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+*** 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 ***