady has been entrusted +to me by her father, and I have just left the American Consul——” +</p> + +<p> +“H’m,” murmured Mr. Tawwab, his sly eyes lighting up as he saw the +slender, approaching figure; “you have seen him to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure,” said Danbazzar. “All’s clear. A few formalities in the +morning, that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” Mr. Tawwab interpolated gently, “as the young lady belongs to +El-Kasr, you tell me, this matter does not concern your consul. +El-Kasr is in the <i>mudiriya</i> of Minia!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve seen the Mudîr of Minia, sir!” Danbazzar replied. “I arrived in +Minia last night. That’s where I’ve come from. Believe me, I know the +ropes of your country, Mr. Tawwab, although I’m greatly obliged to +you. Our consul has got to give me a visé for the United States, +that’s all. I’ve arranged the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Mudîr of Minia is very obliging.” +</p> + +<p> +“Most obliging man in Egypt, bar none!” boomed Danbazzar. “Always was +an obliging man.” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea passed in to the hotel, Barry following. From a hidden bench +a slim, black-robed figure arose, bowing low. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Lêltak sa’îda, effendim</i>,” said a soft voice. +</p> + +<p> +Barry started, peering into the shadows; then: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Lêltak sa’îda, Hassan es-Sugra!</i>” he replied. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch26"> +CHAPTER XXVI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">IN NEW YORK</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">A month</span> later, to a day, Barry from the boat deck of the +<i>Berengaria</i> pointed out Ambrose Light to Zalithea. She clutched his +arm to steady herself in the high wind, nestling, furry, very close to +him. As he looked down at her he found himself thinking not of the +camp in the <i>wâdi</i>, nor even of the tomb; not of the ancient wonders +of Egypt; nor even of those few delightful days in Paris and the later +joy of taking Zalithea around London. +</p> + +<p> +He found himself thinking of Hassan es-Sugra. +</p> + +<p> +Hassan had seen the party off at Luxor, bringing a great bundle of +flowers for Zalithea. Where everyone else was hurrying and bustling, +Hassan had walked calmly up and down the platform with Barry. His +eyes, which were so like the eyes of a gazelle, had been sad. But his +words, softly intoned yet laden with some deep significance, had +remained with Barry like the haunting memory of a song: +</p> + +<p> +“One day, sir, you will come again to Egypt. Some of your friends, +now, will not be your friends then. You will learn to forgive me if I +have failed you in anything and come and tell me so. For in the end +understanding will be. There is one thing, sir, I have to say to you: +they tell me the lady is of El-Kasr. It is not so. I cannot say where +she is of. But this I know—she is not of Egypt. She is very sad at +heart. If, one day, she tells you why, be not angry with her.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the train had moved out. Barry’s last impression of Luxor was +that of the graceful, black-robed figure of Hassan es-Sugra, his hand +raised to his forehead in a parting salute. +</p> + +<p> +“Be not angry with her.…” +</p> + +<p> +He looked down at the bewitching face half hidden in fur. Sea breezes +had whipped a delicious colour into the soft cheeks—down which big +tears were falling! +</p> + +<p> +“Zalithea!” he cried. “My dear! what is it?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at him quickly, blinking tears away; then: +</p> + +<p> +“Sorree,” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +This word, “sorry,” she had acquired in London, but he knew that she +employed it in the sense of “sad.” He squeezed her arm reassuringly. +He had long since decided that her courage was +miraculous—unfaltering. Now, he tried to imagine what supreme +dread—what rankling doubt—what sorrow for some long lost one had +broken it. +</p> + +<p> +It was always so with him. In the most perfect moments of +understanding it would come—that inscrutable curtain; the veil of an +unimaginable past. +</p> + +<p> +Once, and once only, he had tried to ask her what he longed so +ardently to know: if she remembered ever having met him before. By +some unsuspected law of preordination alone could he hope to explain +those visions. Had he not seen her as he was destined later to see +her—in the dress of Ancient Egypt? Had he not seen her as she looked +during the early days in Luxor—veiled like the women of Islam? +</p> + +<p> +He thought he had made her understand. But instead of answering she +had turned her back and walked away! +</p> + +<p> +Did the question transgress some strange law, known to her but unknown +to him? +</p> + +<p> +There were times when his brain reeled. And now, with the American +coast in sight, she was weeping; she was “sorree.” He wondered +hopelessly what her thoughts were at this hour. “She is very sad at +heart,” Hassan had said. How clearly he recalled the words of that +extraordinary man.… +</p> + +<p> +And then, before Barry realized the passage of time, they were in +sight of the familiar skyscrapers. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea’s mood had changed. The child had come uppermost again. She +clapped her hands gleefully, grasping Barry’s arm and pointing to the +skyline of New York. +</p> + +<p> +“Fo-ah <i>me?</i>” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +Barry nodded, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust,” murmured Professor Blackwell, “she is not labouring under +the delusion that you are the king of this country!” +</p> + +<p> +They speedily had evidence of Mrs. Uffington’s activity. She was not +prepared to lose the credit of discovering a beautiful Oriental +princess who had been adopted by an American millionaire! Every ship +reporter in the city was primed; camera men were there in flocks. +</p> + +<p> +And Zalithea imperiously declined to see any of them! +</p> + +<p> +She retired to her cabin, with old Safîyeh on guard in the alleyway; +and all remonstrances were in vain. +</p> + +<p> +For a considerable time she banned Aunt Micky, as well, until +Danbazzar made it clear to her that Aunt Micky was John Cumberland’s +sister. She received her, then, very graciously. Aunt Micky was +stupefied. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a beauty, young Cumberland,” she confided to Barry. “But who +the devil <i>is</i> she?” +</p> + +<p> +“The daughter of one of the minor rulers out there, Micky!” +</p> + +<p> +“But she’s not black! She’s whiter than I am!” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t <i>my</i> fault,” said Barry humbly. “Cleopatra wasn’t black, +according to all accounts.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this girl isn’t an Egyptian.” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither was Cleopatra!” +</p> + +<p> +“Young Cumberland—you have a secret eye! It’s the right. I’ll get the +truth out of John!” +</p> + +<p> +Out on the deck, Jim Sakers and pretty Jack Lorrimer were consoling +each other. When, presently, Barry reappeared: +</p> + +<p> +“This is the blackest hour of my life!” Jim declared plaintively. “I +am despised—cast out—rejected. I feel like a falling stock. As +though it isn’t bad enough to be told that the coveted bottle of +unchanging desert has been forgotten! No man with a heart could have +overlooked my quart of eternal sand. Now, with my eyes bulging out of +my head and my temperature at a hundred and four in the shade, I’m +told, ‘No fairy princess. Pass along, please. Stand clear of the +gangway!’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Be patient, Jim,” said Barry. “She feels very strange.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>She</i> feels very strange!” cried Jim. “<i>I</i> feel completely +extraordinary! Here are we—poor little sleepy Jack, who didn’t go to +bed until three o’clock, and tired-eyed Jim who had to get home after +seeing <i>her</i> home—here are we, lured from our slumbers at an +unearthly hour by false promises! … Sand and sorrow!” +</p> + +<p> +When Zalithea finally went ashore she was so heavily veiled that not a +glimpse of her features could be obtained. +</p> + +<p> +As a result, the most conflicting accounts were published. For a ship +reporter whose imagination cannot penetrate a few yards of drapery is +not worthy of his hire. “Veiled Princess for Cumberland Collection,” +was one good headline. “Daughter of Persian Pasha Says New York Like +Paradise,” another declared. “Harem Beauty Brought by <i>Berengaria</i>,” +was the line which appealed to Jim. But Barry’s indignation was +aroused by “Cumberland Cleopatra Here!” +</p> + +<p> +A suite of rooms had been prepared, by John Cumberland’s orders, in +the furnishing of which, while a definite Egyptian note had been +struck, the total leaned to modernity. For Zalithea he had conceived +an affection which, when he tried to analyze it, seemed to be +compounded of the paternal, the scientific, and—he could not +otherwise define it—the maternal! She was his child in a sense not +hitherto comprehended in human relations; and she was the embodiment +of that second great passion of his life—Egyptology. +</p> + +<p> +Lovingly he had studied her. He had noted her early acceptance of +those mechanical things which at first had appalled her; her easy, +youthful adaptability to wildly strange environment. A certain +shrinking from her—involuntary, superstitious—of which for a time he +had been conscious, left him utterly in the sunshine of her warm +humanity. +</p> + +<p> +Barry’s attitude occasioned him many anxious hours. That the boy +should lose his heart to this beautiful mystery was no matter for +wonder. He had eyes, ears, imagination. And Zalithea would have +inflamed any man of his age not made of wood or stone with whom she +was thrown into contact. +</p> + +<p> +Furthermore, that the meeting of these two was preordained, John +Cumberland found it hard to doubt. He knew that Barry thought so; and +he did not blame him. For what other explanation could there be of +those strange pre-glimpses which he had had of her? He had never +doubted his son’s word. But he had found something phenomenal in the +story which had led him to look upon it as the product of an excited +imagination. How little he had known, in those days, of the wonderful! +How sceptical he had been! +</p> + +<p> +From the big armchair in which he was seated in the library, he looked +up at a wall painting from Medinet Habu. Quite clearly he recalled +that he had been seated here, looking at this very painting, on the +night that Danbazzar arrived, on the night that he had first set eyes +upon the papyrus! +</p> + +<p> +Somehow, the values of his possessions seemed to have changed, subtly, +during his absence. That wall painting, for instance, no longer struck +him as a priceless treasure, although he had often thought of it as +such. The enamelled casket of Nitocris; the exquisite painted wooden +figure of the priestess, Thent-Kheta; even the great inlaid throne of +Osorkon from Bubastis—in some queer fashion they had lost colour in +his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Almost as the fact dawned upon him, its explanation came, too. As +those ancient priests had foreseen, a living testimony to the grandeur +of the Pharaohs would outshine all others! +</p> + +<p> +The library door opened, although there had been no knock; and +Zalithea stole in. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland jumped up and placed an armchair for her. Jim and Jack +were coming on after a theatre, Danbazzar and Aunt Micky having joined +them there. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea was wearing a frock which had been bought for her in Paris. +She wore it exquisitely. It was a semi-Oriental creation, simple +enough; but it set off her dark, lithe beauty to perfection. She +rested one slender hand on the chair back for a moment, smiling +inscrutably at John Cumberland. +</p> + +<p> +Then she crossed to the Bubastite throne and seated herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” she asked naïvely, her head tilted aside. +</p> + +<p> +And John Cumberland knew that it would be quite useless to say No, +therefore: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Zalithea,” he agreed, “if you’re comfortable.” +</p> + +<p> +She listened in her intent fashion, then: +</p> + +<p> +“Zal’ith-<i>eeah</i> you-ah-addorahble!” she corrected. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland sat down. Apparently Zalithea thought that this was +the name by which she was known nowadays. He strongly suspected the +identity of the tutor who had led her into this error. +</p> + +<p> +“Barry!” he muttered, reaching for the cigar box. +</p> + +<p> +“Bahree-I-love-you,” Zalithea corrected again. “Geeve-me-er-kiss.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re learning the wrong things too quickly, young lady!” said John +Cumberland. “Do you know where you are, yet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah-addorahble!” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean where you live. I tried to teach you yesterday. Your home?” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea wrinkled her smooth forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“Darling,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“I know you’re a darling,” John Cumberland admitted; “but I think I +shall have to take your education in hand myself. I’m afraid I have +been neglecting you.” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea, from the throne of the Bubastite king, smiled regally. +</p> + +<p> +A considerable disturbance in the lobby now proclaimed the return of +the theatre party. Barry opened the library door, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” he cried. “You’re in there! I’ve been hunting all over for +you. Here’s the gang.” +</p> + +<p> +Headed by the Countess Colonna, the party entered. Jack Lorrimer was +frankly nervous—an unusual condition—but highly curious. She had not +yet met the mysterious Cumberland guest. Jim followed in with +Danbazzar, an imposing figure distinguished from the rest alike by his +great height and by the slight eccentricity of dress which he +affected. His Egyptian tan suited his oddly Moorish type. +</p> + +<p> +“Zalithea,” said John Cumberland, beckoning to Jack, “I want you to +know Jack Lorrimer, my niece, and”—he drew Jim forward—“Mr. Sakers. +Princess Zalithea has very little English, so excuse her.” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea, beyond a slight smile, offered no sort of acknowledgment. +Barry, covertly watching his friend and his cousin, noted that the +girl’s queer aloofness had created its usual effect. He noted +something else. Jack Lorrimer was very pretty (what Jim termed “A 1 at +Cupid’s”), and Barry, like many another, had often wondered where the +dividing line lay between prettiness and beauty. To-night he knew that +Zalithea was beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +Jim’s reaction to the lovely, cold vision on the throne was good to +study. +</p> + +<p> +“Delighted!” he said. “Been counting the hours until—— No, of +course, you don’t know what I’m talking about! … Cooler this evening, I +fancy.… Wrong again! How’s Egypt looking these days? … Let me out, +somebody! …” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar stood at his elbow. He spoke to Zalithea in that monotonous +language which no one else understood. Under half-lowered lids she +watched him, and then replied briefly. He turned to Jim. +</p> + +<p> +“She says you talk too much!” he translated. +</p> + +<p> +Jim turned fiery red. +</p> + +<p> +Barry laughed delightedly, and Professor Blackwell, who had just come +in, endeavoured to console poor Jim. +</p> + +<p> +“She is a young lady of very definite ideas,” he said, groping with +one large, bony hand for a dress tie which, having become unknotted, +had evidently dropped off somewhere. “For instance, she has a settled +belief that I’m funny!” +</p> + +<p> +“Please, Mr. Danbazzar!” whispered Jack. “Ask her if she likes me!” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar, whom nothing annoyed more than to be addressed as “mister,” +conversed briefly, and unintelligibly, with Zalithea; then: +</p> + +<p> +“She is a little undecided,” he announced. “She has got hold of the +idea that you’re a dancing girl and wants to know when you are going +to begin!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch27"> +CHAPTER XXVII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">ABOUT IT AND ABOUT</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Danbazzar</span>, in these days, was constantly at the Cumberland home. +Next to Barry, it was evident that Zalithea preferred his society to +that of anybody else. John Cumberland she respected, but he, for all +his knowledge of the old, mysterious land in which they had found her, +groped in vain with the strange tongue which she spoke and which +Danbazzar alone understood. Nor was he so successful as his son in +establishing a link of understanding. Perhaps because he did not speak +the language of love, which is God’s esperanto. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, and largely with Danbazzar as interpreter, he had begun +his ambitious work. The first and second sections of the book came +within scope of his personal knowledge. He believed that they were, +now, comparatively valueless without the third. Therefore, beyond +arranging his bulky notes, he had done little in this direction. His +interest was with Zalithea’s story, and this she surrendered only in +provoking fragments, imperfectly understood by Danbazzar. +</p> + +<p> +For instance, urged on one occasion to describe Pharaoh’s court, she +became unusually voluble. Danbazzar looked puzzled, thought over what +she had said for some time, and then: +</p> + +<p> +“It sounds to me,” he confessed, “uncommonly like back stage at the +Metropolitan Opera House!” +</p> + +<p> +And a day was to come when those words should recur to Barry +Cumberland. +</p> + +<p> +Social invitations hailed upon them. No door in New York was closed to +Princess Zalithea. But She Who Sleeps was as capricious as she was +lovely. Modern ideas of good behaviour she simply didn’t understand. +They had learned from painful experience, to consult her, <i>vide</i> +Danbazzar, before accepting proffered hospitality. +</p> + +<p> +She would inquire closely into the character of the household and the +probable guests before consenting to go. More often than not she +flatly declined to be present. +</p> + +<p> +And they knew that social embarrassment would almost inevitably follow +if Zalithea were urged against her will. This knowledge had come as +result of a disaster at the apartment of a prominent member of +Washington’s diplomatic set who was entertaining in New York. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea, reluctantly, had agreed to go. She had looked radiant. She +was the sensation of a brilliant gathering. Then, Mrs. Uffington had +arrived. As that gushing lady crossed with extended hands: +</p> + +<p> +“Bahree,” Zalithea had said, in her imperious way. +</p> + +<p> +Ignoring Mrs. Uffington, ignoring everybody, she had glided, a +slender, stately figure, out of the room—and out of the building! +</p> + +<p> +It was a moment which Barry sometimes lived over again, memory of +which brought cold perspiration. He had been furiously angry with her, +and had been unable to conceal his anger. Unmoved, apparently, as an +ivory statue, she had sat beside him in the car, while he had poured +out the vials of his wrath. Perhaps she had understood, perhaps she +had not. +</p> + +<p> +But when he saw her face, as they alighted before the door of his +home, he would have given much for power to recall those words. Her +beautiful eyes were glassy, like those of a tortured animal. Then, as +she turned to run up the steps, he saw the long-repressed tears +gathering under the dark fringe of her lashes.… +</p> + +<p> +She had refused to see him that night and for half of the next day. +His father, and Aunt Micky, who had been left behind to face the +appalling task of explaining, arrived later—and were denied +admittance to Zalithea’s apartments! +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar was summoned. Barry knew no sleep that night. He paced the +big library, a man demented, knowing—if he had ever doubted it—that +the happiness of this girl meant more to him than the opinion of every +hostess in America; than any friendship; than anything in life. +</p> + +<p> +Reconciliation had come. But they had all learned their lessons. +</p> + +<p> +Invitations to the Cumberland home were eagerly sought for. It came to +be regarded as a sort of mark of distinction to be honestly able to +say that Princess Zalithea had consented to know one. What guided her +in her selections and rejections, John Cumberland could never make +out. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, provokingly slowly, Zalithea was learning English. There was +no lack of voluntary (male) tutors. In fact, by painful degrees, the +fact dawned upon Barry that he had to count not only with that +intangible dread, his knowledge of the true age of Zalithea, but also +with more than one rival. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s something I want to know, young Cumberland,” said Aunt Micky +on a certain afternoon when Barry was lounging in her private sanctum. +</p> + +<p> +This room was notable chiefly because of the fact that it differed +from every other in the house; it contained not a single Egyptian +relic. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that, Micky?” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Micky puffed reflectively at her cigarette; then: +</p> + +<p> +“When is Zalithea going home?” she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry sat up with a jerk. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t get excited,” she went on. “It’s a perfectly reasonable +question. And as I can’t talk to the girl, and your father won’t talk +to <i>me</i>, I’m asking <i>you</i>. Have we adopted her?” +</p> + +<p> +Barry laughed to hide his embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose in a way we are responsible for her,” he answered +evasively. “What does Dad say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing!” Micky replied promptly. “That is, nothing sensible. He told +me, only yesterday, that her history was so strange I should never be +able to believe it.” She took a fresh cigarette from the box. “He’s +very likely right,” she added. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Micky!” Barry protested. “Something has upset you. What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t one thing; it’s several.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me one of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the first place, who is this girl?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very difficult to explain, Micky.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha!” She lighted her fresh cigarette with the stump of the old one. +“That’s what John says—and Blackwell! You’re all lying—all the damn’ +lot of you! You can’t tell fairy tales to Micky Colonna! And where, +exactly, does the man Danbazzar come in?” +</p> + +<p> +Again Barry hesitated. It was hateful to lie to Aunt Micky. Hitherto, +by skillful evasion, he had dodged the necessity. He determined to +endeavour to do so again. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he replied, “Danbazzar is the only one of the party who knows +her language. He knows—all about her father, too.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Micky stared at him hard; then: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>I’ve</i> been in Egypt, young lad,” she said, “and although I never +went so far, I know where the desert Arabs live—and what they look +like. This girl isn’t one! Also, when Dr. Davidson called, why did old +Blackwell hurry him away without seeing Zalithea?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, Micky.” +</p> + +<p> +“But <i>I</i> do! Because Dr. Davidson has just come back from a journey +through Zalithea’s home country, among the Senussi Arabs! Teach your +grandmother to suck eggs, young Cumberland!” +</p> + +<p> +“Does all this mean you don’t like her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like her well enough if I knew who she <i>was</i>. But all I know is +that she’s a little impostor and the whole gang of you are backing her +up.” +</p> + +<p> +“She isn’t an impostor,” Barry retorted hotly. “No! I didn’t mean to +be abrupt, but you don’t understand, Micky. It’s the rest of us who +are impostors!” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Micky shaded her unflinching gray eyes with one upraised hand, a +mark of disapproval; then: +</p> + +<p> +“Liars! all the lot of you!” she commented. “I knew it. But what’s the +object? Is she wanted by the Egyptian police?” +</p> + +<p> +Barry laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly,” he replied. “But there is a likelihood of +complications, all the same. You see, we brought a stack of stuff +away. It’s all at Danbazzar’s place, now.” +</p> + +<p> +“What has this to do with Zalithea?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, in a way—— Oh, I can’t explain, Micky! What’s the use of +trying?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me what your father told me yesterday—that I wouldn’t +understand—and I’ll heave this ink-well at you!” +</p> + +<p> +The interview left Barry in a very unsettled frame of mind. He simply +could not foresee the future otherwise than through a storm cloud. As +he came down into the lobby, Zalithea was just crossing. She was going +out to dinner and a theatre with a party that included Monty Edwards, +a moneyed undesirable whom Barry detested. She disliked parties but +loved theatres, they had discovered. +</p> + +<p> +She was dressed already, and made a sweet picture against a background +depicting the wars of Rameses II. +</p> + +<p> +Barry’s heart jumped ridiculously; for she was so close to him that by +extending a hand he could have touched her. He suppressed an +impulse—which seemed quite natural—to take her in his arms and hold +her and kiss her. +</p> + +<p> +“Zalithea,” he said, “you are adorable.” +</p> + +<p> +She paused, looking sideways at Barry. Her smile maddened him. +</p> + +<p> +“You like?” she asked naïvely. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bahree-geeve me-er-kiss,” she invited. +</p> + +<p> +He felt a hot flush rising to his forehead. Truly his sins had found +him out! At some time he had murmured those words, and Zalithea, who +seemed so slow to learn many things, had seized upon them +mysteriously. Perhaps the syllables chanced to resemble those of her +own language. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall have to, one day!” he said. “I shan’t be able to help +myself!” +</p> + +<p> +The maddest impulses surged up in his brain. Her eyes were beckoning +to him. But she was helpless—their guest—to be guarded and +protected. +</p> + +<p> +He laughed—quite mirthlessly—turned, and walked across to the +library. He never glanced back. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Sakers was calling for him later. They were dining at a club and +doing nothing in particular; what Jim termed “a night of well-earned +rest.” Barry was looking forward to the evening with great interest, +because he had determined, guardedly, to voice his difficulties to his +friend and to get the opinion of this honest, worldly soul. +</p> + +<p> +Of Zalithea he purposely saw no more. He heard the others arrive and +heard the car drive off. A few minutes later Jim arrived. +</p> + +<p> +At a corner table, placed before a high oak settle, they presently +found themselves in one of the Bohemian clubs of which Jim was a +member. And Barry began by outlining the position that Zalithea +occupied in the Cumberland home. +</p> + +<p> +“I gather,” said Jim, “that your former flaming passion for the +balcony princess has now been transferred to the Egyptian princess?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be silly,” Barry returned irritably. “I’m serious. Can’t you +understand that that was a vision of the girl I was going to meet?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Jim admitted, “I can’t. I have seen Mr. Brown’s house, and I +have interviewed Mr. Brown’s housekeeper. There’s nothing visionary +about either. Why should there be about Mr. Brown’s balcony?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know; but there is. It’s utterly impossible that I should +have seen Zalithea there. It’s utterly impossible that I should have +seen her on Fifth Avenue.” +</p> + +<p> +“You saw her twin sister.” +</p> + +<p> +“Her twin sister, if she had had one, would have been dead long +ago——” +</p> + +<p> +He broke off. He had said more than he had intended to say. Jim stared +curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” he inquired. “Do they drown one of the twins in those parts? +Which one do they keep? Who decides? Answer me that—the local witch +doctor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Forget it!” Barry urged, “and talk sense. You have seen +Zalithea—many times, now——” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly. She’s A 1 at Cupid’s—a first-class risk—Bachelor’s +Bane, Incorporated.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know her rather imperious spirit.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do. She has practised hard on me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But <i>I’m</i> crazy about her, Jim! And I’m dying to tell her so! But how +can I?” +</p> + +<p> +“How can you? Easily. You’re not dumb.” +</p> + +<p> +“She has scarcely any English.” +</p> + +<p> +“Press your hand to your heart and kneel at her feet.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t that. She’s our guest. I have no right——” +</p> + +<p> +“Cable the sable parent. Say, ‘Dear Sir: With reference to your +charming daughter——’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Jim! you’re not helping me! And, anyway, that’s not all.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim realized that his friend was really serious. He listened, without +facetious comments, while Barry hesitantly outlined a hypothetical +case. He spoke of a famous physician of the East who had discovered a +method of prolonging life for several hundreds of years. He could not +bring himself to speak of <i>thousands!</i> He asked him if he should +expect the offspring of a marriage between such a subject and an +ordinary mortal, to be normal. +</p> + +<p> +But Jim was merely bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you hinting that Zalithea’s mother is three hundred years old?” +he demanded, incredulously. “Is <i>this</i> the skeleton in the cupboard?” +</p> + +<p> +His tone was sufficient for Barry. Jim would never understand. How +could he be expected to understand? He was glad he had been no more +definite; and he clutched at this straw gratefully. +</p> + +<p> +“So we were led to believe,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Jim’s stare became that of a man hypnotized; but finally: +</p> + +<p> +“Does your father believe this?” he asked. “And old Blackwell, and +Danbazzar—do they believe it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Barry. “<i>You</i> would have believed it if you had been +there.” +</p> + +<p> +But he knew, now, that he could look for guidance to no man. He and +those others who had entered the tomb of She Who Sleeps had entered a +world controlled by laws other than those known to the rest of +mankind. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch28"> +CHAPTER XXVIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A DOOR CLOSES</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Barry</span> returned home comparatively early. Neither Jim’s airy +philosophy nor his more serious sympathy, which was not without a +salting of worldly wisdom, had lifted the cloud of despondency that +had settled upon him. He felt utterly alone. Never, in the loneliest +hours he had known in the desert, had he experienced anything quite +like his mood of to-night. +</p> + +<p> +He had fallen in love with a shadow—a mirage; the shadow had +materialized; and now, the substance was less real than the shadow. +</p> + +<p> +The whole thing seemed to have gone out of tune. The Zalithea he +pictured as he walked along, the Zalithea who went to theatres and +parties, <i>was</i> this the sleeping princess they had delivered from an +Egyptian tomb? Could it be the same, pale, slender girl from whose +lifeless body Danbazzar had torn those age-old wrappings? +</p> + +<p> +In short, where had delusion begun? Where did delusion end? +</p> + +<p> +The tired man smoking a soiled cigar lolled on the corner as Barry +approached his home. It occurred to him that it was the same cigar +that he had always smoked. It was unreal. +</p> + +<p> +Without removing the root, the man touched his hat as Barry went in +and took out his key. John Cumberland kept early hours; and, except +when entertaining, his household was abed by midnight. Barry did not +expect to find anyone up. +</p> + +<p> +On the tray in the lobby he discovered two letters. Neither was +important, but he switched on the light above the table and glanced at +them. As he stood there, dimly he could hear steamer whistles on the +river. One of them, a deep-throated blare, he thought he recognized as +the voice of the <i>Berengaria</i>. Even as his glance ran over the typed +page, in spirit he had crossed again to Southampton upon that quest +never to be forgotten which had led to Zalithea. +</p> + +<p> +Then, thrilling in the stillness of the big house, came a soft cry! +</p> + +<p> +Barry dropped the letter and turned, standing stock still, with +clenched hands. +</p> + +<p> +He stared across at the closed door of the library. It was from there +the cry had come. All was silent, however, as he stepped quickly in +that direction. But, as he reached the door, in a strangled voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Bahree!” he heard; then, in a coarse, laughing tone: +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be so silly!” +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea was in the library—with Monty Edwards! +</p> + +<p> +Barry flung the door open and walked in. +</p> + +<p> +Across by the big, carved mantelpiece, with its overpowering +decoration from the wall of Medinet Habu, Edwards had the girl in his +arms. He was a thickset, coarse-grained type, whose boisterous good +humour served as a cloak for a rather nasty animalism. At the wrong +age for a man of his character he had acquired control of a fortune +little less than that of John Cumberland. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea’s lithe body was bent back like a bow as she strove to avoid +his lips. Edwards, holding her fast, stooped lower and lower to the +alluring, forbidden red mouth. +</p> + +<p> +By what cunning strategy he had contrived to be left alone with her +Barry neither knew nor cared. It was the colossal outrage of the thing +that struck him dumb. The affront to him, to his father, was gross +enough. But the affront to this delicate, guarded treasure of some +long-forgotten court was beyond computation. +</p> + +<p> +To his imaginative mind it appeared that Monty Edwards had disgraced +irrevocably the name of American hospitality. +</p> + +<p> +So swiftly did he act, in his white-hot anger, that Edwards, hastily +releasing the girl, allowed her to sink down upon the carpet. He +turned in a flash—and Barry stood before him dumb with hate. +</p> + +<p> +Edwards’s high colour fled. He spoke huskily. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Barry! Don’t get mad. It was only fun.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry was murderously pale. For ten—fifteen—twenty beats of the +library clock, he stood, quivering; then: +</p> + +<p> +“Get out!” he said. “Get out while I can remember you’re in <i>my</i> +house.” +</p> + +<p> +Monty Edwards bandied no words with the speaker. He knew when a man +was seeing red. Head lowered and lips unsteady, he passed Barry and +walked out of the library. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea stood up, breathing quickly. But Barry never moved, never +stirred a muscle of his tensed-up body, until the closing of the front +door told him that Monty Edwards had left the house. Then he turned to +Zalithea. +</p> + +<p> +She was dressed as he had seen her earlier in the evening. She was +pale but more utterly desirable than any woman in all the wide world. +Her long, dark eyes were fixed upon him in a sort of +wonder—questioningly—doubtingly. He unclenched his fists. No word +was spoken. But Zalithea stepped forward as if bidden. +</p> + +<p> +His arms went around her like steel bands. He uttered a queer, pent-up +cry. He kissed her lips breathlessly, her hair, her eyes, her smooth, +creamy neck. He was in the throes of a veritable madness. His +long-repressed passion swept him away.… +</p> + +<p> +When, at last, he released her, she fell back, raised her hands to her +eyes for a moment; then, giving him one long look of indescribable +intensity, as though she would imprint his image indelibly upon her +mind, she ran out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Standing as she had left him, his back to the lobby, he heard the +light patter of her footsteps as she raced upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +Somewhere, above, a door closed softly. +</p> + +<p> +And to that sound Barry found himself listening with a strained +intensity. It seemed in some way to be an answer to a question—to a +subconscious question that his mind was incapable of framing. +Exhausted by the fiercest emotions he had ever known, he dropped into +a big padded rest chair in which, evidently, Monty Edwards had been +sitting. A still-smouldering cigar lay in the little Oriental tray +attached to the chair arm. +</p> + +<p> +Mentally, he was depressed. But his heart was singing. His former +experiences might have led him to doubt Zalithea’s sentiments. But he +could not forget that she had returned his kisses. +</p> + +<p> +For an hour he waited, hoping yet not expecting that she would come +back. He lived again through the strange days and nights he had known +since that evening when Fate had steered the Rolls into a private +road—and he had seen a vision of Zalithea. +</p> + +<p> +Imagination led him on. Once more he talked with Danbazzar and the +others in the tent in the <i>wâdi</i> and walked beside Hassan es-Sugra +through those silent halls of the Great Temple. So walking in spirit, +with gods and Pharaohs beckoning secretly from moon-touched walls, he +fell asleep. +</p> + +<p> +The cigar, in the tray at his elbow, smouldered on. In the still air +of the library, a bluish pencilling of smoke stole straightly upward. +It burned until only a powdery shell remained attached to a leafy +stub. But Barry never stirred. The night sounds of New York did not +reach him in his dreams. And the detective on duty outside the house +wondered why the library lights were still burning when dawn’s gray +mystery crept over the city. +</p> + +<p> +Through the shades, morning light was competing with the electric +lamps when soft footsteps sounded on the thickly carpeted stairs. +Barry slept on. The footsteps crept lower and lower… and Zalithea +stood peeping in at the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +She turned swiftly at sight of the sleeper, her fingers raised to her +lips. Old Safîyeh’s wrinkled face appeared in the lamplight. Then +Zalithea looked again at Barry, his ruffled curly head resting on one +shoulder. She watched him longingly, as a woman watches a sleeping +child. Once she stole forward, but hesitated and went back.… Very +softly she drew the door partly to. +</p> + +<p> +The man on duty at the corner saw the two women come out and walk +away. He was not surprised. They frequently went for a walk in the +early hours of the morning, although he could not recall that they had +ever set out quite so early before. +</p> + +<p> +As the front door closed, Barry moved. The movement rasped his neck +against his collar—and he awoke. Cramped, stale, heavy-headed, he +stared about him. Swiftly memory reasserted itself. +</p> + +<p> +He stood up, stretching his cramped limbs. Then he crossed and +switched off the lights. The library clock registered half-past five. +He went upstairs, pausing outside Zalithea’s door and listening +intently. He could detect no sound. He passed on, mounted to the floor +above, and went to bed. +</p> + +<p> +His next awakening was a tragic one. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland burst into his room, with: +</p> + +<p> +“Barry! Barry! Zalithea has disappeared!” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry sprang out of bed, his eyes wide in sudden fear. John +Cumberland’s face was pale. +</p> + +<p> +“She and Safîyeh went out at half-past five this morning. They have +not returned. It’s after ten o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +Half-past five… what memory did this awaken? Of course! … +</p> + +<p> +“But I was in the library at that time!” Barry cried. “They must have +seen me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Explain,” said John Cumberland. “What were you doing in the library +so early?” +</p> + +<p> +Barry, very briefly, told the story, mincing no words, concealing +nothing. As he spoke, he was dressing in feverish haste. +</p> + +<p> +“The door was closed, I suppose?” his father asked dully. +</p> + +<p> +Barry paused in his task. He looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“By heaven,” he said, “she must have closed it! Edwards left it open, +and I fell asleep watching the lobby. But it was half to when I woke +up!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you realize, Barry,” his father asked, “that it was probably the +shutting of the front door that awakened you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t bear to think of it.” +</p> + +<p> +The house was in an uproar. Remembering that Zalithea knew next to +nothing of the language, and Safîyeh little more, it was impossible +to imagine their plight. In one fact, that Zalithea was not alone, +Barry found comfort. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland’s private secretary was already in touch with the +police; and, as Barry came hurrying downstairs, Professor Blackwell +arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“Cumberland!” he cried. “What’s this they tell me?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s gone, Blackwell,” was the reply. “No news.” +</p> + +<p> +The Professor dropped into a lobby chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Somehow, I can’t grasp it,” he said pathetically. “If she had been +alone I should have feared an accident, but as Safîyeh is with +her——” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I think!” Barry interrupted eagerly. “An accident is out +of the question.” +</p> + +<p> +“This being so,” the Professor went on, “what are we to conclude? Is +Danbazzar here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Expected every minute,” John Cumberland replied shortly. “I naturally +’phoned there first, as she is used to visiting him.” +</p> + +<p> +“She had not been there?” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him what happened last night, Barry,” he said, and hurried away. +</p> + +<p> +Barry, hoping against hope that something in the occurrences of the +night might suggest to the scientific brain of Professor Blackwell a +clue to Zalithea’s motive, gave him an account of the matter. At last: +</p> + +<p> +“It may be some primitive reaction,” the Professor murmured. “The +psychology of Zalithea is of course an unknown quantity.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think she is frightened and so has run away?” +</p> + +<p> +“Frankly, I don’t know what to think.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t believe she would voluntarily leave the house,” Barry +declared. “Just think. Where could she possibly go to?” +</p> + +<p> +Professor Blackwell shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“That is a question I cannot pretend to answer.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Danbazzar arrived. As the door was opened he came into +the lobby, a big, dominating figure. But his stock was not quite so +perfectly knotted as usual, and his strange eyes held a very wild +light. +</p> + +<p> +“Still no news?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +The blank faces about him were sufficient answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Have her apartments been searched to make sure there’s nothing +there?” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Micky, very stern-faced, came downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +“I have searched thoroughly,” she answered. “But it might be as well +if you looked, also.” +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar bowed and walked upstairs. Barry followed. +</p> + +<p> +In the suite of apartments which had been furnished for the use of +Zalithea, a very faint perfume lingered. It caught Barry by the +throat. It spoke to him intimately. It was as though he had buried his +face in her fragrant hair; as though she were in his arms again. +</p> + +<p> +The rooms were strangely appointed. They were scantily furnished in +the Eastern manner, with little inlaid tables and cabinets, and many +richly cushioned divans. Perforated silver lamps concealed the +electric lights, and the windows were screened with <i>mushrabiyeh</i> +work. The bedroom struck a more Western note, being equipped with a +wonderful dressing table possessing wing mirrors and laden with every +imaginable luxury of Paris. +</p> + +<p> +There was no evidence of disorder or of hasty departure. The bleak +chamber adjoining in which the old Arab woman spent a great part of +her days afforded no better evidence. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar crossed to a window and threw back the near-by <i>mushrabiyeh</i> +screen. For a long time he stood there, looking out. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch29"> +CHAPTER XXIX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE HIEROGLYPHIC LETTER</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">A period</span> of anxiety now commenced to which it seemed impossible to +imagine any end other than the return of Zalithea. The idea that he +should never see her again was one that Barry simply could not +contemplate. The mystery of her disappearance baffled all conjecture. +</p> + +<p> +Short of the theory of drowning both in the case of Zalithea and of +Safîyeh, no feasible explanation presented itself. At John +Cumberland’s urgently expressed wish publicity was for long avoided. +But neither police headquarters nor the private experts employed on +the case could offer any hypothesis covering the facts. +</p> + +<p> +Since Zalithea spoke no English and her companion very little, it was +difficult to imagine how they could have gone far without attracting +attention. Further, it appeared that neither had any money, beyond, +possibly, some small change. +</p> + +<p> +To Barry, every waking hour seemed like a week. He had fits of anger +during which he bitterly reproached the girl for the pain which she +was inflicting. Then, his mood changing, he would mourn her as dead. +Every time the ’phone bell rang his heart leaped wildly. Hope and fear +alternately gripped him, threatening to drive him mad. +</p> + +<p> +Secrecy at last became impossible, if not unwise. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s only one theory that covers all the facts,” said the +detective in charge of the inquiry. “They must be in hiding; either +because they want to hide for some reason, or because they are being +detained.” +</p> + +<p> +“Detained!” cried John Cumberland. “By whom? For what purpose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” was the reply, “such things have happened before, you know. It +may develop into a demand for ransom. But my point is this: apart from +the fact that the lady’s disappearance is beginning to be talked +about, we are neglecting a very valuable weapon, in a case of this +kind, by avoiding publicity.” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with you,” Barry said. +</p> + +<p> +“If these two are hiding somewhere,” the detective went on, “offer of +a big reward will tempt someone to give them away. If they’ve been +kidnapped, offer of a reward is what the kidnappers are waiting for. I +know it’s going to make things mighty unpleasant for you, and you’re +in no sort of humour to be badgered by newspaper reporters. But it’s +all that’s left. The cat’s out of the bag, anyway. Hundreds of people +know. You might as well tell the world.” +</p> + +<p> +Reluctantly, sick at heart, John Cumberland consented. The notoriety +which he knew must follow was appalling to his sensitive nature. But +anything that might lead to the recovery of Zalithea he was prepared +to face. +</p> + +<p> +And so, on the following morning, New York revelled in full details of +perhaps the most romantic mystery that had ever spread itself over the +city’s front pages. Photographs of Zalithea there were none available. +Those taken on the day of her arrival, showing her muffled in veils, +were at a premium. +</p> + +<p> +Danbazzar supplied a brief and strictly untruthful biography of “The +Lady Zalithea el-Aziza ed-Dhahir (daughter of the Sheik Mohammed Abd +el-Ghuri, of the direct line of the last of the Khalifs and a +descendant of the Prophet) entitled by Moslem law and usage to the +designation, Princess Zalithea.” +</p> + +<p> +As this corresponded with the particulars entered in her passport, no +doubts of its accuracy were entertained. A description of Safîyeh was +also given. She was cited as a native of Cairo. +</p> + +<p> +“This is going to reach Egypt,” said Danbazzar gloomily. “And if I +know anything about Tawwab, it’s going to reach the Sheik Mohammed. If +it’s made worth his while, he’s sure to say he never had a daughter. +What happens next we have to wait and see.” +</p> + +<p> +The sensational report issued, John Cumberland and Barry entrenched +themselves behind secretaries, refusing to receive any newspaper +representatives. Danbazzar discreetly disappeared. So intense was the +public curiosity aroused that Professor Blackwell was forced to cancel +a course of lectures and to retire to the home of relatives in the +Middle West. +</p> + +<p> +Wild rumours were circulated freely. Anybody who had ever met Zalithea +was interviewed and cross-examined. Thousands who had never even seen +her claimed acquaintance for the sake of a brief moment in the +limelight. Reports flowed in from places as widely removed as +Marseilles and Hollywood. +</p> + +<p> +At a cost appalling to estimate, John Cumberland had every one of them +taken up and tested. All proved to be mare’s nests. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Micky’s life became a perfect burden to her. If it had not been +for her recognition of the fact that Barry was breaking his heart over +the affair she would have fled long since. Instinctively she had known +from the first that there was some secret in connection with Zalithea +which she did not share. Her resentment had been sharpened by what she +termed “this damnable publicity.” +</p> + +<p> +Save for very old friends, Jim Sakers, Jack Lorrimer, and a few +others, society she had none in these days, but was compelled to hide +like a fugitive from the tireless persecution of paragraph writers.… +</p> + +<p> +Then, it happened—the inexplicable thing; the event that, while it +aroused a momentary hope, did so only to dash hope to the ground +again. +</p> + +<p> +Barry and a secretary were going through the voluminous mail one +morning. Barry’s high spirit had quite deserted him. He looked +physically ill, and was morose and silent. He hoped for nothing, in +all these letters, but inquiries prompted by idle curiosity or lies +designed to torture him. Then: +</p> + +<p> +“Here is a letter addressed to you, Mr. Cumberland,” said the +secretary, “and unstamped. It must have been delivered by hand. It is +marked ‘Private and Personal.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +Barry stretched apathetically across the table and took the envelope, +upon which his name was neatly typed. It seemed to contain a quantity +of correspondence and also some small, hard object. +</p> + +<p> +He tore it open listlessly. +</p> + +<p> +A large double sheet of some very thick, tough kind of writing paper +was inside. And, as he pulled it from the envelope, a ring fell out +upon the table. Barry’s heart seemed to miss a beat. What change had +come over his face he could only guess by the secretary’s horrified +expression. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Cumberland!” she cried—and stood up. +</p> + +<p> +But Barry motioned to her to sit down again. He was +staring—staring—at the ring which he held in his hand. It was an +oddly mounted and very perfect piece of lapis lazuli. +</p> + +<p> +He had bought it in the Rue de la Paix for Zalithea! +</p> + +<p> +Uttering a stifled moan, he dropped the ring, and, with wildly +unsteady fingers, unfolded the thick sheets of paper. +</p> + +<p> +They were covered with Egyptian hieroglyphics! +</p> + +<p> +One glance he gave at the writing, and: +</p> + +<p> +“Quick! Quick!” he shouted. “Get my father!” +</p> + +<p> +He sprang from his chair and began to pace the room like a madman. His +brain was working feverishly. The letter was from <i>her!</i> … The letter +was from <i>her!</i> Even if John Cumberland could decipher it, he could do +so only very laboriously, perhaps inaccurately. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Cumberland is coming,” the secretary announced. +</p> + +<p> +“Call Danbazzar,” Barry directed. +</p> + +<p> +“He is out of town. Mr. John Cumberland received a note from him this +morning saying he would be away for two or three weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” cried Barry. “I don’t know what I’m talking about!” +</p> + +<p> +He clutched his head, trying to think clearly. Horace Pain was abroad +and not expected back for a long time. But Dr. Rittenburg had been +home when they arrived. He had dined with them only two weeks ago at +Danbazzar’s apartment and had had a private view of the contents of +the tomb when these had reached New York through some mysterious +channel controlled by their host. +</p> + +<p> +“Look up Dr. Rittenburg’s number,” he said. “Get him at all costs.” +</p> + +<p> +And the secretary was engaged with the directory when John Cumberland +burst in. +</p> + +<p> +Barry could not speak. He merely pointed to the ring and letter—and +went on walking up and down. +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland’s voice shook emotionally. He was staring at the +writing, pale-faced, incredulous. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s… from <i>her!</i>” Barry whispered. “She’s alive! She’s alive!” +</p> + +<p> +“Come down to the library, my boy,” said his father, regaining his own +self-control in presence of the distracted Barry. “Wallis Budge can +help us here. I fear my knowledge is not sufficient.” +</p> + +<p> +As they left the room: +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Rittenburg has gone out,” the secretary reported, “but they have +given me a number where they think I can find him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him to come along at once,” John Cumberland directed, “or, if +he’s engaged, put him through to me in the library.” +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later they were engrossed in study of the extraordinary +letter; and from the well-laden shelves Barry, at his father’s +instance, had taken Budge’s standard work on the language of Ancient +Egypt, Erman’s <i>Egyptian Grammar</i>, and other handbooks on the subject. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s going to be a hard job for me, Barry,” John Cumberland +confessed. “But it would be easy for Rittenburg or Danbazzar. It’s +hieratic writing, of which I know very little.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it—” Barry began, trying to steady his voice, “is it the sort of +writing <i>she</i> might be expected to use?” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly,” his father answered. “It was the form of writing +employed by the priests and scribes. The papyrus and the formula are +written in this style. But the characters in both are much more +carefully drawn.” +</p> + +<p> +“For heaven’s sake, let’s begin. Does it read from left to right or +right to left?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the trouble,” John Cumberland replied. “Sometimes it reads one +way and sometimes the other!” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you find any clue—or any word you recognize?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I’m looking for,” his father murmured, bending over the +page of hieroglyphs.… +</p> + +<p> +And for the greater part of an hour he looked, seeking aid in his +researches from the pages of Budge, Petrie, and others. But he had +made no progress whatever when Dr. Rittenburg arrived. +</p> + +<p> +As the library door opened and the round, red face of the +distinguished Egyptologist was thrust into the room, Barry rose from +the table with a cry of welcome. Dr. Rittenburg bent forward, his +large, round spectacles shining as he peered in the direction of the +students. As is the way of the human brain, an idea suddenly presented +itself to Barry now, in this hour of intense anxiety—that Dr. +Rittenburg was a reincarnation of Mr. Pickwick. +</p> + +<p> +Greetings were very brief, and: +</p> + +<p> +“I must ask you, Rittenburg,” said John Cumberland, “to treat the +matter about which we want to consult you as strictly confidential.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, certainly,” Dr. Rittenburg agreed. “Count on me. What’s +the problem?” +</p> + +<p> +Barry held out the letter. +</p> + +<p> +“This!” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Rittenburg glanced at him curiously, noted his condition of +tremendous nervous excitement, then changed his large, round +spectacles for a larger pair, equally round. He seated himself and +bent over the writing. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland and Barry stood before the high, carved mantelpiece +watching him. Courtesies were forgotten. They had not even offered the +doctor a cigar. +</p> + +<p> +For perhaps five minutes he peered down intently; then: +</p> + +<p> +“H’m!” he murmured. “Very curious, if I may say so. Very, very +curious.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you read it?” Barry demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly I can read it!” the savant returned brusquely. “But as I +assume you have not asked me to do so merely as a test of my ability, +may I inquire who wrote it?” +</p> + +<p> +An eager answer was on the tip of Barry’s tongue when his father +checked him with a gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“This is our real problem, Rittenburg,” John Cumberland explained. “We +have certain reasons for believing, or hoping, that we know the +writer. But we look to you for internal evidence, in the letter +itself, to confirm our hopes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said Dr. Rittenburg, glancing queerly from father to son. +“The internal evidence is here. And knowing what I already know of +certain occurrences, I may say that this letter astounds me—literally +astounds me!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry could scarcely contain his impatience; but: +</p> + +<p> +“While it is not perfectly formed in many places,” the doctor went on, +“it nevertheless contains phrases that are beyond the compass of the +ordinary student. In fact”—he removed his spectacles and polished +them with a pocket handkerchief—“I doubt if there are six people in +the United States of America who could have written it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it—signed?” Barry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” Dr. Rittenburg replaced his glasses and bent once more over the +letter. “It bears a name which I should be tempted to translate in a +certain way if I were not afraid that my knowledge of other matters is +unconsciously prejudicing my judgment!” +</p> + +<p> +“For God’s sake, read it!” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland was the speaker. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well.” Dr. Rittenburg cleared his throat and read: “ ‘Because I +can be with you no more I send the ring’ ”—he glanced up, and: “I am +almost sure that ‘ring’ is meant,” he said, and read on: “ ‘By this you +will know. Do not lament me or look in many places. Forget. There is +nothing else. My heart I leave behind!’ ” +</p> + +<p> +Again Dr. Rittenburg looked up, and: +</p> + +<p> +“To the best of my knowledge,” he added, “the next, and final word, is +<i>Zalithea!</i>” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch30"> +CHAPTER XXX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">MARGUERITE DEVINA</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">The</span> Moving Finger,” which waits for no man, moved on. But Zalithea +did not return. The police had relaxed their efforts. They had nothing +to work upon. It was obviously impossible to place the hieratic letter +in their hands. Nor did its arrival assist the investigations of the +private agency employed by John Cumberland. +</p> + +<p> +He allowed them to examine it, saying that the writing was believed to +be in Princess Zalithea’s hand. They tried to trace the maker of the +paper and of the envelope which had enclosed it, but failed. Their +final effort was directed to the discovery of the messenger who had +put the letter in the box. A reward of five thousand dollars was +offered. No one claimed it. +</p> + +<p> +During these anxious days, Barry had not neglected the house of Mr. +Brown. In a despairing effort, he had had the history of this country +home examined—in vain. The property had changed hands during his +absence in Egypt, and little could be learned of the former owner or +of his associates. Agents had handled the transactions in both cases. +The housekeeper—once interviewed by Jim Sakers—could not be traced. +</p> + +<p> +The nine days’ wonder lived its allotted span; and the world in +general began to forget Princess Zalithea, who had flashed, a dazzling +meteor, across the social sky of New York, and, like a meteor, had +vanished. +</p> + +<p> +But Barry did not forget. He was not of those who love and ride away. +For him a dream had come true—a dream held like a crucifix through +years of waiting. He had lived in a heaven of moments. He had been +snatched back to earth. And he was lonely. +</p> + +<p> +One faith he had. To this he remained true; it saved him from despair. +Zalithea was alive; so was Safîyeh. Somewhere, they were together. +And one day he would find them. Despite official evidence proving that +no such persons had departed from the port of New York, a conviction +was growing in his mind that Zalithea had returned to Egypt. +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland’s anxiety, divided from the first, began now to centre +upon Barry. Professor Blackwell, feeling that he might hope to walk +the streets again without being accosted by newspaper representatives, +had returned to his usual quarters. And one evening the two old +friends dined together at the University Club, to discuss the question +of Barry’s welfare. +</p> + +<p> +“Bob Sakers couldn’t join us for dinner,” said Cumberland, when the +Professor arrived, “but he’s dropping in later.” +</p> + +<p> +“Danbazzar is still away?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” John Cumberland nodded. “The publicity attaching to this +unhappy affair came very near home, I think. His apartment is shut up. +I shouldn’t wonder if he stays away for a long time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite—quite,” murmured the Professor. “Of course, for my part, I +confess I am floored. I don’t dare to think about it. The whole thing, +from that unimaginable moment in the tomb up to the time that you +received this incredible letter, often seems to me to be unreal—a +nightmare.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” John Cumberland agreed, “it doesn’t seem real. But—” he +sighed—“it has ruined Barry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor boy—poor boy. She was very lovely, Cumberland.” +</p> + +<p> +A long silence fell between them, until: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you ever ask yourself,” said John Cumberland, “if she +was—natural?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear fellow,” the Professor returned, “I have asked myself that +question a hundred times! And I think it has been answered for us.” +</p> + +<p> +“How? In what way?” +</p> + +<p> +“By her disappearance.” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland stared, and: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I follow,” he declared. +</p> + +<p> +“If,” explained Professor Blackwell slowly, “Zalithea was +supernatural, certainly Safîyeh was not. But Safîyeh disappeared +with her!” +</p> + +<p> +His friend considered the words for some time, and at last: +</p> + +<p> +“I see the point,” he said. “It’s a new one, I admit.” +</p> + +<p> +When, later, Jim Sakers’s father joined them, he put the case before +him bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +“This thing has knocked Barry sideways,” he told Robert Sakers. “In +confidence, it’s touch and go. Blackwell will bear me out.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have watched Barry,” the latter admitted; “and I am certain that +he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He is crazy to go back to +Egypt, via London and Paris. We don’t hope that he will find the girl, +Sakers; we don’t expect so much. But I am quite positive that the +journey will save him. Now—he can’t go alone. It’s out of the +question. Jim is his oldest friend, and you can very well spare him +for a month or six weeks——” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not asking you to stand the damage, Sakers,” John Cumberland +interrupted. “It wouldn’t be fair on top of the inconvenience of +losing your right-hand man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave that part out,” said Robert Sakers. “Let’s get down to dates.” +</p> + +<p> +And as a result of the conference which followed, some ten days later +Jim Sakers found himself, with Barry, bound for Europe. His profound +and ceaseless amazement, expressed at great length, was an antidote to +poor Barry’s melancholy—as it was designed to be. +</p> + +<p> +New environment and the magic of sea breezes aided the cure; and after +an idle week in London, during which Barry’s restlessness seemed to +have abated in a measure, they crossed to Paris. +</p> + +<p> +The faithful Jim cabled an enthusiastic report home; and perhaps +Barry, by this time, had begun to realize that the journey was +intended to be a “cure” and to reconcile his overwrought mind to the +idea of resignation. But what he did not realize, what neither of them +realized, was that they were helpless in the “moving row” of which old +Omar spoke, and that they were being danced impotent toward that +inevitable end designed by “the Master of the Show.” +</p> + +<p> +Paris proved rather a setback. It provoked memories which brought +about in Barry a relapse into melancholy. Jim worked like a Trojan to +arouse him from his mournful apathy. +</p> + +<p> +“Regard, oh, regard the glitter of the boulevard,” he invited, as they +sat outside a popular café in the sunshine. “Unknown to the old folks +at home, in their sleepy village adjacent to the delta of the +Hudson——” +</p> + +<p> +“The Hudson has no delta,” Barry murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Let that pass. But still unknown to them, whether they have a delta +or not, here we sit sipping perfectly good wine at a price for which +we could not obtain a cup of coffee in our little home town. +Therefore, let us rejoice! And, lo! here come soldiers—complete with +band! Let us cheer!” +</p> + +<p> +A small party of infantry marched past, accompanied by a large band. +Jim stood up, watching them enthusiastically and talking away all the +time. Receiving no criticisms from Barry, he turned. +</p> + +<p> +His flow of nonsense was checked. +</p> + +<p> +Barry, pale as death, clutching the edge of the marble-topped table, +was staring—staring—across the street, his ghastly features those of +one who sees a ghost! +</p> + +<p> +“Barry!” Jim gasped. “Barry!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry did not stir. When he spoke his voice was a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“Jim,” he said, “<i>I have seen her!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” +</p> + +<p> +“She has just gone into the perfumers’ shop opposite.” +</p> + +<p> +“Barry!” Jim grasped his shoulder. “Wake up, man! You are +daydreaming.” +</p> + +<p> +“Watch until she comes out,” the monotonous whisper went on. “Don’t +let her see you, for God’s sake. But follow her, Jim—don’t lose sight +of her—until you find out where she is living.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Barry,” Jim began, a note of profound anxiety in his voice, +when: +</p> + +<p> +“Quick! There she goes!” he was interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +He looked across the street. He gasped audibly; then: +</p> + +<p> +“Wait for me here!” he said tersely. +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea, carrying a small parcel, had just come out of the shop and +was walking away! +</p> + +<p> +Jim Sakers experienced a sense of sudden acute exhilaration. The +wildly unforeseen had happened! And at last he was going to be of real +use to his friend! What it all meant was outside the province of his +mental powers. Who this mysterious girl really was who had so +hopelessly bewitched Barry he had never been able to understand. Nor +could he comprehend how she could possibly have reached Paris without +the knowledge of the American authorities. +</p> + +<p> +But unmistakably it was Princess Zalithea and none other who walked +along before him. Her lithe figure, her graceful carriage, the very +turn of her head when she paused to look in a shop window were +familiar to the man who had met her many times in New York. +</p> + +<p> +From the crowded boulevard into which she had turned on coming out of +the perfumers’ she entered a side street. Jim didn’t know the name +either of the street or the boulevard. His bump of locality was low. +But he knew that he wasn’t going to lose sight of her if he had to +follow her around Paris all day! +</p> + +<p> +He was turning a problem over in his mind as he tracked the trim, +leisurely figure. What should he do if she saw him? +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea came out onto another boulevard and waited at the corner of +the street for a moment. Evidently she was going to cross. She did so, +and Jim was delayed by the eccentric Paris traffic. When he finally +ran over, for a moment he lost her. Then, just disappearing around the +corner of the next street along, he saw the smart figure again. +</p> + +<p> +He hurried to the spot, swung round the corner—and saw Zalithea +entering a discreet-looking hotel on the same side. He was in the +lobby a minute later—and she was talking to a clerk at the desk! +</p> + +<p> +Jim turned his back and stared out into the street through the glass +doors. The lobby was small. He could hear every word spoken at the +desk. And what he heard gave him the crowning surprise of the morning. +</p> + +<p> +“No, madam—” the clerk spoke perfect English—“no American mail has +come in yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you. If any comes later will you please send it right up?” +</p> + +<p> +<i>The speaker was Zalithea!</i> +</p> + +<p> +Astounded—thrown off his guard—Jim turned and met Zalithea face to +face! +</p> + +<p> +“Princess!” he said. “You remember me!” +</p> + +<p> +The girl’s white teeth closed sharply on her lower lip. She nearly +dropped the parcel she was carrying, but just managed to recover it. +She flushed and as quickly paled. But she looked at him +unflinchingly—and he knew her long, dark eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You have made a strange mistake,” she said, evenly. “I am not a +princess and I don’t know you.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim wondered if he were going mad. The clerk was watching him +dubiously, so was a hall porter. +</p> + +<p> +“But—” he floundered—“but——” The dark eyes remained fixed upon him +inscrutably. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. But it’s miraculous.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned and walked out of the lobby. Jim did not afterward remember +having seen her leave. It was the scrutiny of the officials that +brought him to his senses and sharpened his ready wits. He turned to +the clerk, taking a card from his wallet. It was the card of a member +of the agency recently employed by John Cumberland! +</p> + +<p> +He tossed it on the desk, and: +</p> + +<p> +“You no doubt wonder what I’m up to?” he said breezily. “There’s the +answer!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” muttered the clerk, glancing at the name. “I see. But you were +wrong, weren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid so,” Jim confessed—“quite wrong!” He stared at a menu +that chanced to lie near and learned that he was in the Hôtel +Chatham. “Nothing for the Chatham to worry about!” he added +reassuringly. “But I should like to make my apologies. <i>We</i> have a +reputation, too!” He drew a pencil from his pocket. “What is the name +of the lady I so unfortunately insulted?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is a Miss Marguerite Devina of New Jersey, U.S.A.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” said Jim, making a note of it. “Here alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I believe she is expecting relatives to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Much obliged.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim nodded in a brusque fashion based upon that of the lawful owner of +the card and stepped out into the street. +</p> + +<p> +The street gained, his assured manner deserted him. He was the most +hopelessly bewildered American in Paris. What in the name of sanity +should he tell Barry? That this <i>was</i> Princess Zalithea he would have +been prepared to declare upon oath. Besides, good actress though he +granted her to be, she had failed to hide her surprise at sight of +him. He had seen her bite her lip—to check what? A sudden utterance +of his name? Probably. Her changed colour, her trembling hands, proved +that she had recognized him. +</p> + +<p> +It was she. But what did it mean? +</p> + +<p> +How could he face Barry with such a story? +</p> + +<p> +Turning these problems over in his mind, he plodded back to the café. +From afar he saw Barry—watching. At sight of Jim he jumped up and ran +to meet him. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me!” he cried, his eyes feverishly bright. “Where does she +live?” +</p> + +<p> +“At the Hôtel Chatham.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God! And she didn’t see you?” +</p> + +<p> +“But she did!” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” +</p> + +<p> +“Come back and sit down, Barry,” Jim urged. “Get a grip on yourself. +We’re together in this thing. Let me order you a glass of good +cognac.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re hiding something!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll give you the story word for word when you have sat down and had +a drink and lighted your pipe. Not a damn’ syllable before!” +</p> + +<p> +He had his way, for he could be very truculent at times; and poor +Barry Cumberland was a parody of his old masterful self. So, while +Barry smoked furiously the story was told—a stranger story than any +Jim had ever expected to have to tell. In conclusion: +</p> + +<p> +“If <i>you</i> are mad,” he said, “I’m mad, too! Because Miss Marguerite +Devina is Princess Zalithea. But Princess Zalithea only spoke +<i>gazoobi</i> or <i>swahili</i>—and Miss Devina speaks perfect English. Now +search me! <i>Garçon, deux cognacs!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +The chairs about them were becoming filled with loungers, as the day +wore on to noon. A cosmopolitan crowd thronged the street and the +neighbouring boulevard. Somewhere near by an orchestra had begun to +play a melody very popular in New York. Newsboys shouted. Drivers of +carts shouted. Everybody shouted. +</p> + +<p> +But Barry was silent. At last: +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” Jim inquired. “What do we do now?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have just decided,” Barry replied quietly. “It will be best for you +to stay where you are at the Meurice. We don’t want to frighten her. +But I shall transfer to the Chatham, at once.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch31"> +CHAPTER XXXI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE MEETING</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">If Barry Cumberland</span> had his weaknesses—and who has not?—he had one +marked virtue. He knew what he wanted, and always headed straight for +his objective. In fact, his impulsiveness was excessive and sometimes +overrode his practical common sense. +</p> + +<p> +He was wise enough to know this, for he was well stocked with +imagination; and, safely lodged at the Hôtel Chatham that afternoon, +he made a direct move, which was characteristic, but one that allowed +of safe withdrawal in the event of failure. This was sound strategy. +His tentative advance was suggested by the name of the mysterious +guest—“Devina.” +</p> + +<p> +John Cumberland sometimes spoke of a Madame Devina, a once famous +operatic soprano of the Metropolitan Opera; an idol of New York who +had disappeared from the musical world at the height of her success. +She had been entertained at the Cumberland home more than once during +a brilliant season notable for her singing of Thaïs—the rôle which +had made her reputation. Those days Barry could just remember and no +more. They belonged to the dreams of childhood in which his dainty +mother figured as the centre of a wonderful world. +</p> + +<p> +Now, those memories served a good purpose, and, seated in his room, he +wrote the following note: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dear Madam</span>: +</p> + +<p> +Please forgive an impulsive countryman for intruding. But I chanced to +see your name in the register to-day, and it reminded me of the fact +that my father, John Cumberland, and my mother, were formerly friends +of Madame Devina. As the name is an unusual one, I venture to ask if +you are related to that lady. If you are, I should be more than happy +to make your acquaintance, and my father, I know, would be delighted +to hear of you. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +Respectfully,<br> +<span class="sc">Barry Cumberland</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +This he directed to “Miss Marguerite Devina” and gave to a page to be +delivered to her in person. +</p> + +<p> +His letter dispatched, Barry restlessly crossed to the window, which +he threw open. It overlooked a garden courtyard, which for some reason +cast his memory back to Shepheard’s in Cairo. Many balconies looked +down upon this sheltered oasis, and he allowed his imagination to tell +him that one of them belonged to the room of Zalithea.… +</p> + +<p> +Zalithea! Was there any such person as Zalithea? Had there <i>ever</i> been +a Zalithea? +</p> + +<p> +Once, this thing which had happened would have frightened him and set +him questioning his own sanity. But now, as Jim had said that morning, +“If <i>you</i> are mad, <i>I’m</i> mad, too!” +</p> + +<p> +Would she answer? Would she consent to see him? If she refused, what +next? +</p> + +<p> +His anxiety and impatience made it impossible for Barry to keep still. +He walked away from the window; paced the room; listened at his door +for the footsteps of the returning messenger; then went across to the +window again. +</p> + +<p> +For long minutes he stood there, moving restlessly. He lost track of +time. A knocking on his door recalled him to reality. He turned, his +heart leaping. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +The page entered. At a glance Barry saw that he brought no note. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Devina will be downstairs at four o’clock, m’sieur.” +</p> + +<p> +No doubt the world went on as usual during the next hour, and Paris +lived and loved and laughed as Paris has done from time immemorial; +but to Barry the interval afterward appeared to have been a blank—a +hiatus in existence. Four o’clock came at last.… +</p> + +<p> +She was seated in a cane chair before a little round table set for +tea. She stood up as he crossed to her. +</p> + +<p> +“It was nice of you, Mr. Cumberland,” he heard her saying in +Zalithea’s unforgettable voice! +</p> + +<p> +He found himself seated beside her. A waiter was serving English tea +and handing little dishes of cakes, biscuits, and sweetmeats. This +Barry saw and heard through a sort of fog. Everything was muffled. His +sensations were almost identical with those he had known toward the +close of his farewell college supper. Presently, in a voice not unlike +his own: +</p> + +<p> +“You have not told me,” someone said, “if my guess was right. Are you +related to Madame Devina?” +</p> + +<p> +“Devina was my mother.” +</p> + +<p> +The fog was cleared away by that definite, simple statement. The +merciful numbness which alone had enabled Barry to behave himself +rationally thus far left him. He looked into long, dark eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You know that we have met before?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Marguerite Devina watched him unflinchingly. +</p> + +<p> +“You had an accident some months ago right outside my door,” she +replied. “But I didn’t know that you saw me. You were unconscious when +we found you.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry clenched his teeth. An insane desire to laugh came to him. He +knew he must fight it. +</p> + +<p> +“You are referring to my crash in New Jersey?” he said evenly, +tonelessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. You must have wondered why we behaved so oddly afterward. The +fact is that my guardian and I were booked to sail for Europe, and we +realized that if we appeared in the matter it would almost certainly +mean delay. We couldn’t afford that, you see.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your guardian? Mr. Brown?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no!” she laughed—Zalithea’s beloved laughter!—“Mr. Brown was +the man who drove you to the hospital and took care of your car. We +were tenants of his.” She hesitated, bit her lip, and: “When did you +see me?” she asked—“before or after the accident?” +</p> + +<p> +“Before,” said Barry. “On the balcony.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” murmured the girl, bending to pour out tea—“It’s a queer thing +to admit, but I’m fascinated by lightning. Do you think—it was seeing +me there that—caused you to crash?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Barry replied promptly. He was watching the slim hands, the turn +of her wrists, the line, seen below a smart little hat, of her creamy +neck. “You were dressed very oddly.” +</p> + +<p> +She stooped forward over the sugar bowl. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I was—trying on a fancy costume.” She glanced up quickly. “Two +lumps?” +</p> + +<p> +“One, please.” He watched her dazedly. “It’s amazing to think that my +father knew your mother. I have heard him speak of her singing +Thaïs.” +</p> + +<p> +“The critics said she did not merely <i>sing</i> Thaïs, she <i>was</i> Thaïs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is she——?” +</p> + +<p> +“She died when I was a baby,” the girl replied simply. “Here, in +Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were born in Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you come to live in America?” +</p> + +<p> +“My foster-father is an American. He was once engaged to marry my +mother, you see. But she changed her mind—unfortunately.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke the final word, an expression of such implacable hatred +crept over her beautiful face that Barry flinched. It was so that he +remembered her on that night in the <i>wâdi!</i> +</p> + +<p> +“It’s dreadful to say and dreadful to hear,” she went on; “but my +father ruined my mother, in every sense of the word. She would have +died in a pauper’s hospital but for Paul Ahmes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is Paul Ahmes?” Barry asked, a sort of new awe in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +Marguerite Devina glanced up at him, and her eyes were very bright. +</p> + +<p> +“He is the greatest-hearted soul in the world,” she answered in a +queer tone of challenge. “My mother brought him nothing but sorrow. +Yet he spent all he had to try to make her happy—at the end. And he +took the place of my father—afterward.” +</p> + +<p> +“And is he, also, an operatic artist?” +</p> + +<p> +She gave a little choking laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she replied. “He is, or used to be, a vaudeville artist! He +retired years ago. He was known throughout Europe as ‘The Great +Ahmes.’ He was an illusionist. Not so famous as Houdini, but equally +clever in his own way.” +</p> + +<p> +Watching her closely and trying to steady his voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Ahmes is surely an Egyptian name?” said Barry. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she replied composedly. “He used to work as an Egyptian. There +is Arab blood on his father’s side. He was always billed as ‘The +Wizard of the Sphinx.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +With a curious eagerness she poured out these confidences. Obviously +she wanted to do so. She watched Barry with those long, lovely eyes, +as if inviting further and closer cross-examination; as if challenging +him to put her upon trial. +</p> + +<p> +“Is—your guardian—in Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect him to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you expect <i>me?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +The abruptness of the thrust startled her, Barry determined. But if it +were so her defence remained impregnable. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she replied, laughing; “how could I?” +</p> + +<p> +And even as she lowered her dark lashes and looked in her bag for a +cigarette, sanity whispered: “How could she? This girl, whose every +movement, every expression, every feature, and every mannerism are +familiar, yet is not, cannot be, Zalithea!” +</p> + +<p> +Memory plays odd tricks at times, and as Barry struck a match to light +their cigarettes, a hitherto forgotten remark of Professor Blackwell’s +flashed, intact, through his mind. It had been made on the evening +that the Professor had examined Zalithea. “There is a small scar under +the hair, just above the right ear, which suggests that the +theory—now generally accepted, I believe—that surgery was practised +by the ancients is not without foundation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you a small scar under your hair above the right ear?” he asked +suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +At this Marguerite Devina unmistakably grew pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she answered, and looked at him with half-veiled alarm. “How +strange you should know that!” +</p> + +<p> +“Professor Blackwell told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he a clairvoyant?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Barry, and laughed without mirth. He met the glance of the +dark eyes. “I once thought <i>I</i> was, though. Now—I don’t know what to +think. But there’s something I must tell you. Perhaps I should have +told you right away. You are the living image, a miraculous double, of +someone——” +</p> + +<p> +“Someone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Someone I love very dearly. There! I’ve told you! I came here, to +Paris, to find her. And when I saw <i>you</i>——” +</p> + +<p> +His voice failed him. He turned his head aside miserably. +</p> + +<p> +The girl was silent for a time; then, very gently: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean,” she asked, “that you have come from America to—look +for her?” +</p> + +<p> +Barry nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“What made you think you would find her in Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. We were—very happy in Paris. But I’m on my way to +Egypt.” +</p> + +<p> +“To Egypt!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. That was where—we met.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you really expect to meet her again, in Egypt?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t dare to expect. But if I left off hoping——” +</p> + +<p> +He did not complete the sentence. Marguerite Devina had abruptly stood +up. Her head was averted. +</p> + +<p> +“Please forgive me,” said Barry. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” +</p> + +<p> +Even as the words left his lips, he remembered where he had last +uttered them—and to whom. She turned to him impulsively, and the +memory was complete. Her lashes were wet with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t!” she said. “But I must go.” +</p> + +<p> +Barry reached out a detaining hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Please,” he pleaded, “let me see you again!” +</p> + +<p> +She averted her head once more, and: +</p> + +<p> +“If I can,” she murmured. “I’m sorry—but I must hurry away now.” +</p> + +<p> +And, stumbling in her haste, she walked around the little table and +ran across the lobby.… +</p> + +<p> +Back to his room Barry went in a state of mind which he found himself +incapable of analyzing. Was it possible, in the natural order of +things, for two human beings to be so absolutely alike? As well ask +himself if it were possible for a girl to live three thousand years! +One being possible, why not the other? +</p> + +<p> +He was curiously reluctant to leave the hotel. Therefore Jim dined +with him in the grill room whose chef has been preserved for posterity +by Orpen’s brush. Of Marguerite Devina they saw nothing. At the end of +dinner: +</p> + +<p> +“If I don’t stop thinking about this muddle,” Jim declared, “I shall +become completely cuckoo. It’s the Folies Bergères or a lunatic +asylum for mine. Make your selection.” +</p> + +<p> +The selection was made. And it was at a late hour (Paris time) that +Barry returned to the Chatham. The night porter handed him a letter. +</p> + +<p> +In his room he tore open the envelope. He began to read. Then, rushing +to the telephone, he banged the lever up and down in a frenzy of +impatience. At last: +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo! Hullo!” he called, in a high, unnatural voice. “Ring Miss +Marguerite Devina!” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Devina left this evening, m’sieur.” +</p> + +<p> +And when dawn came it found Barry haggard, wild-eyed, pacing the room, +ever and anon taking up a crumpled letter and reading and rereading +it. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch32"> +CHAPTER XXXII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">THE GREAT AHMES</span> +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Barry Dear</span>: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t ask you to forgive me. I never meant to see you again. But +when Jim spoke to me to-day I realized, somehow, that <i>you</i> were here. +And I knew you would come. And I knew I would have to see you. I +didn’t know how hard it would be—because I never believed you cared, +like that. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know how to tell you what I see now, I <i>must</i> tell. It all +began, really many years ago, when I was a baby, and when Paul Ahmes +was giving up everything to make my mother’s last days bearable. She +had never loved him, but they had one thing in common. It was their +passion for Egypt. She made her great success in an Egyptian opera and +he as an Egyptian performer. He used to buy Egyptian antiques with all +he could save. He knew more about these things than any dealer in +Europe. Most of his stage properties were real. They inspired him. +</p> + +<p> +“One day my mother read that a ring which had been the property of the +real Thaïs was being auctioned at Sotheby’s in London. This ring had +once belonged to her. She never sang Thaïs without wearing it. But +poverty had forced her to sell it. Paul Ahmes, knowing what happiness +the recovery of this ring would give her, went to London to buy it. +This was like him. He did not bid, himself, as all the auctioneers +knew him. He sent someone. +</p> + +<p> +“Barry—your father was at that auction—and he has the ring to-day! +When Ahmes heard that John Cumberland had secured it, he wrote to him, +and without mentioning my mother’s name told him all the +circumstances. Your father did not believe him. +</p> + +<p> +“My mother died the night after Ahmes returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Soon after that, before I can remember, we left Paris and went to +live in America. I grew up to look upon Ahmes as my father. I was +always surrounded by things belonging to Egypt, for my guardian had +left the stage and become a professional dealer in antiques. He was +sometimes away for months together, in Egypt, where he had agents now +that his business had grown so big. He had changed his name. John +Cumberland was one of his clients. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Barry, very few of the wonderful and beautiful things he +received from Egypt ever left Ahmes’s possession. They went into his +own collection—which is priceless; for this was his ruling passion +now that my mother was dead. He sold copies, or restored originals +mostly, to his wealthy customers. Some of the most famous museums in +the world contain his work! His love of everything belonging to Egypt +simply wouldn’t allow him to sell a genuine piece. His genius for +making duplicates (for he is, truly, a genius) made it easy for him to +keep them. +</p> + +<p> +“And all the money he earned in this way was spent acquiring more and +more rarities for his private museum. +</p> + +<p> +“Then—this was years ago—he stumbled upon the tomb of Zalithea. He +reached it through a long narrow passage cut at some time by Arab +robbers. He found there the great stone sarcophagus, and he raised and +wedged the lid. The sarcophagus was empty. +</p> + +<p> +“Thinking that one day this discovery might profit him, he reclosed +and concealed the opening. This opening, I must tell you, came out in +another valley, <i>behind the tomb</i>, and it led, through a hole in the +roof, into the <i>shaft</i> between the first and second portcullis. You +remember where the roof had fallen? This second portcullis the thieves +had broken, and also the door of the chamber where the sarcophagus +was. +</p> + +<p> +“I unknowingly inspired him to what followed—I and his wish to score +over John Cumberland, whom he had taught me to detest. He said I had +the true Egyptian profile. The showman in him came to life—this part +of his strange nature was only sleeping; and he thought of the wildest +plot that surely any man ever attempted to carry out. +</p> + +<p> +“He said to me, ‘I will sell <i>you</i> to John Cumberland! And if you play +your cards properly you will marry a millionaire!’ I was completely +under his influence, Barry. I had never known any other kind of life +but this commercial use of Ahmes’s genius as an illusionist. I don’t +want to excuse myself. I prepared for the thing with enthusiasm! +</p> + +<p> +“This was when we came secretly to New Jersey. Mr. Brown, who took the +house, was formerly Ahmes’s stage manager. His wife acted as cook. +There were other members of my guardian’s old company there as well. +For no one who had ever worked for Ahmes wanted to leave him. +</p> + +<p> +“Here for a long time I lived like a nun. No one outside our small +household ever saw me. When I went anywhere I was always heavily +veiled. Ahmes taught me to speak <i>Coptic</i>. This was the mysterious +language of Zalithea! Arabic I knew, because I had had an Arab nurse +from childhood—an old member of Ahmes’s company—Safîyeh! +</p> + +<p> +“A year before the papyrus was brought to your father, Ahmes went to +Egypt. He erected the screen, as you know, his agent, Hassan es-Sugra, +having traced the real, or front, entrance to the tomb. He broke +through as far as the first portcullis, which he knew was intact. Then +he reclosed and hid the entrance as you found it. The hieroglyphic of +‘She Who Sleeps’ he himself carved in the rock. +</p> + +<p> +“By the other tunnel, the one he first discovered, he took in lifting +gear and swung up the stone sarcophagus lid. The painted sarcophagus, +which he had made in New Jersey and shipped out, he put inside. Then +he lowered the stone lid again. The tables, lamps, couch, and other +things he set in place. Some of these were genuine. Some he had made. +He also added the cartouche of ‘She Who Sleeps’ to the ancient +inscriptions painted on the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“He cemented the door and, from the tunnel above, blocked the secret +entrance. Then he came back to America. The stage was set for his last +and greatest illusion. +</p> + +<p> +“The ‘Zalithea Papyrus’ and the ‘Formula’ Ahmes had been at work upon +for two years. They were the biggest achievements of his career! The +materials had cost him no end of research. But no other man in Europe +or America could have written them—to pass Horace Pain and Dr. +Rittenburg! +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Barry! I’m proud of him! Until you came, it never occurred to me +to question his way of life. Besides, he had taught me to hate the +name of Cumberland. It was a mania with him. I believe for a long time +he held John Cumberland responsible for my mother’s death. +</p> + +<p> +“The Zalithea dress, the strange ingredients mentioned in the Formula, +and all the other things, he got from many sources, working patiently +for months and months. He put his whole soul into the affair. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, just as we were ready, you had an accident right outside the +house! +</p> + +<p> +“We were in an awful panic. But Ahmes was always at his best in an +emergency. You know how we managed to keep out of the matter. The +household was dispersed. Only Mrs. Brown stayed to clear things up. I +was hidden in my guardian’s apartment in New York. And I nearly ruined +everything one evening by going out to our old garden in New Jersey to +get some flowers. Yes! I was there that day when you came! +</p> + +<p> +“As soon as the date of departure was fixed, Safîyeh and another +Arab, called Omar, were sent to Egypt. Soon afterward I went, also. I +sailed on the same ship, to Cherbourg, as Professor Blackwell! But it +didn’t matter, because we had arranged that I should stay in my +stateroom all the way. +</p> + +<p> +“I remained hidden with Safîyeh in Luxor until the night before the +tomb was opened. That night I was smuggled across—and you heard my +voice as I stumbled in the little valley where Omar was waiting for +me! Omar you saw once. He is tall and thin, and you thought he was a +ghost! +</p> + +<p> +“In a ruined tomb in that little valley I was dressed for the part of +Zalithea. Safîyeh was there with me. But she went back to Luxor in +the early morning. +</p> + +<p> +“You understand, now, that when you first discovered the painted +sarcophagus I was not in it? He carried me up to the tomb during <i>the +second watch</i> on the night before the lid was raised! I was placed +inside. Then the lid was fastened down! I was frightened, although the +gold mask allowed me to breathe freely and there were lots of air +holes in the sarcophagus. +</p> + +<p> +“I had to lie there for nearly three hours! But I had been training to +do this for months before. +</p> + +<p> +“Never shall I forget my relief when you came at last to unwrap me! Of +course I had been prepared in all sorts of ways for the ordeal. And +you will remember, Barry, that none of you had a chance to touch me or +even see me properly up to the time that I opened my eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes! You were in the hands of a master illusionist! +</p> + +<p> +“As for the rest—I was prepared to hate you! But on the night you +came to my tent and said, ‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ I +couldn’t hate you, somehow. +</p> + +<p> +“Ahmes, too, had changed his mind about John Cumberland. He had +learned to respect him; in fact, to love him. But he had to go on +then! So did I! +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes it was good fun. Sometimes, when your father talked to me, +not knowing I understood, I couldn’t bear it. But we didn’t know how +to end it! +</p> + +<p> +“You ended it! The night when you found me with that pig Edwards I +knew it must finish. While you were asleep I went to Ahmes and told +him. +</p> + +<p> +“He was sorry—for me; but glad that we were through. Safîyeh went to +Montreal and sailed, under her own name, for England, three days +later. I was here, in Paris, before you allowed the news of my +disappearance to be published. Ahmes wrote the hieroglyphic letter to +relieve your mind. It was delivered by the same messenger who brought +another letter. He is here, now, with the others. That is why you +failed to trace him. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all, Barry dear. We have a house in Paris. It had been closed, +though, and so I stayed at the Chatham for a short time. But Ahmes +arrived to-day, and I am going to join him. He knows I have told you. +</p> + +<p> +“Do what you like. But I shall be punished enough. +</p> + +<p> +“You see—I love you. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +“<span class="sc">Marguerite</span>.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + + +<h3 id="ch33"> +CHAPTER XXXIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A FLASH OF LIGHTNING</span> +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Jim</span>,” said Barry miserably, “what else can I do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” Jim replied, thoughtfully rapping on the café table to +attract the waiter’s attention, “you can order another half bottle of +this very good wine, and then perhaps ideas may come.” +</p> + +<p> +The order given: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Kismet,” Barry went on. “If she had confessed to murder I should +still have wanted her! In fact, mad as it may seem, I love her better, +now, knowing her to be what she is, than I did before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not mad in the least,” Jim commented. “Taking into consideration the +way she was brought up, I, myself, harsh though my judgments of frail +humanity notoriously are, should feel the same. I could both love and +respect the Marguerite who wrote that brave letter. I don’t think I +could ever have worked up any real enthusiasm for a living mummy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I <i>know</i>,” said Barry emphatically, “that one day I shall find her +again. When I do, I’m going to marry her if she’ll have me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Strong, sound sentiments,” Jim replied. “It is men such as you are +who make men such as I am love men such as you are! But the old +problem arises; your father.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have made up my mind on that point,” Barry declared. “He must not +know—yet. It’s hateful, but I mustn’t shatter his illusion. I shall +write and tell him I have met the girl of the balcony, and that she is +the double of Zalithea—and the daughter of Devina. Those who knew +Zalithea will soon forget the resemblance when they hear Marguerite +speak. Then, one day, he shall know the truth. Nobody else must ever +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall have to lie like the Brothers Ananias,” said Jim sadly, “for +a time. This prospect appalls my proudly virtuous spirit. But it’s up +to you. What you say, goes. Meanwhile, a full week has elapsed and our +patient inquiries have merely yielded, No, sir. Shall you go on +advertising in the Paris papers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” was the answer. “My advertisement means nothing to anyone else. +It might as well stand. Who knows?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody knows,” Jim murmured. “It is ignorance and not knowledge which +makes us lose faith in Santa Claus. And this afternoon? Shall I scour +the district in and about Batignolles as you so kindly suggest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Jim, you’re a brick! This ‘scouring’ is no sort of way to enjoy a +holiday in Paris. Just say you’re tired, and I’ll do that part myself +to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, Horatio. Batignolles appeals to me because I can’t pronounce +it. And have I not said many times that I long for the life of a +detective? ‘All forms of shadowing undertaken. Your pay roll guarded +by machine-gun experts (in uniform). Missing relatives traced by our +special staff of lady searchers. Our watchword——’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Jim! I love you, but——” +</p> + +<p> +“Guilty! Dismiss the jury. We reassemble at the Chatham at six for +cocktails.” +</p> + +<p> +And so the quest went on. Barry had in mind a neighbourhood he had +noted during a drive on the outskirts near the old fortifications. +Here were discreet villas sheltering behind little gardens which, like +the <i>yashmak</i> of a Turkish beauty, merely provoked without concealing. +He felt sure that the house he sought would have a garden. +</p> + +<p> +Barry had considered the idea of engaging a detective agency to trace +Zalithea, so strangely found only to be lost again. But, in the +circumstances, he had decided that to do so would be unwise. +</p> + +<p> +Marguerite’s letter he almost knew by heart. At first, the shock of it +had stunned him. The readjustment of perspectives which it entailed +appalled his brain. But out of all the chaos one fact emerged—a fact +brooking no denial. He loved her. He could not imagine life without +her. +</p> + +<p> +His eagerness was eternally conjuring up mirages. A group at a café +table would suddenly come into view—and <i>she</i> was there. As he drew +nearer, all resemblance would disappear. He hated those unconscious +mimics, some of whom were astoundingly unlike Marguerite at close +quarters. Perfumery stores he unfailingly explored. And a hundred +times he had run like a madman to overtake some girl seen in the +distance—only to alarm a stranger. +</p> + +<p> +More than one gendarme had eyed him with suspicion. A tall, +distinguished-looking old gentleman, wearing the ribbon of the Legion +and escorting a very pretty girl whose figure and carriage certainly +resembled those of Marguerite, demanded the name of his hotel and +promised to send his seconds to Barry in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +And now he was on the outskirts of the woods. Just ahead lay the group +of villas which had attracted his attention on the previous day. He +proposed to pursue a plan adopted on other occasions: viz.—to call at +a likely-looking house and ask if Miss Devina and her father were at +home. Being assured that he had come to the wrong address, he could +inquire if two Americans resided anywhere in the vicinity. +</p> + +<p> +Following an unseasonably hot morning, clouds had begun to gather +shortly after noon. Now, it was growing very dark. The woods on his +right were haunted by ghostly shadows. From somewhere beyond the +western outskirts of Paris echoed ominous rumblings, to remind good +Parisians of that black day when Von Kluck’s Prussians came hammering +at their gates. +</p> + +<p> +Then, suddenly, the downpour started. In sight of a charming little +villa whose green shutters and green balconies were visible above a +guardian row of dwarf acacias, Barry darted to cover. His back against +the trunk of a tree the dense foliage of which promised shelter, he +stood, looking up. +</p> + +<p> +A black thunder pall hung directly above. Except for the sound of +falling rain, a profound stillness had come. Then, blindingly, +lightning flicked its venomous fang from the heart of the cloud. The +house opposite was illuminated ice blue, eerily. Every leaf upon the +trees was lent a momentary hard, individual existence. Every nail in +the woodwork of the villa gate, every piece of gravel on the garden +paths, summoned attention vividly, alone, aloof from the rest.… +</p> + +<p> +And a window directly facing the tree beneath which Barry stood was +thrown open. +</p> + +<p> +Marguerite came out onto the green balcony! +</p> + +<p> +Her lips were parted in a half-frightened smile. Exultant, like a roll +of Titanic war drums, thunder crashed and boomed and beat out its fury +in dying echoes. +</p> + +<p> +Across the feathery crests of the acacias their glances met.… +</p> + +<p> +Barry uttered an involuntary cry. The storm was forgotten. The world +was forgotten. Out into the drenching downpour he ran, across to the +gate and on, up the gravelled path, to the discreet, glazed door. She +had fled at sight of him. The balcony above was empty; but the window +remained open. +</p> + +<p> +He rang, but without result. He rang again—and again—and again. He +rang continuously. +</p> + +<p> +The door was opened. +</p> + +<p> +And he found himself looking into a wrinkled Arab face. +</p> + +<p> +“Safîyeh!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +She smiled, unsurprisedly, and stood aside to allow him to enter. +</p> + +<p> +He discovered himself in a little lobby furnished throughout in +Egyptian fashion. There were antique tables and figures of the gods of +the Nile. There was a fresco of subjects from Der-el-Bahari. A +perforated silver lamp hung from the ceiling. And the air was laden +with a faint perfume, the indescribable smell of Egypt. +</p> + +<p> +Safîyeh raised a tapestry curtain and again stood aside. Barry went +into the room beyond. +</p> + +<p> +This apartment was littered with every imaginable kind of relic, from +exquisite enamel necklaces to mummied cats. At sight of the treasures +contained there, Barry was transported in spirit to a similar room +high above the turmoil of New York, where once he had sat in +conference with Horace Pain, Dr. Rittenburg, and others. +</p> + +<p> +Leaning upon a mantelpiece composed of carved red granite fragments +adapted to the purpose was a tall man, the collar of whose white shirt +fell open at the neck, while the sleeves were rolled up on muscular +arms. One elbow rested on the ledge; the clenched fist supported a +handsome, leonine head. A scarab ring glittered on his finger, as, +raising the other hand to remove a cigar which he was smoking, he +bowed in courteous greeting. +</p> + +<p> +“Danbazzar!” cried Barry. +</p> + +<p> +A roll of distant thunder from the moving storm echoed and reëchoed +over Paris. +</p> + +<p> +“Paul Ahmes, at your service, sir!” Danbazzar corrected him. “But the +former, if you prefer it. One’s as much mine as the other! Sit down +and let’s talk this thing over.” +</p> + +<p> +Fascinated against his will, as he had always been fascinated by this +man’s extraordinary personality, Barry dropped onto a divan, +silenced—stupefied—by the entire self-possession of the speaker. +Here was no recognition of wrongdoing; this was not a detected +impostor; this was the masterful man to whom obstacles were merely +stepping stones, who was fearless as he was unscrupulous. This was +Danbazzar. +</p> + +<p> +“Margot told me what she had said in her letter,” he went on. “I +agreed. Get that clear. She did nothing behind my back. What she wants +goes with me, and she wanted you to know the truth. You’d never have +known if you hadn’t followed her to Paris. But I’m not sorry, anyway. +I have retired from business. Zalithea was my last deal. I regretted +it long before the end came, because I found out that John Cumberland +was white clean through. So, listen. Tell him if you like. I’ll hand +you a complete list of all the stuff he’s got that isn’t right, and he +can sell it back to me for just what he paid. I’m not playing tin +angels: I’ve got a market for it at big profit!” +</p> + +<p> +Barry was unable to restrain a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“If you ask me,” Danbazzar added, “he’d be happier left alone. But do +as you damn’ please. There’s no committee of experts in the world +would say any piece from my workshop was faked—and you can lay your +last dollar <i>I’m</i> not going to say it! As for the job at the +tomb—we’re all in the dock together. Pirates can’t afford to quarrel! +And now I’m going to talk to you about Margot. I’m going to talk +straight, and I expect you to talk straight.…” +</p> + +<p> +He talked, and talked straight, for the better part of an hour. He +displayed a side of his complex, twisted character, that Barry had +never suspected to exist. And, at one point, when he spoke of +Marguerite’s remorse for the part she had played, the words of Hassan +es-Sugra recurred to Barry: “Be not angry with her.” Finally: +</p> + +<p> +“Now we’ve got it all set,” said Danbazzar. “I’ve quit the United +States for keeps. You know where I stand. We’re agreed about the bunch +in New York. And I know where you stand. Settle the rest with the +kid.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked out of the room, stately, unperturbed; the Great Ahmes, +master of the situation. Barry stood up. Suddenly, he had grown +appallingly nervous. He paced up and down once or twice, among those +priceless relics of an age whose loves and hates were forgotten before +Paris arose from the forests. On one long, low wall, Pharaohs, gods, +and goddesses made mysterious signs to one another, signalling: It was +so in our day; it is so in this. +</p> + +<p> +The rustle of the tapestry portière told him to turn. +</p> + +<p> +He faced Marguerite.… +</p> + +<p> +She stood on the threshold watching him. Her long dark eyes held the +same expression as on that night when, unseen by Barry, she had stolen +to the library door to take her last look at him. +</p> + +<p> +Yet something else was there, and slowly she came forward to where he +stood. When she was close to him: +</p> + +<p> +“My darling!” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +His arms went around her very tightly but very gently—not as in that +first fierce embrace. And when he kissed her it was a lingering tender +kiss. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +THE END +</p> + + +<h2> +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES +</h2> + +<p> +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. El Kasr/El-Kasr, Kûrna/Kurna, +etc.) have been preserved. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<b>Alterations to the text</b>: +</p> + +<p> +Abandon the use of drop-caps. +</p> + +<p> +Punctuation: fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings and missing +periods. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter I] +</p> + +<p> +Change “with never a word of <i>farwell</i>, urged by a sudden irrational” +to <i>farewell</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Same</i> classic analogy cropped up in his mind” to <i>Some</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XI] +</p> + +<p> +“and ponds and gardens of <i>flourishng</i> trees” to <i>flourishing</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XII] +</p> + +<p> +“Hassan es-<i>Sufa</i> extended his palms and softly intruded” to <i>Sugra</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XIII] +</p> + +<p> +“He seemed <i>scarely</i> to have closed his eyes before” to <i>scarcely</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XIV] +</p> + +<p> +(“By <i>jove</i>!” John Cumberland exclaimed.) to <i>Jove</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XV] +</p> + +<p> +“His <i>foosteps</i> might be heard receding along the wâdi” to +<i>footsteps</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XVI] +</p> + +<p> +“<i>It</i> we had known, sir, with a little more time and trouble we” to +<i>If</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XX] +</p> + +<p> +(This was <i>Kyphi</i>, mentioned in the “Papyrus <i>Embers</i>,” and) to +<i>Ebers</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXIV] +</p> + +<p> +“set upon Barry with an <i>expresison</i> of childish eagerness” to +<i>expression</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXVI] +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Priness</i> Zalithea has very little English, so excuse her” to +<i>Princess</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXVII] +</p> + +<p> +“he saw the <i>long repressed</i> tears gathering under the dark fringe” to +<i>long-repressed</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Do they drown one of twins in those parts?” add <i>the</i> after <i>of</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXXI] +</p> + +<p> +“who drove you to the hospital and took care of <i>you</i> car” to +<i>your</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“suggests that the theory—now generally <i>acepted</i>, I believe” to +<i>accepted</i>. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[End of text] +</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77092 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/77092-h/images/cover.jpg b/77092-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c8069b --- /dev/null +++ b/77092-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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