HAPPENED 
 IN EGYPT
 
 a? 
 
 CifKULATihG LIBBftBY 
 
 presented to the 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO 
 by 
 
 FRIENDS OF THE LIBRARY 
 
 MRS. EDWIN W. MEISE 
 
 donor
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO
 
 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHORS 
 
 LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA 
 
 ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 
 
 LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER 
 
 MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR 
 
 THE LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR 
 
 THE GUESTS OF HERCULES 
 
 THE PRINCESS VIRGINIA 
 
 THE GOLDEN SILENCE 
 
 THE CAR OF DESTINY 
 
 THE MOTOR MAID 
 
 THE CHAPERON 
 
 SET IN SILVER 
 
 THE HEATHER MOON 
 
 THE PORT OF ADVENTURE
 
 'A man with a green turban?" I repeated. 
 "Well, I'll take him"
 
 :VDT 
 
 ^^MEi--3 I 
 
 
 .S'AM.Willi 
 
 uorj- of 
 
 4 The Port of Adventure' 
 'The Heather Moon'JEtc, 
 
 Garden City New 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO.
 
 Copyright, 1914, by 
 C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON 
 
 All rights reserved, including that of 
 
 translation into foreign languages 
 
 including the Scandinavian
 
 TO 
 
 D. D. AND F. C. J. 
 
 WHO WERE THERE WHEN 
 
 IT HAPPENED 
 
 WE DEDICATE THIS STORY OF ADVEN- 
 TURES GRAVE AND GAY 
 IN EGYPT

 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAG? 
 
 I. The Secret and the Girl 3 
 
 IE. Cleopatra and the Ship's Mystery .... 19 
 
 IH. A Disappointment and a Dragoman ... 38 
 
 IV. A Man in a Green Turban 48 
 
 V. The Cafe of Abdullahi 65 
 
 VI. The Great Sir Marcus ....... 79 
 
 VH. The Revelations of a Retired Colonel ... 90 
 
 VHL Foxy Duffing 102 
 
 IX. What Happened When My Back Was Turned 120 
 
 X. The Secret Monny Kept 134 
 
 XI. The House of the Crocodile 150 
 
 XH. The Night of the Full Moon 168 
 
 XITT. An Underground Proposal 188 
 
 XIV. The Desert Diary Begun 195 
 
 XV. The Desert Diary to Its Bitter End ... 221 
 
 XVI. An Oiled Hand 246 
 
 XVII. The Ship's Mystery Again 257 
 
 XVHI. The Asiut Affair 270 
 
 XIX. " If at First You Don't Succeed " . . . . 283 
 
 XX. The Zone of Fire 308 
 
 XXI. The Opening Door 321 
 
 XXII. The Driver of an Arabeah 334 
 
 XXin. Bengal Fire 34S 
 
 XXIV. Playing Heavy Father to Rachel .... 365 
 
 XXV. Marooned . 389
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTE* PAGE 
 
 XXVI. What We Said: What We Heard .... 404 
 
 XXVH. The Inner Sanctuary 420 
 
 XXVHL Worth Paying For 437 
 
 XXIX. Exit Antoun 456 
 
 XXX. The Sirdar's Ball 468 
 
 XXXI. The Mountain of the Golden Pyramid . . 479 
 
 XXXH. The Secret 493
 
 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT
 
 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 i 
 
 THE SECRET AND THE GIRL 
 
 THE exciting part began in Cairo; but perhaps I ought to 
 go back to what happened on the Laconia, between Naples 
 and Alexandria, Luckily no one can expect a man who 
 actually rejoices in his nickname of "Duffer" to know how 
 or where a true story should begin. 
 
 The huge ship was passing swiftly out of the Bay of 
 Naples, and already we were in the strait between Capri 
 and the mainland. I had come on deck from the 
 smoking-room for a last look at poor Vesuvius, who 
 lost her lovely head in the last eruption. I paced up 
 and down, acutely conscious of my great secret, the 
 secret inspiring my voyage to Egypt. For months it 
 had been the hidden romance of life; now it began to seem 
 real. This is not the moment to tell how I got the papers 
 that revealed the secret, before I passed them on to- 
 Anthony Fenton at Khartum, for him to say whether 
 or not the notes were of real importance. But the papers- 
 had been left in Rome by Ferlini, the Italian Egyptol- 
 ogist, seventy years ago, when he gave to the museum 
 at Berlin the treasures he had unearthed. It was Fer- 
 lini who ransacked the pyramids all about Meroe, that 
 so-called island in the desert, where in its days of splendour 
 
 3
 
 4 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 reigned the queens Candace. Fenton, stationed at Khar- 
 tum, an eager dabbler in the old lore of Egypt, sent me an 
 enthusiastic telegram the moment he read the documents. 
 They confirmed legends of the Sudan in which he had 
 been interested. Putting two and two together the 
 legends and Ferlini's notes Anthony was convinced 
 that we had the clue to fortune. At once he applied for 
 permission to excavate under the little outlying mountain 
 named by the desert folk "the Mountain of the Golden 
 Pyramid." At first the spot was thought to fall within 
 the province given up to Garstang, digging for Liverpool 
 University. Later, however, the Service des Antiquites 
 pronounced "the place to be outside Garstang's borders, 
 and it seemed that luck was coming our way. No one 
 but we two Fenton and I had any inkling of what 
 might lie hidden in the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid. 
 That was the great secret ! Then Fenton had gone to the 
 Balkans, on a flying trip in every sense of the word. It 
 was only a fortnight ago I being then in Rome that 
 I had had a wire from him in Salonica saying, " Friends at 
 work to promote our scheme. Meet me on my return to 
 Egypt." After that, several telegrams had been ex- 
 changed; and here I was on the Laconia bound for the land 
 of my birth, full of hope and dreams. 
 
 For some moments distant Vesuvius had beguiled my 
 thoughts from the still more distant mountain of the 
 secret, when suddenly a white girl in a white hood and a 
 long white cloak passed me on the white deck: where- 
 upon I forgot mountains of reality and dreams. She was 
 one of those tall, slim, long-limbed, dryad-sort of girls 
 they are running up nowadays in England and America
 
 THE SECRET AND THE GIRL 5 
 
 with much success; and besides all that, she was an 
 amazing symphony in white and gold against an azure 
 Italian sea and sky, the two last being breezily jumbled 
 together at the moment for us on shipboard. She walked 
 well in spite of the blue turmoil; and if a fair girl with 
 golden-brown hair gets herself up in satiny white fur 
 from head to foot she is evidently meant to be looked at. 
 Others were looking: also they were whispering after she 
 went by : and her serene air of being alone in a world made 
 entirely for her caused me to wonder if she were not 
 Some One in Particular. 
 
 Just then a sweet, soft voice said, close to my ear: 
 " Why, Duffer, dear, it can't possibly be you ! " 
 I gave a jump, for I hadn't heard that voice for many a 
 year, and between the ages of four and fourteen I had 
 been in love with it. 
 
 "Brigit O'Brien!" said I. Then I grabbed her two 
 hands and shook them as if her arms had been branches 
 of a young cherry tree, dropping fruit. 
 
 "Why not Biddy?" she asked. "Or are ye wanting 
 me to call ye Lord Ernest? " 
 
 "Good heavens, no! Once a Duffer, always a Duffer," 
 I assured her. "And I've been thinking of you as Biddy 
 
 from then till now. Only " 
 
 " 'Twas as clever a thing as a boy ever did," she broke 
 in, with one of her smiles that no man ever forgets^ 
 "to begin duffing at an early age, in order to escape all 
 the professions and businesses your pastors and masters 
 proposed, and go your own way. Are ye at it still?" 
 " Rather ! But you ? I want to talk to you. ' ' 
 "Then don't do it in a loud voice, if you please, because,
 
 6 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 as you must have realized, if you've taken time to think, 
 I'm Mrs. Jones at present." 
 
 "Why Jones?" 
 
 "Because Smith is engaged beforehand by too many 
 people. Honestly, without joking, I'm in danger here 
 and everywhere, and it's a wicked, selfish thing for me to 
 come the way I have; but Rosamond Gilder is the hardest 
 girl to resist you ever saw, so I'm with her; and it's a 
 long history." 
 
 "Rosamond Gilder? What the Cannon Princess, 
 the Bertha Krupp of America? " 
 
 "Yes, the 'Gilded Babe' that used to be wheeled about 
 in a caged perambulator guarded by detectives : the ' Gilded 
 Bud' whose coming out in society was called the MiOion 
 Dollar Debut : now she's just had her twenty-first birth- 
 day, and the Sunday Supplements have promoted her to be 
 the Golden Girl, alternating with the Gilded Rose, although 
 she's the simplest creature, really, with a tremendous sense 
 of the responsibility of her riches. Poor child ! There she 
 is, walking toward us now, with those two young men. Of 
 course, young men ! Droves of young men ! She can't get 
 away from them any more than she can from her money. 
 No, she's stopped to talk to Cleopatra." 
 
 "That tall, white girl Rosamond Gilder! Just before 
 you came, I was wondering who she was; and when you 
 smiled at each other across the deck it sprang into my 
 mind that that " 
 
 "That what?" 
 
 "Oh, it seems stupid now." 
 
 "Give me a chance to judge, dear Duffer." 
 
 "Well, seeing you, and knowing that is, it occurred
 
 THE SECRET AND THE GIRL 7 
 
 to me you might be travelling with the daughter of 
 
 your late " 
 
 "Good heavens, don't say any more! I've been 
 frightened to death somebody would get that brilliant 
 notion in his head, especially as Monny and her aunt came 
 on board the Laconia only at Monaco. Esme O'Brien 
 is in a convent school not thirty miles from there. But 
 that's the deepest secret. Poor Peter Gilder's fears for 
 his millionaire girl would be child's play to what might 
 happen, before such a mistake was found out if once 
 it was made. That's just one of the hundred reasons why 
 it would be as safe for Monny Gilder to travel with a 
 bomb in her dressing-bag as to have me in her train of 
 dependants. She telegraphed to New York for me, 
 because of a stupid thing I said in a letter, about being 
 lonely : though she pretends it would be too dull journeying 
 to such a romantic country alone with a mere aunt. And 
 she thinks I 'attract adventures.' It's only too true. But 
 I couldn't resist her. Nobody can. Why, the first time 
 I ever saw Monny she'd cast herself down in a mud- 
 puddle, and was screaming and kicking because she wanted 
 to walk while one adoring father, one sycophantic gover- 
 ness and two trained nurses wanted her to get into an 
 automobile. That was on my honeymoon heaven 
 save the mark ! and Monny was nine. She has other 
 ways now of getting what she wants, but they're even 
 more effective. I laughed at her that first time, and 
 she was so surprised at my impudence she took a violent 
 fancy to me. But I don't always laugh at her now. Oh, 
 she's a perfect terror, I assure you and a still more 
 perfect darling! Such an angel of charity to the poor,
 
 8 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 such a demon of obstinacy with the rich! I worship 
 her. So does Cleopatra. So does everybody who 
 doesn't hate her. So will you the minute you've been 
 introduced. And by the way, why not? Why shouldn't 
 I make myself useful for once by arranging a match 
 between Rosamond Gilder, the prettiest heiress in 
 America, and Lord Ernest Borrow, of the oldest family 
 in Ireland?" 
 
 "And the poorest." 
 
 "All the more reason why. Don't you see? " 
 
 "She mightn't." 
 
 "Well, what's the good of her having all that money 
 if she doesn't get hold of a really grand title to hang it on? 
 I shall tell her that Borrow comes down from Boru, 
 Brian Boru the rightful King of Ireland : and when your 
 brother dies you'll be Marquis of Killeena." 
 
 "He'll not die for thirty or forty years, let's hope." 
 
 "Why hope it, when he likes nobody and nobody likes 
 him, and everybody likes you? He can't be happy. 
 And anyhow, isn't it worth a few millions to be Lady 
 Ernest Borrow, and have the privilege of restoring the 
 most beautiful old castle in Ireland? I'm sure Killeena 
 would let her." 
 
 "He would, out of sheer, weak kindness of heart! 
 But she's far too thickly gilded an heiress for me to 
 aspire to. A few thousands a year is my most ambitious 
 figure for a wife. Look at the men collecting around her 
 and the wonderful lady you call Cleopatra. Why Cleo- 
 patra? Did sponsors in baptism " 
 
 "No, they didn't. Why she's Cleopatra is as weird 
 a history as why I'm Mrs. Jones. But she's Monny's
 
 THE SECRET AND THE GIRL 9 
 
 aunt at least, she's a half-sister of Peter Gilder, and 
 as his only living relative his will makes her Monny '& 
 guardian till the girl marries or reaches twenty-five. 
 A strange guardian! But he didn't know she was going 
 to turn into Cleopatra. She wisely waited to do that 
 until he was dead; so it came on only a year ago. It was 
 a Bond Street crystal-gazer transplanted to Fifth Avenue 
 told her who she really was: you know Say da Sabri, the 
 woman who has the illuminated mummy? It's Cleopa- 
 tra's idea that Monny's second mourning for Peter 
 should be white, nothing but white." 
 
 "Her idea! But I thought Miss Monny, as you call 
 her, adopted only her own ideas. How can a mere 
 half-aunt, labouring under the name of Cleopatra, 
 force her " 
 
 "Well, you see, white's very becoming; and as for the 
 Cleopatra part, it pleases our princess to tolerate that. 
 It's part of the queer history that's mixing me up with the 
 family. We've come to spend the season in Egypt be- 
 cause Cleopatra thinks she's Cleopatra; also because 
 Monny (that's what she's chosen to call herself since she 
 tried to lisp 'Resamond' and couldn't) because Monny 
 has read 'The Garden of Allah,' and wants the 'desert to 
 take her.' That book had nothing to do with Egyptian 
 deserts; but any desert will do for Monny. What she 
 expects it to do with her exactly when it has taken her, on 
 the strength of a Cook ticket, I don't quite know; but I 
 may later, because she vows she'll keep me at her side 
 with hooks of steel all through the tour unless some- 
 thing worse happens to me, or to some of us because of 
 me."
 
 10 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "Biddy, dear, don't be morbid. Nothing bad will 
 happen," I tried to reassure her. 
 
 "Thank you for saying so. It cheers me up. We 
 women folk are so in the habit of believing anything 
 .you men folk tell us. It's really quaint!" 
 
 "Stop rotting, and tell me about yourself; and a truce to 
 ^heiresses and Cleopatras. You know I'm dying to hear." 
 
 "'Not a syllable, until you've told me about yourself. 
 Where you're going, and what the dickens for!" 
 
 We laughed into each other's eyes. To do so, I had 
 to look a long way down, and she a long way up. This 
 in itself is a pleasantly Victorian thing for a man to do 
 in these days of Jerrybuilt girls, on the same level or a 
 story or two higher than himself. I'm not a tall man: 
 just the dull average five foot ten or eleven that appears 
 taller, while it keeps lean so naturally I have a hope- 
 less yearning for nymph-like creatures who pretend to be 
 engaged when I ask them to dance. Still, there's con- 
 solation and homely comfort in talking with a little woman 
 who makes you feel the next best thing to a giant. Biddy 
 is an old-fashioned five foot four hi her highest heels; 
 and as she smiled up at me I saw that she hadn't changed 
 a jot in the last ten years, despite the tragedy that had 
 involved her. Not a silver thread in the black hair, not 
 a line on the creamy round face. 
 /'You're just yourself," I said. 
 
 *'I oughtn't to be. I know that very well. I ought to 
 be a Dido and Niobe and Cassandra rolled into one. 
 I'm a brute not to be dead or look a hag. I've gone 
 through horrors, and the secrets I know could put 
 dozens of people in prison, if not electrocute them. But
 
 THE SECRET AND THE GIRL 11 
 
 you see I'm not the right type of person for the kind of life 
 I've had, as I should be if I were in a story book, and the 
 author had created me to suit my background. I can't 
 help flapping up out of my own ashes before they're 
 cold. I can't help laughing in the face of fate." 
 
 "And looking a girl of twenty-three, at most, while 
 you do it!" 
 
 "If I look a girl, I must be a phenomenon as well as 
 a phoenix, for nobody knows better than you that my 
 Bible age is thirty-one if it's a day. And I think Burke 
 and Debrett have got the same tale to tell about you, eh?" 
 
 "They have. I was always delighted to share some- 
 thing with you." 
 
 "You can have the whole share of my age over twenty- 
 six. There's one advantage 'Mrs. Jones' has. She 
 can, if her looking-glass doesn't forbid, go back to 
 that classic age dear to all sensible adventuresses. I'm 
 afraid I come under the head of adventuress, with my 
 alias, and travelling as companion to the rich Miss 
 Gilder." 
 
 "You're the last person on earth for the part! Your 
 fate was thrust on you. You've thrust yourself on no 
 one. Miss Gilder 'achieved ' you." 
 
 "Collected me, rather, as one of her 'specimens.' 
 She has a noble weakness for lame ducks, and though she 
 fails sometimes in trying to strengthen their game legs, 
 she tries gloriously. She and her aunt have been travel- 
 ling in France and Italy, guided by instinct and French 
 maids, and already Monny has picked up two weird prote- 
 gees, sure to bring her to grief. The most exciting and 
 deadly specimen is a perfectly beautiful American girl just
 
 12 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 married to a Turkish Bey who met her in Paris, and is tak- 
 ing her home to Egypt. I haven't even seen the unfortu- 
 nate houri, because the Turk has shut her up in their cabin 
 and pretends she's seasick. Monny doesn't believe in the 
 seasickness, and sends secret notes in presents of flowers 
 and boxes of chocolate. But I have seen the Turk. He's 
 pink and white and looks angelic, except for a gleam deep 
 down in his eyes, if Monny inquires after his wife when any 
 of her best young men are hanging about. Especially 
 when there's Neill Sheridan, a young Egyptologist from 
 Harvard, Monny met in Paris, or Willis Bailey, a fascinat- 
 ing sculptor who wants to study the crystal eyes of wooden 
 statues in the Museum at Cairo. He is going to make 
 them the fashion in America, next year. Yes, Madame 
 Rechid Bey is a most explosive protegee for a girl to have, 
 on her way to Egypt. I'm not sure even I am not innocu- 
 ous by comparison; though I do wish you hadn't reminded 
 me of my poor little step-daughter Esme, in her convent- 
 school. If any one should get the idea that Monny 
 but I won't put it in words! Besides me, and the brand- 
 new bride of Rechid Bey ('Wretched Bey' is our name 
 for him), there's one more protegee, a Miss Rachel Guest 
 from Salem, Massachusetts, a school-teacher taking her 
 first holiday. That sounds harmless, and it looks harm- 
 less to an amateur; but wait till you meet her and see what 
 instinct tells you about her eyes. Oh, we shall have 
 ructions! But that reminds me. You haven't told me 
 where you're bound or anything." 
 
 "Thanks for putting me among the 'specimens/ 
 But this sample hasn't yet been collected by Miss Gilder." 
 
 "You might be her salvation, and keep her out of
 
 THE SECRET AND THE GIRL 13 
 
 mischief. She's quite wild now with sheer joy because 
 she's going to Egypt. But do be serious, and tell me all 
 I pine to know, if you want me to do the same by you." 
 
 " Well though it's unimportant compared to what 
 you have to tell! I'm an insignificant second secretary 
 to Sir Raymond Ronalds, the British Ambassador at 
 Rome. I've got four months' leave " 
 
 "Ah, that's what comes of duffing so skilfully, and 
 avoiding all the things you didn't want to do, till you 
 got exactly what you did want! I remember when we 
 were small boy and girl, and you used to walk down to the 
 vicarage every day, to talk Greek or Latin or something 
 with father " 
 
 "No, to see you!" 
 
 "Well, you used to tell me, if you couldn't be the 
 greatest prize-fighter or the greatest opera-singer in the 
 world, you thought you'd like to be a diplomat. 
 
 "I haven't become a diplomat yet, in spite of Foreign 
 Office grubbing. But I've been enjoying life pretty well, 
 fagging up Arabic and modern Greek, and playing about 
 with pleasant people, while pretending to do my duty. 
 Now I've got leave on account of a mild fever which 
 turned out a blessing in disguise. I could have found no 
 other excuse for Egypt this winter." 
 
 "You speak as if you had some special reason for going 
 to Egypt." 
 
 "I've been wishing to go, more or less, for years, be- 
 cause you know if you haven't forgotten I was 
 accidentally born in Cairo while my father was fighting 
 in Alexandria. My earliest recollections are of Egypt, 
 for we lived there till I was four about the time I met
 
 14 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 and fell in love with you. I've always thought I'd 
 like to polish up old memories. But my special hurry 
 is because I'm anxious to meet a friend, a chap I admire 
 and love beyond all others. I want to see him for his 
 own sake, and for the sake of a plan we have, which may 
 make a lot of difference for our future." 
 
 "How exciting! Did I ever know him? " 
 
 "I think not." 
 
 "Well? Don't you mean to tell me who he is?" 
 
 I hesitated, sorry I had let myself go : because Anthony 
 had written that he didn't want his movements discussed 
 at present. 
 
 "I'll tell you another time," I said. "I want to talk 
 about you. Anybody else is irrelevant." 
 
 " Clever Duffer ! Your friend is a secret." 
 
 "Not he! But if there's a secret anywhere, it's only 
 a dull, dusty sort of secret. You wouldn't be interested." 
 
 "Women never are, in secrets. Well, I'm glad some- 
 body else besides myself has a mystery to hide." 
 
 "You're very quick." 
 
 "I'm Irish! But I'm merciful. No more questions 
 till you're off your guard. You're free to ask me all 
 you like, if there's anything you care to know which horrid 
 newspapers haven't told you these last few years." 
 
 "There are a thousand things. You didn't answer 
 anybody's letters, after after " 
 
 "After Richard died. Oh, I can talk about it, now. 
 It was the best thing that could happen for him, poor 
 fellow. Life in hiding was purgatory. No, I couldn't 
 answer letters, though my old friends (you among them) 
 wanted to be kind. There wasn't anything I could let
 
 THE SECRET AND THE GIRL 15 
 
 anybody do for me. Monny Gilder's different. You'll 
 soon see why." 
 
 I smiled indulgently. But, though 1 was to be intro- 
 duced to Miss Gilder for the purpose of being eventually 
 gilded by her, at the instant my thoughts were for my 
 childhood's sweetheart. 
 
 Brigit Burne made a terrible mess of things in marrying, 
 when she was eighteen or so, Richard O'Brien, in the 
 height of his celebrity as a socialist leader. People still 
 believed in him then, at the time of his famous lec- 
 turing tour and visit to his birthplace on our green 
 island; and though he was more than twice her age, the 
 fascination he had for Biddy surprised few who knew 
 him. 
 
 He was eloquent, in a fiery way. He had extraordinary 
 eyes, and it was his pride to resemble portraits of Lord 
 Byron. After an acquaintance of a month, Biddy mar- 
 ried O'Brien (I had just gone up to Oxford at the time, 
 or I should have tried not to let it happen), went to 
 America with him, and voluntarily ceased to exist for her 
 friends. 
 
 Poor girl, she must have had an awakening! He had 
 posed as a bachelor; but after her marriage she found out 
 (and the world with her) that he was a widower with one 
 child, a little girl he had practically abandoned. Biddy 
 adopted her, though the mother had been a rather undesir- 
 able Frenchwoman; and now when I saw her smiling at 
 the tall white girl on the Laconia, I had thought for an 
 instant that Biddy and her stepdaughter might be in 
 flight together. O'Brien was a drunkard, as well as a 
 demagogue; and not long after Brigit's flitting with him
 
 16 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 there was a scandal about the accepting of bribes from 
 politicians on the opposing side, apparently his greatest 
 enemies; but a minor scandal compared to what came 
 some years afterward. O'Brien's name was implicated 
 in the blowing up of the World-Republican Building in 
 Washington, and the wrecking of Senator Marlowe's 
 special train after his speech against socialist interests, but 
 the coward turned informer against his friends and asso- 
 ciates in the secret society of which he had been a leader, 
 and saved himself by sending them to prison. From that 
 day until his death he lived the life of a hunted animal fly- 
 ing from the hounds of vengeance. Brigit stood by him in 
 spite of threats against her life as well as his, and the life of 
 the child. Since then, though she answered none of our 
 letters, we had heard rumours. The girl Esme, whom the 
 avengers had threatened to kidnap, was supposed to be 
 hidden in some convent-school in Europe. As for Brigit, 
 she was said to be training for a hospital nurse : reported to 
 have become a missionary in India, China, and one or two 
 other countries; seen on the music-hall stage, and traced 
 to Johannesburg, where she had married a diamond- 
 merchant; yet here she was on board the Laconia, un- 
 changed in looks, or nature, and the guest of a much para- 
 graphed, much proposed to American heiress en route to 
 Egypt. 
 
 While Brigit was telling me the real story of her last 
 two years, as governess, companion, teacher of music, 
 and journalist, Miss Gilder regarded us sidewise from 
 amid her bodyguard of young men. Evidently she was 
 dying to know who was the acquaintance her darling 
 Biddy had picked up in mid-Mediterranean the moment
 
 THE SECRET AND THE GIRL 17 
 
 her back was turned; and at last, unable to restrain 
 herself longer, she made use of some magic trick to attach 
 the band of youths to her aunt. Then, separating her- 
 self with almost indecent haste from the group, she marched 
 up to us, gazing I might say, staring with large 
 unfriendly eyes at the intruder. 
 
 Brigit promptly accounted for me, however, rolling 
 her "r's" patriotically because I reminded her of Ire- 
 land. "Do let me introduce Lord Ernest Borrow," she 
 said. "I must have told you about him in my stories, 
 when you were a child, for he was me first love." 
 
 "It was the other way round," I objected. "She 
 wouldn't look at me. I adored her." 
 
 Biddy glared a warning. Her eyes said, "Silly fellow, 
 don't you know every girl wants to be the one and only 
 love of a man's life? " 
 
 I had supposed that this old craze had gone out of 
 fashion. But perhaps there are a few primitive things 
 which will never go out of fashion with women. 
 
 Now that I had Miss Gilder's proud young face opposite 
 mine, I saw that it wasn't quite so perfect as I'd fancied 
 when she flashed by in her tall whiteness. Her nose, pure 
 Greek in profile, seen in full was well, just neat Ameri- 
 can: a straight, determined little twentieth-century nose. 
 The full red mouth, not small, struck me as being deter- 
 mined also, rather than classic, despite the daintily drawn 
 cupid's bow of the short upper lip. I realized too that the 
 long-lashed, wide-open, and wide-apart eyes were of the 
 usual bluish-gray possessed by half the girls one knows. 
 And as for the thick wavy hair pushed crisply forward by 
 the white hood, now it was out of the sun's glamour, there
 
 18 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 was more brown than gold in it. I said to myself, that the 
 face with the firm cleft chin was only just pretty enough to 
 give a great heiress or a youthful princess the reputation of 
 a beauty; a combination desired and generally produced 
 by journalists. Then, as I was thinking this, while Brigit 
 explained me, Miss Gilder suddenly smiled. I was daz- 
 zled. No wonder Biddy loved her. It would be a wonder 
 if I didn't love her myself before I knew what was happen- 
 ing. 
 
 And so I should instantly have done, perhaps, if it 
 hadn't been for Biddy's eyes seeming to come between 
 mine and Miss Gilder's : and the fact that at the moment 
 I was in quest of another treasure than a woman's heart. 
 My thoughts were running ahead of the ship to Alexandria, 
 to find out from Anthony Fenton ("Antoun Effendi" 
 the biggest boys used to nickname him at school) more 
 about the true history of that treasure than he dared 
 trust to paper and ink and the post office. 
 
 So I put off falling in love with Rosamond Gilder till 
 I should have seen Anthony, and tidied up my distracted 
 mind. A little later would do, I told myself, because 
 (owing to the fact that my ancestral castle had figured 
 in Biddy's tales of long ago) I was annexed as one of the 
 proteges; allowed to make a fifth at the small, flowery 
 table under a desirable porthole in the green and white 
 restaurant; also I was invited to go about with the ladies 
 and show them Cairo. Just how much "going about," 
 and falling in love, I should be able to do there, depended 
 on "Antoun Effendi." But when Biddy congratulated 
 me on my luck, and chance of success in the "scheme," 
 I said nothing of Anthony.
 
 II 
 
 CLEOPATRA AND THE SHIP'S MYSTERY 
 
 Now, at last, I can skip over the three days at sea, and 
 get to our arrival at Alexandria, because, as I've said, 
 the exciting part began soon after, at Cairo. 
 
 They were delightful days, for the Laconia is a Paris 
 hotel disguised as a liner. And no man with blood in his 
 veins could help enjoying the society of Brigit O'Brien 
 and Rosamond Gilder. Cleopatra, too, was not to be 
 despised as a charmer; and then there was the human 
 interest of the protegees, the one with the eyes and the one 
 who had reluctantly developed into the Ship's Mystery. 
 
 Still, in spite of Biddy and Monny and the others, 
 and not for them, my heart beat fast when, on the after- 
 noon of the third day out from Naples, the ship brought 
 us suddenly in sight of something strange. We were 
 moving through a calm sea, more like liquefied marble 
 than water, for it was creamy white rather than blue, 
 veined with azure, and streaked, as marble is, with pink 
 and gold. Far away across this gleaming floor blossomed 
 a long line of high-growing lotus flowers, white and yellow 
 against a silver sky. The effect was magical, and the 
 wonder grew when the big flower-bed turned into domes 
 and cupolas and spires rising out of the sea. Unimagin- 
 ative people remarked that the coast looked so flat and 
 
 19
 
 20 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 uninteresting they didn't see why Alexander had wanted 
 to bother with it; but they were the sort of people who 
 ought to stop at home in London or Birmingham or Chi- 
 cago and not make innocent fellow-passengers burn with 
 unchristian feelings. 
 
 Soon I should see Anthony and hear his news. I 
 felt sure he would be at Alexandria to meet the ship. When 
 "Antoun Effendi" makes up his mind to do a thing, he 
 will crawl from under a falling sky to do it. As the 
 Laconia swept on, I hardly saw the glittering city on its 
 vast prayer-rug of green and gold, guarded by sea forts 
 like sleepy crocodiles. My mind's eyes were picturing 
 Anthony as he would look after his wild Balkan expe- 
 riences: brown and lean, even haggard and bearded, per- 
 haps, a different man from the smart young officer of 
 everyday life, unless he'd contrived to refit in the short 
 time since his return to Egypt a day or two at most, 
 according to my calculation. But all my imaginings fell 
 short of the truth. 
 
 As I thought of Anthony, Mrs. East came and stood 
 beside me. I knew she was there before I turned to 
 look, because of the delicate tinkling of little Egyptian 
 amulets, which is her accompaniment, her leit motif, 
 and because of the scent of sandalwood with which, 
 in obedience to the ancient custom of Egyptian queens, 
 she perfumes her hair. 
 
 I don't think I have described Monny Gilder's aunt, 
 according to my conception of her, though I may have 
 hinted at Biddy's. Biddy having a habit of focussing 
 her sense of humour on any female she doesn't wholly 
 love, may not do Mrs. East justice. The fact is, Monny 's
 
 CLEOPATRA AND THE SHIP'S MYSTERY 21 
 
 aunt is a handsome creature, distinctly a charmer who 
 may at most have reached the age when Cleopatra 
 Antony's and Caesar's Cleopatra died in the prime of 
 her beauty. If Mrs. East chooses to date herself at thirty- 
 three, any man not a confirmed misanthrope must believe 
 her. Biddy says that until Peter Gilder was safely dead, 
 Clara East was just an ordinary, well-dressed, pleasure- 
 loving, novel-reading, chocolate-eating, respectable widow 
 of a New York stockbroker: superstitious perhaps; fond 
 of consulting palmists, and possessing Billikens or other 
 mascots: (how many women are free from superstition?) 
 slightly oriental in her love of sumptuous colours and jew- 
 ellery; but then her mother (Peter Gilder's step-mother) 
 was a beautiful Jewish opera singer. After Peter's 
 death, his half-sister gave up novels for Egyptian and 
 Roman history, took to studying hieroglyphics, and learn- 
 ing translations of Greek poetry. She invited a clairvoy- 
 ant and crystal-gazer, claiming Egyptian origin, to visit 
 at her Madison Square flat. Sayda Sabri, banished from 
 Bond Street years ago, took up her residence in New York, 
 accompanied by her tame mummy. Of course, it is the 
 mummy of a princess, and she keeps it illuminated with 
 blue lights, in an inner sanctum, where the bored-looking 
 thing stands upright in its brilliantly painted mummy 
 case, facing the door. About the time of Sayda's visit, 
 it was noticed by Mrs. East's friends (this, according 
 to Biddy) that the colour of the lady's hair was slowly 
 but surely changing from black to chestnut, then to 
 auburn; she was heard to remark casually that Queen 
 Cleopatra's hair had been red. She took to rich Eastern 
 scents, to whitening her face as Eastern women of rank
 
 22 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 have white ed theirs since time immemorial. The shad- 
 ows round her almond-shaped eyes were intensified: her 
 full lips turned from healthful pink to carmine. The ends 
 of her tapering fingers blushed rosily as sticks of coral. 
 The style of her dress changed, at the moment of going 
 into purple as "second mourning" for Peter, and became 
 oriental, even to the turban-like shape of her hats, and 
 the design of her jewellery. She did away with crests and 
 monograms on handkerchiefs, stationery, luggage and so 
 on, substituting a curious little oval containing strange 
 devices, which Monny discovered to be the "cartouche" 
 of Cleopatra. Then the whole truth burst forth. Sayda 
 Sabri's crystal had shown that Clara East, nee Gilder, was 
 the reincarnation of Cleopatra the Great of Egypt. There 
 had been another incarnation in between, but it was of no 
 account, and, like a poor relation who has disgraced a 
 family, the less said about it the better. 
 
 The lady did not proclaim her identity from the house- 
 tops. Rare souls possessing knowledge of Egyptian 
 lore might draw their own conclusions from the cartouche 
 on her note-paper and other things. Only Monny and a 
 few intimates were told the truth at first; but afterward 
 it leaked out, as secrets do; and Mrs. East seemed shyly 
 pleased if discreet questions were asked concerning her 
 amulets and the cartouche. 
 
 Now, I never feel inclined to laugh at a pretty woman. 
 It is more agreeable, as well as gallant, to laugh with her; 
 but the trouble is, Cleopatra doesn't go in for laughter. 
 She takes life seriously. Not only has she no sense of 
 humour, but she does not know the difference between 
 it and a sense of fun, which she can understand if a joke
 
 CLEOPATRA AND THE SHIP'S MYSTERY 23 
 
 (about somebody else) is explained. She is grateful to me 
 because I look her straight in the eyes when the subject of 
 Egypt is mentioned. Sheridan from Harvard has been in 
 her bad books since he put Ptolemaic rulers outside of the 
 pale of Egyptian history, called their art ornate and bad, 
 mentioned that each of their queens was named Cleopatra 
 and classified the lot as modern, almost suburban. 
 
 Mrs. East, leaning beside me on the rail, was burning 
 with thoughts inspired by Alexandria. She had "Plu- 
 tarch's Lives" under her arm, and "Hypatia" in her 
 hand. Of course, she dropped them both, one after the 
 other, and I picked them up. 
 
 "Do you know, Lord Ernest," she said, in the low, 
 rich voice she is cultivating, "I don't mind telling you that 
 I felt as if I were coming home, after a long absence. 
 Monny wanted to see Egypt; I was dying to. That's the 
 difference between us." 
 
 "It's natural," I answered, sympathetically. 
 
 " Yes considering everything. Yet we're both afraid. 
 She in one way, I in another. I haven't told her. She 
 hasn't told me. But I know. She has the same impres- 
 sion I have, that something's going to happen some- 
 thing very great, to change the whole of life in Egypt: 
 'Khern,' it seems to me I can remember calling it. You 
 know it was Khem, until the Arabs came and named it 
 Misr. Do you believe in impressions like that? " 
 
 "I don't disbelieve," I said. "Some people are more 
 sensitive than others." 
 
 "Yes. Or else they're older souls. But it maybe the 
 same thing. I can't fancy Monny an old soul, can you? 
 yet she may be, for she's very intelligent, although
 
 24 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 so self-willed. I think what she's afraid of is getting 
 interested in some wonderful man with Turkish or 
 Egyptian blood, a magnificent creature like you read of 
 in books, you know; then you have to give them up in the 
 last chapter, and send them away broken-hearted. I 
 suppose there are such men in real life?" 
 
 "I doubt if there are such romantic figures as the 
 books make out," I tried to reassure her. "There 
 might be a prince or two, handsome and cultivated, 
 educated in England, perhaps, for some of the 'swells' 
 are sent from Egypt to Oxford and Cambridge, just as 
 they are in India. But even if Miss Gilder should meet a 
 man of that sort, I should say she was too sensible and 
 clear-headed " 
 
 "Oh, she is, almost too much so for a young girl, 
 and she has a detestation for any one with a drop of dark 
 blood, in America. She doesn't even like Jews; and that 
 makes friction between us, if we ever happen to argue, for 
 maybe you don't know? my mother was a Jewess. 
 I'm proud of her memory. But that's just why, if you 
 can understand, Monny's afraid in Egypt. Some girls 
 would like to have a tiny flirtation with a gorgeous East- 
 ern creature (of course, he must be a bey, or prince or 
 something, otherwise it would be infra dig), but Monny 
 would hate herself for being attracted. Yet I know she 
 dreads it happening, because of the way I've heard her 
 rave against the heroines of novels, saying she has no 
 patience with them; they ought to have more strength 
 of mind, even if it broke their hearts." 
 
 I wondered if Biddy, too, suspected some such fear in 
 the mind of her adored girl, and if that were one reason
 
 CLEOPATRA AND THE SHIP'S MYSTERY 25 
 
 why she had turned matchmaker for my benefit. Since 
 the first day out she had used strategems to throw us 
 together: and it seemed that, years ago, when she used 
 to teach the little girl French, Monny's favourite stories 
 had been of Castle Killeena, and my boyish exploits 
 birds '-nesting on the crags. (Biddy said that this was 
 a splendid beginning, if I had the sense to follow it up.) 
 
 "And you?" I went on to Mrs. East. "What do you 
 feel is going to happen to you in the land of Khem? " 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," she sighed. "I wish I did! 
 And 'afraid' isn't exactly the word. I just know that 
 something will happen. I wonder if history does repeat 
 itself? I should hate to be bitten by an asp " 
 
 "Asps are out of fashion," I comforted her. "I doubt 
 if you could find one in all of Egypt, though I remem- 
 ber my Egyptian nurse used to say there were cobras 
 in the desert in summer. Anyhow, we'll be away before 
 summer." 
 
 "I suppose so," she agreed. "Yet who knows what 
 will become of any of us? Madame Rechid Bey will be 
 staying, of course. I don't know whether to be sorry for 
 her or not. The Bey's good-looking. He has brown 
 eyes, and is as white as you or I. Probably it's true 
 that she's been too seasick to leave her room for the last 
 ten days, though Monny and Mrs. O 'Bri I mean, Mrs. 
 Jones think she's shut up because men stared, and 
 because Mr. Sheridan talked to her. As for me, there's 
 always that question asking itself in my mind: 'What 
 is going to happen?' And I hear it twice as loud as 
 before, in sight of Alexandria. Rakoti, we Lagidae used 
 to call the city."
 
 26 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 As she spoke, the long, oriental eyes glanced at me 
 sidewise, but my trustworthy Celtic features showed a 
 grave, intelligent interest in her statements. 
 
 "It must be," she went on, encouraged, "that I'm the 
 reincarnation of Cleopatra, otherwise how could I have the 
 sensation of remembering every thing? There's no other 
 way to account for it ! And you know my modern name, 
 Clara, does begin with 'C.' Sayda must be right. She's 
 told lots of women the most extraordinary things. You 
 really ought to consult her, Lord Ernest, if you ever go to 
 New York." 
 
 I did not say, as Neill Sheridan might, that a frothy 
 course of Egyptian historical novels would account for 
 anything. I simply looked as diplomatic training can 
 teach any one to look. 
 
 Evidently it was the right look in the right place, 
 for Cleopatra continued more courageously, recalling 
 the great Pharos of white marble which used to be one 
 of the world's wonders in her day; the Museum, and the 
 marvellous Library which took fire while Julius Caesar 
 burned the fleet, nearby hi the harbour. 
 
 "Think of the philosophers who deserted the College of 
 Heliopolis for Alexandria!" she said. "Antony was more 
 of a soldier than a student, but even he grieved for the 
 Library. You know he tried to console Cleopatra by 
 making her a present of two hundred thousand MSS. 
 from the library of the King of Pergamus. It was a 
 generous thought like Antony!" 
 
 "Does the harbour looked changed?" I hastened to 
 inquire. 
 
 "Not from a distance, though landing may be a shock:
 
 CLEOPATRA AND THE SHIP'S MYSTERY 27 
 
 they tell me it's all so Italian now. It was Greek in old 
 days. I've read that there isn't a stone left of my of 
 the lovely place on Lochias Point, except the foundations 
 they found in the seventies. But I must go to see what's 
 left of the Baths, even though there's only a bit of mosaic 
 and the remains of a room. Monny's anxious to get on 
 to Cairo, but we shall come back to Alexandria later. Lord 
 Ernest, when I shut my eyes, I really do seem to picture 
 the Mareotic Lake, and the buildings that made Alexan- 
 dria the glory of the world. Do you remember what 
 Strabo said about Deinchares, the architect who laid out 
 the plan of the city in the shape of a Macedonian mantle, 
 to please Alexander?" 
 
 "I'm not as well up in history as you are," I said, 
 "though I've studied a bit, because I was born in Egypt. 
 Poor Alexander didn't live long in his fine city, did he? 
 I wonder what he'd think of it now? And I wonder if his 
 palace was handsomer than the Khedive's? That huge 
 white building with the pillars and domes. I seem to 
 remember " 
 
 "What, you remember, too? You ought to consult 
 Sayda!" 
 
 "I didn't mean exactly what you mean," I explained, 
 humbly. "Still, why shouldn't I have lived in Egypt 
 long ago? The learned ones say you're always drawn 
 back where you've been in other states of existence " 
 
 "That's true, I'm sure!" 
 
 "Well, then, why shouldn't I have the same sort of 
 right to Egypt you have, if you were Cleopatra? I 
 believe you must have been, because you look as she ought 
 to have looked, you know. Why shouldn't I have
 
 28 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 been a friend of Marc Antony, coming from Rome to give 
 him good advice and trying to persuade " 
 
 "Oh, not that he ought to give me up!" 
 
 "No, indeed: to urge him to leave the island where 
 he hid even from you (didn't they call it Timoneum?). 
 Why couldn't Antony play his cards so as to keep Cleo- 
 patra and the world, too? She'd have liked him better, 
 wouldn't she? My friend Antoun Effendi I mean 
 Anthony Fenton," I stopped short: for the less said 
 about Fenton the better, at present. But Cleopatra 
 caught me up. 
 
 "What have you really a friend Antony? Where 
 does he live? and what's he like?" 
 
 I hesitated; and glancing round for inspiration (in 
 other words for some harmless, necessary fib) I saw that 
 Brigit and Monny had arrived on the scene. They had 
 been pacing the deck, arm in arm; and now, arrested 
 by Mrs. East's question, they hovered near, awaiting 
 my answer with vague curiosity. A twinkle in Biddy's 
 eyes, which I caught, rattled me completely. I missed 
 all the easiest fibs and could catch hold of nothing but 
 the bare truth. There are moments like that, when, 
 do what you will, you must be truthful or silent; and 
 silence fires suspicion. 
 
 "What is he? " I echoed feebly. "Oh, Captain Fenton. 
 He's in the Gyppy Army stationed up at Khartum, 
 hundreds of miles beyond where Cook's boats go. You 
 wouldn't be interested in Anthony, because he spells his 
 name with an 'H', and he's dark and thin, not a bit 
 like your Antony, who was a big, stout fellow, I've always 
 heard, and fair."
 
 CLEOPATRA AND THE SHIP'S MYSTERY 29 
 
 "Big, but not stout," Cleopatra corrected me. "And 
 and if he's incarnated again, he may be dark for a 
 change. As for the *H', that's not important. I wonder 
 if we shall meet your Anthony? We think of going to 
 Khartum, don't we, Monny?" 
 
 "Yes," said the girl, shortly. She was always rather 
 short in her manner at that time when in her opinion her 
 aunt was being "silly." 
 
 I gathered from a vexed flash in the gray eyes that there 
 had never been any hint of an impending Antony. 
 
 "Is your friend in Khartum now?" Biddy ventured, 
 in her creamiest voice. The twinkle was carefully turned 
 off like the light of a dark lantern, but I knew well that 
 "Mrs. Jones" was recalling a certain conversation, in 
 which I had refused to satisfy her curiosity. Brigit's 
 quick, Irish mind has a way of matching mental jig- 
 saw puzzles, even when vital bits appear to be missing; 
 and if she could make a cat's paw of Cleopatra, the witch 
 would not be above doing it. I bore her no grudge 
 who could bear soft-eyed, laughing, yet tragic Biddy a 
 grudge? but I wished that she and Monny were at 
 the other end of the deck. 
 
 "I er really, I don't know where my friend is 
 just now," I answered, with more or less foundation 
 of truth. 
 
 "I wonder if I didn't read in the papers about a Cap- 
 tain Fenton who took advantage of leave he'd got, to 
 make a rush for the Balkans, and see the fighting from 
 the lines of the Allies?" Biddy murmured with dreadful 
 intelligence. "Can he be your Captain Fenton? I 
 fancy he'd been stationed in the Sudan; and he was
 
 30 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 officially supposed to have gone home to spend his leave 
 in England. Anyhow, there was a row of some sort 
 after he and another man dropped down on to the Turks 
 out of a Greek aeroplane. Or was it a Servian one? 
 Anyhow, I know he oughtn't to have been in it; and 
 * Paterfamilias' and 'Patriot' wrote letters to the Times 
 about British officers who didn't mind their own business. 
 Why, I saw the papers on board this ship! They were 
 old ones. Papers on ships always are. But I think 
 they came on at Algiers or somewhere." 
 
 "Probably 'somewhere,' " I witheringly replied. "7 
 didn't come on at Algiers, so I don't know anything about 
 it." 
 
 "Diplomatists never do know anything official, do 
 they, Duffer dear? " smiled Biddy. " I'll wager your friend 
 is interesting, even if he does spell himself with an 'H', 
 and weighs two stone less than his namesake from 
 Rome. Mrs. East believes in reincarnation, and I'm 
 not sure I don't, though Monny's so young she doesn't 
 believe in anything. Just suppose your friend is a re- 
 incarnation of Antony without an 'H'? And suppose, 
 too, by some strange trick of fate he should meet you in 
 Alexandria or Cairo ? You'd introduce him to us, wouldn't 
 you?" 
 
 "It's the most unlikely thing in the world. And 
 he'd be no good to you. He's a man's man. He thinks 
 he doesn't like women. " 
 
 "Doesn't like women!" echoed Monny Gilder. "He 
 must be a curmudgeon. Or has he been jilted? " 
 
 "Rather not! " Too impulsively I defended the absent. 
 " Girls go mad about him. He has to keep them off with
 
 CLEOPATRA AND THE SHIP'S MYSTERY 31 
 
 a stick. He's got other things to think of than girls, 
 things he believes are more important though, of 
 course, he's mistaken. He'll find that out some day, 
 when he has more time. So far, he's been hunting other 
 game, often in wild places. A book might be written 
 on his adventures." 
 
 "What kind of adventures? Tell us about them," 
 said Biddy, "up to the Balkan one, which you deny 
 having heard of." 
 
 "You wouldn't care about his sort of adventures. 
 There aren't any women in them," said I. " Women want 
 love stories. It's only the heroines they care for, not the 
 heroes, and I don't somehow see the right heroine for 
 Fenton's story." 
 
 I noticed an expression dawning on Cleopatra's face, 
 as I thus bereft her of a possible Antony (with an "H"). 
 There was a softening of the long eyes, and the glimmer 
 of a smile which said "Am I Cleopatra for nothing?" 
 
 Never had she looked handsomer. Never before had 
 I thought of her as really dangerous. I'd been in- 
 clined to poke fun at the lady for her superstition and 
 her cartouche, and Cleopatra-hood in general. But 
 suddenly I realized that her make-up was no more ex- 
 aggerated than that of many a beauty of the stage and 
 of society : and that nowadays, women who are well, 
 forty-ish can be formidable rivals for younger and 
 simpler sisters. Not that I feared much for Anthony 
 from Cleopatra or any other female thing, for I'd come 
 to consider him practically woman-proof; still, I saw 
 danger that the lady might make a dead set at him, if 
 she got the chance, and all through my stupidity in
 
 32 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 giving away his name. "Antony" was a thrilling pass- 
 word to that mysterious "something" which she expected 
 to happen in Egypt: and already she regarded my friend 
 as a ram caught in the bushes, for a sacrifice on her altar. 
 Instead of screening him I had dragged him in front of the 
 footlights. But fortunately there was still time to jerk 
 down the curtain. 
 
 I threw a glance at Brigit and Monny, and was relieved 
 to find that their attention was distracted by a new arrival: 
 Miss Rachel Guest from Salem, Massachusetts: a pale, 
 thin, lanky copy of our Rose, with the beauty and bloom 
 left out; but a pan* of eyes to redeem the colourless face 
 oh, yes, a pair of eyes ! Strange, hungry, waiting eyes. 
 
 When I am alone, I fear Monny's favourite protegee, 
 who started out to "see the world" on a legacy of 
 two thousand dollars, and won Miss Gilder's admiration 
 (and hospitality) through her unassuming pluck. To my 
 mind she is the ideal adventuress of a new, unknown, and 
 therefore deadly type; but for once I rejoiced at sight of the 
 pallid, fragile woman, so cheerful in spite of frail health, 
 so frank about her twenty-eight years. She had news to 
 tell of a nature so exciting that, after a whisper or two, 
 Cleopatra forgot Anthony in her desire to know the latest 
 development in the Ship's Mystery. 
 
 "My stewardess says he won't let his wife land till 
 we're all off," murmured the ex-schoolmistress, in her 
 colourless voice. "She heard the end of a conversation, 
 when she carried the poor girl's lunch to the door 
 just a word or two. So we shan't see her again, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "Oh, yes, we shall," said Monny. "If Wretched Bey
 
 CLEOPATRA AND THE SHIP'S MYSTERY 33 
 
 can get a private boat, so can I. I'll not desert her, 
 if I have to stay on board the Laconia the whole night." 
 
 All four began talking together eagerly, and blessing 
 Miss Guest I sneaked away. Presently I saw that clever 
 Neill Sheridan and handsome, actor-like Willis Bailey, the 
 two betes noires of Wretched Bey, had joined the group. 
 
 By this time the roofs and domes and minarets of 
 Alexandria sparkled in clearly sketched outlines between 
 sunset-sky and sea; sunset of Egypt, which divided ruby- 
 flame of cloud, emerald dhurra, gold of desert, and sap- 
 phire waters into separate bands of colour, vivid as the 
 stripes of a rainbow. 
 
 There was a new buzz of excitement on the decks and in 
 the ivy draped veranda cafe. Those who had been study- 
 ing Baedeker gabbled history, ancient and modern, until 
 the conquest of Alexander and the bombardment of '82 
 became a hopeless jumble in the ears of the ignorant. 
 Bores who had travelled inflicted advice on victims who 
 had not. People told each other pointless anecdotes 
 of "the last time I was in Egypt," while those forced to 
 listen did so with the air of panthers waitin'g to pounce. 
 A pause for breath on the part of the enemy gave the 
 wished-for opportunity to spring into the breach with an 
 adventure of their own. 
 
 We took an Arab pilot on board the first Arab 
 ever seen by the ladies of my party and before the 
 red torch of sunset had burned down to dusky purple, 
 tenders like big, black turtles were swimming out to the 
 Laconia. We slaves of the Rose, however, had sur- 
 rendered all personal interest in these objects. The word 
 of Miss Gilder had gone forth, and, unless Rechid Bey
 
 34 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 changed his mind at the last minute, we were all to 
 lurk in ambush until he appeared with his wife. Then, 
 somehow, Monny was to snatch her chance for a word 
 with the Ship's Mystery; and whatever happened, none 
 of us were to stir until it had been snatched. 
 
 Arguments, even from Biddy, were of no avail, and mine 
 were silenced by cold permission to go away by myself if I 
 chose. It was terrible, it was wicked to talk of people mak- 
 ing then* own beds and then lying in them. It was nonsense 
 to say that, even if the wife of Rechid Bey asked for help, 
 we could do nothing. Of course, we would do something ! 
 If the girl wanted to be saved, she should be saved, if 
 Monny had to act alone. Whatever happened, Mr. 
 Sheridan and Mr. Bailey must remain hi the background, as 
 the very sight of them would drive " Wretched Bey" wild! 
 
 I was thinking of Anthony's surprise when one after 
 the other, two tenders should reach the quay without 
 me; and if the Gilded Rose had not been so sweet, her 
 youthful cocksureness would have made me yearn to 
 slap her. In spite of all, however, the girl's excitement 
 became contagious as passengers crowded down the gang- 
 way and Rechid Bey did not appear. 
 
 "Allah Allah!" cried the boatman and the Arab 
 porters as they hauled huge trunks off the ship onto a 
 float. Then one after the other the two tenders puffed 
 away, packed from stem to stern. A few people for whom 
 there was no room embarked in small boats manned 
 by jabbering Arabs. Two of these cockle-shells still 
 moved up and down under the black, mountainous side 
 of the ship, and the officer whose duty it was to see the 
 passengers off was visibly restless.
 
 CLEOPATRA AND THE SHIP'S MYSTERY 35 
 
 He wanted to know if my lordship was ready; and my 
 lordship's brain was straining after an excuse for further 
 delay, when a man and woman arrived opportunely; 
 Rechid Bey and a veiled, muffled form hooked to his arm; 
 a slender, appealing little figure: and through the veil I 
 fancied that I caught a gleam of large, wistful, anxious 
 eyes. 
 
 The ladies were lying in wait out of sight, and I dodged 
 behind the sturdy blue shoulders guarding the gangway. 
 This was my first glimpse of the Ship's Mystery; and 
 though I did not like my job (I had to surprise Rechid 
 Bey and take his mind off his wife) my curiosity was pricked. 
 The figure in sealskin looked very girlish; the veiled head 
 was bowed. The mystery took on human personality for 
 me, and Monny Gilder was no longer obstinate; she was a 
 loyal friend. I did not see that we could be of use to the 
 poor little fool who had married a Turk, yet I was suddenly 
 ready to do what I could. As Rechid Bey brought his 
 wife to the top of the gangway, I lounged out, and 
 spoke. Disconcerted, the stout, good-looking man of 
 thirty let drop the arm of the girl, putting her behind 
 him. And this was what Monny wanted. They would 
 have an instant for a few disjointed words: Monny 
 might perhaps have time to promise help which the girl 
 dared not ask, even behind her husband's back. 
 
 "Good evening," I said in French, taking advantage 
 of a smoke-room acquaintance. "Is that smart boat 
 down there for you? I was trying to secure it, in my 
 best Arabic, but the fellow said it was engaged." 
 
 "Yes, it is mine," Rechid answered, civilly, trying to 
 hide his annoyance. "I telegraphed from Naples to a
 
 36 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 friend in Alexandria to send me a private boat. I do 
 not like crowds." 
 
 "Neither do I, so I waited, too," I explained. "They 
 told me there were always boats, and my big luggage has 
 gone. I suppose yours has, too? " 
 
 "No doubt," said Rechid Bey. "Good night, Milord 
 Borrow." 
 
 He turned quickly to his wife, as if to catch her at 
 something, but the slim veiled mystery stood meekly 
 awaiting his will. To my intense relief Monny and her 
 friends were invisible. I could hardly wait until the two 
 figures had passed out of sight down the gangway, to 
 know whether my skirmishing attack had been successful. 
 
 "Well?" I asked, as Mis* Gilder, "Mrs. Jones," 
 Cleopatra, Rachel Guest, and two maids filed out from 
 concealment. "Did I give you time enough? Did you 
 get the chance you wanted?" 
 
 "Yes, thank you ever so much," said Monny, with one 
 of those dazzling smiles that would make her a beauty 
 even if she were not the favourite Sunday supplement 
 heiress. "I counted on you and she had counted on 
 me. She must have known I wouldn't fail her, for she 
 had this bit of paper ready. When I jumped out she 
 slipped it into my hand. We didn't need to say a word, 
 and Wretched Bey has no idea I came near her." 
 
 "A bit of paper?" I echoed, with interest. For it 
 sounded the obvious secret thing; a bit of paper stealthily 
 slid from hand to hand. 
 
 " Yes, with her address on it nothing more in writing : 
 but two other words, pricked with a pin. 'Save me.' 
 Don't you see, if her husband had pounced on it, no harm
 
 CLEOPATRA AND THE SHIP'S MYSTERY 37 
 
 would have been done. He wouldn't have noticed the 
 pin-pricks, as a woman would. I thought she was going 
 to live in Cairo, and I believe she thought so too, at first. 
 But she's written down the name of a house in a place 
 called Asiut. Did you ever hear of such a town, Lord 
 Ernest?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said I. "The Nile boats stop there and people 
 see tombs and mummied cats and buy silver shawls." 
 
 "Good!" said Monny. "My boat shall stop there, but 
 not only for tombs or cats or silver shawls. I have an idea 
 that the poor girl is frightened, and wants me to help 
 her escape." 
 
 " Great heavens !" I exclaimed. "You mustn't on any 
 account get mixed up in an adventure of that sort! Re- 
 member, this is Egypt " 
 
 "I don't care," said Monny, " if it's the moon." 
 
 She believed that this settled the matter. I believed 
 the exact opposite. But I left it at that, for the moment, 
 as the boat was waiting, and Asiut seemed a long way off. 
 
 This was my first lesson in what Brigit called " Monny 's 
 little ways"; but the second lesson was on the heels of 
 the first.
 
 in 
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT AND A DRAGOMAN 
 
 IT WAS a blow not to see Anthony on the quay. And 
 other blows rained thick and fast. My two consolations 
 were that I was actually in Egypt; and that in the con- 
 fusion Rechid Bey with the veiled figure of his silent 
 bride had slipped away without further incidents. Their 
 disappearance was regretted by no one save Monny, 
 unless it was Neill Sheridan, and he was discreet enough 
 to keep his feelings to himself. The girl was not. She 
 protested on principle, although she had the Asiut 
 address. But where all men, black and brown and white, 
 were yelling with the whole force of their lungs, and 
 pitching and tossing luggage (mostly the wrong luggage) 
 with all the force of their arms, nobody heard or cared 
 what she said. For once Monny Gilder was disregarded 
 by a crowd of men. This could happen only at the 
 departure of a boat tram! But if I was not thinking 
 about her, I was thinking about her fifteen trunks, and 
 Cleopatra's sixteen and Biddy's and Miss Guest's two. 
 The maids were worse than useless, and I had no valet. 
 I have never had a valet. I clawed, I fought, I wrestled 
 in an arena where it was impossible to tell the wild beasts 
 from the martyrs. I rescued small bags from under big 
 boxes, and dashed off with a few samples to the train, 
 
 38
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT AND A DRAGOMAN 39 
 
 in order to secure places. All other able-bodied men, 
 including Sheridan and the artist sculptor Bailey, were 
 engaged in the same pursuit, and our plan was to "bag" a 
 whole compartment between us in the boat-special 
 for Cairo. But we never met again till we reached our 
 destination. One expects Egypt to warm the heart with 
 its weather, but the cold was bitter; so was the disap- 
 pointment about Anthony. Both cut through me like 
 knives. Darkness had fallen before I was ready to join 
 the ladies if I could. In passing earlier, I had shouted 
 to the maids where to find the places, grabbed with 
 difficulty, for their mistresses. Whether they had found 
 them, or whether any of the party still existed, was the 
 next question; and it was settled only as the train began, 
 to move. The compartment I had selected was boiling 
 over with a South American president and his effects; but 
 as I stood transfixed by this transformation scene, Cleo- 
 patra's maid hailed me from the end of the corridor. 
 Les quatres dames were in the restaurant car. Why? 
 Ah, it was the Arab they had engaged as dragoman, who 
 had advised the change in milord's absence. He said 
 it would be better, as of course they would want dinner. 
 He himself was looking after the small baggages, except 
 the little sacks of the hand which the maids kept. 
 
 What, the ladies had engaged a dragoman! And 
 they had trusted him a stranger with luggage? 
 Then it was as good as gone! But no, mildly ventured 
 Cleopatra's handmaiden. The dragoman came recom- 
 mended. He had a letter from a friend of milord. 
 
 My thoughts jumped, of course, to Anthony. Yet 
 how could he have known that I was travelling with
 
 40 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 ladies? And if by some Marconian miracle he had heard, 
 why should he, who prided himself on "not bothering" 
 with women, trouble to provide a dragoman at Alexandria? 
 
 I hurried to the dining car, and found Monny with her 
 satellites seated at a table, three of them looking as calmly 
 innocent as if they had not upset my well-laid scheme 
 for then- comfort. Biddy alone had a guilty air, because, 
 perhaps, I was more important in her eyes than in the 
 eyes of the others. "Oh, dear Duffer," she began to 
 wheedle me: "We hope you don't mind our coming 
 here? We thought it a good idea, for we're starving, 
 although we're perfectly happy because we're in Egypt, 
 and because it's such a quaint train, so different and 
 Eastern. The dragoman who " 
 
 "I think he came from your friend Anthony with 
 an'H,'" Cleopatra broke in. "He seemed providential. 
 And he speaks English. The only objection is, he's not 
 as good-looking as Monny and I wanted our dragoman 
 to be. We did hope to get one who would be becoming 
 to us, you see, and give the right sort of Eastern back- 
 ground. But I suppose one can't have everything! 
 And it was I who said your friend Anthony's messenger 
 must be engaged even if his face is is rather like 
 an accident! " 
 
 "It's like a catastrophe," remarked Monny, looking as 
 if she blamed me. 
 
 "Where is it?" I wanted to know. 
 
 "It's waiting in a vestibule outside where the cook's 
 cooking," Biddy explained ungrammatically. "I told 
 it you'd want to see it. And it's got a letter for you from 
 some one."
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT AND A DRAGOMAN 41 
 
 "Did the fellow say the letter was from Fenton?" I 
 inquired. 
 
 "No. He only said, from a friend who'd expected 
 to meet you; and Mrs. East was sure it must be from 
 the one you were talking about." 
 
 Wasting no more words, I marched off to the fountain- 
 head for information. Near the open door of the infinites- 
 imal kitchen stood a fat little dark man with a broken nose, 
 and one white eye. The other eye, as if to make up, was 
 singularly, repellently intelligent. It fixed itself upon me, 
 as I approached, with eager questioning which melted into 
 ingratiating politeness. Instinct warned the fellow that 
 I was the person he awaited. At the same moment, 
 instinct was busily whispering to me that there was 
 something fishy about him, despite the alleged letter. 
 He did not look the type of man Fenton would recommend. 
 And though his face was of an unwholesome olive tint, 
 and he wore a tarbush, and a galabeah as long as a 
 dressing-gown, under his short European coat, I was sure 
 he was not of Arab or Egyptian blood. 
 
 "Milord Borrow?" he began, displaying large white 
 teeth, of which he was evidently proud. 
 
 I assented. 
 
 "My name is Bedr el Gemaly," he introduced himself. 
 "1 have a letter for milord." 
 
 "Who gave it to you? " I challenged him. 
 
 The ingratiating smile seemed to flicker like a candle 
 flame in a sudden puff of wind. "A friend of my, a 
 dragoman. He could not come to bring it. So he give 
 it to me. The gentleman's name was Fenton. My friend, 
 he was sent from him at Cairo." As the fellow spoke,
 
 42 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 In fairly good English, he took from a pocket of the short 
 coat which spoiled his costume, a colourful silk handker- 
 chief. Unwrapping this, he produced an envelope. It 
 was addressed to me in the handwriting of Fenton, but 
 before opening it I went on with my catechism. 
 
 "Then the letter doesn't introduce you, but your 
 friend?" 
 
 The smile was practically dead now. "I think it do not 
 introduce any ones. It is only a letter. My friend 
 Abdullah engaged to cany it. But he got sick too soon 
 to come to the ship." 
 
 "I see," said I. "You seem to have used the letter, 
 however, to get yourself taken on as dragoman by the 
 ladies of my party. How the devil did you find out that 
 they were travelling with me, eh?" I shot the question at 
 him and tried to imitate gimlets with my eyes. But he was 
 ready with his answer. No doubt he had prepared it. 
 
 "I see you all together, from a distant place, before 
 I come there. A gentleman off the ship, he pointed you 
 out when I ask where I find Milord Borrow. I see you, 
 and those ladies. When I come, you was away already, 
 so I speak to them, and say if I could help, I be very 
 pleased. When I tell one of the ladies I was from a 
 friend of milord's with a letter, she say, is the friend's 
 name Captain Fenton, and I say 'y es > madame, Captain 
 Fenton, that is the name; and I am a dragoman to show 
 Egypt to the strangers. I know it all very well, from 
 Alexandria way up Nile.' Then the lady say very quick 
 she will take me for her dragoman. I am pleased, for I 
 was not engaged for season, and she say if I satisfy her she 
 keep me in Cairo and on from there."
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT AND A DRAGOMAN 43 
 
 "H'm," I grunted, still screwing in the gimlets. "I see 
 you're not an Egyptian. You have selected the name of an 
 Armenian famous in history. Are you Armenian?" 
 
 "I am the same thing as Egyptian, I bin here for drago- 
 man so many years. I am Mussulman in faith. But I 
 was born Armenian," he admitted. 
 
 "You speak English with an American accent," I 
 went on. "Have you lived in America? " 
 
 "One time a family take me to New York and I stay a 
 year or two. Then I get homesick and come to Egypt 
 again. But I learn to talk maybe some like American, 
 peoples while I am over there." 
 
 It sounded plausible enough, the whole story. And if 
 Mrs. East had snapped the dragoman up under the 
 impression that he came from a man she had determined 
 to meet, the fellow might be no more to blame than any 
 other boaster, touting in his own interest. Still, I had an 
 uneasy feeling that something lay hidden under Armenian 
 plausibility. Bedr el Gemaly was perhaps a thief who 
 had courted a chance for a big haul of jewellery. Yet 
 if that were all, why hadn't he hopped off the train as it 
 began to move, with the ladies' hand luggage? He might 
 easily have got away, and disappeared into space, before 
 we could wire the police of Alexandria to look out for 
 him. He had not done that, but had waited, and risked 
 facing my suspicions. And he must have realized, while 
 in charge of Monny's and Cleopatra's attractive dress- 
 ing bags, that he was missing an opportunity such as 
 might never come to him again. This conduct suggested 
 an honest desire to be a good dragoman. Yet well, 
 I resolved not to let the gimlets rust until Bedr el Gemaly
 
 44 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 had been got rid of. If Mrs. East had really promised 
 him a permanent engagement, she could salve his dis- 
 appointment by giving him a day's pay. I would take 
 the responsibility of sending him about his business. 
 
 Without further parley I opened the letter. It was 
 short, evidently written in a hurry. Anthony had scrib- 
 bled: 
 
 Horribly sorry, dear old Duffer, but I'm wanted by the 
 Powers that Be in Cairo. No other reason could have kept me 
 from Alexandria. I was afraid a wire wouldn't reach you, so I 
 sent a decent old chap by the train I meant to take. He's 
 pledged to find you on the quay, and he will unless some one 
 makes him drunk. This seems unlikely to happen, as he won't 
 be paid till he gets back, and having no friends on earth, no- 
 body will stand him drinks. Beastly luck, but I shan't be able 
 to see you to-night even in Cairo. Tell you all to-morrow 
 and there's a lot to tell, about many things. 
 
 Yours ever, 
 
 A. F. 
 
 The messenger had "no friend on earth," according to 
 Fenton. Then the friendship stated to exist between him 
 and Bedr el Gemaly must have come readymade from 
 heaven, or its opposite. I guessed the nature of the 
 "decent old chap's" illness. But I should have been 
 glad to know whether it had been produced by design or 
 accident. 
 
 When I went back to the ladies, Bedr went with me, 
 at my firm suggestion, and gave them then" handbags 
 to use as footstools. Dinner was ready, and a seat had 
 been kept for me at a table just across the aisle, but before
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT AND A DRAGOMAN 45 
 
 beginning, I explained the real circumstances governing 
 the dragoman's arrival. "Whatever else he may be, 
 he's a shark," I said, "or he wouldn't have traded on a 
 misunderstanding to grab an engagement. You owe 
 him nothing really, but if you choose, give him a sovereign 
 when we get to Cairo, and I'll tell him that I have a 
 dragoman hi view for the party. He'll then have two 
 days' pay, according to the guide-books." 
 
 With this, I slipped into my seat, thinking the matter 
 settled. But between courses, Monny leaned across 
 from her table (she and I had end seats) and said that 
 she and her aunt had been talking about that poor drago- 
 man. "Aunt Clara raised his hopes," the girl went on, 
 "and now Rachel Guest and I think it would be mean to 
 send him away, just because he's hideous." 
 
 " That won't be the reason ! " said I. "It will be because 
 we don't know anything about him, and because in his 
 sharpness he's over-reached himself." 
 
 "But we do know things about him. He showed Aunt 
 Clara letters from people who'd employed him, lots of 
 Americans whose names we've heard, and some we're 
 acquainted with. The tragic thing is, that he finds 
 difficulty in getting engaged because of his face. I've felt 
 guilty ever since I called it a catastrophe. Of course it 
 is; but I said it to be funny, which was cruel. And we 
 deserve to punish ourselves by keeping the poor wretch a 
 few days, or more, if he's good." 
 
 "I thought you wanted a becoming dragoman?" I 
 reminded her. 
 
 "Oh, that was just our silliness. I do like good-looking 
 people, I must say. But what does it matter whether a
 
 46 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 brown person is handsome or homely, when you come to 
 think of it? Besides, we can have another dragoman, too, 
 for ornament, if we run across a very picturesque one." 
 
 I laughed. "But you can't go up the Nile on a boat 
 with a drove of private dragomans, you know!" 
 
 "I don't know, Lord Ernest. And why don't you 
 call them dragomen? You make them sound as if they 
 were some kind of animal." 
 
 "Dragomans is the plural," I persisted. 
 
 "Well, I shall call them dragomen. And if this poor 
 thing can't get any one else to drag, he shall drag us up 
 the Nile, if he's as intelligent in his ways as he is in that 
 one eye, which is so like a hard-boiled egg. You see, Lord 
 Ernest, we're going to have a boat of our own. A steam 
 dahabeah is what we want, so we won't be at the mercy 
 of the wind. And we can have all the dragomen we choose, 
 can't we?" 
 
 "I suppose you can fill up your cabins with them," I 
 agreed, because I felt that the Gilded Rose wished me to 
 argue the point, and that if I did I should be worsted. As 
 I should not be on board the dahabeah in question, it 
 would not matter to me personally if the boat were 
 entirely manned by dragomans. Except that there would 
 in that case probably be a collision, and I should not be 
 near to save Biddy and incidentally the girl Biddy 
 wished me to marry. 
 
 After that, we went on eating our dinner and talking 
 of Egypt, Miss Guest doing all the listening, as usual. 
 When we had finished, we kept our places because we 
 had no others. Cleopatra was curious about my friend's 
 failure to arrive, but I put her off with vaguenesses;
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT AND A DRAGOMAN 47 
 
 and said to myself that, for Anthony's sake, it was well 
 that mysterious business had kept him hi Cairo. Still, I 
 wondered what the business was: why he would be unable 
 to see me that night: and what were the "many things'* 
 he had to tell.
 
 IV 
 A MAN IN A GREEN TURBAN 
 
 I SHALL never know for certain whether or not OUT future 
 was entirely shaped by Monny's resolve to breakfast on 
 the terrace of Shepheard's Hotel next morning. 
 
 A great many remarkable things have happened on 
 that historic site. Napoleon made the place his head- 
 quarters. General Kleber was murdered in the garden. 
 Half the most important people in the world have had 
 tea on the terrace: but, according to a German waiter, 
 there was one deed yet undone. Nobody had ever 
 ordered breakfast out of doors. 
 
 Of course, Monny got what she wanted. Not by 
 storming, not by putting on power-of-wealth airs, but 
 simply by turning bright pink and looking large-eyed. 
 At once that waiter rushed off, and fetched other waiters; 
 and almost before the invited guests knew what to expect, 
 two tables had been fitted together, covered with white, 
 adorned with fresh roses, and set forth with cups and 
 saucers. I was the one man invited, and I felt like an 
 actor called to play a new part in an old scene, a scene 
 vaguely, excitingly familiar. Could I possibly be remem- 
 bering it, I asked myself, or was my impression but the 
 result of a life-long debauch of Egyptian photographs? 
 Anyhow, there was the impression, with a thrill in it; 
 
 48
 
 A MAN IN A GREEN TURBAN 49 
 
 and I felt that I ought to be handsomer, more romantic, 
 altogether more vivid, if I were to live up to the moving 
 picture. It seemed as if nothing would be too extraor- 
 dinary to do, if I wanted to match my surroundings. I 
 thought, even if I burst into a passionate Arab love-song 
 and proposed to Monny across the table, it would be quite 
 the right note. But somehow I didn't feel inclined to 
 propose. It was enough to admire her over the rim 
 of a coffee cup. In her white tussore ( I heard Biddy call 
 it tussore) and drooping, garden-type of hat, she was a 
 different girl from the girl of the ship. She had been a 
 winter girl in white fur, then. Now she was a summer 
 girl, and a radiant vision, twice as pretty as before, 
 especially in this Oriental frame; still I was waiting to see 
 myself fall in love with her, much in the same way that 
 Biddy was waiting. And there was that Oriental frame! 
 It belonged to my past, and perhaps Monny Gilder didn't 
 belong even to my future, so it was excusable if I thought 
 of it more than of her. 
 
 It was hardly nine o'clock, but already the wonderful 
 coloured cinema show of Cairo daily life had begun to 
 flash and flicker past the terrace of Shepheard's, where 
 East and West meet and mingle more sensationally than 
 anywhere in Egypt. Nobody save ourselves had dared 
 suggest breakfast; but travellers were pouring into the 
 hotel, and pouring out. Pretty women and plain women 
 were sitting at the little wicker tables to read letters, or 
 discuss plans for the day with each other or their dragomans. 
 Officers in khaki came and talked to them about golf 
 and gymkhanas. Down on the pavement, close under 
 the balustrade, crowded young and old Egyptian men
 
 50 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 with dark faces and wonderful eyes or no eyes at all, 
 struggling to sell painted post-cards, strings of blue-gray 
 mummy beads; necklaces of cornelian and great lumps 
 of amber; fans, perfumes, sample sticks of smoking 
 incense, toy camels cleverly made of jute; fly whisks 
 from the Sudan with handles of beads and dangling shells; 
 scarab rings and brooches; cheap, gay jewellery, scarfs 
 from Asiut, white, black, pale green and purple, glit- 
 tering like miniature cataracts of silver, as brown arms 
 held them up. Darting Arab urchins hawked tame 
 ichneumons, or shouted newspapers for sale English, 
 American, Greek, French, German, Italian, and Turkish. 
 Copper-tinted, classic-featured youths in white had golden 
 crowns of bananas round then* turbans; withered patri- 
 archs in blue galabeahs offered oranges, or immense 
 bunches of mixed flowers, fresh and fragrant as the morning; 
 or baskets of strawberries red and bright as rubies. 
 Dignified Arabs stalked by, bearing on nobly poised 
 heads pots of growing rose-bushes or arum lilies, or 
 azaleas. Jet-black giants, wound in rainbow-striped cot- 
 tons, clanked brass saucers like cymbals, advertising 
 the sweet drinks in their glass jars, while memory whis- 
 pered in my ears the Arab name "sherbetly." Across 
 the street, clear silver-gold sunshine of winter in Egypt 
 shone on precious stones, on carved ivories, silver anklets, 
 Persian rugs, and embroideries, brilliant as humming- 
 birds' wings, all displayed in the windows of shops where 
 dark eyes looked out eagerly for buyers. Everything was 
 for sale, for sale to the strangers! The whole clam- 
 ouring city seemed to consist of one vast, concentrated 
 desire on the part of brown people to sell things to fair
 
 A MAN IN A GREEN TURBAN 51 
 
 people. They shouted and wheedled and besought on the 
 sidewalks; and the roadway between was a wide river of 
 colour and life. Motor cars with Arab chauffeurs car- 
 ried rich Turks to business, or to an audience of State. 
 Now and then a face of ivory glimmered through a gauzy 
 veil and eyes of ink and diamonds shot starry glances 
 from passing carriage windows. Erect English women 
 drove high dog-carts. Gordon Highlanders swung along 
 in the kilt, more at home in Cairo then in Edinburgh, 
 the droning of their pipes as Oriental as the drone of a 
 raita, or the beat of tom-toms. A wedding party with a 
 hidden bride hi a yellow chariot, met a funeral, and yash- 
 maked faces peeped from curtained windows, in one pro- 
 cession, to stare at the wailing, marching men of the 
 other, and to shrink back hastily from the sight of the 
 coffin. Tangled it would seem inextricably with streams 
 of traffic, surging both ways, moved the "ships of the desert," 
 loaded with emerald-green bersim; long, lilting necks, and 
 calm, mysterious eyes of camels high above the cloaked 
 heads of striding Bedouins, heads of defiant Arab pris- 
 oners, chained and handcuffed to each other; heads of 
 blue-eyed water buffaloes, and heads of trim white, tas- 
 selled donkeys. 
 
 None of us talked very much, as we sat at the break- 
 fast table: the novelty and wonder of the scene made the 
 actors forget their words : and if we had been able to talk, 
 we could not have appreciated each other's rhapsodies, 
 over the shoutings of men who wanted us to buy their 
 wares, and harangues of dragomans who wished, as Monny 
 said, to "drag" us. These latter, especially, were per- 
 sistent, and Bedr the One Eyed, having been forbidden
 
 52 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 to come till ten o'clock, was not on the spot to give pro- 
 tection. Our method at first was to appear oblivious, 
 but presently in my wickedest Arabic, I would have ordered 
 the troop away if Monny had not interfered. 
 
 "Don't!" she said, "they're part of the picture. 
 Besides, they've more right here than we have. It's 
 their country, not ours. And they're so interesting 
 most of them. That tall man over there, for instance, 
 with the green turban. He's the only one who hasn't 
 opened his mouth. Just to show him that virtue's its 
 own reward, I'm going to engage him. Will you call 
 him to us, please, Lord Ernest?" 
 
 Sitting as I sat, I could not see the person indicated. 
 "What do you want him for, Miss Gilder?" I obeyed 
 temptation, and asked. 
 
 "Why, to be a dragoman, of course," she explained. 
 "That's what he's for. I told you, I'd have a picturesque 
 one for ornament. This creature's a perfect specimen." 
 
 I stood up reluctantly, and looked down over the 
 balustrade. "A man with a green turban?" I repeated. 
 "But that means he's a Hadji, who's been to Mecca and 
 back. I never heard of a dragoman " 
 
 I stopped short in my argument. My eyes had found 
 the man with the green turban. 
 
 He stood at some distance behind the pavement- 
 merchants and self-advertising dragomans who pressed 
 against the railing. In his long galabeah of Sudan silk, 
 ashes of roses in colour, he was tall and straight as a palm, 
 gravely dignified with his folded arms and the haughty 
 remoteness of his expression. Dark and silent, half- 
 disdainf ul, half -amused, he was like a prince compared with
 
 A MAN IN A GREEN TURBAN 53 
 
 his humbler brethren; but there was another resemblance 
 more relevant and intimate which cut my sentence short. 
 
 "By Jove," I thought, "how like he is to Anthony 
 Fenton!" 
 
 He was looking, not at me, but at Miss Gilder, quite 
 respectfully yet hypnotically, as if by way of an experi- 
 ment he had been willing her to find and single out the 
 one motionless figure, the one person whose tongue had 
 not called attention to himself. 
 
 Yes, I thought again, he was an Arab copy of Anthony, 
 but more as Anthony had been years ago before his 
 moustache grew, than as Anthony had become in late 
 years. Still, there were the aquiline features, the long, 
 rather sad eyes shaded with thick, straight lashes, the 
 eyebrows raised at the bridge of the thin nose, then 
 sloping steeply down toward the temples; the slight 
 working of muscles in the cheeks; the peculiarly charm- 
 ing mouth which could be irresistible in a smile, the 
 stern, contradictory chin marring by its prominence the 
 otherwise perfect oval of the face. I wondered if An- 
 thony had as noble a throat as this collarless galabeah 
 left uncovered, reminding myself that I could not at all 
 recall Anthony's throat. Then, as the sombre eyes turned 
 to me, drawn perhaps by my stare, I was stunned, 
 flabbergasted, what you will, by realizing that Anthony 
 himself was looking at me from under the green turban. 
 
 The dark face was blankly expressionless. He might 
 have been gazing through my head. His eyes neither 
 twinkled with fun nor sent a message of warning; 
 but somehow I knew that he saw me, that he had been 
 watching me for a long tirae.
 
 54 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "You see the one I mean, don't you?" asked Monny. 
 " Well, that's the one I want. I'll take him." 
 
 She spoke as if she were selecting a horse at a horse 
 show. 
 
 Anthony had brought this on himself, but I was not 
 angry with Anthony. I was angry with the girl for 
 putting her finger into our pie. 
 
 "That 'snot a dragoman," I assured her. "If he were, 
 he'd come and bawl out his accomplishments, as the 
 others do. He's a very different sort of chap." 
 
 "That's why I want him," said Monny. "And if he 
 isn't a dragoman, he'll jump at being one if I offer to 
 pay him enough. He's an Egyptian, anyhow, by his 
 clothes, or a Bedouin or something although he isn't 
 as dark as the rest of these men. I suppose he must 
 know a little about his own city and country." 
 
 "It doesn't follow he'd tell travellers about them 
 for money," said I. "He looks to me a man of good 
 birth and distinction in old fashioned dress. Why he's 
 lingering on the pavement in front of this hotel I can't 
 explain, but I'm certain he isn't touting. Probably he's 
 waiting for a friend." 
 
 "He's the best looking Arab we've seen yet," remarked 
 Mrs. East. "Like my idea of an Egyptian gentleman." 
 
 "Pooh!" said Monny. "Just test him, Lord Ernest." 
 
 "Sorry, but I can't do it," I answered, with a firmness 
 which ought to have been tried on her long ago. "And 
 I wouldn't discuss him in such a loud tone of voice. He 
 may understand English." 
 
 "We have to yell to hear ourselves speak over all 
 this row," Biddy apologized for her darling; but she need
 
 A MAN IN A GREEN TURBAN 55 
 
 not have troubled herself. Miss Gilder had been deaf 
 to my implied reproach. 
 
 "I'm glad I'm an American girl," she said. "When 
 I want things I want them so dreadfully I just go for 
 them, and surprise them so much that I get them before 
 they know where they are. Now I'm going for this 
 dragoman." 
 
 "He's not a drag " I persisted, but she cut me 
 
 short. 
 
 "I bet you my hat he will be one! What will you bet 
 that he won't, Lord Ernest?" 
 
 "I'll bet you his green turban," said I. 
 
 "How can you get it?" 
 
 "As easily as you can get him," I retorted. "It's 
 a safe bet." 
 
 Monny looked excited, but firm. Luckily, as she does 
 it so often, it's becoming to her to look firm. (I have 
 noticed that it's not becoming to most girls. It squares 
 their jaws and makes their eyes snap.) But the spoiled 
 daughter of the dead Cannon King at her worst, merely 
 looks pathetically earnest and Minerva-like. This, I sup- 
 pose, is one of the "little ways" she has acquired, since she 
 gave up kicking and screaming people into submission. 
 As Biddy says, the girl can be charming not only when she 
 wants to be, but quite often when she doesn't. 
 
 The man with the green turban was no longer engaged 
 in hypnotizing. He had retired within himself, and appeared 
 oblivious to the outer world. Yet nobody jostled the tall, 
 straight figure which stood with folded arms, lightly 
 leaning against a tree. The colour of his turban was sacred 
 in the eyes of the crowd; and when Miss Gilder, leaning
 
 56 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 over the terrace railing beckoned him, surprise rather than 
 jealousy showed on the faces of the unwanted dragomans. 
 As for the wearer of the turban, he did what I expected 
 and wished him to do: paid not the slightest attention 
 to the gesture. Whatever the motive for his masquerade, 
 it was not to attract anything feminine. 
 
 I smiled sardonically. "That's a nice hat you've got 
 on, Miss Gilder," I remarked. 
 
 "Do you collect girls' hats?" she asked sweetly. 
 "But mine isn't eligible yet for your collection. Let me 
 see, what did you say he was? Oh, a Hadji!" And she 
 shrilled forth sweetly, her voice sounding young and 
 clear, "Hadji! Hadji! Effendi! Venez ici, s'il vous plait. 
 Please come here." 
 
 I could have been knocked flat by a blow of the 
 smallest, cheapest ostrich feather in the hands of any 
 street-merchant. For he came. Anthony came! Not 
 to look meekly up from the pavement below the railing, 
 but to ascend the steps of the terrace, and advance with 
 grave dignity toward our table. Within a yard of us he 
 stopped, giving to me, not to Miss Gilder, the beautiful 
 Arab salute, a touch on forehead and heart. 
 
 "You devil!" I was saying to myself. "So you walk 
 into this trap, do you, and calmly trust me to get you out. 
 Serve you right if I don't move hand or foot." And I 
 almost made up my mind that I wouldn't. But I was 
 interested. I wanted intensely to know what the dickens 
 Anthony was up to, and whether he would have been up 
 to it if he'd known the sort of young woman he had to 
 deal with. 
 
 "It was I who called to you, not this gentleman,"
 
 A MAN IN A GREEN TURBAN 57 
 
 said Monny, when she found that Green Turban did not 
 look at her. "Do you speak French or English a little?" 
 
 "A little of both. But I choose French when talking 
 to Americans," replied Anthony Fenton, with astounding 
 impertinence, in the preferred language. "I do not know 
 you, Madame. But I do know this gentleman." 
 
 Good heavens! What next? He acknowledged me! 
 What was I to do now? What did the impudent fellow 
 want me to do? Evidently he was trying an experiment. 
 Anthony is great on experiments, and always has been. 
 But this was a bomb. I thought he wanted to see if I 
 could catch it on the fly, and drop it into water before it 
 had time to explode. 
 
 "Why didn't you tell us, Lord Ernest?" asked Monny, 
 with a flash in her gray eyes. "I thought you hadn't been 
 in Egypt since you were a child." 
 
 "I haven't, and I didn't recognize him at first," I 
 answered, trying for the coolness which Anthony dared 
 to count upon. 
 
 "You remember me now?" he inquired politely. 
 
 "I er yes," I replied, also in French. "Your 
 face is familiar, though you've changed, I think, since 
 er since you were in England. It must have been 
 there yes, of course. You were on a diplomatic 
 mission. But your name " 
 
 "You may have known me as Ahmed Antoun," said 
 the wretch, not dreaming of that slip he had made. 
 
 Cleopatra, who has little French, nevertheless started, 
 and fixed upon the face under the turban a stare of 
 feverish interest. Brigit and the unobtrusive lady with 
 the slanting eyes both showed such symptoms of surprise
 
 58 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 as must too late have warned Fenton that he had missed 
 his footing, skating on thin ice. 
 
 "Antoun!" exclaimed Mrs. East. "Why, that's what 
 you said you called your friend Captain Fenton." 
 
 I glanced at Anthony. His profile had no more ex- 
 pression than that of an Indian on an American penny, 
 and, indeed, rather resembled it. If he were blaming 
 me for letting anything out, I had a right to blame 
 huii for letting himself in. He was silent as well as 
 expressionless. He left it all to me diplomat or 
 duffer. 
 
 "'Antoun Effendi' was the nickname my friend 
 Fenton got at school," I explained to Cleopatra, "be- 
 cause it sounded a bit like his own name, and because 
 he had er because he had associations with Egypt. 
 He was proud of them and is still. But Antoun is a 
 name often heard here. And every man who isn't a 
 Bey or a Prince, or a Sheikh, is an Effendi. I quite 
 remember you now," I hurried on, turning to Anthony 
 once more. "You are Hadji as well as Effendi." 
 
 "I have the right to call myself so, if I choose," he 
 admitted. "I am pleased to meet you again. I was 
 waiting for a friend when you beckoned. If you did not 
 recognize my face at first, may I ask what it was you 
 wanted of me?" 
 
 There was no limit, then, to his audacity. He had 
 not learned his lesson yet, after all, it would seem. 
 
 Monny could not bear tamely to lose her hat, though 
 she must have felt her hatpins trembling in the balance. 
 "I told you before," she repeated, "that it was I who 
 beckoned you."
 
 A MAN IN A GREEN TURBAN 59 
 
 He looked at her, without speaking; and somehow the 
 green turban and the long straight gown, by adding to his 
 dignity, added also to his remote air of cold politeness. 
 How could she go on? Had she the cheek to go on? 
 She had ; but the cheek was flushed with embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 "I er I am anxious for a guide, some one who 
 knows Egypt well, and several languages," she desper- 
 ately blurted out, looking like a half-frightened, half- 
 defiant child. " I thought " 
 
 "There are plenty of dragomans, Madame," Green 
 Turban reminded her. "I can recommend you several." 
 
 "I don't want a regular dragoman," she said. "And 
 I'm not 'Madame.' I am Miss Gilder." 
 
 "Indeed?" Chilling indifference in the tone. (Monny's 
 hat was practically mine. I thought I should rather 
 value it.) 
 
 "Yes. But of course that can't matter to you." 
 
 "No. It cannot, Mademoiselle." 
 
 "What I want to say, is this. You're a Hadji, which 
 means you've been to Mecca; Lord Ernest Sorrow's just 
 told us. So you must be very intelligent. Are you in 
 business? " 
 
 "I am interested in excavations." 
 
 "Oh! And are you allowed to make them yourself?" 
 
 "Not always." 
 
 I glanced at him quickly, wondering if he meant that 
 answer more for me than for the girl. But his face told 
 nothing. 
 
 " Would you be able to, if you were rich enough? " 
 
 "It is possible."
 
 60 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 " Well, I'd be willing to give you a big salary for showing 
 us about Cairo, and perhaps going up the Nile." 
 
 "You do not know who I am, Mademoiselle. Ask 
 your friend Lord Ernest Borrow. Perhaps he may 
 remember something about my circumstances now he 
 has recalled my face." 
 
 I was honestly not sure whether this were further 
 deviltry, or an appeal for help. In any case, I thought it 
 time for the scene to end. "I told you," I said to Monny 
 in English, "that he was a man of importance, not at all 
 the sort of person you could expect to engage for a guide. 
 You must see now that he's a gentleman. And a a 
 an Egyptian gentleman is just the same as any other." 
 
 " Surely not quite!" she answered in the same language, 
 and I realized my foolish mistake in using it, as if I meant 
 her to understand that Antoun Effendi knew it too little 
 to catch our secrets. 
 
 "An Egyptian man can't have the same feelings as a 
 European? Why, for hundreds and hundreds of years 
 they've been an enslaved race, like our black people 
 at home. We'd never think of calling even the fairest 
 quadroon man a gentleman, though he might be won- 
 derfully good looking and nice mannered." 
 
 Literally, I was frightened. Anthony Fenton is 
 fiercely devoted to the memory of the beautiful princess- 
 mother, for love of whom his father's career was ruined. 
 Her mother was a Sicilian woman, and her father was half 
 Greek, so there is little enough Egyptian blood, after all, 
 in the veins of General Fenton's son. He is proud of what 
 there is proud, because of his mother's fatal charm, and 
 the romance of her story (it was on the eve of her wedding
 
 A MAN IN A GREEN TURBAN 61 
 
 with a cousin of the Sultan that the famous soldier Charles 
 Fenton ran away with Princess Lalla and married her in 
 Sicily): but he is sensitive, too, because, great name as 
 Charles Fenton had made in Egypt, he was asked to 
 resign his commission on account of the escapade. An- 
 thony, sent to England to a public school, had fought big- 
 ger boys than himself, who, in a certain tone, had sneeringly 
 called him "Egyptian." I imagined now that through 
 the dark stain on his face I could see him turn pale with 
 rage. He thought, perhaps, that the American beauty 
 was revenging herself for his impertinence, and maybe 
 he was right, but that did not excuse her. 
 
 "Be careful, Miss Gilder!" I warned the girl. "This 
 man understands English better than you think. He 
 comes of a princely family and he's got only to put out 
 his hand to claim a fortune " 
 
 "You seem to remember all about me now, Lord 
 Ernest," broke in Fenton, looking dangerous. 
 
 "Yes," I said. "It comes back to me. You must 
 forgive Miss Gilder." 
 
 "There is nothing to forgive," he caught me up. 
 "I am not a dragoman, to be sure, but I'm enough of an 
 Egyptian to have a price for anything I do. I may put 
 myself at this lady's service if she will pay my price, 
 though I'm not a servant and can't accept wages, even 
 for the sake of pursuing my excavations!" 
 
 He continued to speak in French, lest my companions' 
 suspicions should be further roused by the English of an 
 Englishman; and Monny, pale after her blush, answered 
 in neat, schoolgirl French, with a pretty American 
 accent.
 
 62 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "What's the price you wish to name?" she inquired, 
 looking a little afraid of him and ashamed of herself, 
 now that talk of princes and fortunes was bandied about. 
 "Of course," she went on, when he did not answer at 
 once, "if I'd known all this, I shouldn't have asked 
 you to be a dragoman. At least, perhaps I shouldn't. 
 Anyhow, I shouldn't have made a bet " 
 
 "A bet that I would have a 'price,' Mademoiselle? 
 Then you may win your bet, for I've just told you; I have 
 a price. But I think it unlikely you would be willing to 
 pay it." 
 
 "Good heavens, is he going to try and marry the 
 girl?" I asked myself. It would be the last thing to 
 expect of Anthony Fenton. However, he had already 
 done the last but one; the thing I had bet his green turban 
 he would not do. After all, he was a man, and a reckless 
 man, as he had proved on more than one wild occasion. 
 He was in a strange mood, capable of anything; and the 
 Gilded Rose could never have been prettier in her life 
 than at this minute. She had made him furious, and I 
 had imagined that his acceptance of her overtures was 
 the beginning of some scheme of punishment. Now 
 I was almost sure I had been right, yet I could not guess 
 what he would be at. Neither could Monny. But here 
 was the dangerously picturesque Arab who "must be a 
 prince or something," as Cleopatra had expressed it. 
 And he was even more dangerous than picturesque. 
 
 "You you said you wouldn't take wages," she 
 stammered (I enjoyed hearing the self-willed young 
 person stammer): "so I can't understand what you 
 mean. But even though you are all those things Lord
 
 A MAN IN A GREEN TURBAN 63 
 
 Ernest says you are, your price can't be so terribly high 
 as to be beyond my power to pay if I choose to pay." 
 
 "First, Mademoiselle, I must decide whether I choose 
 to be paid." 
 
 "Oh!" Monny exclaimed, taken aback. "I thought it 
 was a question of price." 
 
 "Not only that. 'I may put myself at the lady's ser- 
 vice for a price,' was what I said. I didn't say, ' I will.' 
 I shall not be able to tell you until to-night." The patron- 
 izing tone in which Anthony spoke this sentence was 
 worth to me everything I had gone through in the last 
 half hour. 
 
 " But I want to settle things this morning or not 
 at all," said Monny, reverting to type: that of the spoiled 
 child. 
 
 "I am sorry," replied the man of the green turban. 
 "In that case, it must be not at all." And he made as 
 if to go. 
 
 The Gilded Girl could not bear this. I and the 
 others would see that she was fallible; that there were 
 things she wanted which she could not get. "Why 
 can't you tell me now what your price is? " she persisted. 
 
 "Because, Mademoiselle, I may not need to tell you 
 ever. It depends partly on another than myself." He 
 threw a quick glance at me. "I expect to meet that 
 other at Abdullahi's Cafe in an hour from now at latest. 
 Everything will depend on the interview. In any case, 
 I will let you know to-night what I can do." 
 
 "I may not be in," said Monny. "But if I'm out, 
 you can leave a note." 
 
 " If I must refuse to serve you, yes, I can leave a note.
 
 64 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 If I am to accept, I must see you in person. Should 
 you be out, 1 11 take it for granted that you have changed 
 your mind and do not want" he smiled faintly for 
 the first time "so expensive a guide." 
 
 Monny hesitated. "I am not stingy. I'll stay at 
 home this evening," she volunteered at last. 
 
 "Bravo Petruchio!" I said under my breath. But 
 if Biddy's plot were to succeed, it was my business to 
 play the part of Petruchio to this Katherine. Let the 
 masquerading prince find a Desdemona who would suit 
 his Othello!
 
 THE CAFE OF ABDULLAHI 
 
 "WELL you got away from them all right?" began the 
 man with the green turban when, according to his round- 
 about instructions, I met him an hour later at the cafe 
 he had named, one of the principal resorts of Cairo, 
 where Europeans can consort with natives without 
 attracting remark. 
 
 "The real dragoman came and took them off my hands 
 at least the realer one than you a dreadful creature 
 with a game eye, who murdered your messenger last 
 night, and gave me your letter and induced the ladies 
 to engage him on the strength of it. No wonder they 
 want a 'looker' to take the taste of him out of their 
 mouths. And you certainly are a 'looker ' in that get-up. 
 Now kindly tell me all about it, and everything else." 
 
 "That's what I'm here for," said Anthony, running a 
 match-box to earth in some mysterious Arab pocket. 
 "But hold on, Duffer. Something you said just then 
 may be important. Is it true that my messenger didn't 
 give you the letter?" 
 
 "If you'd hung about Shepheard's Hotel ten minutes 
 longer, you'd have seen the fellow who did give it. Bedr 
 el Genaaly he calls himself Armenian Mussulman, a 
 sickening combination, and an awful brute to look at
 
 66 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 said your messenger was taken suddenly ill; pretends to be 
 a dragoman." 
 
 "What is he like?" 
 
 "Rather like a partially decayed but decently dressed 
 goat." 
 
 "Don't rot. This may be serious." 
 
 I described Bedr el Gemaly as best I could, feature by 
 feature. When I had polished them off, Anthony shook 
 his green-turbaned head. "No portrait of him in my 
 rogues' gallery. Just now, I'm sensitive about spies 
 over-sensitive rather. Of course, you've spotted my 
 game?" 
 
 "I confess I was conceited enough to think you'd 
 given yourself all this trouble with the costumier in order 
 to take a rise out of me. But when you speak of spies, I 
 begin to put two and two together your business in 
 Cairo the powers that be, keeping you from me last 
 night, etc. I suppose it's an official job, this fancy dress 
 affair?" 
 
 "Yes. In my own capacity, I'm not in Cairo. I 
 turned up day before yesterday, jolly glad to get back 
 from Adrianople though it was good fun there, I can 
 tell you, for a while; and I looked forward to wallowing 
 no end in the alleged delights of civilization. I reported 
 myself, and all seemed well. I took a room at Shepheard's 
 where you and I had arranged to meet, and when I'd 
 scrubbed, I strolled over to the Turf Club to see what the 
 gay world would have to say to a fellow in disgrace." 
 
 "Only silly asses swallowed that newspaper spoof! 
 Every one in London who knows anything about you 
 was betting his boots that the story had been spread
 
 THE CAFE OF ABDULLAHI 67 
 
 on purpose to save our face with Turkey." I couldn't 
 resist interrupting his narrative to this extent. But 
 Anthony merely smiled, and watched a long-lived smoke- 
 ring settle like a halo over the head of an Arab at the 
 nearest table. He was not giving away official secrets,, 
 but I was sure and always had been sure that he was a 
 martyr, not a rebel, in the matter of the Balkan incident, 
 just closed. What the public were led to suppose was 
 this: that Captain Fenton had asked for two months' 
 leave from regimental duty at Khartum, in order to 
 spend the time with a relative who was seriously ill in 
 Constantinople. That instead of remaining at his rela- 
 tive's bedside, he had used his leave for a dash to the 
 Balkans. That this indiscretion might have been kept 
 a secret had he not capped it with another: a flight with 
 a Greek officer in an army aeroplane which had ended by 
 crashing down in the midst of a Turkish encampment. 
 
 What I and friends who knew him best supposed, was 
 that the "leave" had been a pretext that Fenton had 
 been sent on a secret mission of some sort and that 
 he was bound to take the blame if anything went wrong. 
 Aeroplanes have the habits of other fierce, untamed 
 animals: they won't always obey their trainers. Thus 
 Anthony and his plan had both been upset. (Or had it 
 really been premeditated that he should fail into that 
 camp?) The remainder of his "leave" was cancelled, in 
 punishment, and he had been "recalled" to Egypt, to be 
 scolded in Cairo before proceeding to Khartum. 
 
 "Queer how many silly asses one knows!" Anthony 
 said. "Still, considering what a mess I seem to have 
 made of things, fellows were jolly kind, at the Turf Club.
 
 68 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Nobody cut me, and only a few let me alone. Maybe 
 there'd have been still fewer if there hadn't been a hero 
 present who claimed attention: an American chap, Jack 
 Dennis, who knows Miss Gilder and was telling the good 
 news that she was on her way to Egypt. He called her 
 the Gilded Rose and said it was going to be a good flower 
 season in Cairo and up the Nile. All the men with one 
 exception seemed to have heard a lot about her and to 
 find her an interesting subject, and to want Dennis to 
 introduce them." 
 
 "I can guess the 'one exception'!" said I. 
 
 "Can you? Well, I don't read newspaper gossip 
 about heiresses. Thank heaven, I've something better 
 to do with my time. But the others wanted to meet her, 
 or pretended to, perhaps to chaff Dennis, rather a cocky 
 youth, though I oughtn't to say so, as he was nice to me, 
 according to his lights. He got Sam Blake to introduce 
 us, when he happened to hear my name, and went out of 
 his way to pay me compliments, which I daresay he 
 thought I'd like. When there was a lull in the discussion 
 of what could be done to make Miss Gilder enjoy herself 
 in Egypt chaps suggesting trips in their motor cars 
 or on their camels and a lot of rot, Dennis remarked that 
 I was the only man who hadn't chipped into the conversa- 
 tion. And hadn't I any ideas for entertaining the Golden 
 Girl? Naturally I said that I didn't know who she was 
 and had never heard of her, and even if I had, entertaining 
 girls wasn't in my line. They all roared, and Dennis 
 wouldn't believe at first that I didn't know of such an 
 important person's existence; but the other men rotted 
 a bit, and described me to him according to their notions
 
 THE CAFE OF ABDULLAHI 69 
 
 of me. So he let me alone on the subject; and having 
 plenty of other things to think of, I forgot all about it 
 till the lady in question introduced herself this morning. 
 Then well, it struck me as rather amusing at first that 
 I, the only one in the crowd who hadn't made plans 
 to get at her, should have her trying to get at me. That 
 was partly why I came up on the terrace when she 
 beckoned." 
 
 "Partly? For purely intellectual reasons I'm curious 
 to know the rest. I suppose it had nothing to do with her 
 looks?" 
 
 "As it happened, my cynical friend, it hadn't. I've 
 got eyes in my head and I could see she was pretty, very 
 pretty, though not my ideal type at all. That little 
 sprite of a woman in fawn colour, the one with green 
 eyes and a lot of black lashes, is more what I'd fall in 
 love with if I were frivolous. But apart from the funny 
 side of my meeting with Miss Golder, or Gilder, it popped 
 into my head that I might make her a victim in a certain 
 cause. Don't ask me to explain yet, because there are a 
 lot of things that have got to be explained first, or you 
 couldn't understand. You were right, of course, when 
 you thought I'd stationed myself in front of Shepheard's 
 to take a rise out of you. I gave up my room there 
 yesterday, for reasons I'll tell you. But I knew you'd 
 be in the hotel, and that you'd be bound to show yourself 
 on the terrace, in order to go out. I wanted to see if 
 you'd recognize me, and to have a little fun with you if 
 you didn't. By the way, I'm not pleased that you 
 did. It's a poor compliment to my make-up, which I 
 may tell you has been warmly praised in high quarters!"
 
 70 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "Well, you see," I apologized, "I knew you were a 
 nailer at that sort of thing, or you would never have got 
 to Mecca, and earned your green turban. I knew you'd 
 been pretty often called upon to disguise yourself and go 
 about among the natives for one thing or another. And 
 besides, we were chums before you had the shadow of a 
 moustache, so I have an advantage over the other Sher- 
 lock Holmeses ! But even as it was, I couldn't be sure at 
 first. You must have got some fun out of my expression." 
 
 "I did. I took revenge on you for recognizing me by 
 tormenting you as far as I dared. Dear old boy, I knew 
 you'd see me through to the end, bitter or sweet!" 
 
 "Which was it?" I inquired. 
 
 "Mixed. The girl riled me, rather, so much so that 
 I definitely decided it would be fair play to make use of 
 her as a cat's-paw. But it depends on you, whether she's 
 to lose or win her bet." 
 
 " If she loses, I get her hat. If she wins, I've engaged 
 myself to procure for her your green turban." 
 
 "Did you think you could, without my consent?" 
 
 "No. I distinctly thought I couldn't. But I would 
 have been willing to bet the head in the turban, served 
 up on a charger, so sure I was that you'd refuse to come near 
 her. I thought I knew you au fond, you see." 
 
 "You do. I haven't changed. But circumstances 
 have changed. And that brings me near to the stage of 
 this business which concerns you and me. First, before 
 I go further though, I'll tell you a part of the reason why 
 I'm sporting the green turban. There's been the dickens 
 to pay here, about a new street that had to be made; an 
 immensely important and necessary street. Well, they
 
 THE CAFE OF ABDULLAHI 71 
 
 couldn't make it, because the tomb of a popular saint or 
 sheikh was in the way. To move the body or even disturb 
 a saint's tomb would mean no end of a row. You remember 
 or have read enough about Mohammedans to know that. 
 What to do, was the question. Nobody'd been able to 
 answer it till yesterday, when the sight of me reminded 
 them of a trick or two I'd brought off some time ago, by 
 disguising myself and hanging about the cafes. They 
 wanted me to try it again. Consequently Captain A. 
 Fenton received a telegram and had to leave Cairo at once 
 on business. He gave up his room at Shepheard's, and 
 the only regrettable thing to the official mind is, that the 
 fellow'd been seen about town even for an hour. How- 
 ever, it couldn't be helped. Luckily Ahmed Antoun is not 
 unknown in Cairo cafes. He's made quite an impression 
 upon the public on several occasions since his pilgrimage 
 to Mecca, two years ago. And since yesterday afternoon 
 he's been drinking enough coffee to give him jaundice, 
 while casually spreading the story of a dream he had. Our 
 friend the Hadji related how he had slept in the mosque of 
 Ibn Tulun after the noon hour, and dreamed of the sheikh 
 whose tomb is so inconveniently placed. In the dream, 
 the saint clamoured to have his tomb moved on account of 
 a bad smell of drainage which he considers an insult to his 
 own memory. Also dogs have taken to howling round his 
 resting-place at night, and you know that to the true 
 believer a dog is an unclean animal. Except for hunting 
 purposes, or watch-dogging in various branches, good 
 Mohammedans class dogs and Christians together in their 
 mind. Well, already the Hadji's dream is working like 
 yeast. The news of it is being carried from one cafe to
 
 72 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 another; and I hope that a few more nights' work will do 
 the trick. The votaries of the saint will get up a petition 
 to have his body moved. When it has found another 
 abode, the making of the new thoroughfare will be sug- 
 gested." 
 
 "Very neat! I see it all,, except the connection with 
 Miss Gilder. What has your saint got to do with her?" 
 
 "Very little, I should say, by the look in her eyes. 
 But though a green turban's as good as an heirloom, and 
 extorts respect wherever it goes, even a Hadji may have 
 jealous detractors. I have mine. Another green turban 
 in this town, whose genuineness is doubted for some ob- 
 scure reason or other, has sneered at my dream." 
 
 "I say! That sounds as if you might be in danger. 
 If one man suspects you to-day, to-morrow " 
 
 "Oh, it's only the dream he suspects at present. 
 I know all the little prayer tricks so well, and I've in- 
 vented my own history so ingeniously, with a patois 
 to match my province, that I shall get through this 
 incident as I have through others of the sort. There's 
 only one hole in my jebbah. Last night, when my rival 
 sprang a sudden question as to what I was doing in 
 Cairo (I'm supposed to be a Luxor man), on the spur of the 
 moment I replied that I was acting as dragoman to a 
 rich family of tourists. On that, the brute inquired with 
 honeyed accents where they were staying. I said Shep- 
 heard's, because I expected you to be there, and thought 
 if I were followed, you might be useful as a dummy." 
 
 "Ah, that's where Miss Gilder comes in? A gilded 
 gingerbread lamb, ready for the sacrifice. Why didn't 
 you accept her offer at once, as she seemed so providential?"
 
 THE CAFE* OF ABDULLAHI 73 
 
 "I'm coming to that. It sounds complicated, but it 
 isn't. For one thing, though, it may be well to wait and 
 find out a little more about that goat-eyed Armenian 
 of yours." 
 
 "He isn't mine. He's " 
 
 "I want to know for certain whose he is. If he has 
 anything to do with my rival Hadji, there's more venom 
 and wit inside that green turban than I've given it 
 credit for. Is there a reason, by the way, except their 
 riches, why one should want to 'get at' a member of 
 the American party?" 
 
 " By Jove ! " said I, as if I had been pinched for there 
 was a sharp nip in the thought Anthony's question jabbed 
 into my mind. I had disliked and distrusted Bedr el 
 Gemaly, but I had associated my distaste for him with 
 Fenton's affairs. It had not occurred to me that Biddy's 
 fears meant more than a nervous woman's vague fore- 
 bodings. During the few hideous years of hide-and-seek 
 she had passed in trying to protect the traitor, Richard 
 O'Brien, she had no doubt had real enough reason to 
 dread a spy in every stranger; but I had cheerfully advised 
 her "not to be morbid" when she spoke of herself as a 
 dangerous companion, or stopped me with a gasp in the 
 midst of what seemed an innocent question about her 
 stepdaughter. Could it be possible that her alarms 
 might after all be justified, and that the powerful associa- 
 tion betrayed by O 'Brien would visit his sins on his widow 
 and daughter? That American accent of Gemaly 's! 
 He admitted having been in New York. Of course, he 
 had made acquaintances there. My thoughts flashed 
 back to the meeting at the railway train. Could the
 
 74 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 fellow have found out in advance that I was with Mrs. 
 O'Brien, [alias Jones] and her friends? It seemed as 
 if such knowledge could have reached land ahead of us 
 only by miracle. But there was always Marconi. Per- 
 haps news of Miss Gilder had been sent by wireless to 
 Alexandria, with our humbler names starred as satellites 
 of that bright planet. If this were so, Bedr, instructed 
 from afar to watch Richard O'Brien's widow, might 
 easily have been clever enough to suborn a messenger 
 waiting for one Ernest Borrow. 
 
 "What are you mumbling about?" Anthony wanted 
 to know, when I forgot to answer. "Have I put some 
 idea that you don't like into your head? " 
 
 "I was turning your question over in it," I explained, 
 "and wondering what to answer. Of course, Miss 
 Gilder's rather important, and I believe her father's 
 obsession used to be when she was a child, that she'd be 
 kidnapped for ransom. The 'little sprite of a woman' 
 you admire so much, knew the Gilders in those days. 
 She says that the unfortunate baby used to be dragged 
 about in a kind of caged perambulator, and that some of 
 her nurses were female detectives in disguise, with re- 
 volvers under their white aprons. No wonder the girl 
 revels in emancipation and travel! I should think, now 
 she's grown up to twenty-one years and five foot eight 
 or nine of height, without being kidnapped, there's 
 not much danger so long as she keeps in the boundaries 
 of civilization. Still, one never knows, in such a queer 
 world as ours, where newspapers live on happenings 
 we'd laugh to scorn if they came out of novel writers' 
 brains."
 
 THE CAFE OF ABDULLAHI 75 
 
 "That's the only incentive you can suggest for spying, 
 unconnected with my affairs?" 
 
 I hesitated, for Biddy's secret was not my secret, and 
 it seemed that I had no right to pass it on, even to my 
 best friend. I must ask Biddy's permission before telling 
 Fenton that Mrs. Jones was the widow of the informer 
 Richard O'Brien; that she feared over-subtlety on the part 
 of the enemy might confuse her girl travelling companion 
 with Esme O'Brien, hidden in a convent school near 
 Monaco. "It's just credible that there may be other 
 incentives," I said. "But I must confess, I'd rather be- 
 lieve that Armenian spies were on the track of Ahmed 
 Antoun, who can take care of himself, than after poor Miss 
 Gilder or any of her party." 
 
 "What's the name of the laughing sprite?" suddenly 
 asked Fenton. 
 
 "Mrs. er Jones. Brigit Jones." 
 
 "Where's her husband?" 
 
 "In his grave." 
 
 " Oh ! Well, his widow looks ready to bubble over with 
 the joy of life, so I suppose we can't associate spies or 
 anything shady with her? That's too much to hope for? " 
 
 "Why to 'hope' for?" 
 
 "It would make her too interesting." 
 
 "Look here, my dear fellow, you can't have them 
 both!" 
 
 The dark eyes of Antoun lit with a spark of surprise 
 and laughter. "I don't want either, thanks. I admire 
 flowers, but I never gather them. I leave them growing. 
 However, you might tell me which one you want for your 
 own buttonhole?"
 
 76 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "Really, I don't know," I mumbled, taken aback. 
 "All I do know is, it's not likely I can get either." 
 
 Anthony stared at me with a curious expression, then 
 abruptly changed the subject. "You've heard of Sir 
 Marcus Lark?" he asked. 
 
 "Of course," said I, surprised at this question sand- 
 wiched into our affairs. Sir Marcus Lark is a man who 
 has had his finger in many pies, but I didn't see how he 
 could poke one into ours. Everybody knows Sir M. A. 
 Lark, given a baronetcy by the Radicals some years ago 
 in return for services to the party starting and running 
 a newspaper which must have cost him fifty thousand 
 pounds before it began to pay. He has financed theatres, 
 and vegetarian restaurants; he owns cocoa plantations and 
 factories, and a garden city; he has a racing yacht which 
 once beat the German Emperor's; he owns two hotels; 
 he has written a book of travel; his name as a director is 
 sought by financial companies; he has lent money to a 
 distressed South American government in the making; 
 and though the success of his enterprises has sometimes 
 hung in the balance for months or years, his wonderful 
 luck seems invariably to triumph in the end; so much so, 
 that "Lark's Luck" has become a well-known heading 
 for newspaper columns, in the middle of which his photo- 
 graph is inset. At the mention of his name, the oft- 
 seen picture rose before my eyes a big man, anywhere 
 between thirty-six and fifty good head, large forehead, 
 curly hair, kind eyes, pugnacious nose, conceited smile 
 under waxed moustache, heavy jaw, unconquerable chin, 
 and prize-fighter's neck and shoulders. "What has Sir 
 Marcus Lark to do with us? "
 
 THE CAFE OF ABDULLAHI 77 
 
 "He's in Egypt in Cairo just now; and he's got 
 our mountain." 
 
 "Good heavens!" I stared blankly at Anthony, seeing 
 not his dark face under the green turban, but that ever- 
 lasting, ever-smiling newspaper block portrait. Down 
 toppled our castle in the air, Anthony's and mine 
 the shining castle which had been the lodestone of my 
 journey to Egypt, the secret hope and romance of our two 
 lives, for all those months since Anthony first read the 
 Ferlini papers and began negotiations with the Egyptian 
 Government. 
 
 "It's all up then," I said, when I felt that I could speak 
 without betraying palsy of the jaw. "We're done!" 
 
 "I'm not sure of that," Fenton answered. "If I 
 had been, I shouldn't have broken the news so brutally. 
 It's on the cards that we may be able to bring the thing 
 off yet." 
 
 "But how, if that bounder has got the place for him- 
 self ? He must have found out the truth about it somehow, 
 or he wouldn't have bothered. And if he knows what 
 we know or think we know he certainly won't give 
 up to us what he's grabbed for himself. A beastly shame 
 we should have been let in like this, after being given to 
 understand that it would be all right." 
 
 "Lark must have had a pull of some sort, I haven't 
 learned what; but I will. The one hope is, that he hasn't 
 stumbled onto the secret." 
 
 " What ! You think he hit on our pitch by a mere coin- 
 cidence an accident? " 
 
 "No. There's not a shadow of doubt that he had a 
 special motive for wanting our mountain and no other."
 
 78 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "Have you formed an idea what the motive is, if 
 not the same as ours?" 
 
 "I've heard his version from his own lips. It's rather 
 astounding. And I want you to hear it from him, too." 
 
 "You've met him!" 
 
 "Yesterday at Shepheard's, before I went in for this 
 dressing-up business. Lark heard I had wired for a room 
 at the hotel, and was lying hi wait for me on the terrace 
 when I got back from the Agency. We had a talk. I'd 
 heard just before, the news about the mountain. But 
 he explained. Now he wants to see you. He's got some- 
 thing special to say, and I've made an appointment for 
 you with him at two o'clock."
 
 VI 
 
 THE GREAT SIR MARCUS 
 
 THE appointment was at the Semiramis Hotel, where 
 Sir Marcus Lark was staying. I went with my mind an 
 aching void, and my heart a cold boiled potato. I can 
 think of nothing more disagreeable ! For not a word more 
 would Fenton let drop as to the great man's business with 
 us or the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid. 
 
 I sent up my card, and a few minutes later was shown 
 into a private salon more appropriate to a beautiful 
 young duchess than to a middle-aged, bumptious finan- 
 cier. It was pale green and white, full of lilies and 
 fragrance, and an immense French window opened out 
 upon a roofed loggia overlooking the Nile. This would 
 have been the ideal environment for our Gilded Rose; 
 and I felt more venomous than before, if possible, toward 
 the rich bounder who posed against such an unsuitable 
 background. I thought, as the door of the salon was 
 opened for me by the smart Arab servant, that the room 
 was untenanted, and that Sir Marcus Lark meant to keep 
 me waiting; but there he was, on the balcony, gazing in 
 rapture at the shining river. As if he were capable of 
 raptures, he, an earth-bound worm! But there was no 
 mistaking that back, those shoulders, or the face, as the 
 big body turned. 
 
 79
 
 80 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 He advanced through the open window, holding out 
 a hand as big as a steak. He was exactly like his 
 photograph, except that there was even more of him 
 than I had been led to expect. The pretty room was 
 net small, but entering, he seemed to turn it into a 
 doll's house parlour. "Six foot two, if he's an inch!" I 
 said to myself, longing to play David to his Goliath. 
 "Big, rich, common brute!" I thought. "You snatch 
 OUT mountain out of our mouths, and then you send for 
 us as if we were servants men whose boots you ought 
 to be blacking!" I was vindictive. I stared him straight 
 between the eyes where a stone from David's sling 
 would have fitted in neatly. 
 
 The eyes were wide apart, and kinder than in the 
 photographs. They were even curiously innocent, and 
 boyish. His grin of greeting made the large, waxed 
 black moustache point joyously up. He showed teeth 
 white as a child's, and had dimples actually dimples 
 in his big cheeks, to say nothing of the one in his chin, 
 with which snapshots had familiarized me. He looked 
 like a huge, overgrown schoolboy with a corked moustache. 
 My glare faded in the light of his smile. No man with a 
 gleam of humour could have kept a mask of grimness. 
 I found my hand enveloped in the pound of steak, and 
 warmly shaken up and down inside it. 
 
 " Lord Ernest Borrow, I'm delighted to see you. Very 
 good of you to come, I'm sure!" to David quoth Goliath, 
 in a big voice, mellow despite a slight Cockney accent. 
 "Nice view I've treated myself to here, what? I'm 
 in Egypt on business, but I like to have pretty things 
 around me pleasant colours and flowers and a view.
 
 THE GREAT SIR MARCUS 81 
 
 That's a specialty of mine. I'm great on specializing. 
 And that brings me to what we have in common; a 
 scheme of yours; a scheme of mine." 
 
 I wanted to detest the man, but somehow couldn't. 
 To hate him would be hating an overpowering force, 
 like heat, or electricity. 
 
 With an old-fashioned politeness he made me sit down, 
 picking out my chair, the most comfortable in the room, 
 then taking the next best for himself. He fitted into it as 
 tightly as a ripe plum into its skin, and talked with one leg 
 crossed over the other and swinging, the points of his 
 brown fingers joined. I was glad they were brown. 
 
 "I'm afraid you're sore with me," he began, having 
 ordered coffee and liqueurs, and forced upon his guest a 
 cigar as big as a sausage. " I've got what you and your 
 friend wanted; and I'm going to be frank with you as I've 
 been with him, and admit that I got it because you did 
 want it. Simply and solely for that reason and nothing 
 else. He told you this?" 
 
 "He left the telling to you," I said, wondering why I 
 wasn't more furious than curious. But it was the other 
 way round. 
 
 "Good egg! He promised he would, and he looks the 
 sort of chap to keep his promise. Well, I see you want 
 me to get down to business, and I will. I'm going to lay 
 all my cards on the table. I came here to Egypt for the 
 first time in my life, to see a scheme through, and I 
 landed on the scene in time to find that I was likely to 
 fail. I haven't told any one else that, but your friend 
 Fenton; for I never have made a business failure yet, and 
 I don't mean to now if I can help it. The scheme had to
 
 82 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 be saved in a hurry if it could be saved at all; and when I 
 set my wits to work I saw that I must get hold of some such 
 young men as you and Captain Fenton to help me. I 
 don't know how the thought of you two popped into my 
 head, but I suppose it was seeing a lot of stuff about 
 Fenton in the papers, his Balkan adventure, and the 
 announcement that he'd been recalled to his regiment. 
 There were paragraphs about him as a linguist, and an 
 Egyptologist, and anecdotes of him as a smart soldier. 
 You know the sort of thing. And the stories about his 
 parentage caught my fancy a bit. They're romantic. 
 I've got enough romance in me to see that side of life, 
 and to know how it goes down with the women. This 
 scheme of mine depends on women. Most schemes do. 
 At the same time the Egyptian papers were printing 
 paragraphs about Lord Ernest Borrow. I don't know 
 whether you're aware of that or not? No? Would you 
 like to see 'em? I've had my secretary cut 'em out 
 and the Fenton stuff, too. The minute this idea began 
 to wiggle in my mind like a tadpole in water, I kept 
 everything." 
 
 "Don't trouble about the paragraphs, thanks," I said. 
 
 "All right. It will save our time not to. But your 
 wish to go in with your friend, for the rights of excavating 
 in the Sudan, was mentioned, and the delay on account 
 of alleged interference with Garsting's pitch." 
 
 "By Jove, I wonder how the reporters got onto that?" 
 I couldn't help exclaiming. 
 
 "It's their livelihood to get onto everything. 'Well 
 then,' I said to myself, 'Here's my chance, my only one. 
 I want those two young men. They're the right combi-
 
 THE GREAT SIR MARCUS 83 
 
 nation for me, to give real distinction to my undertaking. 
 I have money, but they ain't the sort you can buy with 
 money. There must be an incentive. If I get what they 
 want, perhaps I can get them.' So I went into the job 
 tooth and nail. Neither you nor Fenton was on the spot. 
 I was very much on it. Nothing was definitely fixed 
 up between the Government and Fenton for the right to 
 excavate at the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid, as they 
 call the little old molehill, and I scored. Now, if you two 
 will do what I want, you can have your mountain, and 
 whatever you find you can keep. You're worth more to 
 me than any beads and broken-nosed statues under the 
 sand of Egypt. I think I've made some impression on 
 your friend. He may be inclined to go in with me, if you 
 will. He's explained that in any case he can't use his own 
 name, on account of his position in the army and so on. 
 That's a disappointment to me, but I'll put up with it for 
 the sake of his accomplishments and his looks. Your name 
 alone will carry the necessary weight as a leader." 
 
 "You're very flattering," said I. "But I'm in the 
 dark." 
 
 "I'm going to put you wise, as Americans say. My 
 scheme was and is to be a rival de luxe of Cook on the 
 Nile. Not only that, but all over the near East. You've 
 heard, of course, about my buying the Marquis of Red- 
 ruth's yacht Candace, on his bankruptcy the second 
 biggest, and the most up-to-date yacht in the world 
 and turning her into a pleasure cruiser for the Mediter- 
 ranean?" 
 
 "If I've heard, I'm afraid my memory's treacherous," 
 said I, glad to show how unimportant to me were the
 
 84 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 schemes of financiers, but interested in the yacht's 
 name, which carried my thoughts away to Meroe. 
 
 " Great Scout ! And I've spent two thousand in adver- 
 tising ! I've taken whole pages of London and Continental 
 papers!" 
 
 "I never read advertisements if I can help it, except 
 of new patents in razors. They're a fad of mine." 
 
 "Thank goodness you've got fads. Then we've some- 
 thing in common. I make money out of my fads. I call 
 'em inspirations. I thought the Candace business was 
 one of my inspirations, and that I'd have some fun out of 
 it. I advertised her to start on her first pleasure cruise 
 from Marseilles to Gib, Algiers, Tangier, Tunis, Greece, 
 Alexandria, and Jaffa. 'That'll be a smack in the eye for 
 the big liners,' I said to myself. 'I'll skim the top layer 
 of clotted cream off their passenger lists ! ' I was going to 
 do the thing de luxe straight through bid for the swell 
 set, exclusiveness my motto. Of course I didn't expect to 
 hit the dukes and dollar kings first shot, but I thought if 
 everything went right the passengers would tell their 
 friends at home how much better we did them on board 
 than any one else had ever done, and we'd get a 'snowball ' 
 ad, that nothing could stop. All would have worked out 
 first rate, if I hadn't made one mistake. I engaged a 
 retired army colonel for a conductor on board my yacht. 
 I got the man cheap. But I was a fool to economize 
 on him. I ought to have launched out on a belted earl. 
 Folks, especially Americans, don't like retired colonels. 
 The woods are full of 'em over there, crawling with 'em. 
 Most Americans are colonels and not retired. Besides, 
 this chap of mine's no good anyhow fancies himself
 
 THE GREAT SIR MARCUS 85 
 
 as a politician, and is a first-class snob; has no tact; 
 rubs up the passengers the wrong way, and outrages their 
 feelings. We got a lot of people from the north of England, 
 rich and a bit crude, like me. Will you believe it, Colonel 
 Corkran began his job by sneering audibly at 'provincials' 
 to some beastly friend of his, come to see him off at 
 Marseilles? Instead of making his dinner-table lectures 
 a kind of travellogue as he was hired to do, he turns 'em 
 into political tirades, and calls the Liberals scoundrels, 
 half of our folks being red-hot Rads. Not only that, if 
 the girls and boys talk while the band's playin' any of his 
 favourite airs, he hisses out ' Silence,' through a hole in 
 his mouth where one tooth's missin'. That tooth bein' 
 gone, has got on the girls' nerves worse than anything 
 else, it would seem, except his being down on Suffragettes. 
 And the crisis was reached when he insulted Miss Hassett 
 Bean, the richest and most important woman in the bunch, 
 when she expressed her political opinions. Said to her, 
 'My dear lady, why do you bother to have opinions? 
 They give you a lot of trouble to collect, and nobody else 
 will trouble to listen. Why not collect insects or stamps 
 instead?' Of course she did think Germany had already 
 invaded England with a large army of soldiers disguised 
 as hotel waiters, which was calculated to rile an old officer; 
 but that's no excuse for a man who's paid to please. 
 And now the fellow's wondering why he's not popular 
 with the passengers ! " 
 
 I laughed, but Sir Walter had worked himself into a 
 state past smiling point. "It's no laughing matter," 
 he said, "This snob Corkran's killing my scheme. There's 
 a plot on foot for the party to walk off the yacht at
 
 86 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Alexandria, and demand half their passage money. Some 
 old grampus on board has started the story that theCandace 
 has been down three times " 
 
 "A lie, of course," I soothed him. 
 
 "A dastardly lie. She's been down only twice. The 
 first time was a collision, the second a coincidence." 
 
 "But I thought she was the most up-to-date yacht in 
 the world!" 
 
 "So she is, as the Candace. That was the Marquis's 
 name for her: gave it after a trip to Egypt. He bought 
 her second hand, and rechristened her while she was being 
 redecorated. He spared no expense, which he could well 
 afford, seeing that he never paid a penny. I got her at 
 cost price, as you may say. But these plotters are going 
 to claim that they were inveigled on board under false 
 pretences, by my advertising the Candace as the newest 
 thing in yachts. I've had a letter and several cypher 
 telegrams from the assistant conductor, a useful chap, 
 telling me the whole story of the plot, which he's nosed 
 out; and I'm faced with humiliating failure unless I 
 can save the situation by a grand coup at the eleventh 
 hour. Now, you can guess why on the spur of the moment 
 I bought up your rights to dig in the Sudan, can't you?" 
 
 "I confess I can't," I said. 
 
 "Why, I want you to take Colonel Corkran's place 
 on the Candace as conductor. And I want you and your 
 friend Fenton to go up Nile in charge of the splendid steam 
 dahabeah I've bought to supplement the Mediterranean 
 trip. There you have my motives in a nutshell!" 
 
 I burst out laughing. "A cracked nutshell," I re- 
 marked.
 
 THE GREAT SIR MARCUS 87 
 
 Sir Marcus' rosy face turned royal purple. " What 
 you won't undertake it? " 
 
 "I couldn't," I assured him. "For one thing, I'd be 
 a fish out of water. My dear sir, perhaps you don't 
 know that my nickname since the age of five has been 
 'Duffer?' I'm proud of it. I take pains to live up to 
 it " 
 
 "I bet you do. I bet it opens doors and lays down 
 velvet carpets for you. Why, a duffer with a title is 
 exactly what I want! Duffers are the rage nowadays. 
 You and your friend will make a brilliant pair, a fine 
 contrast, especially with your friend's present get up. If 
 you'd both been born for me you couldn't suit me better." 
 
 I laughed again. " You said you ought to have launched 
 out on belted earls. We're humble " 
 
 "There's no earls handy, and if there were any, they 
 wouldn't be what you two are in looks and talents, to 
 say nothing of your brother being a marquis. I'm of- 
 fering you both the softest kind of job. All you have to 
 do is to be agreeable young gentlemen, with a knowledge 
 of society, and history; that means, you can be yourselves. 
 You get a fine trip on high salaries if you don't scorn to 
 accept my money; and as a reward for a good holiday 
 you receive the right to explore your golden mountain. 
 I suppose you must think it is a golden mountain, or you 
 wouldn't be such nuts on it. You'd better consult your 
 friend before you refuse my offer, anyhow." 
 
 "Haven't you heard that Fenton's left Cairo?" I took 
 the precaution to ask. "That doesn't look as if he were 
 entertaining the idea of going up the Nile on your steam 
 dahabeah."
 
 88 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "I have heard that he's left. But I happen to know 
 it isn't so. I saw him standing in front of Shepheard's 
 Hotel this morning, waiting for you. I got on to what 
 was in that green turban before the pretty girl in white 
 Miss Gilder, I've found out since called him on to 
 the terrace. Don't look as if you wanted to eat me, Lord 
 Ernest. I've won my way up from the bottom rung of 
 the ladder by keeping my eyes open, and by putting two 
 and two together. I specialize on that. I don't sup- 
 pose there's another man in Cairo except me and you, 
 would have recognized Fenton, so you needn't worry. 
 I twigged that he'd dressed up for serious business, not 
 for fun, because I read about some smart coups he'd 
 brought off by going among the natives like one of them- 
 selves. I'm not a sneak, and I shan't revenge myself by 
 giving him away, even if you two do show me the frozen 
 face. Captain Fenton encouraged me to think he might 
 consider my proposition if you would, though he refused to 
 influence your decision one way or the other. Naturally I 
 conclude that he could be on my Nile boat if he wanted to, 
 even if not in his own capacity as an officer. I'll take him in 
 his green turban. He makes the best looking Egyptian I 
 ever saw, and he'd go down with the ladies like hot cakes." 
 
 "Sir Marcus," I smiled, "you're one of the most 
 amusing as well as the sharpest men, if you'll allow me to 
 say so, that I ever met. Whatever happens I shall not 
 forget this conversation." 
 
 "I don't want you to forget it," he grinned, beginning to 
 hope. "Think it over. We're the chance of a lifetime 
 for each other. And remember the Mountain of the 
 Golden Pyramid."
 
 THE GREAT SIR MARCUS 89 
 
 I rose, and he got up heavily. "When will you let 
 me know? " he asked. 
 
 I was tempted to reply that he must have taken Fen- 
 ton's seeming encouragement too seriously, that, mountain 
 or no mountain, it was practically impossible for us to 
 accept his amazing proposition. But suddenly I seemed 
 to hear "Antoun Effendi " telling Miss Gilder that she 
 must wait for his decision until evening. He had said 
 afterward, also, that it depended on me. It was evident 
 that he had a scheme of his own, worked by wheels within 
 wheels. He had consoled me after the first blow by say- 
 ing that all was not lost. And I had four months' leave 
 from duty. A lot could be done in four months. "I 
 will let you know before night," I said to Sir Marcus 
 Lark.
 
 vn 
 
 THE REVELATIONS OF A RETIRED COLONEL 
 
 FENTON'S orders were, when the Cairo business should 
 be finished, to go slowly up the Nile in native dress, and 
 get at the truth of certain rumours which had disturbed 
 officialdom at Cairo. At Denderah, Luxor, and two or 
 three other places there had been "incidents," small but 
 troublesome. English sightseers had complained of being 
 hustled, and even insulted by the inhabitants of several 
 river towns, and it was important to find out whether 
 the Egyptians or the foreigners had been more to blame; 
 whether there were real symptoms of sedition, as re- 
 ported, or whether the young men of the suspected places 
 had merely resented with roughness some discourtesy 
 of tactless tourists. Fenton had seized upon the idea 
 that, as Egyptian lecturer and conductor a sort of 
 super-dragoman on board Lark's Nile boat, he might 
 find a plausible pretext for his secret errand. "Why 
 do you travel?" would be the question he must expect 
 from suspicious leaders of any plot that might be hatching, 
 if he journeyed from one Nile village to another without 
 the excuse of business. As a glorified conductor of a 
 pleasure-trip for a party of tourists his excuse would be 
 ready made for him; but he had been far from sure that I 
 would fall in with Sir Marcus Lark's plan, despite the 
 
 90
 
 REVELATIONS OF A COLONEL 91 
 
 bribe. He had wanted me to hear the whole story, the 
 whole project, from Sir Marcus' own lips; and in his un- 
 certainty of the result, he had thought of Miss Gilder as 
 an attractive "victim." There she was, as he had said, 
 presented to him by Providence. If I should pour scorn 
 upon the Lark suggestion, he might find it worth while 
 to guide the Gilded Girl and her friends on then: Nile 
 pilgrimage. He left the question for me, and I decided 
 to kill as many birds as possible with one stone. The 
 name of the yacht was in itself an incentive: Candace 
 Queen of Meroe our Merb'e. She seemed to call, and 
 to promise good luck. We would accept Lark's terms, 
 and enter his service in return for a written agree- 
 ment to hand over his ill-got digging rights to us, whether 
 or no we turned out to be satisfactory as guides. We 
 could but do our best, and at all events we should earn 
 the reward which we had looked upon as ours already. 
 Anthony would play his double part, serving the interests 
 of government and those of Sir Marcus Lark. As for 
 Monny Gilder, why shouldn't she and her party become 
 Lark's passengers? The only reason against this "in- 
 spiration" (as Sir Marcus would have called it), lay in 
 the fact that Monny wished to engage a private dahabeah. 
 When she wished for a thing, it appeared that only a 
 miracle or a cataclysm could induce her to give it up for 
 something else suggested by an outsider. But when I 
 mentioned this peculiarity to Fenton, he was fired to pun- 
 ish the girl by forcing her compliance with our will. She 
 had treated him like a servant. She looked upon a man 
 supposedly of Egyptian blood, even though of princely 
 birth, somewhat as she looked upon an American "nig-
 
 92 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 ger." True, Anthony Fenton had in his veins but very 
 few such drops. On his father's side he was all Eng- 
 lish, and his mother had been more than two thirds Greek 
 and Italian. Nevertheless this spoilt girl had struck a 
 blow at the pride which went ever walking about the world 
 with a chip lightly poised on its shoulder. Anthony had 
 no desire to poach on my preserves. At the same time 
 he yearned to show Miss Gilder that he could be her mas- 
 ter, not her servant. 
 
 Once Anthony and I had made up our minds, everything 
 else arranged itself with lightning speed. Sir Marcus, 
 rejoicing in his ill-got conquest of us, broke to me the 
 news that I must go by the first ship to the Piraeus, to 
 meet the Candace, and head off the recalcitrant band of 
 passengers. He flattered me by thinking that, if I took 
 the place of Colonel Corkran as conductor, they would 
 abandon their plot to desert the yacht at Alexandria. 
 It was, according to Lark's secret information, only the 
 "smart and would-be smart set" who had combined to 
 spring this mine upon the management. The rest grum- 
 bled no more than it' was normal for all pleasure-pilgrims 
 to grumble; and as, roughly speaking, the contented trav- 
 ellers were all going on to Palestine after a week's wild 
 sightseeing in Cairo, the colonel might be allowed to 
 continue his voyage without the interruption of a "row." 
 
 "I should have had enough common sense at the start," 
 growled Sir Marcus with crude candour, "to engage a 
 lord for the Smart Set, and a parson for the Ernest 
 Inquirers. There's a world of difference catering for 
 a Set, and a Flock. The art is, to know it, and how 
 to do it. Now I've secured you, I'm all right with the
 
 REVELATIONS OF A COLONEL 93 
 
 S. S. and thanks be, I've a young reformed missionary on 
 board to shepherd the Flock. Now the Reverend Watts 
 will come in handy, herding his sheep through Palestine, 
 while the colonel swaggers and fancies he's bossing the 
 show. It's the Egypt lot I worry about: girls out for 
 dukes, and dukes out for dollars. Not that there's a 
 darned duke on board, but there are some who think they 
 out-duke the dukes, and it's our business to humour 'em. 
 You just duff all you want to, Lord Ernest, they'll swallow 
 anything you do, like honey. Don't bother about a line 
 of conduct: only be genial. Murmur soft nothings to the 
 women; flirt but don't have favourites. Don't be too 
 political with the men: work in plenty of anecdotes about 
 your swell relations." 
 
 I replied that I could confidently promise geniality, 
 except if seasick: but Sir Marcus implored me at all 
 costs not to be seasick. That was the one thing I must not 
 be. My whole time between the Piraeus and Alexandria, on 
 board the Candace, must be spent ingratiating myself with 
 the sulky passengers, and obliterating from their memories 
 the crimes of Colonel Corkran. In Sir Marcus' opinion 
 my future charges had taken passage on the Candace, 
 and would go up the Nile, not to see sights, but to be 
 seen doing the right things. According to him not two 
 out of twenty cared tuppence for Egypt, but wished to 
 talk about it in sparkling style at home. My friend 
 Captain Fenton and I must make it sparkle. Sir Marcus 
 had resigned himself to the fact that one of his trump 
 cards Anthony could not be produced until the 
 arrival in Cairo of the troupe, and that even then, the 
 name of Fenton must not be used as an attraction. Lark
 
 04 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 felt confident that I was a good enough card to make his 
 hand worth playing, and in spite of the half contemptuous 
 amusement with which I regarded the whole scheme, I 
 couldn't help being "on my mettle." I found myself 
 wanting to succeed, wanting to please the big, common 
 man whom a few hours ago I had been cursing. 
 
 I had to start for Greece the night after our decision. 
 Meanwhile, I was anxious to explain the unexplainable 
 to Brigit and Monny, and secure the party for Sir Marcus 
 Lark's alleged dahabeah, which turned out to be one of 
 Cook's old boats bought and newly decorated. Both 
 my tasks would be difficult. I had to hide the secret 
 reason for selling myself to the financier, and at the same 
 time keep the respect of the ladies. As for inducing 
 Miss Gilder to give up her dream of a private dahabeah, 
 I foresaw that it would be like persuading the youngest 
 lioness in the Cairo Zoo to surrender her cherished wooden 
 ba,U. But I began by giving Monny a present; a fine old 
 turban-box of rare, red tortoise shell inlaid with mother 
 o' pearl^ which I found at an antiquary's. In the silk- 
 lined box reposed a green turban; and that green turban 
 told its own story. Miss Gilder flushed with pleasure at 
 sight of it. "I've won my bet!" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes," said I. "To my astonishment! The man 
 consents. He's a great prize, knows Cairo and upper 
 Egypt like a book. But you'll have to surrender him 
 when you go on the Nile." 
 
 In her haste to know why, Monny forgot to ask how I 
 had obtained the green turban; and for this I was glad, 
 because it was only the second best headgear of my smart 
 friend the Hadji. In explaining that the distinguished
 
 REVELATIONS OF A COLONEL 95 
 
 Egyptian had been engaged by Sir Marcus Lark, I 
 slipped in a word about my own part in the trip, describ- 
 ing it as an ideal rest-cure for a budding diplomat on 
 sick leave. I praised the boat and spoke of the fun 
 on board. I regretted Miss Gilder's preference for 
 a private dahabeah, so obvious, so millionairy! Still, 
 I added, every one to his taste! And anyhow, no doubt 
 all the best cabins on the Enchantress Isis were taken. 
 
 That was the entering wedge the mention of an 
 obstacle to overcome. Miss Gilder looked thoughtful, 
 though she kept silence: and next day, when making my 
 adieux before starting for Alexandria, she flung out a care- 
 less question. When would the Enchantress Isis leave 
 Cairo? How many passengers would she carry? Would 
 there be a rush at the Temples, or would there be plenty 
 of time for proper sightseeing? And was I sure that 
 all the nicest cabins were engaged? No, I was not sure. 
 I could inquire. I tried not to look triumphant, but I 
 must have darted out a ray, because Monny withdrew 
 into her shell. She had inquired out of curiosity, she ex- 
 plained. I had told such stories about the Enchantress 
 Isis that she would like to see her. Perhaps Antoun 
 Effendi could get permission for a visit to the boat. 
 
 In this state I had to leave affairs, and start for the 
 Piraeus, where I must await the return of the tourists 
 from Athens. I had two days at sea in which to work 
 up an agony of apprehension, and I could have thanked 
 heaven when, arriving on board the big white yacht, I 
 found that I was ahead of the passengers. I was expected, 
 however, and a deck cabin was ready for my occupation. 
 I hoped that I had not turned out my rival from the room,
 
 96 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 but dared not question the steward. He seemed to know 
 all about me, nevertheless, and said that my name had 
 been "posted up" as conductor of the Nile party. "If I 
 may take the liberty of mentioning it, my lord," he added, 
 " it has made a very good impression." We were to steam 
 for Alexandria the moment the passengers arrived in the 
 special train having had three days of sightseeing in 
 Athens and I had just got my possessions stowed away 
 when a wave of chattering voices broke over the ship. 
 My heart gave a jump, as a soldier's must when called to 
 fight on an empty stomach at dawn on a winter's morning. 
 What ought I to do? How was I to make the acquaint- 
 ance of my future charges? Must it be en masse, or could 
 it be done singly? I had neglected to ask Sir Marcus 
 what would be expected of me, and I was in a worse funk 
 than a new boy on his first day at school. Soon it would 
 be dinner time. I wished that I were ill, but I remem- 
 bered that the one thing I must not do was to be seasick. 
 Already the ship was beginning to move out of the Greek 
 harbour, or I should have been tempted to get a telegram 
 calling me home. Even the Mountain of the Golden 
 Pyramid seemed not too great a sacrifice to make but 
 it was too late to make it and some one was knocking 
 at my door. 
 
 I opened it with such courage as I had; and the instant 
 I set eyes on the man I knew that he was Colonel Corkran. 
 He was born to be a retired colonel. What came before 
 the retiring could have been but a prelude. A stout 
 figure of middle height; red face, veined on cheeks and 
 nose; pale blue eyes which looked as if they had faded in 
 the wash; purple moustache and eyebrows; close-cropped
 
 97 
 
 gray hair; a double chin clamouring for extra collar 
 space; and a bridge-player's expression. This was the 
 rival whose place I had virtually, though not officially, 
 usurped. 
 
 I was prepared to hear him hiss "Viper!" between his 
 teeth, as characters in melodramatic serials do to per- 
 fection, their front teeth having doubtless been designed 
 for such purposes. But his look seemed to denote pity 
 rather than hatred. So might a prison- warder regard a 
 condemned man, in coming to announce the hour of 
 execution. 
 
 "Lord Ernest Borrow?" said he, in a slightly hoarse 
 voice. "I'm Colonel Corkran. Delighted to meet you. 
 I've met your brother, Lord Killeena. Daresay he 
 wouldn't remember me. I don't think I can begin bet- 
 ter than by thanking you for coming to take over my 
 job." 
 
 "Oh, I haven't done that!" I hastened to protest, 
 as he sat fatly down in a chair I pushed forward. "As I 
 understand, I'm to take a few people off your hands, and 
 the hands of your assistant, Mr. Kruger, so that you can 
 go to Palestine instead of leaving that important excur- 
 sion entirely to the chaplain, Mr. Watts." 
 
 Colonel Corkran laughed. "Thank you for trying to 
 save my feelings," said he. "But I assure you they're 
 not hurt. I'm sincerely delighted to see you for my 
 own sake. For yours well, that's another pair of 
 shoes! My dear fellow, I wonder if you've the smallest 
 idea what you're in for?" 
 
 "In for?" I echoed. 
 
 "Yes. I'm saying this as a friend. Don't think I'm
 
 98 TT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 jealous. Lord, no! I look on you as a deliverer. And 
 don't think I want to frighten you. It isn't that. But I 
 feel it's my duty to prepare you. I might have got on 
 better if there'd been some one to do the same by me. 
 There wasn't. Kruger, my so-called assistant, is a spy. 
 At best, he's a mere accountant, not supposed to look after 
 the passengers socially. I gather that he was some secre- 
 tary of Lark's. Beware of him. He writes to Lark from 
 every port. As for the passengers, the saintly lot are 
 bad enough. Yet it's only the food and the cabins and the 
 attendance they grumble about. I'm shunted off the 
 worldly lot onto them in future. But at their worst, 
 they'll be a rest-cure! and Lark has the decency not to 
 reduce my screw. It's the worldly lot that's going to 
 make you curse the day you were born." 
 
 He wanted me to speak, or groan; but I maintained 
 a stricken silence, to which I gave some illusion of dig- 
 nity. After a disappointed pause he went on: "You'd 
 better know something about these people. Beasts, 
 every one of 'em, young or old, some beastly common 
 beasts, but all beastly rich, except those that are beastly 
 poor, and on the make to marry their daughters, or 
 cadge for smart friends. Lark was bidding for swells, 
 and got snobs. Thinks his silly title will carry weight in 
 society as it does in the city. 'Lark Pie,' we're called, I 
 hear. I call us a 'Pretty Kettle of Fish!' The girls are 
 the worst of the caboodle, though some of 'em aren't bad 
 looking. You won't believe the trouble I've had with 
 the creatures till you begin to get the same yourself." 
 
 "What kind of trouble?" I inquired gingerly. 
 
 "Every kind a woman can make. Apart from food
 
 'ftRY 
 
 uipuHni 
 
 troubles, they think they're not being entertained enough 
 on board; think I ought to get up more dances; tango 
 teas I suppose! Don't like the way I organize games; 
 are mad because they can't have music at meals which 
 they can't because the band's all stewards; blame me 
 because the men don't make love to them, or because 
 they do. And at the hotels where we go on shore, it's 
 Hades. Naturally the people staying in the hotels resent 
 us. They look on us as a menagerie a rabble. So we 
 are. At least, they are. I don't count myself in with 
 them. What can I do? I'm not omnipotent. Perhaps 
 you are. Anyhow, they're prepared to believe it, for 
 you're a new broom a broom with a fine handle. I'm 
 only a poor colonel with a few medals given by my coun- 
 try for services that were appreciated. You're brother to 
 a marquis." 
 
 "You paint a lurid picture " I said, when he stopped 
 for breath. 
 
 "I couldn't paint it lurider than it is. But you'll have 
 to find out for yourself. It won't be so bad while you're 
 a novelty. Don't say I haven't warned you. And oh, 
 by the way, I've announced that you're to be presented to 
 the passengers at dinner to-night, on coming in, before 
 the soup is served." 
 
 "As a sort of hors d'oeuvre, I suppose," I murmured 
 weakly. 
 
 Colonel Corkran stared, without a smile. "As the 
 titled conductor of the Egypt tour," he explained to my 
 dull intelligence, with a slight sneer. "So will you please 
 be La the dining saloon just before the bugle blows the 
 beasts in? I have to introduce you, in a short speech.
 
 100 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 It's all I can do, except say, God help you! But I don't 
 see how He can. I suppose your friend Sir Marcus 
 told you that you would be expected to deliver a 
 lecture on Egypt, to-night at the dinner table? After 
 you've finished your dinner, of course. I hope the 
 cracking and crunching of nuts doesn't disturb you 
 much? I confess I've found it getting on my nerves. 
 
 I was aghast. My mind jumped to the wild thought 
 of eating soap, in order to froth at the mouth and simulate 
 a fit. It seemed my only way of escape, and after that, 
 the Deluge. But my rival was so revelling in the mental 
 havoc he had wrought that I rallied, replying that, as Sir 
 Marcus had not broken the news to me, I didn't see how 
 it would be possible to deliver a lecture. 
 
 "Aren't you up on Egypt?" the colonel asked, pity- 
 ingly. " Neither am I, though I've sweated over Baedeker 
 with my head in wet towels, when I wanted to be at 
 bridge. But I thought that was the excuse for engaging 
 you? That, and your title, of course, which is going 
 to make you popular. As fast as I fag up the names of 
 those beastly Egyptian gods or kings and queens, they 
 run out of my brains like water out of a sieve. Or if I 
 do contrive to remember any, by chance, together with 
 their dates, which is almost more than can be expected 
 of the human intellect, why, I find that I pronounce 'em 
 wrong; or they're spelled another way in the next book. 
 But I suppose as you know Egypt, its d d history comes 
 natural as breathing." 
 
 How I wished it did! And how different was this new 
 programme from the one outlined by Sir Marcus. "Just 
 to be genial, and flirt with the girls.
 
 REVELATIONS OF A COLONEL 101 
 
 "My recollections of Egypt are from some time ago," I 
 admitted. " To give a lecture at half an hour's notice " 
 
 "In justice to yourself I'm afraid you'll have to,'* 
 the colonel persisted. "It's been announced that you 
 will give the lecture, and the Egypt lot are looking for- 
 ward to it as the animals in a zoo look forward to their 
 food. If they're defrauded, they'll think you a slacker, 
 and that you're presuming on your title." 
 
 "I shouldn't like that!" my anguish racked out of me. 
 
 "I fancied you wouldn't. But what's to be done? Am 
 I to announce, when I introduce you, that your knowledge 
 of Egypt isn't equal to the strain?" 
 
 I took an instant for reflection. I knew that he was 
 hoping I might throw myself on his mercy, or else that I 
 would speak and fail; but I determined to do neither. 
 "On second thoughts, I may be able to give some kind of 
 a pow-wow," I replied. 
 
 Colonel Corkran's face fell. " That's all right, then!" 
 he exclaimed, getting to his feet. "Well, I must be off. 
 Will you have a cocktail?" 
 
 "No, thanks," said I. "I think I can get on without 
 it." 
 
 He was at the door. "Kind of hash of gods and god- 
 desses with a peppering of kings and queens, and mixed 
 sauce of history and legend, is what's needed," were his 
 farewell words. Then he shut the door; and I tore my 
 watch from the pocket of my waistcoat. I had twenty- 
 eight minutes in which to prepare the said hash with its 
 seasoning and sauce; and the bugle was inviting my judges 
 to dress for the inquisition.
 
 vm 
 
 FOXY DUFFING 
 
 "I'LL SHOW you your place," Corkran volunteered, 
 lying in wait for me inside the saloon door, with a cocktail 
 in his hand. "Sony you wouldn't have one. You'll 
 need it. But no tune to change your mind. I've put 
 you at the head of the table that would be the captain's, 
 if he ate with us, which he doesn't happy man ! Place 
 of honour. 'Twas mine, 'tis yours. But I can't go on 
 with the quotation unless I turn it into 'You're slave to 
 thousands. ' Sixty odd can be as formidable as thousands." 
 
 "Are there sixty odd? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, very 'odd.' The Egypt lot will be about twenty- 
 five. But the whole gang's yours for the present. I 
 give them to you, with the seat of honour." 
 
 "Please don't put me in your place," I protested. "I 
 prefer- " 
 
 "My poor boy, it isn't a question of what you prefer, 
 as you'll learn if you stick this out. Of course if you 
 funk it but that's a joke ! This table's the only one 
 where you can be heard. Do you see?" 
 
 I did see; and accepted the situation, because the dinner 
 bugle began to sound, and I could not be scampering 
 round the saloon like a frightened rabbit as the Set and the 
 Flock began dropping in to dinner. 
 
 102
 
 FOXY DUFFING 10S 
 
 A.S it happened, they did not drop they poured into 
 the room in a steady stream, which phenomenon, whis- 
 pered Corkran, was caused by curiosity for a first sight 
 of me. My heart counted each new arrival, with a bump. 
 
 If Corkran had not represented "Lark's Party" as 
 being a menagerie for which I had inadvertently engaged 
 as tamer, I should have thought they looked a harmless 
 crowd. But then, of course, I was not obliged to tame 
 anybody on the Laconia, which makes a difference in 
 one's point of view. Miss Gilder needed taming, no 
 doubt, but I hadn't tackled the task. My thoughts flew 
 to Cairo, as I stood struggling to look pleasant; and I 
 wished myself back where Anthony Fenton was now in. 
 the taming business. I envied him, for there was only one 
 Monny, whereas in this terrible, bright dining saloon, the 
 air was pink and white with girls, dozens of girls, with eyes 
 fixed on me, glittering eyes, which appeared like the head- 
 lights of motor cars. I didn't suppose there could be so 
 many eyes in the world as these people of all ages and 
 every possible sex seemed to own. Sixty odd they were, 
 according to Corkran, but they looked like six hundred; a 
 human miracle of loaves and fishes. 
 
 Yes, the creatures might have appeared harmless enough 
 had there been no retired colonel. But there was a retired 
 colonel, and so deftly had he undermined my courage 
 that almost any shock might cause it to explode in a blue 
 flame of funk. His speech of introduction was now to 
 come, and if I survived that, I might hope to live through 
 my own fireworks. 
 
 "They've put on their best bibs and tuckers," Cork- 
 ran mumbled in a stage whisper, as the eight dwellers
 
 104 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 at our table began to sort themselves for places. Then, 
 in portentous silence he paused till everybody everywhere 
 was seated. Waiting still, until satisfied that eyes and 
 ears were focussed upon us, he rapped on the table with 
 the handle of a knife. 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen," he roared, "I have the pleas- 
 ure of introducing to you Sir Marcus Lark's Great 
 Surprise, entitled Lord Ernest Borrow, younger brother of 
 the Marquis of Killeena, a peer, as Sir Marcus has re- 
 minded us, of the oldest lineage in Ireland. Let me 
 reassure you all by saying that Lord Ernest's last name 
 is as unsuited to his nature as the first is true to it. If 
 you'll pardon the pun it is Sir Marcus who ' Borrows' for 
 your benefit, and he hasn't Borrowed Trouble, but a 
 Blessing in disguise. I am now left free, as suits my 
 superior age and experience, to devote my attention to 
 the serious minded ones among you, who are to proceed 
 with the Reverend Mr. Watts and myself to Palestine. 
 This young and gallant neophyte will 'lord' it over the 
 fleshpots of Egypt and those about to seek them. I 
 hope you'll help him as loyally as you have helped me: 
 and later we'll drink to his health and success, in any 
 beverage we happen to have signed for!" 
 
 To have killed Corkran might have been butchery; 
 no jury could have brought in a verdict of murder or even 
 manslaughter, had I stabbed him with the knife he used 
 to pound upon the table. I smiled the smile of a skull in 
 a doctor's waiting-room, and in a sickly voice bleated my 
 pleasure in meeting these new acquaintances. I hoped 
 we might be er friends as well as shipmates. Then 
 like a mass of jelly out of its mould I plopped onto my
 
 FOXY DUFFING 105 
 
 chair. The colonel had sneaked off to his own table and I 
 was left to recover myself as best I might among eight of 
 his enemies. They proved (in whispers) to be the most 
 active of these, and tacitly offered me allegiance whch I 
 accepted in the same manner. There was a Sir John Bid- 
 dell, who informed me in the first five minutes that he had 
 been Lord Mayor of London. He promised to show me a 
 speech he had made in the presence of King Edward which, 
 in the form of a newspaper cutting, he never travelled 
 without. This, however, was his first trip farther than 
 Paris, and he had brought with him, not only the speech, 
 but his wife and twin daughters. The distinguished 
 family occupied one side of my table : the other was given 
 up to a General Harlow, his wife (both with high profiles 
 and opinions of themselves), a youngish newspaper pro- 
 prietor from Manchester, evidently rich and a "catch," 
 and a maiden lady doubtless of importance equal to her 
 proportions, as she was allowed to bring to the table a 
 melancholy marmoset. These people did their best to 
 raise my spirits. The girls, who copied royalties in their 
 hair-dressing, looked alike, dressed alike, talked and 
 laughed alike, and entertained me with chat about high 
 society in London. They had red cheeks, black eyes, 
 white teeth, and an almost indecent familiarity with the 
 private lives of the aristocracy. The Misses Biddell and 
 fat Miss Hassett-Bean (the lady of the marmoset) hinted 
 that the cream of the yacht's social life had risen to our 
 table, and told me, not only what to lecture about, but 
 how to treat the rival cliques. My brain felt more and 
 more like a blotting-pad. I answered at random and 
 longed for the meal to end until I remembered my lee-
 
 106 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 ture. Then I wished that dinner might go on indefinitely 
 like the tea party of the Mad Hatter. All too soon the 
 glory of a French menu flickered down to a dying spark 
 of nuts and raisins, and hardly had I cracked my first 
 almond (was it an ill omen that there should be a worm 
 in it?) when a steward handed me a twisted note from the 
 executioner. "The rule for conductor's dinner speech is, 
 rise with the raisins! Hope you won't find your lecture 
 too hard a nut to crack. Yours sympathetically, Cork- 
 ran. Bang on the table to make them stop gabbling. Or 
 shall I do it for you? If you haven't by the time I count 
 ten, I will." 
 
 He did. I trust it wasn't my courage that failed. 
 But having a raisin in my mouth I could not on the 
 instant respond to the lash. And as Corkran would have 
 said, it takes more than one swallow to make a speech. 
 Ruthlessly he rapped, seizing what I wished might be his 
 dying chance to indulge a mania for puns and thumping 
 wood. 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen," he bawled from his compara- 
 tively obscure corner. " Lord Ernest Borrow will render 
 your last moments the most enjoyable of the meal, by 
 washing down your nuts and raisins with the wine of his 
 eloquence. Take your desserts now. We conscientious 
 conductors hope for ours in heaven." 
 
 How ardently I desired that these might indeed be the 
 "last moments" not only of my audience but of Colonel 
 Corkran. If the next second had brought a tidal wave 
 or a collision I should have blessed Providence. But I 
 got to my feet and nothing happened. I seemed to be 
 in a dream, of having shot up to a gigantic height, and
 
 FOXY DUFFING 107 
 
 having put on the wrong clothes, or none. My hands 
 weighed two pounds each, and ought to have been at the 
 butcher's. My mouth was the size of a negro minstrel's, 
 and so full of large bones which once had been teeth that 
 I could not utter a syllable. I clacked my jaws, and 
 emitted a hacking cough which fortunately so much re- 
 sembled that of a professional lecturer that I kept my 
 senses. Not only did I keep them, but they seemed sud- 
 denly to become my servants. The thought of a certain 
 fable jumped into my head, and I began thereupon to 
 speak; although I had forgotten everything I had ever 
 read of Egyptian history. 
 
 "It happens," said I, in a phonographic voice, "that 
 I was born in Egypt. J played with clay gods and god- 
 desses instead of tin soldiers. I preferred stories of Egypt's 
 past and present to tales of adventure. I confess to 
 you what I fear I didn't confess to Sir Marcus Lark. 
 The trouble is, I'm stuffed too full of facts about Egypt. 
 I want you to help me get them out, and not duplicate 
 yours. No doubt all of you, in travelling to the East, 
 have packed your brains with knowledge as well as 
 your boxes with guide books. Why should I bore you 
 by telling you things that you were born knowing? A 
 plan has occurred to me by which your knowledge can be 
 turned into account. As I said, I beg your help. And 
 permission to drink a cup of coffee would be first aid." 
 
 People laughed, whether at me, or with me, I was not 
 sure; yet I felt that I had tickled their curiosity. Coffee 
 was going round. Corkran was unctuously sipping his, 
 and had not expected me to receive mine till after the 
 battle. But I got it in spite of him, and mapped out a
 
 108 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 programme as I drank. Then I ceased to tremble before 
 the confused assemblage or bird-headed gods, cat-faced 
 goddesses, and sacred vultures that danced or flapped in 
 my brain. 
 
 I no longer felt inclined to commit suicide because I 
 could remember nothing about Egypt except that the 
 Delta was shaped like a lily, with the Fayum for a bud, 
 and the Nile for its stem : that Alexander the Macedonian 
 defeated Darius the Persian B. C. three hundred and 
 something; that ancient Egyptians loved beer, but were 
 forbidden to eat beans. 
 
 "My proposal is," I went on, "that before I unload any 
 of my knowledge upon you, I gleam some idea of what you 
 know already. Thus I can spare you repetitions. Any 
 one who has anything particularly interesting to say about 
 Egypt, let him -or her hold up a hand." 
 
 Now was the crucial moment. If no hand went up, 
 I was lost. But hardly were the words out of my mouth 
 when there was a waving as if in a wind-swept wheatfield 
 Place aux dames! I called upon Miss Hassett-Bean 
 to begin. She rustled silkily up, bowing to me, then 
 directing an acetylene glare upon Colonel Corkran's 
 end of the room. She was, I foresaw, about to kill two 
 birds with one stone, to say nothing of the marmoset, 
 who fell off her arm into General Harlow's coffee and 
 created a brief diversion. As soon, however, as the 
 monkey was rescued and before General Harlow's shirt 
 front was dried, the lady began to speak. 
 
 "We all thank Lord Ernest," she said, looking from the 
 colonel to the Reverend Wyman Watts, and back 
 again, "for sparing us one of those commonplace in-
 
 FOXY DUFFING 109 
 
 flictions from which weVe nightly suffered on board this 
 yacht. If we didn't know already, such school-book 
 facts as Christianity being introduced to Egypt by St. 
 Mark in Nero's time, and Moses and Plato both studying 
 philosophy at Heliopolis, and things like that, we wouldn't 
 be spending our money with Sir Marcus A. Lark to see 
 Egypt. Never before have we been encouraged to air 
 our views. Those of us with political opinions have been 
 snubbed; and we who are interested in Woman Suffrage 
 have been assured that we'll find nothing to please us in 
 the land of Veiled Women. At last I am given a chance 
 to state without being interrupted that Egypt was once 
 the most enlightened country in her treatment of women. 
 Long before the time of the Greeks, and even before the 
 Shepherd Kings Mr. Watts has told us so much about, 
 using his Old Testament as if it were a Baedeker, the 
 women of Ancient Egypt had rights according to their 
 class. Queens and princesses were considered equal with 
 their husbands. Women were great musicians, playing 
 on many instruments, especially the sistrum, sacred to the 
 goddess Hathor. And weren't all the best gods goddesses, 
 when you come to think of it? Women used to drive 
 their own chariots, as we do our motors, and hold salons, 
 like the French ladies. There was Rhodopis, for in- 
 stance, who married the brother of Sappho. I wonder if 
 Colonel Corkran could have told you that the story of 
 Cinderella comes from an anecdote of Rhodopis? I 
 hardly think that he's been able to spare enough time from 
 bridge to study Strabo, who was the Baedeker of Egypt 
 for tourists six hundred years before Christ. An eagle saw 
 Rhodopis bathing, and stealing one of her sandals flew
 
 110 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 with it to Memphis, where he dropped it into the king's 
 lap. It was so small and dainty that King Hophra 
 scoured Egypt for the owner, and when he found her at 
 last, according to Strabo, made her his queen." 
 
 "If Strabo was right, she lived long before Sappho's 
 day!" interpolated the colonel's voice. 
 
 "Of course, Strabo was right. There were two of 
 Rhodopis. Everybody knows that. The Third Pyra- 
 mid was built for the tomb of the first one, not for King 
 Mycineris, / believe. Why shouldn't a woman have a 
 Pyramid to herself? The Sphinx is a woman, as I will 
 insist to my dying day, if it were my last word! I hope 
 Lord Ernest won't ram down our throats any nonsense 
 about that noble and graceful tribute to the Mystery of 
 Womanhood being a stupid King Harmachis, or Horem- 
 khu. I wouldn't believe it if X found a hundred nasty 
 stone beards lying buried in the sand under her chin, in- 
 stead of one, which could easily have been put there to 
 deceive people. Probably King Harmachis had the 
 Sphinx altered to look like him. No wonder she shud- 
 dered at such profanation, and shed her false beard. There 
 you have my theory. And as for Egypt being now the 
 land of Veiled Women, where Suffragettes find no 
 sympathy, I've heard that the prophet's order for veiling 
 has been purposely misconstrued by tyrannical men, with 
 their usual jealousy. Even Mohammed himself was 
 jealous. 
 
 With this Miss Hassett-Bean sat down, amid fitful 
 applause; and at my earnest request, Miss Enid Biddell, 
 the prettier twin, stood bravely up. She wished, be- 
 fore the subject was changed, to tell some little things
 
 FOXY DUFFING 111 
 
 she had read about the girls of Ancient Egypt, how like 
 they were to girls of to-day, in all their ways, especially 
 in in things concerning love. It was they who first 
 questioned the petals of flowers for their lovers' loyalty. 
 How much they thought about their clothes, too, getting 
 their best things from foreign countries, as women did 
 now, from Paris ! It was so funny to read how the girls of 
 Old Egypt had consulted palmists and fortunertellers and 
 astrologers just as girls did in Bond Street now; and that 
 what 'Billikens' and 'Swasticas' and birth-stonos were to 
 us, images of gods were to the girls of Egypt who lived 
 before the days of Moses! They had scarab rings with 
 magic inscriptions, and sacred apes for the symbol of 
 Intelligence, and lucky eyes of Horus, wounded by the 
 wicked god Set, and cured by the love of Isis. On their 
 bracelets and necklaces they hung charms, and their 
 dressing-tables were covered with images of favourite 
 gods and goddesses. Hathor, the goddess of Love and 
 Joy, was supposed to give her choicest gifts to girls who 
 wore her special colour (that green-blue in the Temple of 
 Edfu which Robert Hichens calls "the colour of love") 
 and to those who had her pet stones, emeralds, or tur- 
 quoises. Nowadays, in Egypt, the jewels of the women 
 Vrere only lent to them by their men, and could be taken 
 away as a punishment, or be pawned or sold in case of 
 need; but in old days Egyptian women had all their most 
 beautiful possessions buried with them. 
 
 When her sister had finished I urged the other twin to 
 speak, and timidly Miss Elaine repeated to us what a 
 friend of hers, a clergyman (here a blush) had told her. 
 That the Red Sea was not red but a brighter blue than any
 
 112 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 sea in the world, and called red only because it washed 
 the Red Lands. Her friend had written down for her 
 in verse such a sweet legend about the Nile rising every 
 spring from a single tear shed by Isis, a much more 
 powerful goddess than Hathor, because she was the 
 goddess of goodness as well as love. And the Nile 
 used to be named Sihor by the Egyptians; and the year 
 separated into three seasons, Flood tune, Seed time, and 
 Harvest. Miss BiddelTs friend was writing a book about 
 Egypt and was going to divide it in three parts like that. 
 It was to be dedicated to her. 
 
 Bless the dear creatures, how they kept the ball rolling 
 to please themselves, and indirectly to sort out 
 my stock of ideas! 
 
 Harry Snell, the newspaper man, was not hard to persuade 
 to his feet. He was studying the resemblance between 
 Arabic and English words. He had found out, among other 
 things, that Tally ho was " Tally hoon," brought home 
 by the Crusaders. He even had a theory that some of 
 our words came from the early Egyptian. "Amen," 
 for instance, he believed to be derived from "Amon," 
 the name of the great god, father of all the other gods 
 of Egypt, which was cried aloud, he understood, in the 
 temples, during religious services. The parson jumped 
 eagerly up to dispute this theory, and happily forgetful of 
 me, seized the opportunity to spring upon us a few facts 
 from his own store. When, however, Mr. Watts' dis- 
 course got him as far as Joseph's Well in the Citadel, 
 General Harlow could bear no more, but sprang up to in- 
 form us that the Joseph of the Well in the Citadel was 
 quite another Joseph, some Yusef of the Arab conquerors.
 
 FOXY DUFFING 113 
 
 The general knew all about that, because his son was 
 stationed in the Citadel. And he proceeded to meander 
 on historically, over a period between the first Arab con- 
 queror Amru, to Haroun-al-Raschid, assuring us that old 
 Cairo was the city of the Arabian Nights. He would, to 
 my joy, have gone on indefinitely from Saladin to Napo- 
 leon if Sir John Biddell, as the only baronet on board, had 
 not cut the only general short. He is a square man whose 
 portrait could be properly done only by a Cubist. "Too 
 much history, my friend!" he shouted, getting up with 
 the manner of one accustomed to making dinner-table 
 speeches. "What most of us are coming to Egypt for is 
 mummies. Egyptian history is too troublesome, anyhow, 
 for a normal man to grasp. Give me mummies ! There's 
 something in them. Why, even if you get a king or queen 
 fixed in your head, somebody who's paid to make you 
 know things you don't know" (an eye-shot for Corkran) 
 "comes along and swears they didn't exist. Now, there's 
 Mena. I'd pinned him like a stuck butterfly. I could 
 remember that he was the first known king, and founded 
 Memphis and lived six thousand years before Christ, all 
 because we're going to stay at Mena House, which is 
 named after him. I don't know why I remembered him 
 that way, but I did. Just as I could recall the queen with 
 a name like a sneeze by thinking of her as Queen Hat-and- 
 Shoes. Now Colonel Corkran informs us that we must 
 pronounce her, in a different way. And what's the conse- 
 quence to me? I've ceased to try and keep track of her. 
 King Mena, too, is lost to me forever, through the over- 
 conscientiousness of our late conductor, who says there 
 never was a Mena, only several kings they've mixed
 
 114 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 into one. 7 seem to be the one who's most mixed up! 
 To whet my appetite for Egypt now, I have to have 
 something tasty. Where's the good of stuffing my mind 
 with a string of names which I couldn't mention to any 
 one at home, because I can't pronounce them? The word 
 Dynasty (he pronounced it Die-nasty) makes me sick! 
 Luckily I feel that nobody else will know any more than 
 I do. I'm coming to Egypt for a rest-cure, because I 
 don't have to learn its history. But some lecturers won't 
 let me have a minute's peace. A king named Sneferu 
 couldn't expect to appeal to a man like me, even if he did 
 build the oldest Pyramid, and even if you could show me 
 his mummy, which you can't. But I draw the line at 
 kings without mummies. I don't want to know them. 
 Now, my wife is against mummies on show. She's heard 
 that the malignance of mummies, especially in museums, is 
 incredible. And she thinks it a judgment that some of 
 the most distinguished ones are going bad. She says it's 
 spite. I say its management. But I'm not ready to 
 sit down yet! My wife means to start a society for the 
 Prevention of Cruelty to Mummies, with the object 
 of sending them back to their tombs where they can rest 
 in that state of death it pleased their gods to call them to. 
 Their object was eternal privacy, and they spent more on 
 their tombs than their houses, because they expected to be 
 dead a long time, and wanted all the comforts of home. 
 But I judge mummies by myself. It wouldn't have taken 
 me these thousands of years to realize how narrow and un- 
 christian my notions had been. I should see that I 
 owed some duty to the world; and as so much posterity 
 had rolled by since my day, I'd feel that lying in a
 
 FOXY DUFFING 115 
 
 museum at some large place like Cairo, was, after all, the 
 only way to keep my name before the public. Now, 
 that brings me to my tip for Lord Ernest. He asks 
 what there is we don't know, and want to know. I'll 
 answer for us all, being used to feel the pulse of crowds. 
 We want to know what the deuce Ancient Egyptians 
 really believed about death and religion. Had they any 
 sense, or were they just plain fools? " 
 
 On the tide of applause which congratulated the boat's 
 only baronet, I rose. I felt that I was on the crest of the 
 wave; for the ancient religion of Egypt appeals to me; and 
 as I now had reason to hope that others were comfortably 
 ignorant of my subject I could spread myself as much as 
 I pleased. 
 
 "The Ancient Egyptians were far from being fools," I 
 answered Sir John with the air of being in their confidence. 
 "We who are tempted to think so, don't take the trouble 
 to try the key of their Faith in its door. I might say that 
 its door was the door of the Tomb. If we go through that 
 door into the Kingdom of Osiris, Amenti, which the Greeks 
 renamed Hades, the mysteries which appear tangled sort 
 themselves graciously out. The story of Isis the Great 
 Enchantress, and her search for the body of her husband 
 Osiris, murdered by Set, his wicked and jealous brother, 
 Spirit of Evil, is perhaps the most lovable legend of the 
 world. But in hearing that Horus, the son of Isis, was 
 really the same god as Osiris, modern ideas begin to get 
 mixed, and confuse themselves over Isis, goddess of love 
 and goodness, cow-headed Hathor, mistress of love and 
 joy, cat-headed Pasht and lioness-headed Sekhet, god- 
 desses of love and passion. There's hawk-headed Horus,
 
 116 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 the youth, too; and Horus the child, represented in 
 statues with his thumb in his mouth. How is one to 
 make sense of them all? But once you have the key, it is 
 easy and even beautiful. The esoteric or secret religion 
 known to the high priests and the instructed ones was 
 different from the animal-worship and adoration of bird- 
 headed deities, which gave the common people such 
 interest in daily life. They would have been lost without 
 their monsters ; and the priests would have been lost with- 
 out the temples necessary for the worship of such a men- 
 agerie. For Egypt was a priest-ridden country in old days. 
 The explanation of the many gods and goddesses was this : 
 each was a different phase of the one God, Ha, the Sun, by 
 whom and through whom only the world could exist. 
 Animals and birds were chosen to express the different 
 phases, because animals were considered to be nearer 
 nature, therefore nearer God than human beings; besides, 
 to give a god the head of a man would not set him apart 
 from humanity, as it would to make him appear with the 
 body of a man and the head of some bird or beast. Horus, 
 finished off with the head of a hawk (that sacred bird who 
 could look the sun in the face) , became to the uneducated 
 eye a supernatural being, which he would not have been 
 with the face of a smiling youth. The child Horus, or 
 Harpocrates, was not respected as was Horus of the 
 Hawk Head. He was merely petted and loved. Even 
 Set, god of evil, wasn't all bad. He was the Spirit of 
 Storm and Strife in Nature, and had to be propitiated 
 by the ignorant. Typhon, or Typhoon, and he were one. 
 Red was his colour, and red-haired people were his 
 children.
 
 FOXY DUFFING 117 
 
 "There were a hundred phases of the one god, each made 
 incarnate, given his own mission, and worshipped in a 
 different place. It's an ill wind (of Set) that blows no- 
 body good, and animals had a gorgeous time in those days. 
 Very few weren't sacred for some reason or other. It was 
 death and destruction to kill a cat. And I don't think 
 that cats have forgotten to this day the importance they 
 had in Egypt. It's made them the most supercilious of 
 animals. 
 
 "If Amon-Ra were angry he could become Menthu, 
 the war god. If he were inclined to be gentle, he could 
 shrink to the dimensions of Horus, child-god of the 
 Rising Sun. If he were weary, he could rest as the old 
 god Turn, of the Setting Sun. Probably gods and 
 goddesses never enjoyed themselves so much as in Ancient 
 Egypt; and though it does seem a drawback from our 
 artistic point of view for Hathor to have the head or ears 
 of a cow, for wise Thoth to have the long beak of an ibis, 
 and so on, it was for them only an amusing kind of mas- 
 querade or ' tete ' party, on the walls of the temples and 
 tombs. At home, they could be what they liked. Think 
 how interesting for the Egyptians to have all these queer 
 gods, and what variety it gave to their lives. Perhaps 
 the priests really meant well in keeping the secret of the 
 One God for themselves and the kings, as the people 
 weren't fitted to bear its solemnity. Fancy how amusing 
 it was for the children to be told, on silver-bright nights, 
 about Khonsu, god of the moon, always young, wearing 
 the curled lock of youth on his brow who staked 
 five nights of his light playing draughts with Thoth, father 
 of Magic. But he had a more serious phase, for when he
 
 118 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 was not a gambler he was an Expeller of Demons, a 
 most popular accomplishment. Indeed, almost every 
 god had several thriving businesses, conducted under 
 different aliases. Khnum the Creator, dweller at the 
 Cataracts, is my favourite, and is still busy, as he looks 
 after the rise and fall of the river. Hekt, goddess of birth, 
 was a pal of his, in spite of her appalling ugliness; and she 
 used to kneel by his potter's wheel. While he fashioned 
 the clay she would hold the Sign of Life, so that spirit 
 might enter into the formed body when Khnum got it to 
 the right state. For very important babies, royal ones or 
 geniuses, she held a Sign of Life in each hand, which made 
 them extraordinarily vital. When you arrive in Egypt, 
 the first thing you'll be asked to buy will be the Sign, or 
 Key of Life, in the shape of paper knives or brooches or 
 what not, and it will be pointed out to you in tombs till 
 you're tired and sick of it. You can buy Hekt, too, and 
 funny old Bes, nurse-goddess of children, quite the golli- 
 wog of her day; and all the other gods and goddesses will 
 be offered to you, to say nothing of the kings who were 
 entitled to worship themselves as gods if they wanted 
 to. 
 
 "It's easy, you see, to make fun of the ancient religion, 
 and other nations did make fun of it. But to be serious, 
 the priests were nearer right than it would seem; for they 
 believed that God was All : that there was nothing in this 
 or any Universe which was not part of God." 
 
 That note was my highest, and I stopped on it. 
 Besides, I could think of nothing more to say. I ven- 
 tured to sit down; and because the people were glad 
 to hear the last of me, or because I had helped them
 
 FOXY DUFFING 119 
 
 finish their almonds and raisins, they applauded. Secretly 
 I shook hands with myself, as the monkey must have 
 done, when, with the eatspaw, he had pulled the hot 
 chestnuts out of the fire. I had carefully selected my 
 chestnuts and waited till they were cool. Also, I had 
 disappointed Colonel Corkran.
 
 IX 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED WHEN MY BACK WAS 
 TURNED 
 
 THREE letters for me, brought out by the pilot! One I 
 had expected from Anthony ; but my heart gave a bound as 
 I recognized Brigit's handwriting, not seen for years; and 
 instinct told me that the third was from Monny Gilder. 
 My one thought for the last two days, steaming back 
 from the Piraeus to Alexandria, had been that I was 
 drawing nearer to Cairo, and to those whose doings in 
 my absence pulled at my curiosity and keyed my in- 
 terest to breaking point. But if you think that I 
 tore open those envelopes and greedily absorbed their 
 contents the moment they were put into my hands, you 
 have never been a conductor or even an observant pas- 
 senger on a "pleasure yacht." Wlien the letters arrived 
 I was engaged in persuading breakfast-lingerers (they 
 of the eggs-and-bacon habit, who ought never to leave 
 their peaceful English homes) that it would give them 
 more real pleasure to be first in the shore boats than last 
 at the table. Then to get them into the boats; then to 
 hypnotize Lady Biddell and Mrs. Harlow into the belief 
 that they would not, could not, be seasick on the dancing 
 waves which bobbed us up and down. No time to think 
 of the letters; much less to feel the strangeness of fate 
 
 120
 
 WHEN MY BACK WAS TURNED 121 
 
 which brought me back in such queer circumstances to the 
 port I had entered on the Laconia eight days ago. 
 
 "As soon as we get on shore," I soothed my gnawing 
 impatience, "I'll steal a minute somehow." But each 
 moment was so conspicuously labelled that I could not 
 be a thief of time my time, which was my charges' 
 time, bought and paid for by Sir Marcus Lark. 
 
 This was not the first occasion on which I'd heard the 
 clanking of my chains, for, although I flattered myself 
 that I was a popular success, popularity had penalties. 
 On the night of the lecture I had used the passengers. 
 Since then they had used me. Old ladies appealed to 
 me on questions of etiquette, health or religion, and 
 retailed my answers, not always correctly. Girls asked 
 my advice about keeping up flirtations, and men wanted 
 my help in getting out of them. I was expected to spout 
 pages of Strabo or Pliny at an instant's notice; I must 
 know why Plato went to Egypt, or how long he stayed; 
 and be umpire between American and British bridge- 
 players. I must be able to explain the true meaning 
 and age of the Sphinx; invent new deck games; and show 
 those who hadn't learned, how to dance the Tango. 
 But with those three letters burning over my heart 
 the duties of conductor became infuriating. 
 
 It was an awful day; for what was Pompey's Pillar 
 to me while I remained ignorant of my friends' adventures? 
 As I discoursed (more or less) learnedly about Diocletian, 
 and Ptolemy's plot to drown Pompey in the Nile, some- 
 thing inside was asking, "Has Anthony fallen in love with 
 Monny Gilder?" "What scrapes has that blessed girl 
 got into?" "Has anything happened to worry Biddy?"
 
 122 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Even that nameless but incomparable tomb on the 
 hill of Kom esh-Shukafa could not distract my thoughts 
 from the sealed envelopes; and three very modern hand- 
 writings came obstinately between my eyes and the 
 matchless wall-paintings paintings as fresh in their 
 underground hiding-place as if finished yesterday instead 
 of in days when it was dowdy to be pagan, fashionable 
 to be Christian. 
 
 Corkran, as a soldier, had to guide a band to Aboukir, 
 and chat about Nelson; point out the medieval fort of 
 Kait Bey, and dash with hired motors to Adjemi, where 
 Napoleon landed. Kruger took a few studious pilgrims 
 to that unspoiled Oriental Nile town where the Rosetta 
 Stone gave the secrets of Ancient Egypt to the world. It 
 was mine to pilot the " frivolous lot" ; to escort them in car- 
 riages round the Italian-looking city when they had 
 absorbed its two chief sights; to give them a glimpse of 
 the Museum, and to let them see the beauty and fashion 
 of Alexandria driving out to San Stefano in the late 
 afternoon. Still I had no chance to read my letters; but, 
 thought I at the hotel, "Now at last, it has come!" Not 
 at all! People's trunks were missing, or in the wrong 
 rooms. It was I who had to sooth alarms, and calm 
 rising storms. It was I who must assure Mrs. Harlow 
 that her room was really preferable to that of Lady Biddell; 
 and Lady Biddell that she, and not Miss Hassett-Bean, 
 had the best in the hotel. Still, I had ten minutes to 
 dress for dinner. Like Mr. Gladstone, I could do it in 
 five, and have five left for my letters. But hardly had 
 I slipped a paper knife under the flap of Monny's envelope 
 (I should have felt a vandal to tear it) when one of the
 
 WHEN MY BACK WAS TURNED 123 
 
 hotel managers knocked at my door. A gentleman 
 was being very angry in the dining-room. He insisted 
 on seeing me. He said he had been Lord Mayor of 
 London, and ought to have a window-table. All these 
 were previously engaged. What was to be done? Would 
 I kindly come at once? 
 
 I persuaded Sir John that window-tables were the least 
 desirable, owing to draughts, and returning to my room v 
 had four minutes to dress or risk further rows. After din- 
 ner Miss Hassett-Bean burst into tears because she was 
 alone in the world owing to the marmoset's death from 
 seasickness; and now that she was growing old nobody 
 cared to talk to her. I argued that people were shy be- 
 cause she was more important than they, and had a rep- 
 utation for satire. It took half an hour for the lady's 
 nose to go from red to pink (I think she had papier 
 poudre in her handkerchief); and then I was obliged to 
 walk on the beach with Miss Enid Biddell to keep Mr. 
 Watts from proposing. As Snell relieved me from sentry 
 duty, I was called by Kruger to discuss certain details of 
 next morning's start for Cairo; and at midnight, when I 
 crawled to my room a shattered wreck, the letters were 
 still unread. 
 
 "I'm incapable of caring now," I groaned, "what 
 has happened to any of them. If an earthquake has 
 swallowed up our mountain, and Anthony's married 
 Monny, and Brigit's been abducted, or vice versa, and 
 Miss Guest has gone off with the jewels, it will leave me 
 calm." 
 
 That was the spirit in which I tossed up a coin to 
 see which letter to read first. Heads, Monny 's; tails,
 
 124 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Anthony's; but the penny rolled away, far under the bed 
 where collar-buttons go, and so I opened Biddy's. She 
 began : 
 
 MY DEAR GOOD Dt7FFER: 
 
 For any sake hurry back. Make an excuse to leave your 
 pilgrims the minute you get this, and take the first train to 
 Cairo. Surely the late conductor can be your understudy, 
 and trot the people round Alexandria for a day? We need you 
 more than they do. I picture you reading this early in the 
 morning, with Alexandria still hi the distance; for you said 
 you'd arrange to have letters come out to the yacht by the pilot. 
 I shall expect a telegram saying by what train you'll arrive 
 here in the afternoon. You'll understand when I've told you 
 everything, why it's necessary for you to hurry. 
 
 We have done and seen so many things, it seems years instead 
 of days since you left us in care of that handsome Hadji of 
 yours. I wonder if really you didn't suspect that I guessed 
 who he was; or did you suspect; and didn't care? I caught 
 the look hi your eyes, when you first saw him standing under the 
 terrace at Shepheard's, and then, when the name "Antoun 
 Effendi" came up in the conversation, I put two and two to- 
 gether. Mrs. East guesses, also. I don't know if she did from 
 the first, but she does now. It isn't a question of " guessing M 
 with either of us, really. It's a certainty. Not that she's said 
 anything to me or I to her. That is the malady of us all since 
 you went. We are boiling with secret thoughts, and keeping 
 them to ourselves, which is bad for us and for each other in the 
 long run. I haven't told Monny that the "Egyptian Prince," 
 as Rachel Guest has nicknamed him, is your friend Captain 
 Anthony Fenton playing some deep game, partly connected 
 with us, partly connected with a secret of his and yours; the 
 secret you said was a "dusty" one in which women would not 
 be interested. I haven't told her, because I don't want her to 
 know. She is always talking and thinking about him, and is 
 vexed with herself for doing so. She tries to stop, but can't.
 
 WHEN MY BACK WAS TURNED 125 
 
 If she knew who he was, she wouldn't try to stop. She'd let 
 herself go, and feel she was living in a beautiful romance. So 
 she is living in a romance, but I want you to be the hero of 
 it, not your Anthony Fenton. That's why I don't open her 
 eyes to the game that's going on. The man is a perfect devil. 
 Not a bad devil, but a wild devil. 
 
 Mrs. East doesn't tell Monny that Antoun is "Anthony with 
 an h" because she is enjoying the thought that she alone knows 
 the wonderful truth. She imagines that she is in love with him. 
 She believes Fate has brought them together that he is a 
 "reincarnation," as she is, and that they ought to belong to each 
 other. Well, let them! She isn't more than six or seven years 
 older than he, and she's rich (though poor compared to Monny, 
 of course), and every day she grows handsomer. So does Monny. 
 As for Rachel Guest but she is in another part of my story. 
 Yet no, come to think of it, I'll bring her in now, because if it 
 weren't for developments concerning that young woman, I 
 might be able to wait one more day without begging you to come 
 to us. She is taking Monny away from me; and something odd 
 is going on, I can't make out what. Anyhow, that horrid Bedr 
 el Gemaly is in it. And there's to be a climax, I'm sure, to- 
 morrow night. You'll get this letter to-morrow morning, for 
 I'm writing it early, with my hair down my back, and my coffee 
 not ordered, though I'm starving. We've left Shepheard's be- 
 cause Monny wanted to live for a few days in a hotel close to the 
 Nile; and we were all pleased with the plan, for this was once a 
 palace of Khedive Ismael, and his furniture's still in it, the wild- 
 est mixture of Orientalized French taste. There's a garden, with 
 paths of vermilion sand brought from somewhere in the desert. 
 But the most convulsive things live along the Nile Valley and 
 spend their nights braying, hooting, cooing, whining, bellowing, 
 and barking. If only the donkeys and dogs and birds and a few 
 other sacred animals of Egypt would be a little more reticen^ 
 expecially after dark, the country would be faultless. But what 
 with worrying myself, and listening to furred and feathered 
 creatures worrying themselves, I couldn't sleep last night, and I 
 want you to help me! You'll be here to-morrow afternoon, and
 
 126 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 I shall stay in to receive you instead of going to the bazaars 
 with the others, chaperoned by that dark-eyed devil of yours, 
 "Antoun." I was there all yesterday, watching crowds of 
 tourists buy beautiful expensive things for themselves, and 
 horrid inexpensive things to take to their friends. Cleopatra pur- 
 chased some disgracefully cheap pearls no self-respecting mummy 
 would be seen in; and my prophetic soul tells me that she's going 
 to try and dissolve them in wine. 
 
 There's to be a fancy dress ball at this hotel to-morrow night 
 or rather in the adjacent Casino, which is one reason we migrated 
 here; and praise the saints you'll be in time for it because if 
 anything's going to happen, you'll be able to stop whatever it is. 
 If I were supposed to know that Antoun was Anthony Fenton, I 
 might take him into my counsels. As it is, I can't. And any- 
 how, it wouldn't do much good, at present, because a silent duel 
 is going on between him and Monny. He is bent on compelling 
 her to acknowledge his authority. She is bent on resisting it 
 which is a great compliment to his power but he doesn't know 
 that, for he doesn't know Monny yet. It would be fun to watch 
 them together, if I hadn't your interests to think of. 
 
 He hasn't got rid of Bedr el Gemaly; but he would have done 
 so, I'm sure, if it hadn't been for an unexpected turn of the wheel, 
 by the hand of Fate in the person of Rachel Guest. Her hand 
 is never off the wheel just now! The few days since you have 
 been away have brought out the true inwardness of her. Fells 
 Domestica with very little Domestica! Perhaps it's the air of 
 Egypt which is having a really extraordinary effect on all of 
 us; perhaps it's the fact that Monny has given Rachel a lot 
 of lovely clothes which have rejuvenated and apparently re- 
 vitalized her. But you will see for yourself, and talk things over 
 with Your old friend, 
 
 BIDDY. 
 
 This was a nice letter to read, heaven knew how many 
 hours too late! 
 
 My fatigue had slipped off like the skin off a grape.
 
 WHEN MY BACK WAS TURNED 127 
 
 I felt energetic enough to start out and walk to Cairo. 
 What could be in Biddy's mind? And what must she have 
 thought when afternoon and evening passed without 
 even a telegram? The evening paper, if she had happened 
 to look, would have told her that the Candace had reached 
 Alexandria in the morning, as she expected; and she could 
 neither have guessed nor believed that the whole day 
 would pass without my having a chance to read her letter. 
 I ransacked the writing-table drawers for a telegraph form; 
 and finding one had begun to address it, when I stopped. 
 The message could not go out until morning. Meanwhile 
 there were Monny's and Anthony's letters to read. One 
 or both might give me some clue to the "climax" Biddy 
 feared for to-night at the ball. I cut open Monny's 
 envelope, which had on it an alluring sunset picture of the 
 Pyramids and the name of the hotel. Hastily I ran 
 through the pages. Not a hint of anything disquieting! 
 If I had read her letter instead of Brigit's I might have 
 gone to my well-earned rest without a qualm. 
 
 "Dear Lord Ernest," Miss Gilder addressed me, in a 
 handwriting which to any "expert" would reveal some 
 originality, more pride, still more conscientiousness, any 
 amount of self-will, and singularly little conceit. An odd 
 combination ! But the Gilded Rose is that. She went on : 
 
 You asked me to write to you while you were away, and tell 
 you the news, and what I thought about things. But I'm think- 
 ing so much and so fast that I can't sort out my thoughts. I 
 suppose it must be so with every one who comes to Egypt for the 
 first time. Everything fascinates and absorbs me, even more 
 than I had hoped it would almost too much, I feel sometimes. 
 Your Antoun Effendi is a very good guide, and I am not sorry 
 that we have him except once in a while. And now and then
 
 128 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 I'm glad. We're proud of his looks when we go about, for every 
 one stares at him and envies us for having him to take us about, 
 instead of being condemned to a mere dragoman. Oh, talking 
 of dragomen (you see I will call them that!), we still have Bedr, 
 though I know you thought we ought to give him up, and I 
 don't see how we are ever to discharge him now, for he has 
 attached himself to Rachel G. in the most wonderful way. It is 
 pathetic. It began with a talk they had the day you left, about 
 his having been hi America, and about religion. She found him 
 half inclined to be converted, and of course, her goodness and 
 unselfishness made her long to snatch him like a brand from 
 the burning. He thinks no one ever talked so wonderfully 
 about religion as she does, which she, dear thing, attributes 
 to the fact that she taught Sunday-school in Salem. She says, 
 if } she can have him to work upon even for a few weeks, she 
 is sure to make him a convert. 
 
 We haven't wasted a minute since you went away, but have 
 seen sights from morning till night, so as not to have missed 
 anything when we leave Cairo on the Enchantress Isis. I hope 
 you'll be pleased that I've given up my dream of having a private 
 dahabeah, and that we shall be with you on Sir Marcus Lark's 
 boat. She is really a beauty. Antoun took us over her, and 
 on board we met Sir Marcus, who was showing some friends 
 round. Antoun introduced him to us. I think Sir M. asked 
 him to do it. We had great fun, for Sir Marcus seemed to 
 take the most violent fancy to Aunt Clara, who didn't like 
 him at all. She says now that she believes when she was 
 Cleopatra he was Ca?sar, and thatit's a pity he can't wear a wreath 
 to hide his baldness, as she remembers his doing then. It's only a 
 very little bald spot, really, and Rachel Guest says it reminds her 
 of a tonsure on the head of a fine-looking monk. Aunt C. quite 
 resents Sir Marcus being able to engage the services of you and 
 Antoun. She wants you both to be there, but she doesn't like 
 Sir M. to have a superior position to Antoun's. That day on the 
 Enchantress Isis Sir M. invited us to have tea on the deck, and 
 it really was enchanting; a deck like a huge open-air drawing- 
 room, or one of our biggest verandas at Newport, or somewhere,
 
 WHEN MY BACK WAS TURNED 129 
 
 with jolly green wicker chairs and tables and sofas with heaps of 
 cushions. But I forgot you've seen the boat. The best 
 rooms were engaged, but when we talked to Sir Marcus, he called 
 a man who can speak many languages in bits broken English, 
 cracked German, fractured French, and goodness knows what 
 all. Between them, they arranged it somehow that we should 
 have our choice, and the other people were to take what was 
 left. I would have refused, because it didn't seem fair, but it was 
 for Aunt Clara's sake, evidently, that Sir M. wanted to make the 
 exchange, and she accepted. She was as haughty as a queen, but 
 in rather a fascinating, soft way that I think men like. And she 
 was looking beautiful. So is Rachel, as even Biddy admits. I 
 do believe Rachel looks younger than I do, in some new dresses 
 and hats she has. I never noticed before, but I fancy now that 
 we're rather alike. I'm so delighted to see her enjoying herself 
 so much, for you know, she's wonderful. Think what courage it 
 must have taken to break with her tiresome old life, because she 
 felt she must see the glory of the world, when a tiny legacy 
 gave her the chance she'd longed for. She wouldn't have had a 
 penny left, after she'd finished her trip, if Aunt C. and I hadn't 
 been able to help her out. It's a privilege to do anything for 
 such a brave creature. And I can't bear to think of her having 
 to go back when this is over, to the dull round. Perhaps some 
 way out will be found for her. 
 
 I've fallen in love with Cairo, although or perhaps because 
 I still feel as if 1 were moving in a marvellous picture. Antoun 
 does make it live for us! I will say that for him, though he 
 can be so annoying that at times he spoils everything, and 
 makes me wish you'd won my hat instead of my winning his 
 green turban. I'm dying to find out how you got it. But, of 
 course, I can't ask him: it would be infra dig. You must tell 
 me when you come. I think the one he wears now is handsomer 
 though. I wish I could change it for mine. 
 
 We have been to heaps of mosques, and I can't help wishing 
 we were the only tourists in Cairo. Of course, this is a selfish 
 wish; and as dear Biddy says, it's quite funny to think how 
 each tourist feels that he is the only spiritual-minded, imagina-
 
 130 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 tive person travelling that he alone has the right to be in 
 Egypt that all the others are offensive, vulgar creatures, who 
 desecrate the beautiful places with their presence. But really, 
 you know, it gets on one's nerves, meeting droves of silly men 
 in pith helmets with little white lambrequins looped up, when 
 it would be so much more appropriate to wear the kind of 
 hats they have at home. And some of the women are weird! 
 They have the queerest ideas of what is suitable for Egypt. 
 One friend of Bedr's refused to go about and be seen with 
 the ladies who'd engaged him, as he was the smartest dragoman 
 in Cairo and had his reputation to keep up. Don't you like 
 that? Even Antoun laughed which he hardly ever does. 
 He's so dignified I wish his turban would blow off or something. 
 I wonder how he'd look without k, and if most of the charm 
 would be gone? Almost, I hope so. One doesn't like to 
 catch one's self feeling toward an Egyptian, even for a minute, 
 as one does toward men of one's own blood I mean, on the 
 same level, or even as if a person like that were above one. 
 It's just the picturesque dignity of the costume, and the pose, 
 perhaps. And then, this strange glamour of the East is over 
 everybody and everything, here. I used to wonder why people 
 wrote and spoke of the East as mysterious. Why should it 
 be more mysterious than the West? I would ask. Nobody 
 could explain exactly. They said only, "It is." Now I 
 know why at least I feel why. Without his green turban, or in 
 European coat instead of his graceful silk robe, and away from 
 these luminous sunsets of pale rose and gold and emerald, Antoun 
 would be nothing extraordinary, would he? He says he is con- 
 sidered old fashioned in his way of dress. Most of his friends 
 wear European clothes, and the tarboosh which Egyptians love 
 because it never blows away or falls off when they pray. He 
 does make me angry, because he wants to banish the beggars and 
 poor men who sell things in the street, instead of letting me give 
 and buy. What am I/or, with all my money, except to do things 
 for people? And it's such fun making them happy by saying "I 
 want a cat-necklace " or a scarab, or whatever they have, 
 instead of pushing past with a stony glare as if they were dust
 
 WHEN MY BACK WAS TURNED 131 
 
 under our feet. Of course we're attended by great crowds where- 
 ever we go, because it's got round that we don't refuse any one, 
 consequently it takes a little long to arrive anywhere. But what 
 does that matter in Egypt? Already I'm losing my American 
 hustle. I want to eat lotuses, which seem out of season in 
 Egypt now! I've asked for them everywhere but can't get 
 them. I want to fee 1 back in the Middle Ages, in Cairo, which, 
 as Antoun says, is an Oriental and Medieval Gateway to the 
 Egypt older than history. And how I am looking forward 
 to the Desert! Sir Marcus tells us that you are to take the 
 people of the Candace for a desert trip before they go up 
 the Nile; so of course you must count us among your "trip- 
 pers," and Mr. Willis and Mr. Sheridan, who have settled to 
 go on the Isis. You didn't mention the desert plan before 
 you went away ! 
 
 No news of that poor, beautiful child, Wretched Bey's wife 
 though I've written twice. I'm worried about her. Mabel she 
 used to be. Now she's Mabella Hanem! Biddy says you'll 
 arrive for the ball to-morrow night. But somehow I don't feel 
 you will. I don't know why you should. Men don't care for 
 such things much. And of course I shall not dance, as I'm still 
 in half mourning. I shall only look on, and then RacheJ and 
 I have an amusing plan for the end of the evening. But even if 
 you came, we couldn't let you into the secret, as you would think 
 it silly. 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 ROSAMOND GILDER. 
 
 Mine "sincerely, Rosamond Gilder!" So she ended 
 her letter, with youthful and characteristic dignity, 
 childishly unaware, apparently, that there was more to 
 read between the lines than in the lines themselves. 
 
 Had I read this Rosamond letter first, the last four or 
 five sentences would have meant little for me. As it was, 
 I would have given a month out of my future for the gift 
 of an astral body which could go this minute to the ball at
 
 132 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 the Ghezireh Palace. I was lost in the mystery of that 
 "amusing plan." 
 
 In Anthony's letter lay my last hope of a clue. But in it 
 there was none. He did not even mention Monny's name. 
 It was all about that "desert trip" which, from her, I 
 hadn't taken seriously. Sir Marcus was actually plan- 
 ning it. Kruger had written that some of the passengers 
 were clamouring for a few days' camping, and the idea 
 was to send them off in my care, after three days in 
 Cairo, while the others remained in charge of Antoun, 
 who wasn't yet ready to leave. Fenton said: 
 
 Somebody's trying to defeat rny scheme for getting the sheikh's 
 tomb moved. I don't know who it is yet. Meanwhile my time 
 and my head are so full, that in the few hours of the night I put 
 aside for sleep, I dream queerer dreams than the visits of ghostly 
 sheikhs. Apropos of dreams, do you know by chance a man who 
 answers this description: elderly, stoutish, red face, gray hair, 
 black moustache, pale eyes with sharp look in them. Sounds 
 commonplace, doesn't it? 
 
 But I have a recurring dream of such a man, whose face I never 
 saw elsewhere. For the last three nights, as soon as I shut my 
 eyes, he comes. He seems to interrupt some scene between you 
 and Lark, and myself, and I see him looking over Lark's shoul- 
 der. Then he turns quickly away, and tiptoes off to a very low, 
 closed door in a deep recess. There he disappears into shadow 
 
 and I wake up with a jump, or slide off into another dream 
 
 but generally this rouses me, for there's an impression of some- 
 thing stealthy in the shadow round the door. That so ordinary 
 a type of person should be in a dream. You'll laugh at my ask- 
 ing if you've ever known such a man, and say that I'm back at 
 my old tricks again, as a dreamer of dreams. Never mind, I 
 scored, dreaming of our Mountain of the Golden Pyramid the 
 night before I got your letter with Ferlini's papers. I can't help 
 feeling that there may be something in dreams in mine, any-
 
 WHEN MY BACK WAS TURNED 133 
 
 how, though I never have any except in Egypt. This one about 
 the red-faced man and the closed door in the deep recess is get- 
 ting a bit on my nerves. 
 
 Excited as I was over the patchwork of news, I laughed 
 scornfully at Anthony's dream. For the man he described 
 might be Colonel CoiKran.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 THE SECRET MONNY KEPT 
 
 CAIRO at last ! My watch said that the journey took only 
 three hours; but my nerves said six. 
 
 I had telegraphed Biddy first thing in the morning the 
 hour of my arrival with the ' ' Candace crowd," and I half 
 expected to see her at the big white and red station, but 
 there was no familiar form in the throng, the gay throng 
 which excited my charges. Everything interested them; 
 the black face of the Sudanese engine driver who looked 
 down from his huge British locomotive, the display of 
 English, French and German literature mingled with 
 Greek, Italian, Arab, or Turkish papers on the bookstall; 
 the ebony and copper-coloured luggage carriers who 
 seemed eager to take one another's lives, but in reality 
 desired no more than to snatch each other's jobs, under the 
 eyes of the uniformed hotel-porters. To me, the busy 
 place was a desert, lacking one face. 
 
 Even outside the station-yard, and in the streets and 
 squares where silent camels looked their contempt of 
 electric trams, soldiers in khaki uniforms jostled Bedouins 
 in khaki robes, and drivers of arabeahs made the way one 
 long procession of shrieks, I still glanced at passing car- 
 riages in hopes of a belated Biddy. All in vain! And 
 destitute of news I resigned myself to the task of piloting 
 
 134
 
 THE SECRET MONNY KEPT 135 
 
 the Set out to Mena House. The moon would be full 
 that night and it's "the thing" to be a neighbour of 
 the Sphinx while the moon "feeds her with honey. " 
 
 The Flock, under the guidance of Mr. Watts, had now 
 definitely parted from the Set, chieftained by me. They 
 went meekly off to the cheaper hotels, where they would 
 live before boarding the Candace again for Palestine, and 
 Colonel Corkran, who was supposed to have joined that 
 party, had announced that he was "bound for a long talk 
 with Mark the Lark." Mr. Watts, refused by Enid Bid- 
 dell and separated from her, had relapsed into melan- 
 cholia. He had ceased to brilliantine his once sleek hair, 
 and dust and crumbs were allowed to collect in each fold 
 of his clerical waistcoat. As we of the Set buzzed richly 
 away in taxicabs, I saw him in a shabby arabeah between 
 two old ladies, gazing wistfully after us. He was envying 
 me Enid! 
 
 It is a wonderful drive through Cairo to the Pyramids, 
 whether you spin out there in a motor, or trot on a donkey, 
 or lilt on a camel, squatting cross-legged on a load of 
 green bersim. Past the great swinging bridge, and the 
 Island of Ghezireh (the word that in itself means "island ") 
 begins the six-mile dyke, which is the road made by Ismail 
 to please the Empress Eugenie. Since her visit, in the 
 days when the Suez Canal was opened, it has pleased two 
 empresses, and more queens than I have time to count. 
 Under the deep shade of lebbek trees it goes on and on, 
 toward the Pyramids, a dark cool avenue, high above cul- 
 tivated fields flooded by the Nile when the river is "up." 
 The emerald waves of grain flow like green water to the 
 foot of the broad dyke-road, and canals like long, tight-
 
 136 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 drawn blue ribbons are threaded through it, their ends 
 lost to sight at the shimmering horizon. 
 
 Even at this noon hour when the world should have been 
 eating lotuses or luncheon, the interminable arbour was 
 crowded with strings of camels, forever going both ways, 
 into Cairo and out, one wondered why and there were 
 flocks of woolly brown sheep, and donkeys drawing side- 
 less carts in which whole families of veiled women and half- 
 naked children were seated tailor fashion. On we spun, 
 past the Zoo, past scattered villas of Frenchified, Oriental 
 fashion which might have been designed by a confectioner : 
 past azure lakes left by the ebbing Nile, and so into sud- 
 den dazzling sight of three geometric mountains in a tawny 
 desert two, monsters in size, and one a baby trying 
 to catch up with them. 
 
 "Oh!" everybody breathed. For these things were 
 beyond words. 
 
 Then in a moment more the Great Pyramid had grown 
 so big that it loomed over us, and ate up half the sky 
 a pyre of yellow flame against a flame of blue. 
 
 We were at the end of the shadowy road that leads like 
 a causeway to the desert, and on the verge of the golden, 
 billowing sea which flows round the Pyramids and engulfs 
 the distant Sphinx. Oriental life encircled us, in the 
 foreground of the picture a long row of waiting camels 
 gaily saddled and tasselled, delicately nibbling bersim 
 green as heaped emeralds donkeys white and gray, 
 beribboned and beaded small yellow sandcarts; little 
 white, desert horses and tall brown, desert men; camels 
 snarling, donkeys braying, horses whinnying, and men 
 touting. "Very nice sandcarts very nice camels!
 
 THE SECRET MONNY KEPT 137 
 
 Take ladies and genlemen quick to Pyramids and Sphinx 
 or Petrified Forest!" Farther on, the big, modern hotel, 
 rather like an overgrown Swiss chalet built by Arabs 
 a vast, confused building the colour of sand or brown 
 heather honey, with carved mushrbiyeh work lending an 
 Eastern charm to windows, balconies, and loggias, and 
 enough green, flowery garden to give a sensational effect 
 of contrast with the tidal wave of desert poised ready, it 
 would seem, to overwhelm palms and roses. Clustered 
 near, the tiny mushroom village which huddles under the 
 shelter of Cheops' Pyramid. Beyond, the immense up- 
 ward sweep of golden dunes, culminating in the Great 
 Pyramid itself. 
 
 I stayed in the picture only long enough to settle my big 
 children into their quarters, and to see most of them 
 making for the dining-room, agreeably Oriental with its 
 white and red walls, its dome and windows of mushrbiyeh 
 work. Then I darted back to Cairo, in a taxi driven by a 
 Nubian youth, so black that he was almost blue, like a 
 whortleberry. He wore a scarlet tarboosh, a livery of 
 violet, and the holes for silver rings in the tops of his ears 
 were so large that the light shining through gave the effect 
 of inserted diamonds. Unconsciously he made a nice 
 contrast with his modern motor. 
 
 He drove with such reckless speed that camels " rubber- 
 necked " to look at us and whirled me past the fat black 
 gate-keeper into the Ghezireh Palace garden of scarlet 
 paths, moonlike lamps, Khedivial statues, and spreading 
 banyans where each tree continued itself in its own "next 
 number," like an endless serial romance. 
 
 I nearly asked for Mrs. O'Brien, but turned her into
 
 138 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Jones at the danger point. The face of the concierge, as 
 he said that she was at home, conveyed nothing, yet I 
 cculd not resist adding, "Are the ladies well?" 
 
 "Mrs. East is not very well to-day," he replied. "We 
 have had the doctor; but the young ladies have been out 
 spending the night with friends, I believe. They have not 
 yet returned. " 
 
 It was a long five minutes before Biddy and I were 
 wildly shaking hands in a huge private sitting-room all 
 red-and-gold brocade and crystal chandeliers, as it had 
 been in the days of Ismail. I knew I should be delighted 
 to see her, but I didn't realize that it was going to be quite 
 as good as it was. 
 
 "Anyhow, you're all right and safe," I heard myself 
 blurt out. 
 
 " I'm safe, but not all right ! " she reproached me. " My 
 messenger who went to the train didn't find you from 
 my description, I know, because he came back with my 
 note " 
 
 "Too flattering, was your description, or the other 
 way? " I asked, trying to buoy her up with frivolity. 
 
 "You wouldn't joke if you'd read the note. Oh, 
 Ernest, Monny and Rachel have disappeared!" 
 
 "Good gracious! But Anthony " 
 
 "He went to look for them, of course; and he's dis- 
 appeared, too." 
 
 "By Jove!" The exclamation sounded inadequate, 
 but I was so taken aback that I had nothing else to say. 
 It seemed impossible that Anthony, instead of averting 
 danger, could be involved in it himself. It was unlike 
 his resourcefulness. I could not believe it of him, and
 
 THE SECRET MONNY KEPT 139 
 
 so, when I had time to control mind and tongue, I said 
 as much to Biddy. 
 
 "Yes, I felt like that, too, at first, " she admitted. "He 
 gives one the impression of being so infallible in any 
 emergency, somehow, as if he'd be above it, and look down 
 on it from his height. But it's more than twelve hours 
 since he went, and he promised to send me word how things 
 were going on if he couldn't get to me himself. No word 
 has come." 
 
 "What have you done?" I asked. "Have you com- 
 municated with the police? " 
 
 "Sir Marcus Lark has. He was at the ball, and has 
 been very good. But it's for Mrs. East's sake, mostly. 
 One feels he's glad it happened, to give him the chance to 
 win her gratitude or something. He's been back and 
 forth all day; and I'm expecting him any minute. Mrs. 
 East has been fainting and hysterical, and everything 
 early Edwardian, so I sent for a doctor. But she's better 
 on the strength of sal volatile and eggnog, and she's prom- 
 ised to see Sir Marcus." 
 
 "Now tell me what happened, from the beginning," I 
 said, when I had made Biddy sit down by me on the sofa, 
 and was trying to warm a cold little hand in mine. 
 
 What it all amounted to, told disjointedly, was this: 
 Since Monny had had an inspiration the day after our 
 arrival in Cairo, to give Rachel Guest a lot of her new 
 unworn clothes, Rachel had become quite girlish and 
 "flighty." She had lost her puritan primness, and be- 
 haved more in accordance with her slanting eyes than with 
 her bringing up. She giggled like a schoolgirl rather than 
 a schoolmistress, tried to make herself look young, and
 
 140 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 copied Monny in the way she tilted her hat and dressed 
 her hair. No harm in this; but it had seemed to Biddy 
 that Rachel deliberately incited the girl to do things which 
 "Antoun" disapproved. Brigit fancied that Bedr's in- 
 fluence had been at work, for knowing as he did that 
 "Antoun" would gladly h.ave given him marching orders, 
 he took pleasure in thwarting his superior when he could 
 do so with safety. Bedr had been clever in enlisting the 
 girls' sympathy for his soul. As for Biddy, she had dis- 
 liked him from the first, and imagined that he had tacked 
 himself onto our party as a spy, upon the receipt of orders 
 from America, he having learned most of his English there. 
 The idea appeared so far-fetched that she had abandoned 
 it. Now, however, it was again hovering at the back of 
 her mind. 
 
 Bedr had told Rachel stories of the fascination of hash- 
 eesh smoking, and had said that no stranger knew Cairo 
 who did not visit one of the "best houses " where hasheesh, 
 though forbidden, was still secretly smoked. He had 
 assured her that there were several which were "perfectly 
 respectable," even for the "nicest ladies and gentlemen;" 
 and Rachel, probably at his suggestion, had tried to per- 
 suade Monny to make the expedition. Monny had men- 
 tioned it to "Antoun," in the presence of everybody; and 
 as Rachel and Bedr had looked guilty, Biddy guessed that 
 they had wished to keep the plan a secret. 
 
 "Antoun" had perhaps too brusquely vetoed the idea. 
 He said that there were no such houses, which could be 
 visited by ladies, and that it was absurd to think of going. 
 That word " absurd " stung Monny. She began to protest 
 that Bedr knew Cairo as well as Antoun did, and was as
 
 THE SECRET MONNY KEPT 141 
 
 likely to be right. "I don't see why we shouldn't go, if 
 others do," she persisted, "and I've always longed to know 
 what a hasheesh dream was like, ever since I read De 
 Quincey. A little, just once, could do us no harm, and 
 Rachel says " 
 
 But what Rachel had said was evidently not for publica- 
 tion. Miss Guest stopped her with a hand on hers, and 
 a " Dear Monny, please don't let us think of it any more, 
 if Antoun Effendi disapproves. Maybe it was a silly idea, 
 and we've plenty of amusing things to do every minute. " 
 
 Monny was apparently contented to let the idea slip, 
 and Brigit had thought that, in the excitement of getting 
 ready for the ball, she and Rachel had really forgotten it. 
 Then, before writing me, she had overheard Rachel say 
 to her friend, "It's for twelve o'clock sharp." And 
 Monny had answered, "Won't it be great! Does Bedr 
 
 think But she had stopped short at sight of 
 
 Brigit. 
 
 Even this did not suggest to Biddy a visit to a "hasheesh 
 den," for various other plans had been broached and dis- 
 couraged by "Antoun." She did not feel that, as she was 
 not supposed to know his real status, she could go " blab- 
 bing" to him; and fearing that mischief was on foot, she 
 had wished for me. When I didn't arrive, she soothed 
 herself by reflecting that, after all, she need only keep a 
 sharp watch over Monny when midnight drew near. 
 None of the party intended to dance, and so it would be 
 easy, Brigit thought, to "have an eye upon the girls." 
 
 Monny had bought Oriental costumes for herself and 
 Rachel. They were rather conspicuous, luckily for 
 Biddy's plan, for among the many gorgeous dresses in the
 
 142 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Casino she had no difficulty in tracking those two. Until 
 half past eleven, she told herself, she need not be on the 
 alert every instant; but therein had lain her mistake. Sir 
 Marcus Lark had appeared, dressed (more or less) as a 
 Roman officer of the Occupation days, he having heard 
 Mrs. East remark that, "whatever anybody said, it was 
 her favourite period." The lady, of course, had not 
 missed such an opportunity to appear as Cleopatra. She 
 had brought a costume with her from New York; and 
 while Biddy "lost herself" in watching the effect of this 
 magnificence on Sir Marcus, the girl^ vanished. 
 
 Without alarming Mrs. East, Brigit had begun to 
 search. She asked everybody she knew in the ballroom 
 if the girls had gone out, and inquired in the cloakroom; 
 but the two h.ad been seen by nobody. It was as if they 
 had melted into air; and Brigit began to suspect that they 
 must have covered up their brilliant dresses with dominoes 
 smuggled into the Casino. Willis Bailey was at the ball, \ 
 but he had developed a flirtation with Miss Guest, and 
 Biddy felt th.at he was not to be trusted as a confidant. 
 Perhaps, too, he had helped the girls to disappear. It 
 seemed cruel to frighten Mrs. East, when the scheme, 
 whatever it was, might be no more than an innocent freak; 
 so Biddy said nothing to Queen Cleopatra or her Roman 
 attendant. She slipped across the garden to the hotel, 
 and sent an Arab messenger off in a taxi with a note to 
 the address "Antoun" had told her would find him. In 
 less than an hour he arrived, and when he had listened 
 to her account of what had happened, he said after a 
 minute's reflection that the ladies had almost surely gone 
 with Bedr to some hasheesh den, or a place masquerading
 
 THE SECRET MONNY KEPT 143 
 
 as such. "Antoun" consoled Biddy as well as he could, 
 by saying that no harm would come to Miss Gilder or Miss 
 Guest. Bedr would know too well on which side his 
 bread was buttered to take his clients where insult or 
 danger could reach them. Off "Antoun" went to look for 
 the missing ones though, and assured Biddy that she 
 should have news as soon as possible. 
 
 It was not till three o'clock that she had begun to be 
 very anxious, and had disturbed the harmony of Sir 
 Marcus Lark's duet with Mrs. East. Even then she 
 would not have spoken had she not feared that the ball 
 would break up, and there would be no man to appeal to! 
 
 Sir Marcus had been inclined to smile at the notion 
 of danger; but he, like Anthony Fenton, was ignorant of 
 any private qualms which troubled Brigit O'Brien. She 
 could not tell him who she was, and that she considered 
 herself far from being a "mascot" to her fellow-travellers. 
 If she had told, and added that she feared enemies who 
 might for certain reasons make a mistake in Monny's 
 identity, he would have laughed his hearty laugh, and said 
 that such melodramatic things didn't happen, even in 
 Egypt. 
 
 "But you know," Biddy appealed to me, "that melo- 
 dramatic things have happened to me and those near me. 
 I'm not even sure that poor Richard's death was natural, 
 though I watched over him like a hawk in those dreadful 
 days when he was fearing every shadow, and we were flit- 
 ting from pillar to post, with Esme. Through Richard 
 two men were electrocuted. He used to get threatening 
 letters forwarded from place to place, always signed with 
 the same initials, and he wouldn't tell me what they
 
 144 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 meant. It was because of them that he hid Esme in a 
 convent-school before he died; for she was threatened as 
 well as he. I, too, for the matter of that! Not that the 
 child or I had done the organization any harm; but Esme 
 is of his blood, and they may have thought I had more of 
 their secrets than I really have. I've not used the name 
 of O'Brien for years now, and I've moved about so much 
 that sometimes I have felt I must be safe. Still, I ought 
 perhaps not to have gone to visit Esme, though she wrote 
 and begged me to, for special reasons I needn't bother you 
 with: a curious little love romance which I fear must end 
 badly. I didn't think of danger to Monny; but you see, 
 as I've told you, the convent isn't far from Monaco. I 
 got off the Laconia there, to visit Esme, and when I came 
 on board again, Monny and Mrs. East and Rachel came 
 with me. They'd been in Italy and France, and had 
 picked up Miss Guest, who was only too enchanted to 
 batten on Monny's kindness and dollars. It was I who 
 had engaged their staterooms, on a cable from Monny, 
 long before. And if there were a spy anywhere, he might 
 have the idea that I wanted to smuggle Esme out of her 
 convent by a trick, and " 
 
 "But almost every one must know Miss Gilder's face 
 from her photographs in newspapers," I broke in, on a 
 stifled sob of Biddy's. "She couldn't be mistaken for 
 another girl, as an unimportant young person might. " 
 
 "I'm not sure. Those photographs were snapshots, 
 and very bad, as you must know if you've ever seen any. 
 Monny never gave a portrait of herself to a newspaper, 
 and it's years since they got hold of a good one. Besides, 
 if she weren't mistaken for Esme O'Brien, that wretched
 
 THE SECRET MONNY KEPT 145 
 
 Bedr might have made up a plot to have her kidnapped 
 for ransom. It was the thing Monny's father was always 
 afraid of absurdly afraid of, I used to think." 
 
 "I think so still," I said. "Such things don't happen 
 anywhere, to a grown-up girl. " 
 
 "What about Raisuli in Tangier?" Biddy challenged 
 me. "He used to kidnap people whenever he liked. And 
 so do lots of brigands. " 
 
 "We haven't to do with brigands. " 
 
 "Oh, what's in a name? And I wouldn't put anything 
 past that horrid Bedr. " 
 
 "As Anthony said to you, he knows which side his 
 bread's buttered. " 
 
 "But if he hopes some one will give him more butter 
 for being wicked than he can get from us for being good? " 
 
 "Let's not think of far-fetched contingencies, dear," 
 said I. "Now you've told me all, I will try to do some- 
 thing " 
 
 "May I come in?" boomed a big voice at the door. 
 "I knocked and nobody answered, so I thought the room 
 would be empty " 
 
 Biddy dropped my hand like a hot potato. She had 
 jumped up so quickly from our sofa that Sir Marcus 
 Lark's observant eyes could hardly have seen us sitting 
 there together. 
 
 "Of course, come in," she said. "Have you anything 
 to tell? But I'll call Mrs. East. She won't like you 
 to begin without her. " 
 
 Biddy darted off to an adjoining room, leaving me alone 
 with my employer. 
 
 "What do you think of this affair? " I wanted to know.
 
 146 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "Well, " said he, "I can only judge other men by myself. 
 If I had such a chance to appear a hero in the eyes of a 
 pretty woman as Fenton has, I'm afraid I'd be tempted 
 to take advantage of it, even if I had to play some trick to 
 make myself indispensable. Now you see in a nutshell 
 what I think. Captain Fenton will certainly rescue those 
 young ladies from a trap if he has to make the trap 
 himself." 
 
 I was disgusted, and shrugged my shoulders. "You 
 have a poor opinion of Fenton, " I said. 
 
 "On the contrary, I think very highly of his intelligence. 
 I'm not worrying about any one of the three, though don't 
 mention it to Mrs. East or Mrs. Jones that I said so. I've 
 come to tell them that my men have searched Cairo and 
 found nothing. Not the police, you know; I haven't 
 applied to the police after all. I thought Fenton would be 
 furious. And anyhow it might make talk. But I've paid 
 the best dragomans in town to look sharp; and they know 
 as much about this old place as the police do, if not more. 
 By the way, Lord Ernest, did Corkra.n say anything to 
 you about an intention to throw over his job on the 
 Candace?" 
 
 "No. He said he 'was going to call on you, that's all. " 
 
 "He did call. I was out on this business, as it 
 happens. He waited, and I found him, making himself at 
 home in my sitting-room which I use as a kind of office. 
 I wish I knew how many of my letters and papers he'd had 
 time to read. " 
 
 "Surely he wouldn't - - " 
 
 "I shouldn't say 'surely' was the word. I'd gone out 
 in a hurry and left things scattered about which isn't
 
 THE SECRET MONNY KEPT 147 
 
 my habit. When I came back, it struck me that my desk 
 looked a bit tempting for a man with a retired conscience. 
 I was going to keep him on the Candace, rather than fuss, 
 because it wasn't so much his fault as mine that he was 
 the wrong man in the place. He couldn't do any harm in 
 Jerusalem, it seemed. Let him wail in the Jews' Wailing 
 Place, if he'd any complaints, said I to myself. I thought 
 he was too keen on money to resign because his silly pride 
 was hurt. But to my surprise, he informed me that he'd 
 come to 'hand in his papers,' as he called it. So much the 
 worse for his pocket and the better for mine! Only it 
 struck me as d d queer, considering Corkran's charac- 
 ter. I wanted to ask if he'd spit out any venom to you." 
 
 "Not a drop," said I. But I, too, thought it queer, 
 considering Corkran's character, and the fact that having 
 resigned of his own free will, he could hardly expect Lark 
 to pay his way home. It even occurred to me to won- 
 der if the resignation were not a sudden thought of the 
 Colonel's. He had spoken several times of going on to 
 Palestine, and had mentioned the trip that morning. Had 
 Sir Marcus said something inadvertently, which had so 
 piqued Corkran that he threw over his appointment on 
 the impulse? Or had he perhaps been dishonourable 
 enough to glance at a letter, in which Lark referred to him 
 in terms uncomplimentary? 
 
 As I asked myself these questions, Mrs. East came in 
 with Brigit, and Sir Marcus forgot me. His face said 
 "What a woman! " And anxiety was becoming to Cleo- 
 patra. It gave to her that thrilling look which only 
 beautiful Jewesses or women of Latin race ever wear: a look 
 of all the tragedy and mystery of womanhood since Eve.
 
 148 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "What news of them?" she asked Sir Marcus, when she 
 had given a ringed hand and an almond-eyed glance to me. 
 
 "No news exactly," said the big man, "but I feel sure 
 your niece and her friend are safe 
 
 "My niece and her friend!" exclaimed Cleopatra, 
 ungratefully frowning. "Why do you say nothing of 
 'Antoun?' Does nobody care what becomes of him?" 
 
 As she spoke, there was a knock at the door. One of 
 the Arab servants of the hotel announced that a man had 
 a letter for Mrs. Jones. 
 
 "Mrs. Jones?" cried Biddy. "I am Mrs. Jones. 
 Where's the letter?" 
 
 "That man not give it to us. He say he see you or not 
 give it at all." 
 
 "Well, why didn't you send him up?" 
 
 "Arab mans not let in hotel, if peoples don't ask for 
 them." 
 
 " An Arab ! Not not is he a stranger? " 
 
 "Yes, Missis. Very low man. Never comed before." 
 
 "Bring him here quick!" 
 
 Five minutes passed. We tried to talk, but could think 
 of nothing to say. Then the servant returned, ushering 
 in a dwarfish Arab in a dirty white turban, and the shabby 
 black galabeah worn only by the poor who cannot afford 
 good materials and the bright colours loved by Egyptians. 
 
 "From Antoun Effendi?" asked Biddy, in excitement, 
 as he held out a piece of folded paper, not in an envelope. 
 
 The man shook his head. "He spik no English," 
 explained the servant who waited. 
 
 " You talk to him, " Biddy appealed to me, while Cleopa- 
 tra told the hotel footman that he might go. But I had no
 
 THE SECRET MONNY KEPT 149 
 
 time to question the messenger. Biddy cried out as she 
 unfolded the paper. " Why, Duffer, inside it's addressed 
 to you ! It says : 
 
 For Lord Ernest Borrow. To be opened by Mrs. Jones in 
 iiis absence. 
 
 Within the outer wrapping was a second folded paper, 
 of the same kind. They looked like sheets torn from a 
 notebook. And I saw that the address, scrawled in pencil, 
 was in Anthony's handwriting.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 THE HOUSE OF THE CROCODILE 
 
 THE letter had evidently been dashed off in a great hurry. 
 It was short and written in French, the language in which 
 " Antoun" chose to talk with foreigners. 
 
 Give the bearer two hundred piastres and let him go. Don't 
 try to make him speak. I have promised this. Then quick to 
 Jarvis Pasha and get him to raid the House of the Crocodile. 
 Question of hasheesh. We must be smuggled out when arrests 
 are made also Bedr, to save scandal. A . 
 
 Not a word as to whether all were safe, or in danger! 
 But I realized that, for some reason, each instant had been 
 of value. And each instant was of value now. 
 
 Anthony was one who knew precisely what he wanted 
 and why he wanted it. I obeyed his instructions im- 
 plicitly. Two hundred piastres went from my pocket into 
 the hand of the withered Arab, and he was allowed to take 
 his departure despite a burst of protest from my compan- 
 ions, who naturally wished the man to be catechised. 
 Once the door had shut behind the bent blue back, I 
 handed round the letter, which had to be translated for 
 Sir Marcus, who professed contemptfor" foreign gibberish." 
 
 Jarvis Pasha is at the head of the police, has been for 
 many years, and is the most interesting man in Egypt 
 after the well-beloved "K." 
 
 150
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE CROCODILE 151 
 
 Leaving Sir Marcus to go on with his task of consoling 
 Mrs. East, I dashed off in my waiting taxi with the Nubian 
 of the silver earrings. We drove to the Governorat, a big 
 house in a square near what was once known as the 
 Guarded City, the very heart and birthspot of Cairo: Masr- 
 el Kahira, the Martial, founded under the planet Mars. 
 
 I scribbled a line to Jarvis Pasha, and sent it to him in an 
 envelope with my card. This combination opened doors 
 for me; and three minutes later I was shaking hands with 
 a tall, thin, white moustached, hawk-featured Englishman 
 who looked all muscle and bones and brain. Jarvis Pasha 
 being in the secret of "Antoun's" identity and business 
 in Cairo, simplified the explanation, and did away with 
 the necessity for a preface. All I had to tell was the brief 
 story of the girls' disappearance with Bedr el Gemaly, 
 and Fenton's following them into space; then, how word 
 had come after fourteen hours. 
 
 "The House of the Crocodile," Jarvis Pasha said, when 
 he had taken and read the letter. "H'rn! Do you know 
 anything about that house?" 
 
 "I know the old stories connected with it, " I answered. 
 "If it's reputation to-day is as sinister as ever " 
 
 "Not at all. Figuratively speaking it has been white- 
 washed. It's become a show place a monument his- 
 torique. This is interesting information which Fenton 
 sends, but if it came from any one else, I should say he had 
 dreamed it. He may be giving us the chance of an im- 
 portant coup. Wait a few minutes, and I'll have this 
 thing attended to, Lord Ernest. But you look upset. 
 Is it that you haven't had lunch, or are you worrying 
 about the ladies?"
 
 152 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "Both," I answered with a sickly grin. "Not that I 
 mind about lunch. I couldn't have eaten if I'd had the 
 time. " 
 
 "You haven't as much belief as I have, in your friend," 
 remarked Jarvis Pasha, "if you think he'd let them come 
 to harm. " 
 
 "They're all in the same box, apparently," I excused 
 my lack of faith. 
 
 "Trust Fenton!" said the Head of the Police. "He 
 was sharp enough to find the needles in the haystack, and 
 he's smart enough and strong enough to take care of them 
 when they're found. " 
 
 On this, Jarvis Pasha went out and left me to my reflec- 
 tions, which rushed to the House of the Crocodile. Every 
 one who has read or heard stories of native Cairo, knows 
 the House of the Crocodile, in the Street of the Sisters, 
 and how, in the later days of Mohammed Ali, people 
 scarcely dared to name it aloud. The "Tiger" Defterdar 
 Ahmed built it, for^that beautiful Tigress, Princess Zohra, 
 favourite daughter of Mohammed Ali, who married her off 
 to the fierce soldier when she became too troublesome at 
 home. Zohra had loved a young Irish officer who was 
 murdered for her sake, and had no true affection to give 
 Ahmed or any other. She hated all men because of the 
 murderer, her own nephew, and vowed that since her love 
 had cost the life of the one who had her heart, others who 
 dared to love her must pay the same price. When Ahmed 
 died suddenly, soon after the wedding, those who had 
 heard of Zohr.a's vow (and there were many in the harems) 
 whispered "poison." Never again did the Princess drive 
 out to see the women she knew; and those who Lad been
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE CROCODILE 153 
 
 her friends were sent away from the door of the dead 
 Ahmed's palace, over which he had suspended for "luck," 
 a huge crocodile killed in the far south. But Zohra was 
 beautiful, with strange eyes which drew love whether she 
 asked for it or not; and sometimes a small lattice would 
 open in a bay of one of those windows of wooden lace whose 
 carving was known as mushrbiyeh work because shirib, or 
 sherbet, used to be placed there to cool. Out of the lattice 
 would look a wonderful face, as thinly veiled as the moon 
 by a mist, and then it would vanish so quickly that a man 
 who saw, half believed that he had dreamed. But the 
 eyes of the dream seemed to call, and could not be for- 
 gotten, any more than the song of a siren can cease to echo 
 in ears which once have heard. 
 
 After the beginning of Zohra's widowhood, the noblest 
 and handsomest youths of Cairo began mysteriously to 
 disappear. They would be well and happy one day, and 
 the next they would be gone from the places that knew 
 them. By and by their bodies would be found in a canal; 
 always the same canal, near the water gate of the House 
 of the Crocodile. Then the vow of the Princess was 
 remembered : but there was no English rule in those days, 
 and the police shut their ears and eyes where a daughter 
 of Mohammed Ali was concerned. Mothers and sisters 
 of handsome young men shuddered and begged those they 
 loved never to pass through the dark Street of the Sisters 
 (Sharia el Benat) where the crocodile grinned over the 
 door, and the vision of a face looked down from a latticed 
 window. The women thought of the water gate at the 
 back of the house; the little children, who had heard secret 
 words spoken, thought of the crocodile, and ran crying past
 
 154 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 the house; but the handsome young men thought only of 
 the face, and each one said to himself, " She will not make 
 me pay the price." Still, as years went on, bodies were 
 seen in the water from time to time, with a tiny purple 
 spot over the heart to show the curious that death had not 
 come from drowning. And some, who looked for lost 
 ones, could not reclaim them from the canal, for bodies 
 were not always found. As time passed, it seemed to 
 people who hurried by the house in the narrow street, 
 that the crocodile grew larger and larger. It was said 
 that it had been fed on the children of men Tiger Ahmed 
 had murdered in Sennaar. 
 
 None dared to say what they believed of Princess Zohra, 
 but when, after a long imprisonment by her nephew 
 Abbas, in the House of the Crocodile, she escaped to 
 Constantinople, nobody would live where she had lived, 
 and the palace fell almost into ruin. 
 
 This was the story of the house where Monny Gilder 
 and Rachel Guest and Anthony Fenton were now. I had 
 heard it talked about by our Arab servants when I was a 
 child, and had never forgotten, though scarcely since 
 then had I thought of the tale, until the remembered 
 name and the horrors attached to it jumped into my mind 
 on reading Anthony's letter. What had happened in the 
 House of the Crocodile since Zohra's day, I did not know; 
 but because of the old story it seemed more sinister that 
 my friends should appeal for help from that place than 
 from any other in Cairo. 
 
 I was not left long alone. Five minutes after Jarvis 
 Pasha went out of the room to "arrange things" according 
 to Fenton's request, he sent me a man with whiskey and
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE CROCODILE 155 
 
 soda, and biscuits. I drank gladly, and ate rather than 
 seem ungrateful. But there was a lump in my throat 
 which would stick there, I knew, until those three were 
 away from the House of the Crocodile. I was still 
 crumbling biscuits when Jarvis Pasha came briskly 
 back. 
 
 "Well," he asked, "are you braced up now? If you'd 
 like to be in this business, you can. I'm sending a white 
 superintendent with my police to raid the house, on the 
 strength of Fenton's letter to you, though until now the 
 place hasn't been suspected. As I said, it's been a 'show' 
 house, for some years ground floor and first story in 
 repair, just as in Zohra's day upper floors ruinous, and 
 the public not admitted there. If anything queer's going 
 on, it must be in the forbidden part : and the caretaker is 
 mixed up in the show. A pity you felt bound to let Fenton's 
 messenger off I You can go with my superintendent, Allen, 
 and reach your friends as soon as my men do. Allen has 
 instructions to let Fenton and the ladies, if they're found 
 there, slip away, and it's best for you to be on the spot 
 to save mistakes in identification. Also I've ordered a 
 closed arabeah to wait for you, as near as possible my 
 men will show you where. You'll know it for certain by a 
 red camellia on the Arab driver's European coat. And by 
 the way, take this Browning, in case of an attack; which 
 I don't anticipate. 
 
 As Jarvis Pasha spoke, he opened the door, and sum- 
 moned in a brown young Britisher wearing the tarboosh 
 which denotes "Gyppy" officialdom. Evidently Allen 
 was prepared for me as I for him, and we started off to- 
 gether on foot, for it seemed that our destination was not
 
 156 IT HAPPENED IX EGYPT 
 
 far away. We walked swiftly through the crowded 
 Mousky (once the fashionable part of Cairo, before the 
 tide flowed to the modern Isma'iliya quarter), and after 
 a few intricate turnings plunged into a still, twilight region. 
 The streets through which we passed were so narrow, and 
 the old houses so far overhung the path that the strip of 
 sky at the top of the dark canyon was a mere line of in- 
 laid blue enamel flecked with gold. The splendid mush- 
 rbiyeh windows thrust out toward each other big and 
 little bays, across the ten or twelve feet of distance which 
 parted them, as if to whisper secrets; yet the delicate 
 wooden carvings skilfully hid all that they wished to hide, 
 and only suggested their secrets. 
 
 "Now we'll soon be coming to the House of the Croco- 
 dile, " said Allen. "By Jove, it's a joke on us, and a 
 smart one, if it's been turned into a hasheesh den, under 
 our noses. But it must be something new, or we should 
 have got onto it. The Chief thinks already he can guess 
 who's at the bottom of the business and who has put the 
 money up : a certain Bey, in whose service the caretaker 
 was a rich old Johnny, very old fashioned, who lives not 
 far off in a beautiful house of the best Cairene period. He's 
 keen on antiquities, and has been of service to the govern- 
 ment in several ways, though he's a reformed smuggler; 
 and his only son, dead now, was a hopeless hashash; that's 
 what they call slaves of the hasheesh habit. I suppose 
 you've read all about the 'Hashashseyn' of the Crusa- 
 ders' days, whom we speak of as Assassins? Well, ever 
 since then the Hashasheyn have had a bad reputation; but 
 this old man I speak of has been pitied for his son's failings, 
 which he pretends to think a 'judgment for his own past,
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE CROCODILE 157 
 
 repented sins.' Now, Lord Ernest, saunter, please, as if 
 you were a tourist in my charge, admiring the old door- 
 ways." 
 
 Two native workmen appeared in front of us, with 
 pickaxes on their shoulders. Stopping, they threw down 
 their tools. One produced a cord which he stretched 
 across the street from house to house; and in the middle 
 he hung a small red flag. Then the pair began to pick in 
 a leisurely way at the surface of the road, and before we 
 reached the barrier, an Arab policeman stationed himself 
 by the cord. Glancing ahead, I saw that the farther end 
 of the narrow lane was blocked in the same manner. 
 
 "This is one trick we have of doing our work quietly," 
 said Allen. "It always answers pretty well. " 
 
 I said nothing, but used my eyes. Coming from no- 
 where apparently, there were twenty men in the street. 
 A few had crowbars in their hands. Others, native police- 
 men, carried the canes with which they control the 
 movements of the people. From the shaded doorway of 
 a large house a native sergeant of police stepped out as we 
 approached, and saluted Allen. Over the closed door, a 
 large, dryly smiling, ancient crocodile hung. 
 
 " Have our men come and taken their places? " asked my 
 companion in Arabic. 
 
 "Yes, Effendi," the sergeant answered. "All has been 
 done according to order. The back entrance which was 
 the water gate before the old canal was filled up, is sur- 
 rounded, and the adjoining houses with which some com- 
 munication may have been established are watched. 
 Not a rat could have crawled out since we came, nor could 
 one have gone in. To-day is the feast of a saint, and these
 
 158 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 people have their excuse not to open the house to visitors, 
 for so it is with other show places. Look, it is written up, 
 that until to-morrow there is no admission. " As the man 
 pointed to a card hanging from a hook, he and Allen 
 smiled at the cleverness of this pretext for closing the door. 
 In English, French, and Arabic, the reason was announced 
 in neat print. Probably this was not the first time the 
 same excuse had been used in the same way. 
 
 "They must have taken alarm at something, and 
 thought they were being watched," Allen said to me. 
 " That's why they've sported their oak. I expect we 
 shall make a haul, as for everybody's sake concerned 
 they wouldn't dare let their clients out, to fall into a 
 trap. Yes, that's why! Or else " 
 
 He stopped, and I did not ask him to go on, for I knew 
 that to ask would be useless. Yet I guessed what he had 
 meant to say, and why he had stopped. He didn't wish 
 to alarm me, but it was in his mind that the house had 
 been closed because of something planned to happen 
 inside. And that something might be connected with 
 my friends. We should soon know! 
 
 My first thought was that we were to get through the 
 door, by breaking it in, or by forcing those on the other 
 side to open for us. In an instant, however, I realized 
 that my idea was absurd. It would take an hour to batter 
 down that thick slab of old cedarwood, and Allen had said 
 that he wanted to do things quietly. No, the brown ser- 
 geant was not here to open the door, but to see that it did 
 not open unless for our benefit. 
 
 Two of Allen's men were unfolding a curious ladder 
 like a lattice, which they made secure with screws when
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE CROCODILE 159 
 
 they had stretched it to full length. Then, up it went 
 to one of the beautiful mushrbiyeh windows which, on the 
 level of the story above the ground floor, bayed graciously, 
 overhanging the street. One man standing below held 
 the ladder firmly in place, while another, small and lithe 
 as a monkey and enjoying the task as a monkey might, 
 ran up to the top that leaned against the window. Evi- 
 dently he was a skilled worker, for before I knew what he 
 would be at, he had with some small, sharp instrument, 
 prized out without breaking it, one of the sections of carved 
 lattice. This he tossed lightly down to a man who caught 
 it, and as he and four others after him slipped through 
 the opening, the sergeant knocked on the closed door, 
 under the swinging form of the crocodile. Nobody an- 
 swered. But three minutes passed, and then suddenly 
 there was the sound of a falling bar, and a very old, very 
 dark man, with a white turban and a white beard, peeped 
 out. 
 
 "Thieves!" he cried in Arabic. "Thieves break in at 
 the windows!" 
 
 He was making the best of a bad business, I guessed, 
 and hoped somehow to justify himself to the poh'ce. 
 But though he was gray with fright, he forgot to look sur- 
 prised. 
 
 My Arabic was not equal to the strain of catching all 
 the gabble that followed: the old man protesting that it 
 was right to close the house to-day; that if it were the 
 police and not thieves who broke in, it was unjust, it was 
 cruel, and his son Mansoor, the caretaker, would appeal 
 to all the Powers. Before he had come to the end of his 
 first breath, he was hushed and handcuffed, and hustled
 
 160 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 away; and another man sprang forward from behind the 
 angle of a screen- wall inside the entrance. He was young, 
 and looked strong and fierce as an angry giant, but at 
 sight of Allen and the rest of us, he stopped as if we had 
 shot him. Perhaps he had not expected so many. In 
 any case, he saw that there was nothing he could hope to 
 gain by violence or bluster. All he could do was to protest 
 as his father had done, that this visit was a violation of his 
 right to close the house on a holiday. 
 
 "Don't be a fool, Mansoor," said Allen, who evidently 
 knew him. "You understand very well that isn't why we 
 are here. You've got a hasheesh den upstairs, above the 
 public show rooms. A nice trick you thought you'd 
 played us, but you see you didn't bring it off. " 
 
 By this time we were inside the house, having thrust the 
 caretaker in again, and passing the three tortuous screen- 
 walls of the entrance, into a courtyard. Several young 
 Arabs dressed as servants stood there, large-eyed, and 
 stricken at sight of their giant master held by four police- 
 men. But there was not a sign of our men who had 
 crawled through the window, and I was impatient to go 
 where they had gone. 
 
 There was no sound of scuffling, no sound at all, except 
 the crying of some startled doves, and Mansoor's voice, 
 swearing by the Prophet's sacred beard that if anything 
 were wrong he was not the one to blame. There were 
 those above him who must be obeyed or he and all that 
 were his would be put out of life; but I cared too little for 
 him, or what might become of him and his, to listen much. 
 I looked up and saw at the left of the courtyard, with its 
 several closed doors, a short flight of steps with a mount-
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE CROCODILE 161 
 
 ing-block, and a doorway leading to a winding staircase. 
 Round the court went a gallery, supported with old marble 
 pillars, and underneath on one side was a large recess, the 
 takhtabosh, raised slightly above the level of the courtyard, 
 and having a row of wooden benches round its three walls. 
 Here the caretaker and his male relatives and friends had 
 evidently been smoking their nargilehs and drinking 
 coffee; our arrival had disturbed them in the midst. 
 
 Suddenly, into the frightened mourning of the doves, 
 broke a sharp sound of cracking wood. "Come along!" 
 cried Allen. "They'll be past the barrier in a minute!" 
 And leaving Mansoor and the others to be dealt with 
 by subordinates, he led the way up the steep stairs, at 
 a run. 
 
 We did not stop at the first story, the "show" part of 
 the House of the Crocodile; but catching a glimpse of a 
 latticed balcony off the landing, all lovely mushrbiyeh 
 work, and a great room of Persian tiled walls and coloured 
 marble floor, beyond, we dashed up another flight of stairs 
 to the story above. These stairs were of common wood, 
 and somewhat out of repair. At the top was a door of 
 carved cedarwood like those below, but rough in execution, 
 faded, and with here and there a starpoint or triangle 
 of the pattern missing, leaving a hole in the thick wood. 
 On this door was nailed a large card with the notice 
 in English, French, and Arabic, "Forbidden to the 
 Public." 
 
 "What a grand idea to install a hasheesh den here!" 
 I could not help thinking as I followed at Allen's heels to 
 the head of the stairs, where two of his men worked with 
 crowbars to prize open that theatrically dilapidated door.
 
 162 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Behind the pair who worked were the others who had en- 
 tered by the window below; and hardly had we taken our 
 places in the strange queue, when with a loud groan the 
 door gave way. The couple in front almost fell into a dark 
 passage on the other side, and my heart leaped, for I half 
 expected to see them driven back upon us by an attack 
 with knives or pistols. But the dim vista seemed to hold 
 only silence and emptiness as I peered over men'sshoulders; 
 and as we crowded in, Allen pushing ahead to take the 
 lead, nothing stirred. 
 
 The passage was but a gallery, like that below, but in- 
 stead of being open, it was closed in with lattice of mush- 
 rbiyeh work, so that, though those within could look 
 through, it was as secret for those outside as if it had been 
 enclosed by a solid wall. 
 
 The darkness was patterned with light, like ebony thinly 
 inlaid with gold, for the afternoon sunlight trickled into 
 the delicate loopholes of the carvings, and we began to see 
 what Enterprise had made of this ruinous upper story. 
 The floor had been dilapidated and unsafe; but new 
 boards had been placed over it, covered with Egyptian- 
 made matting and rugs to deaden sound and give an 
 appearance of comfort. We walked quickly along to the 
 end where this closed gallery turned at right angles, and 
 there found another door, new and rough, evidently but 
 lately put up. It was not so strong as the old one; and it 
 yielded in a few minutes to the furious industry of 
 our men with their crowbars. They lifted the door 
 from its broken hinges, leaning it against a wall; and 
 as we passed through, an Arab pulled aside a thick 
 curtain which filled in a doorway. He was evidently
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE CROCODILE 163 
 
 a servant, and seeing the police, showed no sign of 
 surprise, but only of a most humble resignation which 
 disclaimed responsibility and begged for mercy. 
 
 In silence the man was taken into custody; and Allen 
 and I, with three of the four policemen, passed into 
 the region behind the portiere. There, all was dusk, 
 save for the faint light sifting down from a carved 
 wooden dome in the ceiling, partly curtained; and a dark 
 lantern flashed out a long revealing ray. The men 
 ran to pull back heavy cloth hangings which entirely 
 covered the latticed windows, and would allow lamps to be 
 lit at night without being seen from street or courtyard. 
 Instantly sunshine pierced the carved interstices, and let 
 us see what Enterprise had done for his clients. We were 
 in the antechamber of a long, beautiful room. The old, 
 coloured marble of the durkaah the lower level of floor 
 nearest the entrance had been repaired with new; the 
 dilapidations of a fountain were almost hidden by pink 
 azaleas in pots; the liwan, on the next level, had a good 
 rug or two; and the diwaan, at the farthest and highest 
 end, was furnished with red-covered mattresses and pil- 
 lows. The low wall-benches of marble were set here and 
 there with glass bowls of roses and syringa; and tiny cedar- 
 wood cupboards high in the tiled walls were open to show 
 coffee cups, tobacco jars, and pipes made of cocoanut shells 
 with long stems of cane. 
 
 Four men, who had apparently been lying on the mat- 
 tresses, stood up and faced us, not fiercely, but with some- 
 thing of the attendant's resignation. Two were in 
 European clothes, with the inevitable tarboosh; and two, 
 equally well dressed, were old fashioned and picturesque
 
 164 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 in the long, silk gown and turban style which "Antoun" 
 and other lovers of the ancient ways affected. They were 
 of the "Effendi class," and might be merchants or pro- 
 fessional persons. A turbaned man with a black beard 
 Allen knew, and greeted in Arabic, "Hussein Effendi! 
 Who would have thought to see you here!" 
 
 " Why not?" answered the other, with a melancholy 
 smile and shrug of the shoulders. "There is no harm, 
 really, but only in the eyes of the English. We are caught, 
 and we cannot complain, for we have had true delight: 
 and we have known, since the alarm came last night, that 
 we might have to pay for our pleasure. " 
 
 "So you had the alarm last night?" said Allen, looking 
 as if there were nothing surprising or puzzling in that. 
 
 "Yes, why should we not admit it now? Word came 
 that a watch had been set outside, both back and front, 
 and none of us dared leave the house. We consented to 
 be locked in, though there is one in another room who 
 wished to get out and run the risk. That was not per- 
 mitted, for the sake of others; and to prevent him from 
 taking his own way in spite of prudence, we let ourselves 
 be shut in, with only one attendant who took through the 
 holes in the door such little food as we needed. We had 
 begun to hope that it had been a false alarm, or, since no 
 inquiries seemed to have been made below, that the 
 watchers had gone and would not come again. We 
 planned as soon as night fell to go to our homes; but it was 
 not to be. And if any are to blame, it is not those who 
 come to take pleasures provided for them, but rather they 
 who cheat the coastguard of the swift-running camels, and 
 bring what is forbidden into Egypt. "
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE CROCODILE 165 
 
 "The blame will be rightfully apportioned," said Allen. 
 "Meanwhile, I am sorry to say, Hussein Effendi, that you 
 and those in your company are subject to the law. I 
 must now leave you, and go farther to see what others we 
 have to deal with. " 
 
 The four Effendis were politely left in charge of two 
 policemen who would have been equal to twice their num- 
 ber, and our one remaining man went on with Allen and me. 
 
 "Your friends, and perhaps two or three who can afford 
 to pay big prices, will have had their smoke in private 
 rooms, " Allen explained. "We can guess who it was, who 
 wanted to break out ! There are probably no more doors, 
 only curtains, so we shall have no trouble. But don't 
 forget that, if anything unexpected should happen, you 
 have a pistol. Of course, you understand that it could 
 be used only in an extreme case. " 
 
 A curtained doorway led out from the diwaan into a 
 small anteroom, and there, on the floor, sat Bedr el 
 Gemaly, the picture of dejection. Had I raised my voice 
 in the next room, he would perhaps have ventured in to 
 see what I could do to help him; for now, at sight of me, he 
 scrambled up in shamefaced eagerness. 
 
 "Oh, my lordship!" he began to cackle. "Praise be to 
 Allah you are come ! I was persuaded to bring the young 
 ladies here. They would make me do it. Yes, sir. It is 
 not my fault. They pay me. I have to obey. Then we 
 get caught, like we was some rats. No fair to punish me. 
 The ladies all right. No harm come, except a little sick. " 
 
 "If no harm has come, that's not due to you, but to a 
 very different man, as you well know, " I said. And as I 
 spoke, the man I had in my mind appeared before my eyes.
 
 166 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "Hullo!" I exclaimed, joyously. 
 
 Anthony's eyes and Allen's met; but I could not tell if 
 they knew each other, nor could I ask then. It was 
 enough for Allen in any case, however, that this magnifi- 
 cent Hadji was one of the friends for whom I searched. 
 He turned to Bedr. "You brought two ladies here, 
 I understand," he said quickly and sharply. "Then you 
 must have acquaintance with the place. For good 
 reasons which have nothing to do with you, I shall not 
 arrest you, but you will have to report at the Governorat 
 inside the hour, or you will regret it. Do you know the 
 way out at the back of the house? " 
 
 "I do, gracious one," Bedr responded with business- 
 like promptness. 
 
 "Then take these gentlemen, and the ladies, whom I do 
 not need to see, out by that door, and you will all be 
 allowed to go, because my men who are there have seen 
 Lord Ernest Borrow, and they have my instructions. " 
 
 We waited for no more, but followed Anthony, who 
 made a dash through the further room, and into another. 
 There, on a mattress, crouched two forlorn figures, veiled 
 as if in haste, and muffled in black satin fiabberahs such as 
 Turkish ladies wear in the street. 
 
 " Lord Ernest ! Oh, how glad I am ! " cried one of these 
 creatures, while the other, less vital or more miserable, 
 whimpered and gurgled a little behind her veil. 
 
 "Come along, quick!" I said; and they came. Bedr 
 led the way, thankful to show himself of use. Anthony 
 followed as if to protect or screen the girls from sight. 
 I brought up the rear, and so, scuttling through a rabbit- 
 warren of little unfurnished, dilapidated rooms, we found
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE CROCODILE 167 
 
 a narrow side staircase, and tumbled down it, anyhow, 
 in dust and dimness. Then two more staircases, and we 
 were in a cellar which looked as if it might once have been 
 used as a prison. Up again, and rattling at a chained door. 
 Then out, into light and air, into the midst of a group, 
 which for an instant, closed threateningly round us. But 
 the sergeant I had seen was among the alert brown men. 
 A glance, a gesture, and we were allowed to pass, a youth 
 running with us, to show the promised carriage and the 
 Arab driver with the red camellia. So it was over, 
 this adventure! 
 
 Yet was it over? 
 
 That remained to be seen. And remained also, to see 
 what it meant, if indeed there were a meaning under- 
 neath the surface.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON 
 
 " IT SEEMS too good to be true that it should end like this, " 
 said Monny. 
 
 She said it on the roof of Mena House, in the kiosk- 
 room made of mushrbiyeh work, which I had engaged for 
 a little private dinner-party that night. You see, it was 
 the night of the full moon, the magic night of the Sphinx- 
 spell, which must not be wasted, no matter how tired you 
 may be or how many excitements you may have lived 
 through. 
 
 Anthony and I had had our explanations. He had told 
 me that one night in a cafe, where he was spreading the 
 news of his dream, he had heard two men talking in low 
 voices about the House of the Crocodile. The word 
 "hasheesh" had not been mentioned, but Anthony had 
 imbibed a vague impression of something secret, and had 
 wondered, and been interested. Then the matter had 
 slipped his mind; but, summoned in the night from the 
 writing of letters, to advise Mrs. Jones, he had recalled 
 Monny's wish to visit a hasheesh den. He knew of none, 
 but suspected the existence of one or two. How to find 
 out in a hurry? he had asked himself. And with that, the 
 remembrance of those few whispered words in the cafe had 
 come echoing back to his brain. He acted upon the sug- 
 
 168
 
 THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON 169 
 
 gestion ; went to the door of the swinging crocodile, knocked, 
 and knocked again; had the door opened to him as if in 
 surprise by an apparently sleepy man. Announced the 
 motive of his coming as if it were a foregone conclusion 
 that hasheesh could be smoked in that house by the ini- 
 tiated. His disguise was not suspected. It never was, 
 when he played the Egyptian; and when asked who had 
 sent huii, he had the inspiration to utter the name of that 
 Bey who had been Mansoor's master. This gave him 
 entrance. He was taken upstairs, passed through the 
 door "Forbidden to the Public"; and the first person he 
 saw in the long room as he entered, was Bedr smoking a 
 gozeh, one of those cocoanut, cane-stemmed pipes in 
 which hasheesh is mingled with the Persian tobacco called 
 tumbak. 
 
 Bedr was accused of treachery, and defended himself. 
 The ladies had insisted. It was his place to obey. He 
 had done no wrong in engaging a carriage to wait outside 
 the Ghezireh Palace gardens, and bringing his employers 
 to the best place in Cairo for the hasheesh smoking. The 
 ladies were safe and happy, in a private room where they 
 had tried their little experiment, and now they were sleep- 
 ing. As soon as they waked and felt like going home, he was 
 ready to take them. It was for Miss Gilder, not for Bedr, 
 to beg pardon of her friends if they were frightened. And 
 all the time, it had seemed to Anthony, that the man was 
 expecting some one to arrive. He watched the doorway 
 half eagerly, half anxiously; when a servant came or went, 
 he started, and betrayed emotion which might have been 
 disappointment or relief. But when Anthony questioned 
 him, he said, "I expect no one, Effendi. It is only that
 
 170 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 I shall not be easy till we get the ladies home, now you 
 tell me their people are alarmed. " 
 
 Just then, and before Anthony saw the girls, a servant 
 had come running in to say that there was an alarm. 
 Something had happened in the street, and the police were 
 there. Mansoor feared that it was a ruse, and that the 
 house was being watched, back and front. Where the 
 forbidden thing is, no precaution can be too great. For 
 their own sakes, and Mansoor's sake, no one must go out, 
 perhaps not till the next night; but luckily a saint's day 
 would give peace for the morrow, and all doors could be 
 shut without causing remark. The news that there was 
 no escape for many hours to come distressed no one 
 apparently, except "Antoun." He had gone to the door, 
 and tried to open it, but found that already it was locked 
 on the other side. Then he knew that it was useless to 
 struggle, for he was unarmed, the door was thick, and no 
 one outside could hear if he shouted. He must use his 
 wits; but first he must make sure that the two girls were 
 safe. He forced, rather than induced Bedr to show him 
 the room they had engaged a small one, closed only 
 with a portiere, and looking over the court, down into the 
 open-fronted recess where Mansoor's family-life went on, 
 like a watch dog's in his kennel. 
 
 It was true, as Bedr had said; the girls slept on a cush- 
 ioned mattress, wrapped in black habberahs, their faces 
 turned to the wall. As they could not be taken out, 
 Anthony did not wake them, but let them get, in peace, 
 their money's worth of dreaming. His next thought was 
 to try and bribe the Arab attendant to smuggle out a 
 letter; but acceptable as a bribe would have been, the man
 
 THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON 171 
 
 explained his helplessness to earn it, at least for the time 
 being. He could do nothing till one of his fellow-servants 
 came up from below, to pass the food for the imprisoned 
 smokers through a hole in the door, made purposely in case 
 of just such an emergency. Probably no one would 
 appear till morning, for who would be hungry before then? 
 Even with the morning, it might be Mansoor himself who 
 would bring the food, and inquire again at the door if all 
 were well within. But if the noble Hadji wrote the letter, 
 it should be sent when opportunity arose. One of the 
 servants below stairs, said the man, was his father, who 
 might during the next day be able to slip out as if on some 
 errand. Then he would perhaps take a letter, if he could 
 be sure of good pay, and that he would not be delivered up 
 to the police. So Anthony had written on a sheet torn 
 from his notebook, and made an envelope of another sheet. 
 The address of the Ghezireh Palace had helped the man to 
 believe that no evil would reach his father; and a "sweet- 
 ener " in the shape of all Anthony's ready money had done 
 the rest. But evidently the old man had not succeeded in 
 finding an excuse for an errand until after the noon hour, 
 and meanwhile time had seemed long in the House of the 
 Crocodile. When the girls waked, wanting to go home, 
 they were ill. They found the game not worth the candle 
 but Anthony's presence had given them comfort. 
 They were humble, and remorseful; and Bedr was so con- 
 spicuously a worm that Monny consented to his discharge. 
 "It would take more time than we've got to make him 
 worth converting," she said to Rachel when the Armenian 
 had carefully laid all the blame of the expedition upon her 
 shoulders.
 
 172 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Never were two runaway children more glad to be 
 found and restored to their anxious relatives than Monny 
 Gilder and Rachel Guest. As for Bedr, he took his dis- 
 missal, with a week's wages, submissively; but the gravest 
 question concerning him still lacked an answer. Had he 
 merely been officious and indiscreet in guiding the girls 
 secretly to the House of the Crocodile, and there procuring 
 hasheesh to buy them dreams, or had he wanted some- 
 thing to happen, in that house, which had not happened? 
 A certain amount of browbeating from "Antoun, " and 
 bullying from me, dragged nothing out of him. And 
 perhaps there was nothing to be dragged. Perhaps it was 
 through oversensitiveness that Brigit and I dwelt suspi- 
 ciously upon Bedr's motives, and asked each other who it 
 was he had expected at the House of the Crocodile. Even 
 Anthony did not accuse the Armenian of anything worse 
 than slyness and cowardice, according to him the two worst 
 vices of a man; but he volunteered to find out what mys- 
 terious night-disturbance in the street had caused the 
 sudden closing of the doors. It was Biddy's thought that 
 the person Bedr wished to meet might fortunately have 
 been prevented by this very disturbance from keeping his 
 appointment, and Monny saved a serious ending to her ad- 
 venture. It began to seem rather a worry, travelling with 
 so important a young woman as Miss Gilder: and a vague 
 dread of the future hung over me, as it hung over Brigit, 
 who loved the girl. We felt, dimly, as if we had had a 
 "warning," and did not yet know how to profit by it. 
 The atmosphere was charged with electricity, as before 
 an earthquake; and we felt that the affair of the hasheesh 
 den might be but a preface to some chapter yet unwritten.
 
 Still, it was impossible not to forgive Monny her indiscre- 
 tion. Indeed, she became so honey-sweet and childlike 
 in her desire to "make up" for what we had suffered, that 
 the difficulty was not to like her better. 
 
 She besought us to forget the episode. If we only knew 
 how sick she and Rachel had been, we'd see why they 
 never wanted to think of those hours again ! And when I 
 chanced to mention that to-night would be full moon 
 the night of nights when the Sphinx and the Ghizeh Pyra- 
 mids held their court Monny begged to have the bad 
 taste of her naughtiness taken out of her mouth by a din- 
 ner at Mena House. We might dine early, and plunge 
 into the desert later, when the moon was high. Of course, 
 I proposed that all should be my guests all except 
 "Antoun" who, though recognized as a gentleman of 
 Egypt, was considered by Miss Gilder an alien, not exactly 
 on "dining terms." He was supposed to go home, "to his 
 own address." At eight-thirty he was to take a taxi to 
 Mena House, where he would arrive before nine, in time 
 to help me organize my expedition. 
 
 I explained to Monny that, though we should dine 
 privately, it would be my duty to see that the Candace 
 people paid their respects to the Sphinx, and gazed upon 
 her as she ate moon-honey. If they missed this sight, or 
 if anything went wrong with their way of seeing it, I 
 should never be forgiven. But the much chastened 
 Monny graciously "did not mind." She thought it 
 would be fun to watch the sheep-dog rounding up his 
 flock. Useless to explain to her the subtle social distinc- 
 tion between a "Flock" and a "Set" (both with capitals) ! 
 To her, the blaze of the Set's smartness was but the
 
 174 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 flicker of a penny dip. We could drive the crowd on 
 ahead, and look at our moon when they were out of its 
 light. 
 
 So there's the explanation of Monny's presence in the 
 mushrbiyeh kiosk on the roof of Mena House, on the night 
 following the great adventure, which would have put most 
 girls to bed with nervous prostration ! 
 
 Part of our programme, to be sure, had failed; but it was 
 not a part which could interfere with my selfish enjoy- 
 ment. Mrs. East had changed her mind at the last 
 moment, and had decided not to dine, although I had 
 invited Sir Marcus on purpose for her. According to 
 Biddy, Cleopatra had "something up her sleeve," some- 
 thing her excuse of "seediness" was meant to cover. 
 Maybe it was only a flirtatious wish to disappoint Sir 
 Marcus maybe it was something more subtle. But it 
 did not matter much to anybody except Lark, who was 
 obliged to put up with Mrs. Jones in place of Mrs. East; 
 for Rachel Guest and the sculptor, whom we nicknamed 
 "Bill Bailey" were to be paired off: and, urged by 
 Biddy, I intended to monopolize Monny. 
 
 I suppose there could scarcely be a more ideal room for 
 an intimate dinner-party on a moonlight night than that 
 kiosk on the flat roof of Mena House. Through the wide 
 open doors, and the openwork walls like a canopy of black 
 lace lined with silver, the moonlight filtered, sketching 
 exquisite designs upon the white floor and bringing out 
 jewelled flecks of colour on the covering and cushions of 
 the divans. There was no electricity in this kiosk, and we 
 aided the moonlight only with red-shaded candles, and 
 ruby domed "fairy lamps, " the exact shade of the crimson
 
 THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON 175 
 
 ramblers which decorated the table. For the corners by the 
 open doors, I had ordered pots of Madonna lilies, which 
 gave up their perfume to the moon, and looked, in the 
 mingling radiance of rose and silver, like hovering doves. 
 
 "Oh, I could hug and kiss that moon!" sighed Monny, 
 tall and fair in her white dress as the lilies I had chosen 
 for her. 
 
 I was relieved that the Man in the Moon has now been 
 superseded by a Gibson Girl; for Monny was beautiful 
 at that moment as a vision met in the secret garden which 
 lies on the other side of sleep. 
 
 "And the stars, " Monny said, as I watched her uplifted 
 face, wondering just how much I was in love with it, "the 
 little stars high up at the zenith twinkle like silver bees. 
 Those that sit on the edge of the horizon are huge and 
 golden, like desert watch-fires. Oh, do you know, Lord 
 Ernest, if quite a dull, uninteresting man, or or one that 
 it would be madness even to think of proposed to me on 
 such a night, I should have to say yes. It would seem so 
 prosaic and such a waste, of moonlight, not to. Wouldn't 
 you feel like that if you were a girl?" 
 
 "I'm sure I should," I replied with extraordinary 
 sympathy. "I do feel like it, even as a man. I warn 
 you not to propose, or I shall snap at you. " 
 
 She laughed; but I was wondering if I were dull and 
 uninteresting enough to stand a chance. It seemed as if 
 Providence were actually handing it to me. But just 
 then Biddy and Sir Marcus came to the doorway which so 
 becomingly framed Monny's form and mine. Naturally 
 that put the idea out of my head; and two such oppor- 
 tunities don't come to a man in a single night.
 
 176 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Dinner was not ready yet, and we sauntered about on 
 the flat roof, white as marble in the moonlight. The sky 
 was milk the desert, honey far off Cairo with its 
 crowned citadel, pale opal veined with light, and faintly 
 streaked with misty greens and purples; the cultivated 
 land a deep indigo sea. The fantastically built hotel 
 (in its ancient beginnings the palace of a Pasha) was like 
 a closely huddled group of chalets, looked down on from 
 its central roof. On the fringe of the oasis-garden the 
 cafes and curiosity-shops buzzed with life, and glittered 
 like lighted beehives. Outside the gateway, donkey-boys 
 and camel-men and drivers of sandcarts chattered. To- 
 night, and on a few moonlight nights to come they would 
 reap their monthly harvest. They were all ready to 
 start off anywhere at a moment's notice; but apart from 
 them and their clamour, reposed a row of camels previously 
 engaged, free, therefore, to enjoy themselves until after din- 
 ner. As we gazed down as if from a captive balloon, at the 
 line of sitting forms, they looked immense, like giant, new- 
 born birds, with their huge egg-shaped bodies and thin 
 necks. Along the arboured road from Cairo, flashed 
 motor-car after motor-car, their lights winking in and out 
 between the dark trees, now blazing, now invisible, their 
 occupants all intent on doing the right thing: dining at 
 Mena House, and seeing the full moon feed honey to the 
 Sphinx. Some, wishing to save time, or to dine later in 
 town, or to take a train, for somewhere, later, did not turn 
 in at the hotel gate, but swept past with siren shrieks, and 
 tore on, hoping to "rush" the steep hill to the Pyramid 
 platform at top speed. Only a few of the strongest suc- 
 ceeded, and, with a dash instead of an ignominious crawl,
 
 THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON 177 
 
 triumphantly fanned their lights along the base of that vast 
 monument in which King Cheops vainly sought eternal pri- 
 vacy. What would he say, we wondered, could he see the 
 crowds of tourists tearing out to pay him a call, on their 
 way to the Sphinx? Would he blight them with a curse, 
 or would he remember pearly nights of old, when his sub- 
 jects assembled in multitudes for the feast of the Goddess 
 Neith when the moon was full, and all the white, brightly 
 painted houses along the Nile reflected their flowerlike 
 illuminations in the water? Anyhow (as Sir John Biddell 
 would have said), this was helping to keep his name before 
 the public; and nothing could succeed in vulgarizing his 
 mountain of gold in its gleaming waves of desert, under 
 pulsing stars and creamy floods of moonlight. 
 
 Anthony had told me that the great " tip " was to go out 
 while the less instructed sightseers ate their dinner. 
 Then, the desert was comparatively empty; and, more 
 important still, instead of having the moon on her head, 
 and her face in shadow, the Sphinx received its full blaze 
 in her farseeing eyes. Of this advice I meant to avail 
 myself, feeling vaguely guilty as I thought of the giver, 
 who was absent from the feast : Anthony Fenton, one of the 
 finest young soldiers in Egypt, who could be lionized in 
 drawing-rooms at home if he would "stand for it"! 
 Anthony who, would he but accept the repentant overtures 
 of that tyrannical old prince, his maternal grandfather, 
 might inherit a fortune and a palace at Constantinople! 
 Yet as Ahmed Antoun in his green turban, he was "taboo" 
 at our little party. 
 
 He was due later, however, and I rather expected to find 
 him waiting below, when I excused myself to descend to the
 
 178 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Set. But I had not left the roof when a note for Monny 
 was brought up by an ebony person in livery. I watched 
 her as she read, one side of her face turned to marble by 
 the moon, the other stained rose by the red-shaded candles. 
 I thought that the rosy side grew more rosy as she finished 
 the letter. 
 
 "There's a message for you, Lord Ernest," she said. 
 "Aunt Clara wants me to tell you tha't 'Antoun' can't 
 meet you at the hotel, because she changed her mind 
 about not coming out, and sent for him. She felt better, 
 it seems, and got thinking what a pity it would be to miss 
 the full moon, so she suddenly remembered that 'An- 
 toun' wasn't with us, and decided to invite him. She 
 writes in a hurry and didn't know where they would dine, 
 but says anyhow they'll meet us by the Sphinx between 
 nine and ten. " 
 
 "Where 'they'd* dine!" echoed Sir Marcus, pricked to 
 interest. "Was she going to let Fe I mean ' Antoun, ' 
 take her out to dinner? " 
 
 "Apparently she was, " replied Monny, rather dryly. 
 
 "Why not?" asked Brigit. "He's perfectly splendid. 
 And Mrs. East not that she isn't a young woman, 
 of course is old enough to go about without a chap- 
 eron. " 
 
 "If we're to meet them between nine and ten at the 
 Spkinx," said Monny briskly, "don't you think, Lord 
 Ernest, you'd better hurry and get your people off, so we 
 can set out ourselves?" 
 
 "I'm going, " I assured her. " But I thought we planned 
 to give them a long start, in hopes that they might be 
 ready to come back by the time we arrived? "
 
 THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON 179 
 
 "Oh, well, " she said, "that will make it very late, won't 
 it, and we may miss Aunt Clara? Anyhow, lots of other 
 creatures just as bad as yours will be there, for we can't 
 engage the desert like a private sitting-room. " 
 
 That settled it. I dashed downstairs and sorted out 
 my charges. They had got themselves up in all kinds of 
 costumes, for this "act." One man had on a folding 
 opera-hat, which he had thought just the right thing for 
 Egypt, as it was so easy to pack! Girls in evening dress; 
 men young and old in helmets and straw hats, ancient 
 maidens, and fat married ladies, in dust cloaks or ball 
 gowns, climbed or leaped or scrambled onto camels, with 
 shrieks of joy or moans of horror: or else they tumbled onto 
 donkeys which bounded away before the riders were well 
 on their backs. And men, women, and animals were 
 shouting, giggling, groaning, gabbling, snarling, and 
 squeaking; an extraordinary procession to pay honour to 
 the Pyramids and the lonely Sphinx. 
 
 We of the roof-party considered ourselves, figuratively 
 speaking, above camels, far above donkeys, and scornful 
 of motor-cars, in which it was irreverent to charge up to 
 the Great Pyramid as if to the door of a cafe. We walked, 
 and Monny still lent herself to me; but she no longer 
 bubbled over with delight at everything. A subdued 
 mood was upon her, and her eyes looked sad, even anxious, 
 in the translucent light w*hich was not so much like earthly 
 moonlight as the beginning of sunrise in some far, magic 
 dreamland. She had the pathetic air of a spoiled child 
 who begins suddenly, if only vaguely, to realize that it 
 cannot have everything it wants in the world. And she 
 merely smiled when I told her how, to insure the peace of
 
 180 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 the desert, I had offered a prize of a large blue scarab as 
 big as a paperweight, for that member of the Set who did 
 not even say "Oh!" to the Sphinx. "Antoun" had "vet- 
 ted" the alleged scarab and pronounced it a modern for- 
 gery; but nobody else knew that, and as a prize it was 
 popular. 
 
 The sky had that clear pale blue of dawn, when day first 
 realizes that, though born of night, it is no longer night. 
 Casseopeia's Chair and Orion were being tossed about the 
 burning heavens like golden furniture out of a house on 
 fire; and one great star- jewel had fallen on the apex of cruel 
 Khufu's Pyramid. I should have liked to believe it was 
 Sirius, the "lucky" star sacred to Isis and Hathor; but 
 Monny's schoolgirl knowledge of astronomy bereft me of 
 that innocent pleasure. No wonder that the ancient Egyp- 
 tians, with such jewels in their blue treasure-house, were 
 famous astrologers and astronomers before the days when 
 Rameses' daughter found Moses in the bulrushes of 
 Roda Island! 
 
 The stars spoke to us as we walked, soft-footed, through 
 the sand; and the pure wind of the desert spoke other 
 words of the same language, the language of the Universe 
 and of Nature. Here and there yellow lights in a distant 
 camp flashed out like fireflies; far away across the billowing 
 sands, rocks bleached like bone gave an effect of surf on an 
 unseen shore; now and then a silent, swift-moving Arab 
 stealing out of shadow, might have been the White AYoman 
 who haunts the Sphinx, hurrying to a fatal tryst: and the 
 Great Pyramid seemed to float between desert sand and 
 cloudless sky like the golden palace of Aladdin being trans- 
 ported through air by the Geni of the Lamp. There never
 
 . THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON 181 
 
 was such gold as this gold of sand and pyramids, under the 
 moon! We said that it was like condensed sun rays, so 
 vivid, so bright, that the moon could not steal its colour. 
 Cloudlike white figures were running up Khufu's geome- 
 tric mountain; Arabs expecting money when they should 
 come leaping down, whole or in pieces. And the khaki 
 uniforms of British soldiers mounting or descending for 
 their own stolid amusement, made the Pyramid itself 
 seem to be writhing, so like was the colour of the cloth 
 to that of the stone. No use being angry because the 
 monument was crawling with Tommies! The Pyramids 
 were as much theirs as ours. And probably Napoleon's 
 soldiers spent their moonlit evenings in the same way; 
 a thought which somehow made the thing seem less intol- 
 erable. 
 
 We climbed to the vast platform of the Ghizeh Pyramids, 
 and then plunged into the billows of the desert, in quest of 
 the Sphinx. Sir Marcus was entitled to call himself the 
 pioneer, but we needed no one to show us the way. It 
 was but too clearly indicated by the bands of pilgrims, go- 
 ing or returning. And among the latter were those whom 
 Monny callously referred to as "poor Lord Ernest's crowd." 
 Miss Hassett-Bean and the Biddell girls made us linger, 
 with sand trickling over the tops of our shoes, while they 
 poured into our ears their impressions of the Sphinx. 
 Miss H. B. thought that She (with a capital S) was a 
 combination of Goddess, Prophetess, and Mystery. Enid 
 thought she was like an Irish washerwoman making 
 a face; and Elaine said she was the image of their bulldog 
 at home. Monny (after a sandy introduction) listened 
 to these verbal vandalisms in horrified silence. I could see
 
 182 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 that she was exerting herself, for my sake, to be civil to my 
 charges (who were more interested in her than they had 
 been in the Sphinx), and that, if she could have done so 
 without hurting their feelings, she would have struck them 
 dead. But my fears that their mental suggestions might 
 obsess her were baseless. She did not speak when the 
 golden billows parted to give us a first vision of the great 
 Mystery of the Desert. I had led Monny by a round- 
 about way, and instead of seeing the Sphinx from the back, 
 we came upon her face to face, as she gazed with her won- 
 derful, all-knowing eyes, straight into that world beyond 
 knowledge Which lies somewhere east of the moon. 
 Veiled by the night in silver and blue, with a proud lift 
 of the head, she faced past and future, which were one 
 for her, and the present, nothing. The moon gave back 
 for a few hours all her lost loveliness, of which men had 
 robbed her, seeming miraculously to restore the broken 
 features, whole and beautiful as they had been in her youth 
 before history began. It was as if in the moon's rays were 
 silver hands, mending the marred majesty, giving life to 
 the eyes and to the haunting, secret smile. I thought of 
 the story of King Harmachis: how he dreamed that the 
 Sphinx came to him, saying that the sand pressed upon 
 her, and she could not breathe. Nobody since his day 
 had for long left her buried! 
 
 "What does it mean to you? "I broke the silence to 
 ask. 
 
 "I don't know, " Monny said. "All I know is that she's 
 more wonderful than I expected, and as beautiful as the 
 loveliest marble Venus of Italy, though a thousand times 
 greater if one perfect thing can be greater than another.
 
 THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON 183 
 
 She's so great that I don't think she can be meant to be 
 a woman or even a man. She is like a soul carved in 
 stone. " 
 
 "All in a moment you have guessed the riddle!" I ex- 
 claimed, liking and understanding the girl better than I 
 had liked or understood her yet. "I believe that's the 
 secret of the Sphinx. The king who had this stupendous 
 idea, and caused it to be carried out, said to some inspired 
 sculptor, 'Make for me from the rock of the desert, a 
 portrait, not of me as I am seen by men, in my mortal part 
 or Khat, for that can be placed elsewhere; but an image of 
 my real self, my soul or Ka, looking past the small things 
 of this world into eternity, which lies beyond this desert 
 and all deserts.' Then the sculptor made the Sphinx, and 
 gave it such grandeur, such mystery of countenance that 
 instinctively the souls of people recognized the soul look. 
 You have a soul, and it told you the secret. Only those 
 who have no souls find the Sphinx heavy or hideous, or 
 utterly beyond their comprehension. " 
 
 "Have I a soul? " Monny asked, dreamily. "Men I've 
 known have told me I haven't. Yet sometimes I've 
 thought I felt it fluttering. And if I have a soul, I shall 
 find it in Egypt. Oh, I shall! Something yes, the 
 Sphinx herself! tells me that. " 
 
 I was tempted to ask " What about a heart? " And then 
 in a violent hurry, before anybody came to mention 
 my own, into which the moon seemed pouring a little of 
 the honey it had brought for the Sphinx. I did feel that 
 some one owed a moonlight proposal under the Sphinx's 
 nose (or the place where its nose had been) to such a girl 
 as Monny. Her Egyptian experience could never be per-
 
 134 
 
 feet and complete unless she were proposed to on the night 
 of the full moon, with the Sphinx's blessing; and as no 
 better man was here to do it, I could not be thought con- 
 ceited if I took the duty upon myself. Besides, Brigit 
 would so thoroughly approve! 
 
 "Look here, Biddy, I mean Monny, " I began hastily, 
 "there's something I want to tell you, something very im- 
 portant you ought to know, because matters can't go on 
 much longer as they are " 
 
 "Is it something about 'Antoun'?" she broke in, with a 
 little gasp, as I paused for breath and courage. "If it is, 
 maybe I know it already ! " 
 
 Extraordinary, the relief I felt ! I ought to have suffered 
 a shock of disappointment, because I couldn't possibly 
 finish a proposal after such an interruption. But instead, 
 my spirits went up with a bound. Probably, however, 
 that was because her hint was a whip to my curiosity. 
 "What do you know about 'Antoun'?" I asked. 
 
 Perhaps I forgot to lower my voice; or perhaps voices 
 carry far across desert-spaces, as across water. Anyhow 
 the clear tones of Cleopatra answered like an echo. 
 "Antoun Antoun! I hear Lord Ernest calling. " 
 
 Biddy dear little matchmaking Biddy had man- 
 aged Sir Marcus, Bill Bailey and Rachel, as a circus rider 
 manages three spirited white horses at one time. The 
 desert was her ring, and she had reined her steeds to her 
 will, keeping them out of my way and Monny's at all costs, 
 no matter whether they saw the Sphinx in back view or 
 noseless profile. But Mrs. East's principal occupation 
 in life was not to get me engaged to the Gilded Rose. 
 And either she lost her presence of mind, or else she was not
 
 THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON 185 
 
 so much enjoying her moonlight tete-a-tete with Fenton, 
 that it was worth while to hide from us behind a sand 
 dune. 
 
 The two emerged from a gulf of shadow, Anthony very 
 splendid under the moon, a true man of the desert. I 
 thought I heard Monny draw in a little sharp breath as 
 she saw that noble incarnation of Egypt (so he must have 
 seemed, unless she knew the British reality of him) walking 
 beside Cleopatra. 
 
 Then up came the others, Sir Marcus impossible to 
 restrain; and we all talked together as people are expected 
 to talk when they have come thousands of miles to see these 
 monuments of Egypt. Yes, yes ! Wonderful incredi- 
 ble! Which do you find more impressive, the Sphinx or 
 the Pyramids? Isn't it a pity they let the temple between 
 the paws remain buried? And aren't the Pyramids just 
 like Titanic, golden beehives? And can't you simply see 
 the swarming builders, like bees themselves, working for 
 twenty years? 
 
 Thus we jabbered; and others, many others, appeared 
 to dispute the scene with us, to break the magic of the 
 moonlight, and to puncture the vast silence of the desert 
 with their cooings and gurglings and chatterings in Ger- 
 man, English, Arabic, and every other language known 
 since the Tower of Babel. Arab guides lit up the Sphinx 
 with flaring magnesium, an impertinence that should have 
 made hideous with hate the insulted features, but instead 
 turned them for a thrilling instant of suspense into marble. 
 Indeed, none of our petty vulgarities could jar or even fret 
 the majestic calm of the desert and the stone Mystery 
 among its billows. The Sphinx gazed above and past us
 
 186 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 all. She was like some royal captive surrounded by a 
 rabble mob, yet as undisturbed in soul as though her puny, 
 hooting tormentors had no existence. It was not so much 
 that she scorned us, as that she did not know we were there. 
 
 When we sorted ourselves out, to escape Sir Marcus, 
 Cleopatra deigned to make use of me, having first observed 
 (with burning interest) that Monny and Rachel were with 
 Bailey, and that "Antoun" was pointing things out to 
 Brigit O'Brien, as it is Man's metier (in pictures and adver- 
 tisements) to point things out to Woman. 
 
 "It's been a wonderful evening," Mrs. East said. "It 
 has made up for everything I suffered last night. We 
 brought dinner out into the desert, in that smallest tea- 
 basket, you know, and ate it together, he and I An- 
 tony and I. There ! I may as well confess that's what I 
 call him to myself, for I've guessed your secret and his. 
 But don't be afraid. I won't tell a soul. It's too roman- 
 tic and fascinating for words or to put into words. He 
 let me have my fortune told by an Arab sand diviner, who 
 came while we were at dinner. I can't repeat to you what 
 the fortune-teller said. But I feel as if I were living in a 
 book. Oh, if only I were writing it myself and could 
 make everything happen just as I want it to happen! Do 
 you know one thing I would put into the story?" 
 
 "No, I can't think," I said, rather anxiously. 
 
 "I would have you propose to Monny. " 
 
 "Oh by Jove, Mrs. East!" 
 
 "Why- don't you admire her?" 
 
 "But of course. She's irresistible. Only she's so 
 horribly rich. And besides, she doesn't think of me in that 
 way. "
 
 187 
 
 "You can't be sure. Now, Lord Ernest, I'm going to 
 whisper you a secret. I believe I really do that 
 Monny would be glad if you'd propose. If I were in your 
 place, if I liked her, I would do so as soon as possible. It 
 might save her from humiliation from a great trouble. " 
 
 Being a duffer, I could only say once again, "By Jove! "
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 AN UNDERGROUND PROPOSAL 
 
 I DIDN'T sleep much that night, for thinking of Monny; 
 and when I did sleep, I dreamed of her; tangled dreams, in 
 which she was Monny Gilder with Brigit O'Brien's eyes. 
 Could it be possible that she liked me? Mrs. East ought 
 to know. I made up my mind that to-morrow I would 
 begin by feeling my way, but when to-morrow came I had 
 no time to feel anything which concerned my private 
 affairs. 
 
 It seemed, or so I was told "for my own good" by 
 Miss Hassett-Bean, that the Candace people thought it 
 'snobby" for me to have indulged in a private dinner- 
 party, and to have hustled them off in a drove to the 
 Sphinx while I went leisurely with my smart friends. 
 They knew ah 1 about the feast on the roof, and were of 
 opinion that they ought to have been there. Did I con- 
 sider my American heiress better than they, better even 
 than the family of an ex-Lord Mayor? If I wished to 
 make up lost ground, I must devote myself to duty, and 
 be nicer than ever to everybody. 
 
 This was one of the moments when I was tempted to 
 throw over my job; but I remembered the reward, and set 
 myself once more to the earning of it. For the next few 
 days I scarcely saw Monny or Brigit, or even heard what 
 
 188
 
 AN UNDERGROUND PROPOSAL 189 
 
 was happening to them for they had "done" the princi- 
 pal sights of Cairo, and I (at the head of the Candace 
 crowd) was "doing" them. As if in a game of "Follow 
 my Leader," I led the bandfrom mosque to mosque; not 
 indeed visiting the whole two hundred and sixty-four, but 
 calling on the best ones. To begin with, I collected the 
 Set on the height of the Citadel, which commands all 
 Cairo, the platform of the Pyramids (not only the Ghizeh 
 Pryamids but the sixty odd others, which newcomers don't 
 talk about): the tawny Mokattam Hills, and the silver- 
 blue serpent of the Nile. From this vantage place I 
 pointed out the things we had to see in the city spread out 
 below us, so that on the vaguest minds the picture might 
 be painted in its entirety, before they began to absorb 
 details on that mosaic map which was Cairo. The tombs 
 of the Mamelukes, strangely shaped monuments, vague 
 and white as squatting ghosts; the graves of the Caliphs; 
 the historic gates of el-Kahira; and the many ancient 
 mosques, whose minarets soared against the blue like tall- 
 stemmed flowers in a palace garden. 
 
 Mentally fortified by this bird's-eye view from the 
 Citadel (of course, I had to trot them up again for the 
 sunset), my charges let themselves be led from mosque to 
 mosque, from tomb to tomb. Some, possessed with a 
 demoniac desire to get their money's worth of Egypt, were 
 unable to enjoy any sight, in their nervous dread of miss- 
 ing some other spectacle, which people at home might ask 
 them about. These strained their wearied intelligences to 
 see more than they possibly could at any one moment, un- 
 less they had eyes all round their heads; and others, of an 
 even more irritating type, never lifted the few eyes they
 
 190 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 had from the pages of guide-books. I liked better those 
 who, like Monny, frankly said that they didn't wish to 
 have their minds tidied up, and be told a string of things 
 about Egypt. They just wanted to feel the things, and 
 let them slowly soak in. And the nice, lazy, Southern 
 Americans, who said they were "tomb shy," and loitered 
 about, betting from one to six scarabs on the speed of 
 fleas, or donkeys, while I whipped forth for their tired 
 companions a dull drove of facts fattened for their 
 benefit. 
 
 Mosques and churches and tombs had to be visited, bufc 
 did not appeal to all tastes. The Bazaars did. So did 
 the Zoo, more fascinating than any other zoo, because 
 each animal has its trick, or pet, or plaything. 
 
 As an excuse to see Monny and the rest of my friends, I 
 got up a moonlight digging expedition at Fustat, those 
 great mounds of rubbish and buried treasure near Egyp- 
 tian Babylon where a city was burnt lest it should fall into 
 the hands of the Crusaders. Monny and her party were 
 invited to join us, and accepted the invitation, piloted by 
 "Antoun. " And concerning this entertainment, I had 
 an idea. Those who choose to dig among these desert- 
 like sandhills, between the Coptic churches of Babylon and 
 the tombs of the Mamelukes, may chance on something of 
 value, especially after a windstorm or a landslip: bits of 
 Persian pottery, fragments of iridescent glass, broken 
 bracelets of enamel, opaline beads, or tiny gods and god- 
 desses. Why should I not (thought I) apportion off to 
 each member of the band his or her own digging patch? 
 This would save squabbling, and would provide an oppor- 
 tunity for me to propose in a unique way to Monny,
 
 AN UNDERGROUND PROPOSAL 191 
 
 Regarding the idea as an inspiration, I carried it out 
 scientifically. Helped by Anthony, after the sun had set 
 and the mounds were deserted, I staked out the most 
 promising " claims, "and marked each space with the name 
 of the " miner" for whom I intended it. In Monny's patch, 
 near the surface where she could not possibly miss it, I 
 buried a letter wrapped round a cow-eared head of Hathor 
 which I had bought at the Egyptian Museum-shop. Now, 
 in justice to myself, I must tell you that this letter was no 
 common letter, such as any Tom, Dick, or Harry may 
 write to the Mary Jane Smith of the moment. It was a 
 missive which cost me midnight electricity and brain- 
 strain; for not only must I appeal to my lady, I must also 
 suit an environment. 
 
 Monny had taken up the study of hieroglyphics, in 
 order to appreciate intelligently the tombs and temples of 
 the Nile. She had bought books, and was learning with 
 the energy of a stenographer, to write and read. She 
 wrote out exercises, and submitted them for correction to 
 "Antoun" who, as an Egyptian, was to be considered an 
 authority. "Of course," she explained to me, "one comes 
 here thinking that all Egyptians nowadays, even Copts, 
 are Arabs. But he says that Egyptians are as Egyptian 
 as they ever were, because Arab invasion has left little 
 more trace in their blood than the Romans left in the blood 
 of the English. It interests me much more to feel when 
 I'm in Egypt that I'm among real Egyptians." 
 
 With this in my mind, I was convinced that a love letter 
 in hieroglyphics, unearthed by moonlight in the mounds 
 of Fustat, would please Monny. 
 
 The difficulty was that, though I could speak Arabic
 
 192 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 fairly well, I hardly knew the difference betweeen hiero- 
 glyphic, hieratic and demotic forms; but the limited sym- 
 bols I was able to employ were so strong in themselves 
 that a few would go a long way : and if they were not as 
 correct as the sentiments they expressed, Monny was 
 not herself a mistress of hieroglyphic style. I could find 
 no hieroglyphic suit in which to clothe the name Ernest; 
 but since I had become keeper of men, mice, and morals in 
 Sir Marcus Lark's floating zoo, Monny 's craze for Egyp- 
 tianizing everything had suggested the nickname of Men- 
 Kheper-Ra. She sometimes called me Ra for short, 
 therefore I now ventured to divert to my own uses a sign 
 and cartouche once the property of a "son of the Sun," 
 and King of Egypt: 
 
 Translation: Beautiful Queen, Star (of) My Heart (and) Soul. 
 Give Me (your) Love. Become My Wife (and) Goddess (for) 
 Eternity. Men-Kheper-(Ka) Ra.
 
 AN UNDERGROUND PROPOSAL 193 
 
 I patted myself on the back, put the letter in the ground; 
 and the digging party was a wild success; but time passed 
 on, and I had no answer. What I expected was a reply in 
 kind, an hieratic acceptance or a demotic refusal; either 
 one would be good practice for Monny. But not a hiero- 
 glyph of any description came. I had to go on as if noth- 
 ing had happened. To be ignored was less tolerable than 
 being refused. Monny's silence began to get upon my 
 nerves; and to make matters worse, there was that desert 
 trip hanging over my head. I knew even less about organ- 
 izing a desert trip than I knew about hieroglyphics; yet it 
 had to be done. As Sir Marcus said it was "up to me" to 
 do it so well that Cook would look sick. Anthony was 
 absorbed in secret official duties and open, unofficial 
 duties. His was a great "thinking" part, and our occupa- 
 tions kept us apart rather than brought us together. On 
 the one occasion when we were alone, he devoted four out 
 of five minutes to telling me what he had learned of the 
 night disturbance in front of the House of the Crocodile. 
 "A Britisher of sorts" had come into the street, guided by 
 an Arab. There had been some dispute about payment, 
 and the Britisher had slapped the dragoman's face. This 
 had been followed, as he might have known it would, with 
 a stab; a crowd had assembled, and scattered before the 
 police; the stabbed one had gone to hospital, the stabber to 
 prison. Altogether it was not surprising that Mansoor, 
 the suspicious caretaker, had feared a trap, and closed his 
 doors. Bedr el Gemaly, now one of the great unemployed, 
 had been seen near the hospital where the injured man 
 lay; but he had taken the alarm and departed without 
 inquiring for the invalid's health; or else his being in that
 
 194 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 neighbourhood was a coincidence. The name of the man 
 knifed was Burke, and London was given as his address. 
 He was between thirty -five and forty, and according to the 
 arrested dragoman was "not a gentleman, but a tourist." 
 His hurt was not severe: and as the Arab had been exas- 
 perated by a blow, the punishment would not be excessive. 
 
 When at length I had seized the last remaining minute to 
 put the question, "Do you think Miss Gilder has found 
 out who you really are? " Fenton seemed astonished. 
 
 "I hadn't thought of it at all," he answered simply. 
 "She's giving me too many other things to think of. " 
 
 "What kind of things?" I stealthily inquired. 
 
 "Oh," with an evasive air "I don't know what 
 to make of her yet. But I haven't given up my silly 
 scheme. " 
 
 "What silly scheme?" 
 
 "Antoun" looked almost sulky. "Well, if you've 
 forgotten, I won't remind you. It's absurd; it's even 
 brutal; and I'm ashamed of it. But I stick to it."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 THE DESERT DIARY BEGUN 
 
 I FOUND out why Monny paid no attention to my buried 
 letter. But the way in which I found it out (and sev- 
 eral other things at the same time) is part of the desert 
 trip. 
 
 I am not a man whose soul turns to diaries for consola- 
 tion; but I did keep up a bowing acquaintance with a 
 notebook in Egypt it helped me with my lectures 
 and in the desert it relieved my feelings. Looking over 
 the desert pages, I'm tempted to give them as they stand: 
 
 Black Friday: Morning. The start's for Monday, and 
 nothing done! Could I develop symptoms of creeping 
 paralysis, and throw the responsibility on Anthony? But 
 too late for that now; and he may have to stay on in 
 Cairo for a day or two. Why did I leave my peaceful 
 home? It's the lure of the Mountain of the Golden 
 Pyramid. Last night before I went to bed, read over my 
 copy of Ferlini's letters, to gain courage. Gained it for a 
 little; but when I think of that desert I'm supposed to turn 
 into a happy playground for trippers, and not a tent hired 
 or a prune bought, or an egg laid, for all I know, I wish 
 Anthony and I had let Lark stick to our mountain. 
 
 This is Lark's fault anyhow. He sprang the thing on 
 me. Said it would be easy as falling off a log. Said Cairo 
 
 195
 
 196 IT HAPPENED IX EGYPT 
 
 was full of Arabs whose mission in life was supplying tents 
 and utensils for desert tours. People would be charmed 
 with simple life, and me as universal provider. All I had 
 to do was to supply cheap editions of "The Garden of 
 Allah," and plenty of dates; and hint that it was con- 
 sidered vulgar in the Best Circles to put on Peche Melba 
 airs in the desert. With a few quotations, I should make 
 them content with a loaf of bread, a cup of wine, and 
 Thing-um-Bob. Why, they'd be falling in love with each 
 other under the desert stars, and my principal occupation 
 would be saying, "Bless you, my children! " 
 
 Sounded neat; and I remembered that, according to 
 Brigit, Monny wanted the " desert to take her. " Thought 
 it might be useful if I were on in that act. Abyssmal 
 beast of a dragoman who lurks round Mena House buoyed 
 me up with false hopes. Said he had a fine outfit which 
 he let, and threw himself in as guide. Plenty of every- 
 thing (including cheek) for fifteen people, the exact num- 
 ber who have put down their names to go. (Some girls 
 and parents are staying for a ball at the Semiramis, where 
 I've tearfully persuaded the only soft-hearted officers 
 I know to dance with them otherwise the lot would 
 have been on my hands in the desert.) Had so much to do 
 yesterday taking the crowd to Matariyeh, where the Holy 
 Family hid in a hollow tree, that I had no time to look 
 at the Arab's outfit. Was inclined to save trouble and 
 trust him, but saw Anthony a minute last night; he urged 
 me to inspect everything. Did so early this morning. 
 Rotten outfit: tents like old patchwork quilts, pots and 
 pans, etc., probably bought job lot from Noah when the 
 Ark was docked. Those keenest on desert "taking " them,
 
 THE DESERT DIARY BEGUN 197 
 
 will be mad as hatters if it takes them in. Suppose I'll 
 have to interview hah* the Arabs in Cairo to-day. Wish 
 I had a Ka or Ba or whatever you get for an astral body in 
 Egypt, and I could say to it, "Here, my dear chap, I 
 trust you to do this job while I stay in Cairo and rest my 
 features. " Then he'd get the blame, and I'd disappear, 
 never to be seen again. Or if he were a Ka with Cook 
 accomplishments, maybe he'd bring the thing off all 
 right, in which case I could turn up and take the credit 
 and marry Monny. Happy thought! Cook! Why 
 shouldn't I sneak to Cook, and inquire in a careless way 
 if they publish any pamphlet on "How to Do a Desert 
 Tour." 
 
 Later: Have been to Cook. No pamphlet, but a friend 
 in need. Talk of casting bread on the waters! In Rome 
 I cast a crust which I didn't want, and it's come back in 
 Cairo with butter and sugar on it. 
 
 Must have been two years ago in Rome when a young 
 chap wrote to me to the Embassy. Said he'd been dis- 
 appointed in getting work he'd come abroad for, had seen 
 my name, recognized it, was from my county; and could 
 I use him as a stenographer or anything? I couldn't; 
 but I found him some one who could; and forgot him till I 
 saw him this morning a fully fledged clerk at Cook's. 
 Checking the impulse to fall on his neatly striped blue and 
 white bosom, I invited him to lunch; and as a reward for 
 what he calls "past and present favours," he had given me 
 new life. What I mean to say is, he's promised to provide 
 me not only with tents, but camels and camel-boys and a 
 camp ch^f , and waiters and washbowls and a desert drago- 
 man, and thousands of things I'd never thought of. It
 
 198 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 seems practically certain that since Napoleon no such 
 genius has been born as Slaney. Cleopatra would say 
 that S. is the reincarnation of Napoleon; but neither Cleo- 
 patra nor any one else above all, Sir Marcus Lark is 
 to know of his existence. Such is the disinterested self- 
 sacrifice of this buttered-and-sugared Crust, that it will 
 do everything for me, while keeping itself and the Organi- 
 zation which controls it, completely in the background. 
 The Organization is too great to mind; and the Crust, alias 
 T. Slaney, thinks itself too small. 
 
 Lark, Ltd., considers himself a budding rival of the firm 
 of Cook; but a deadly bud. If, however, Sir M. should 
 come to hear that I had flown for succour to the enemy's 
 camp, I fear it would be all over with the bargain for which 
 Anthony and I are selling our souls. T. Slaney says he 
 never shall know. He guarantees that Cook labels and 
 other telltale marks shall be removed from everything, 
 though time is short and there is much to do. He will be 
 the power behind the tents, and I will be in them, absorb- 
 ing all the credit. 
 
 Saturday: All couleur de Rose, thanks to Slaney. 
 Should like to get him canonized. Many less worthy men, 
 now deceased, have been given the right to put Saint be- 
 fore their names. He has handed me a list, something 
 less than a mile long, of articles which Biddy and I, as 
 children, used to call eaties and drinkies. He has told me 
 where the things can be bought, and has written a letter 
 of introduction which secures me "highest consideration 
 and lowest prices." Also he has suggested a medicine- 
 chest, packs of cards, the newest games, cigarettes suited 
 to European and Arab tastes, picture post-cards 01
 
 THE DESERT DIARY BEGUN 199 
 
 scenes; ink, pens, and writing paper. "People forget 
 everything they want on these trips, but you mustn't," 
 said he. I have acted on all his suggestions, and feel as 
 proud as if I had originated them myself. 
 
 Sunday: My precious friend Slaney has made a large 
 collection of Arabs, camels, tents, etc., and ordered every- 
 thing, animate and inanimate, to assemble in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Mena House this afternoon, in order to be 
 inspected by me, and to be ready for a start early to- 
 morrow morning. We are to have a sandcart with a 
 desert horse for Cleopatra, who has tried a camel and 
 found it wanting. I fancy she thinks a sandcart the best 
 modern substitute for a chariot; and at worst, it ought to be 
 as comfortable. Slaney has promised a yellow one 
 cart, not horse. The horse, by request, is to be white. 
 The other ladies are having camels. I daren't think of 
 Miss Hassett-Bean at the end of the week. The men, also, 
 will camel. There is, indeed, no alternative between 
 camelling and sandcarting sandcarting not recom- 
 mended by the faculty but insisted upon by Cleopatra. 
 Hope it will work out all right; and am inclined to be 
 optimistic. A week in the desert and the flowery oasis of 
 the Fayum, with the two most charming women in Egypt! 
 There will be others, but there's a man each, and more. I 
 shall have to look after Monny and Brigit, as Anthony is 
 having his hands full with Cleopatra lately, and, besides, 
 he can't start with us. Something keeps him in Cairo 
 for two days more, and he will have to join us near 
 Tomieh. 
 
 Sunday Evening: Back from Great Pyramid, where I 
 went to inspect the assembling army. Magnificent is the
 
 200 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 only word! The camels fine animals, but Anthony has 
 provided the three best, borrowing these aristocrats of the 
 camel world from Major Gunter of the Coast Guard. 
 They have chased hasheesh smugglers, and have seen 
 desert fighting. Were snarling horribly when I was intro- 
 duced, but a snarl as superior to the common snarls of 
 baggage-camels as their legs are superior in shape. Biddy, 
 Monny, Mrs. East, and Rachel Guest were there with Sir 
 M. and "Antoun," having been inside the pyramid and 
 up to the top. Monny on her high horse because "An- 
 toun" says it will be better for the ladies to ride the bag- 
 gage-camels. The others take his word, meekly, but she 
 persists, and Anthony agrees to give her the camel he had 
 meant to ride, the one supposed to be the most spirited. 
 When he joins us, he will have the animal intended for her. 
 When this bargain was struck between them I thought 
 his eyes looked dangerous, but she didn't notice or didn't 
 care. 
 
 Fenton tells me he has dreamed again of the red-faced 
 man with the purple moustache. I laughed at his bugbear 
 and flung Colonel Corkran in his teeth. By the way, noth- 
 ing has been heard of C. by any of us since the day he 
 handed in his resignation. Suppose he has gone back to 
 England in the sulks. 
 
 Monday Night: I am writing in my tent, which is to 
 be shared with Anthony when he arrives. I feel years 
 older than when we started this morning. Middle age 
 seems to have overtaken me. If I keep on at this rate, 
 shall be a centenarian by the time we get back to Cairo. 
 
 We made a splendid caravan at the start. Besides the 
 train of camels ridden by my party from the Candace
 
 THE DESERT DIARY BEGUN 201 
 
 and Monny Gilder with her satellites (it goes against the 
 grain, though, to call a bright particular star like Biddy a 
 satellite), there were over thirty gigantic beasts laden 
 with our numerous bedroom, kitchen, luncheon, and 
 dinner-tents, tent-pegs, cooking-stove, food for humans, 
 fodder for animals, casks of water, mattresses, folding-beds, 
 other tent furniture, tourists' luggage, and so on. I was 
 happy till after the baggage-train had got away, each 
 camel with its head roped to the tail of the one ahead, all 
 trailing off toward the distant Pyramids of Sakkhara well 
 in advance of us. Each camel looked like a house-moving. 
 On top of the kitchen-camel's load was perched the chef, 
 a singularly withered old gentleman with black and blue 
 complexion, clad in a vague, flying blanket. (Has been 
 Turkish-coffee man in Paris hotels.) Many other negroid 
 persons in white with large turbans; a few cafe au lait 
 Arabs; these all counted beforehand by Slaney, for me, 
 and identified as assistant-cooks, waiters, bed-makers, and 
 camel-men, enough apparently to stock a village. But 
 we had one surprise at the moment of starting in the form 
 of a bright black child, clad in white, with a white skull 
 cap and a flat profile evidently copied from the Sphinx. 
 I don't know yet why this Baby Sphinx has come or who he 
 is; but he rode on the kitchen-camel's tail, hanging on by 
 the bread (our bread !) which was in a bag. 
 
 When this cavalcade had wound away, the camels mak- 
 ing blue heart-shaped tracks in the yellow sand, it was our 
 turn to start. Not one of us would have changed places 
 with any old Egyptian king or queen, and we did not feel 
 vulgar for doing this trip in luxury, because ancient royal- 
 ties had done the same, and so do the great sheikhs of the
 
 202 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 desert even now. As I put Cleopatra into the sandcart 
 with its broad, iron-rimmed wheels, she was recalling the 
 days when she travelled with a train of asses in order to 
 have milk for her bath. I suggested a modern condensed 
 substitute, but the offer was not received in the spirit with 
 which it was made. Now to get the ladies on their camels, 
 after which we men would vault upon our animals, and 
 wind away among billowing dunes full of shadowy ripples 
 and high lights, like cream-coloured velvet ! 
 
 But just here arose the first small cloud in the blue. 
 It was bigger than a man's hand, for it was the exact size 
 and shape of Miss Hassett-Bean's hat. It was a largish 
 hat of imitation Panama trimmed with green veiling, just 
 the hat for a post-card desert all pink sunset and no wind. 
 As she was about to mount the squatting camel, a breeze 
 blew the flap over her eyes. This prevented Miss H. B. 
 from seeing that the camel had turned its neck to look 
 at her; and so, as she reached the saddle and the hat 
 blew up, lady and camel met face to face. It was a moment 
 of suspense, for neither liked the other at first sight. The 
 camel began to gurgle its throat in a threatening manner, 
 and at the same time to rise. Miss Hassett-Bean, staring 
 into two quivering nostrils shaped like badly made 
 purses, shrieked, forgot whether she must first bend for- 
 ward or bend back, bent in the way she ought not to hava 
 bent, and fell upon the sand. I don't quite see why I was 
 to blame for this result, but she saw, and said I ought to 
 have warned her what a vile creature a camel was. Noth- 
 ing would induce her to try again. She would go to any 
 extreme rather than ride a beast with a snake for a neck, 
 and a nasty unsympathetic face full of green juice which it
 
 THE DESERT DIARY BEGUN 203 
 
 spit out at you. She w^s used to being liked. She simply 
 couldn't go about on a thing which would never love her, 
 and she wouldn't want it to if it did. She would go home 
 or else she would have a sandcart. All the neighbouring 
 sandcarts were engaged; but fortunately "Antoun Eff- 
 endi" appeared at that instant (he'd taxied out to see us 
 off), and he persuaded Cleopatra to let Miss Hassett- 
 Bean drive with her. The desert horse, feeling this extra 
 weight, looked round almost as unsympathetically as the 
 camel had; but nobody paid the slightest attention except 
 his attendant, who was to lead him: a type of negro "Nut,'* 
 who had a snobbish habit of reddening his nails with 
 henna. 
 
 By this time a crowd had assembled, kept in check by 
 the tall, blue-robed sheikh of the Pyramids. It con- 
 sisted mostly of Arabs determined to take our photographs 
 or sell us scarabs which Miss Hassett-Bean refused on 
 the ground that she disliked things off dead people. But 
 on the fringe lurked a few Europeans, amused to see so 
 large a caravan setting forth; and the men of our party, 
 hitherto proud of their curtained helmets and desert get- 
 up, became self-conscious under a fire of snapshots. 
 
 "Hello, my Boy Scout!" I was hailed by Sir Marcus, 
 arriving three minutes behind Anthony, and on the same 
 errand. This blow to my self-esteem fell as I was leading 
 Monny to the white camel which was hers and should have 
 been Anthony's. She laughed I suppose she couldn't 
 help it. I couldn't myself, if it had been Harry Snell or 
 Bill Bailey; but as it was, my pride of khaki helmet, 
 knickers, and puttees collapsed like a burst balloon. I 
 seemed to feel the calves of my legs wither. It was in this
 
 204 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 mood that I had to put Monny on that coast-guard camel, 
 while "Antoun" stood looking on. He did not offer to 
 help the girl, as their talk yesterday on the subject of 
 baggage-camels versus running camels had not conduced 
 to officiousness. 
 
 Monny was in white : broad white helmet such as women 
 wear, white suede shoes, white silk stockings, and a lot 
 of lacy, garden-party things that showed frills when she 
 flew, birdlike, onto the cushioned saddle. " That's the 
 way to do it!" I heard her cry, exultantly and what 
 happened next I can't say, for the white camel knocked 
 me over as it bounded up, jerking its nose rope from the 
 leader's hand, and the next thing I knew it was making 
 for the horizon. I hadn't been on a camel since I was 
 four, if then, so it was useless to follow. But while I stood 
 spitting out sand, Anthony flung himself onto one of the 
 swift coastguard beasts, and was after her like a streak 
 of four-legged lightning. None of us had the nerve to 
 continue our operations until, a quarter of an hour later, 
 they appeared from behind the Great Pyramid, coming at 
 a walk, "Antoun" holding the bridle of Monny 's camel. 
 
 I saw by Fenton's face that he intended to make no 
 suggestions, and I guessed that he was practising his 
 chosen method. If Miss Gilder wished for anything she 
 must ask for it, and ask for it humbly if she expected to 
 get it. 
 
 Her face, too, was a study. She was pale and even 
 piteous. I thought there were tears in the blue-gray eyes; 
 and if I had been Anthony I could not have hardened my 
 heart. Pride or no pride, I should have begged her to 
 abandon this praiseworthy adventure, and deign to
 
 THE DESERT DIARY BEGUN 205 
 
 mount the baggage brute. .Not so Anthony. He led 
 back the camel, with Monny limply sitting on it, and 
 when it had calmed down at sight of its friends he retired 
 into the background. 
 
 "How wonderful that you kept on, darling!" exclaimed 
 Biddy. 
 
 "I didn't," said Monny. Then she turned to "An- 
 toun," who remained on his beast, in case of another emer- 
 gency, or because he did not wish to be looked down upon 
 by her. He was rather glorious enthroned on his camel, 
 the only one of our party who was truly "in" the desert 
 picture. I didn't blame him for stopping up there on his 
 sheepskin, eye to eye with the girl. 
 
 For a moment Monny did not speak. She was 
 evidently hesitating what to do, but common sense and 
 natural sweetness got the better of false pride. "An- 
 toun, you were right, and I was wrong," she admitted. 
 "I said yesterday that you were selfish, keeping the 
 coastguard camels for yourself and Lord Ernest and 
 General Harlow, and giving us women the baggage ones. 
 Now I'm sorry. I was silly and hateful. I wouldn't ride 
 another fifty yards on this demon for fifty thousand dol- 
 lars. He's nearly broken my back, and if it hadn't been 
 for you, he would quite have done it. Please help me off, 
 and put me on any old baggage thing that nobody else 
 wants." 
 
 Anthony's eyes lit for an instant, from satisfaction as a 
 man, or from Christian joy in her moral improvement. 
 He sprang off his sky-scraping camel, brought Monny's 
 animal to its knees, helped her off, and motioned to the 
 Arab attendant of the Ugly Duckling of all the other
 
 206 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 creatures. It gave the effect of being a cross between a 
 camel and an ostrich, and had been chosen by "Antoun" 
 as his own mount, when he surrendered the aristocrat to 
 Monny. 
 
 "Oh, dearest, I can't have you ride that grasshopper!" 
 cried Biddy. 'Antoun' took it for himself very kindly 
 because it's the worst. And I don't care any more than 
 he did. Give the thing to me, and take my one, that 
 dear creature with the blue bead necklace. " 
 
 But Anthony answered for Monny. "Mademoiselle 
 Gilder made a bargain with me yesterday," he said. "If 
 she failed in what she wanted to do, she was to do what / 
 wanted her to do. I think she will wish to keep her 
 bargain. " 
 
 "I'm sure I wish to, " added Monny. 
 
 With a chastened, not to say shattered air, she curled 
 herself up on the sheepskin-covered cushion which was the 
 ugly Duckling's saddle. This time it was "Antoun" who 
 settled her into place, with her feet meekly crossed; and 
 the caricature of a camel rose like a sofa at a spiritualistic 
 seance. Strange to say, however, when all were ready 
 to start, Monny appeared more comfortably lodged than 
 any of the camel-riding ladies; and the thought entered 
 my mind that perhaps Anthony had, with extreme 
 subtlety, taken this roundabout way of benefiting Miss 
 Gilder. 
 
 After this we got off with only a few minor mishaps. 
 The one remaining incident of note was the arrival on the 
 scene, as we left it, of another caravan a small caravan 
 consisting of two Europeans a few laden camels, and 
 camel-boys marshalled by one dragoman. The dragoman
 
 THE DESERT DIARY BEGUN 207 
 
 was Bedr el Gemaly, and he smiled at us as affectionately 
 as though we had not driven him from us in disgrace. 
 
 "How forgiving Arabs are, even when they're not con- 
 verted!" remarked Rachel Guest, by whose side I hap- 
 pened to be riding. 
 
 " He isn't an Arab, " said I. "He's an Armenian. And 
 both are supposed to be the reverse of forgiving. But 
 he's found another job quickly, so he can afford to let by- 
 gones be bygones. " 
 
 "Oh, he would anyway! " Miss Guest exclaimed, warmly. 
 "Poor fellow, you've all done him a great injustice, but 
 I'm thankful he's not going to suffer for it. I wonder if he 
 and his people are bound the same way we are?" 
 
 I feared that this was likely to be the case, as we were 
 going the conventional round, sticking as one might say 
 to suburban desert, on our way to the Fayum. But, as 
 Monny observed the other night, we couldn't engage the 
 desert like a private sitting-room. I would, however, 
 have preferred sharing it with most people rather than 
 Bedr and his clients, though the two latter looked singu- 
 larly harmless, almost Germanic. 
 
 We went on more or less happily, though I noticed that 
 whenever a camel changed its walk for a trot, each one of 
 the ladies reached back a desperate hand to clutch the 
 saddle and save her spine from the bruising bump ! bump ! 
 which smote the bone with every step. As for me, that 
 feeling of middle age began to creep on while my coast- 
 guard camel and I were getting acquainted. I tried 
 to distract my thoughts from the end of my spine, by 
 concentrating them in admiration upon the scene. There 
 was the Sphinx welcoming us with an immense smile of
 
 208 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 benevolence, as suitable to the sunshine as had been her 
 mysterious solemnity to the moonlight. There, far away 
 to the left, the spire-crowned Citadel floated in translucent 
 azure. Its domes and minarets, and the long serrated 
 line of the Mokattam Hills were carved against the sky 
 in the yellow-rose of pink topaz. Shafts of light gave to 
 jagged shapes and terraces of rock on the low mountains 
 an appearance of temples and palaces, very noble and 
 splendid, as must have been the first glimpse of Ancient 
 Egypt to desert-worn fugitives from famine in Palestine. 
 Between us and the Nile, hiding the sparkling water as we 
 rode, went a dark line of palms, purple, with glints of pea- 
 cock-feather green, in the distance. Hundreds of tiny 
 birds flew up into the burning blue like a black spray, and 
 the sand was patterned by their feet, in designs intricate 
 as lace. Wherever lay a patch of white and yellow floweru 
 or of rough grass no bigger than a prayer rug, a lark soared 
 from its nest singing its jewel-song; and here and there a 
 gentle hoopoo reared the crown which rewarded it for 
 guiding lost King Solomon and his starving army to safety. 
 All this was beautiful; but I wondered painfully if 
 Monny could be happy in spite of the bumps, now that the 
 desert was taking her. Strange, how a disagreeable sensa- 
 tion constantly repeated at the end of a mere bone can 
 change a man's outlook on life! If Monny had come 
 to my camel-side and whispered, "I found your buried 
 letter, oh, Men-Kheper-Ra. Behold that bird now flying 
 toward you. It is my Ba my Heart or Soul-bird car- 
 rying the gift of my love: " I should with difficulty have 
 prevented myself from snapping out, "Thanks very much; 
 but, my good girl, I'm in no mood to talk tommy-rot."
 
 THE DESERT DIARY BEGUN 20* 
 
 It was sympathy, kind, friendly sympathy I yearned 
 for, not spoken in words, but given from soft, sweet eyes, 
 as little Biddy had given it when I tore my hands and 
 barked my shins birds'-nesting on the rocks a hundred 
 years ago. 
 
 I think we should have liked the excuse to stop and 
 gaze at the ruinous Pyramids of Abusir; but the drago- 
 man-guide supplied by Slaney urged us on to the great 
 plateau of the Pyramids and Necropolis of Sakkara. 
 There, on the terrace of Marriette's House, we saw a crowd 
 of Cook's tourists from Bedrachen, and I had some mo- 
 ments of guilty fear lest my Secret should leak out, as 
 their dragoman rushed down and warmly greeted ours. 
 But in the throes of rolling off their camels for the first 
 time, the ever-wakeful suspicions of the Set were sub- 
 merged under physical emotions. It's an ill camel that 
 bumps no one any good! 
 
 I was only too glad to lure my charges away from dan- 
 ger-zone; and luckily it was so early that the influential 
 ones who never lunched until two "at home," gave the 
 word, "Tombs before food." Girding up its aching loins, 
 the procession allowed itself to be led by me and my drago- 
 man down inclined planes into dark, mysteriously warm 
 passages where our lights were wandering red stars. 
 Now and then a face would start suddenly out of the 
 gloom, haloed with candle-light: and in this way, Biddy's 
 flashed upon me, starry-eyed. " Oh, I'm glad to see you ! " 
 she whispered. Bedr and his two tourists are here. I'm 
 afraid!" 
 
 "My dear child," I said soothingly, but not as sooth- 
 ingly as if I hadn't had toothache in the spine, "you may
 
 210 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 be afraid of Bedr, but hardly of two stout Germans in 
 check suits. " 
 
 "Not if they are Germans. But are they? Just now 
 one of their candles almost collided with mine, and his eyes 
 stared so! Then they looked over my head at Monny, 
 who was behind me. And where she is now, heaven 
 knows!" 
 
 "Nothing can happen to either of you here," I assured 
 her. "And probably our fuss about Bedr is much ado 
 about nothing. We have no evidence " 
 
 "The man who stared at me over his candle has a scar 
 on his forehead," said Biddy. "Maybe he got it in that 
 row in front of the House of the Crocodile. Maybe he is 
 Burke, and has just come out of the hospital. " 
 
 "Most likely he is Schmidt, and adorned himself with 
 the wound in a student duel," said I. 
 
 "It's too fresh-looking. He must be over thirty," she 
 objected, but at that moment Miss Hassett-Bean loomed 
 into sight; and in the stuffy atmosphere of the tomb felt 
 the need of my arm to keep her from fainting. 
 
 We "did" the Pyramid of Unas, dilapidated without, 
 secretively beautiful within. We went from tomb to 
 tomb, lingering long in the labyrinthine Mansion of Mere- 
 ruka who, ruddy and large as life, stepped hospitably 
 down in statue-form from his stela recess, to welcome us 
 in the name of himself and wife. Almost he seemed to 
 wave his hands and say, "Look at these nice pictures of 
 me and my family and our ways of life, painted on the 
 walls our servants, our dwarfs, our mountebanks and 
 acrobats, our flocks and herds. Sorry there's no refresh- 
 ment at present on my alabaster mastaba, or table of offer-
 
 THE DESERT DIARY BEGUN 211 
 
 ings, but you see I didn't prepare for visitors outside my 
 own immediate circle of Ka's and Ba's. Still, as you have 
 come, make yourselves at home, and take pot luck. I 
 think when you've examined everything, you'll admit that 
 you haven't a Soul-House in Europe to touch mine which, 
 if I do say it, is the best thing this side of Thebes. " 
 
 Next came the Tomb of Thi; but by this time, mural 
 representations of fish, flesh, and fruit began to be aggra- 
 vating. It would be past two before we could reach our 
 luncheon-tent; and somehow it seemed less desirable to 
 feed after than before that sacred hour, though the cus- 
 tom be sanctioned by royalty. "Another tomb to see 
 before lunch?" groaned Sir John Biddell, when the drago- 
 man firmly insisted on the Apis Mausoleum. " Oh, darn ! 
 Need we? What? Where they buried Bulls? I'd as 
 soon see a slaughter house, on an empty stomach. Lady 
 Biddell and I will go sit in the shadow of our camels. 
 
 And they did; nor would they believe the twins' asser- 
 tions that the dark Mausoleum, with its cavernous rock 
 chambers and granite vaults, was the most impressive 
 thing they had seen in Egypt. "You say that to be 
 aggravating, because we weren't there," I heard Lady 
 Biddell snap, over the grumbling of the camels. 
 
 The sky blazed down and the sand blazed up. The 
 desert was white-hot, with a silver whiteness hotter than 
 gold, and the foreshortened shadows were turquoise blue. 
 It was heaven to arrive at a miniature oasis, and see the 
 open-fronted, awninged luncheon-tent reflected with its 
 green frame of palms, in a clear lagoon, thoughtfully left 
 by the receding Nile. At sight of this picture, my popu- 
 larity went up with a bound. It really was a lovely vision :
 
 212 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 the big tent lined with Egyptian applique work in many 
 colors, the porchlike roof extension supported by poles, 
 and in its shadow a white table loaded with good things 
 and guarded by Arab waiters waving beaded fly- whisks. 
 As we lingered over our chicken-salad, fruit, and cool 
 drinks, and lazily watched our camels munching bersim, 
 all our first enthusiasm for these interesting beasts 
 streamed back. The ladies called them poor dears, and 
 sweet things; and the men marvelled at their calm endur- 
 ance, or the number of their leg-joints. 
 
 Monny was gay and charming, and looked at me so 
 kindly that I thought she must mean to give a favorable 
 answer to the buried letter. I blessed Cleopatra for 
 the "tip" she had given, though I wondered what was 
 the "humiliation" from which I could save her niece. 
 "After all," said I, "the desert trip's going to pan out 
 a success." But it must have been about this time that 
 the wind rose. It blew Miss Hassett-Bean's hat up in- 
 stead of down, and other hats off, when we had started 
 again and it blew into our eyes grains of sand as large 
 as able bodied paving-stones. Also, as we passed through 
 a picturesque mud-village which ought to have pleased 
 everybody, it blew into our noses smells which Lady Bid- 
 dell knew would give us plague. As if this were not 
 enough, the sandcart nearly turned over in a rut, and Miss 
 Hassett-Bean said that she must go home or be left to die 
 in the desert. I had to lead the little stallion before she 
 would consent to go on, and realized when I had ploughed 
 through fifty yards of sand, that the manicured snob of a 
 leader was a thin brown hero. By the time I had had a 
 mile or two of this, the dark Pyramids of Dahshur were
 
 THE DESERT DIARY BEGUN 213 
 
 visible, and I knew that our camp was to be pitched not 
 far beyond. My first emotion was pleasure; my second, 
 panic. 
 
 What if Slaney had forgotten his promise to remove the 
 Cook labels? 
 
 Since remounting Farag (only the coastguard camels 
 had names; the baggage-beasts smelt as sweet without) 
 Monny and I had been bumping along side by side, and 
 she had just said, "If I tell you something, you'll never 
 breathe it to a soul, will you? " when I saw those Pyramids, 
 and was smitten with the fear of Cook. 
 
 "Never!" I vowed, torn between the desire to hear her 
 secret, and to dash ahead of the caravan into camp. 
 
 "It's about 'Antoun,'" Monny went on. "You know 
 I said to you the other night, that perhaps I knew some- 
 thing about him?" 
 
 "Yes er oh, yes!" 
 
 We were within a few hundred yards of the Pyramids 
 now. At any instant the camp might burst into sight. 
 
 "You don't look interested!" 
 
 "But I am, awfully!" 
 
 "You're sure you won't tell?" 
 
 "Dead sure." 
 
 (Was that a flag fluttering on the horizon?) 
 
 " Well, then it isn't my business, of course. But one 
 can't help being interested in him, he's such a such a 
 romantic sort of figure, as you said yourself. And there's 
 something so high and noble about him I mean, about his 
 looks and manners that one hates to be disappointed." 
 
 "You would have him with us, you know!" 
 
 "I know. And and I'm glad I we have got
 
 214 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 him. It's a it's an experience. I suppose he's rather 
 wonderful. But don't you think he ought to remember 
 that he isn't exactly a prince? He isn't even called Bey. 
 And if he were, its not the same as being a prince of Ancient 
 Egypt." 
 
 " In what way has he presumed on his er near 
 princehood?" 
 
 " I believe he has fallen in love with Biddy ! " 
 
 " By Jove ! Let the flag flutter ! " 
 
 "What flag?" 
 
 "Oh er that was only an expression. They use it 
 where I live. Why shouldn't he fall in love with Biddy, 
 when you come to think of it?" 
 
 "He's of a darker race. Though he does seem so like 
 us. Of course she couldn't marry him. It wouldn't do. 
 Would it?" 
 
 "I don't know. I must think it over. Is that all you 
 were going to tell me?" 
 
 " No. I suppose it's natural he should fall in love with 
 Biddy. She's so attractive! But the worst part about 
 it is that he has proposed to Aunt Clara." 
 
 "Not possible!" 
 
 "Yes. He has. I saw part of the letter the first 
 part. She's the only one of us who thinks it would be 
 right to marry a man of Egyptian blood, because you 
 know she believes she's Egyptian herself and she's 
 always talking about reincarnations. / don't see that 
 it's such a wonderful coincidence his name being 'An- 
 toun.' It wouldn't be so bad if he were in love with her; 
 but it's Biddy who is always right in everything she says 
 and does, according to him just as I am always wrong.
 
 THE DESERT DIARY BEGUN 215 
 
 Aunt Clara is richer than Biddy. I can't bear to fancy 
 that's why he has proposed; it would take away all the 
 romance" 
 
 "Don't strip him of his romance yet," said I, again 
 torn between interest in Monny's incredible statement, 
 and excitement which grew with the growing in size of 
 those flags on the horizon. "You may wrong him. If 
 you saw only the first part of the letter " 
 
 "There could be no mistake. It was in hieroglyphics, 
 and who but 'Antoun' would have written such a letter 
 to Aunt Clara? She asked me to translate it, the night 
 she dug it up at Fustat " 
 
 "Dug- 
 
 "And when I'd read as far as, 'Beautiful Queen, Star 
 of my Heart, be my wife,' she snatched the paper away, 
 and put it inside her dress, saying she'd look up the rest hi 
 one of my books. " 
 
 "Good heavens! You must have changed places at 
 Fustat. That letter couldn't have been for her ! " 
 
 "It couldn't have been for any one else. 'Beautiful 
 Queen' meant Queen Cleopatra. She said so herself. 
 I don't know what she's going to do about it. " 
 
 "Do about it?" I echoed desperately. "Why " 
 
 and just then my straining eyes saw that on the middle 
 flag in the fluttering row were four large red letters on a 
 white ground. Slaney had betrayed me! Everything 
 depended on getting that flag down before those letters 
 declared themselves to other eyes. "Excuse me," I 
 finished my sentence with a gasp. 
 
 Monny must have gasped also, as she saw me suddenly 
 dash away from her at full speed of one-camel power.
 
 216 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 But I had no time to think about what she might think. 
 I suppose I must have done something to the steering-gear 
 of that camel, which coastguard camels do not permit. 
 Whatever it was, it got me into the midst of camp before 
 I could draw breath; but I have a dim recollection of 
 being caught by Arab arms, and seeing suppressed Arab 
 grins, as mechanically I felt to see how far the end of my 
 spine stuck out at the top of my head. 
 
 "That flag! Pull it down!" was my first gasp, point- 
 ing convulsively to the banner which shrieked, "Cook!" 
 " Quick before they come ! " 
 
 Dazed by my vehemence, several Arabs scuttled to 
 obey the order, but there were too many of them. Each 
 hindered his neighbour, and as I danced about, making 
 matters worse, out pounced our withered chef from the 
 kitchen-tent. 
 
 "It was he brought that flag, wrapped round some- 
 thing," explained one of the men, in Arabic. "When he 
 saw we had other flags, but none of Cook, he gave it to us 
 to put over the biggest tent, because he thought it shame- 
 ful to have no flag of the master's. " 
 
 "Cook isn't the master. I'm it," I burbled, with a 
 leap to catch the tell-tale square of white as it reluctantly 
 came down. But I was too late. Sir John Biddell and 
 Harry Snell, the newspaper man, came gallumping 
 up on their camels before I could stuff the flag into my 
 pocket. 
 
 "What's the matter?" they asked, as their animals 
 squatted to let them down. "W'ere you run away with? 
 What are you so mad about? Hullo! What flag's that 
 C-O-O-K !"
 
 THE DESERT DAIRY BEGUN 217 
 
 "It should be over the kitchen-tent," I heard myself 
 explaining. "Don't you see? C-O-O-K! It's the cook's 
 special flag. He brought it himself, but these chaps 
 went and flew it over the dining-tent in place of the Union 
 Jack. That's why he and I are mad. " 
 
 And I thanked all the stars on Monny's tent flag that 
 none of the Set understood Arabic. 
 
 After this, how could I hope to explain to Monny that 
 the hieroglyphic proposal was mine, and that she, not 
 Cleopatra, ought to have dug it up? She isn't a girl used 
 to having men run away from her, on camelback or any- 
 thing else so naturally she thought me a rude beast, 
 and showed it. Besides, even if I'd dared, I should have 
 had no chance to straighten matters out; for though the 
 flag-episode was after all no fault of Slaney's, there were a 
 few little things which had escaped even his Napoleonic 
 memory; and it was only by combining the feats of an 
 acrobat with those of a juggler that I saved my reputation 
 during the next half hour. 
 
 No sight could have been more beautiful in our eyes 
 than that village of white tents in the waste of yellow sand. 
 Our wildest imaginings could have pictured nothing more 
 perfect, more peaceful. 
 
 Tea was ready, in the huge dining-tent, where folding 
 chairs were grouped round a white-covered table. The 
 floor of sand was hidden with thick, bright-coloured rugs, 
 and it was finding "T. C. and Son" on the wrong side of 
 one which Miss Hassett-Bean's foot turned up, that filled 
 me with renewed alarms. Hastily I laid the rug straight, 
 placed a chair upon it, and persuaded everybody to have 
 tea before inspecting their bedroom tents. While they
 
 218 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 drank draughts and dabbed jam on an Egyptian concep- 
 tion of scones, I hurried like a haggard ghost from tent to 
 tent, seeking the forbidden thing. Cook on the backs of 
 the little mirrors hanging from the pole hooks! . . . 
 Will it wash off? . . . No! Cut it out with a pen- 
 knife! Down on your knees and tear off the label from 
 the wrong side of another carpet! (Memo: Must do the 
 one in the dining-tent when the people are asleep for the 
 night.) Cram three Cook towels into my pockets. Has- 
 tily pin a handkerchief over the name on a white bit of a 
 tent wall. Must have it cut out, and patched with some- 
 thing, later. Shall have to pay damages when I settle up 
 with Slaney. Lady Macbeth wasn't in it with me! All 
 she needed was a little water. I have to have pins and 
 penknives and pockets all over the place. 
 
 I didn't get any tea. But that was a detail. And 
 everybody was so delighted with everything that my 
 spirits rose, despite a snub or two from Monny for 
 which Biddy tried to make up. People took desert strolls, 
 or sat on dunes, and gazed into the sunset which couldn't 
 have been better if I had turned it on myself. Along the 
 western horizon ran a pale flame of green blending with 
 rose, rose blending with amethyst, and in the distance the 
 Pyramids of Dahshur burned with the red of pigeon- 
 blood rubies. 
 
 The wind had died among the desert dunes, and it was 
 not till after dinner that any one realized the arctic fall of 
 temperature. It was too cold to enjoy playing bridge or 
 any of the games I had brought; and the only hope of 
 comfort was in bed. People said good night to each other 
 in the comparatively warm dining-tent, and then gave
 
 THE DESERT DIARY BEGUN 219 
 
 surprised shrieks or grunts (according to sex) at the 
 piercing cold. Several of the elder ladies fell over tent- 
 ropes, despite the large lanterns illuminating the desert, 
 and had to be escorted to their bedroom tents, and 
 soothed. After this, silence reigned for a few minutes, 
 and I had stealthily begun to work on the biggest rug- 
 label, when arose a clamour of voices and presently ap- 
 peared the dragoman lent by Slaney. 
 
 "Eight ladies wishing hot -water bottles, " he explained. 
 
 But there were no hot-water bottles. We had thought 
 of everything, it seemed, except hot-water bottles. 
 
 "I tell them very sorry but can't have?" Yusef sug- 
 gested, looking pleased. 
 
 "Let me think!" I groaned. "What about the mineral 
 water bottles we emptied at lunch and dinner? Let the 
 cook boil water, and we'll supply the bottles. " 
 
 This was done; and I was proud of the inspiration, with 
 the pride that comes before a fall. When I began to write, 
 in my bedroom tent, wrapped in all the blankets of the bed 
 that should be Anthony's, I had the place to myself. But 
 about midnight a head was unexpectedly thrust through 
 the door-flap. It looked ghostly in the haze of colour 
 made by the gorgeous applique work of high roof and octa- 
 gon walls, wliich gave an effect of sitting at the bottom of 
 a giant kaleidoscope. 
 
 "Who's that?" I hissed, in a whisper meant to be dis- 
 creet, but which roused a camel or two in the ring outsicle 
 the tents. 
 
 "Biddell Sir John Biddell," replied the head. "I 
 saw your light, and remembered you had your tent to 
 yourself to-night. Those hot-water bottles have been
 
 220 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 leaking. There's one at least gone wrong in most of the 
 ladies' tents. The married men have given their beds to 
 girls who are drowned out. Twas your idea about those 
 bottles, wasn't it? I expect you'll hear from it in the 
 morning! Three of us want to come and camp in here 
 with you. " 
 
 "All right," I sighed, with a sinking heart. "I like 
 sitting up, and you qan toss for the cots. " 
 
 At this moment Sir John Biddell reposes in one of them, 
 General Harlow in the other. These gentlemen were so 
 affected with the cold that they went to bed in their clothes, 
 then got up to put on their overcoats, then got up again 
 and put on their hats. On the floor lies a certain Mills of 
 Manchester, rolled in all the rugs, except one which I have 
 on, after surrendering my blankets. He has his head in a 
 basket, to keep off the icy draught; and in the ruggy region 
 of his spine, as he rests on his side, are the letters C-O-O-K. 
 I wonder if I could rip them off without waking him up? 

 
 CHAPTER XV 
 THE DESERT DIARY TO ITS BITTER END 
 
 Tuesday: The principal water-cask has leaked; con- 
 sequently not enough water to go round. Chf said it was 
 a question of baths, or soup. Considering the cold, most 
 of the people voted for soup. Some washed in Apollinaris. 
 Others douched with soda siphons. We can get more 
 water to-night. Can't think why the north wind doesn't 
 stop and warm itself while traversing the Mediterranean 
 or the hot sands ! It seems to be in too fierce a hurry and 
 consequently cuts across the desert, like a frozen scythe, 
 the moment its rival the sun has gone to sleep. I hear that 
 Miss Hassett-Bean cried with cold as she dressed, and put 
 on two of everything; but she is luckier than the younger 
 women. Monny and Mrs. East, though warned that 
 nights would be chill, have come clothed in silk and 
 gossamer, and have brought low-necked nightgowns of 
 nainsook trimmed with lace. This was confided to 
 me soon after sunrise by a blue-nosed Biddy, hover- 
 ing over the kitchen fire and incidentally in- 
 gratiating herself with the cook. It wouldn't be 
 Biddy if she weren't ingratiating herself with some 
 one! 
 
 Nobody yearned to get up early (I speak for others, as 
 / passed my night in the attitude of a suspension bridge 
 
 221
 
 222 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 between two folding chairs) ; but in camp where sleep is 
 concerned, men may propose, camels dispose. 
 
 Their nights they spend in a ring of camelhood, huddled 
 together for warmth; and if they do not have nightmare 
 or bite each other in their sleep, mere humans in neigh- 
 bouring tents may hope for comparative silence in the 
 desert, if not near a village full of pi-dogs. At sunrise, 
 however, a change comes o'er their spirit. They are given 
 food, and made as happy and contented as it is their 
 nature to be, which apparently is not saying much. Judg- 
 ing by the strange, inarticulate oaths they constantly 
 mutter, they are equally accursed in their sitting down and 
 their getting up. It is only when they are actually "on 
 the move," floating and swaying through the air legs, 
 tail, neck, jaws that they have nothing disagreeable 
 to say. Immediately after dawn this morning our camels 
 began to imitate every animal they could have met since 
 the days of the Ark, when one had to know everybody. 
 They mewed like cats, hissed like snakes, bleated like 
 sheep, roared like toy lions, grunted like pigs, barked like 
 dogs, squawked like geese, and bellowed like baby bulls. 
 Also they gargled their throats like elderly invalids. It, 
 was useless trying to sleep; and when I had accomplished 
 such bathing as the ch^f permitted, I went out to see 
 what was the matter. Nothing was the matter, except that 
 the creatures had the sunrise in their eyes, and could see 
 the camel-boys preparing their loads; but I was glad I had 
 come out, because Biddy was there and the scene was 
 beautiful. Shivering, we chuckled over the morning toilet 
 of the camels, who turned their faces disconcertingly upon 
 us, sneering with long yellow teeth, and bubbling as if
 
 TO ITS BITTER END 223 
 
 their mouths were full of pink soapsuds, when they realized 
 that we were laughing at them. 
 
 Incidentally we learned why the Baby Sphinx accom- 
 panied our caravan uninvited. His name is Salih; and 
 he came because there's a very important camel (the 
 property of his father) who refuses to eat or stir without 
 him. It is a most original and elaborate camel. It has a 
 neat way of turning its ears with their backs to the wind, 
 in order to make them sand-proof. If any person other 
 than Salih touches it, an incredible quantity of green cud 
 is instantly let loose over their turbans; but at the 
 approach of Salih it emits a purring noise, preens its head 
 for the nose-strap ornamented with a bunch of palmlike 
 plumes, and playfully pretends not to want the bersim 
 which the little black Sphinx thrusts down its throat hi 
 handfuls. This, it seems, is good camel table-manners. 
 And it is to the tail of this animal that Salih clings on the 
 march. If he is not there, the animal looks round, stops, 
 or turns to charge at any Arab who jestingly misuses its 
 idol. 
 
 Yesterday the miniature Sphinx was in a white robe. 
 To-day he is in black. All the Arabs have changed their 
 clothes, although they have brought no visible luggage 
 except vague pieces of sacking. The dragoman is ex- 
 quisitely arrayed, galabeah and kaftan gray-blue, with a 
 pink petticoat, and a white one under that. I suspect 
 that he sleeps beneath the dining-table and the other 
 Arabs among the kitchen pots yet they are smarter 
 than any of us Europeans, all of whom have a frayed air. 
 This, I suppose, would not be so in desert-fiction. Nothing 
 would be said about hot-water bottles leaking, or beetles
 
 224 , IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 beetling (one doesn't come to Egypt to see live scarabs) , 
 or draughts raging, or camels gobbling, or flags flapping 
 all night. (Memo: Abolish flags, even at expense of 
 patriotism.) 
 
 Despite every desert drawback, however, Biddy and I 
 agreed that the sunrise alone was worth the journey, and 
 the pure air of dawn which, though cold, seemed per- 
 fumed by mysterious rdse-fields. Just at sun-up the desert 
 was lily pale then, as the horizon flamed, a dazzling 
 flood of gold poured over the dunes. The sun was a fan- 
 tastic brooch of beaten copper, caught in a veil of ruby 
 gauze, while here and there a belated star was a dull, 
 flawed emerald sewn into the veil's fringe. Shadows 
 swept westward across the desert like blue water, showing 
 a glitter of drowned jewels underneath; and though last 
 night it had seemed that we were alone in a vast wilder- 
 ness, now there were signs that a village lay not far off. 
 A group of children hi red and blue, staring avidly at the 
 camp, were Like a bunch of ragged poppies in the sand. 
 Their mangy pi-dogs had ventured nearer, to smell sadly 
 at the meat-safes hanging outside our kitchen-tent. A 
 gypsy-woman with splendid eyes and a blue tattooed chin, 
 breakfasted on an adjacent dune with her husband. Men 
 like living hencoops passed in the distance. Patriarchal 
 persons blew by, in that graceful way in which people do 
 blow in Egypt, driving a flock of sheep, with a black lamb 
 "for luck." These men were dressed as their ancestors 
 had dressed in the time of Abraham, and Biddy and I 
 envied them. How nice, said she, to wear the same 
 clothes for a hundred years if you happened to live, and 
 never be out of fashion. If a few of your things dropped
 
 TO ITS BITTER END 225 
 
 off by degrees, you were still all right, and nobody would 
 be rude enough to notice ! 
 
 Our faded family revived after breakfast, and even those 
 who vowed they hadn't closed an eye all night enjoyed the 
 scene of striking camp. The big white tents fell to the 
 ground like pricked soap-bubbles; whereupon their re- 
 mains were deftly rolled up and tied on to the backs of 
 bitterly protesting camels. Beds, mattresses, tables, 
 chairs ceased to be what they had been and became some- 
 thing else. Camels made faces and noises. Arabs tore 
 this way and that, doing as little work as possible. The 
 cook fluttered about in his blanket, brandishing a sauce- 
 pan. Yusef the dragoman made noble gestures of com- 
 mand, and our little desert city ceased to exist except 
 on camels' backs. It was shaved off the surface of the 
 earth, and went churning and swaying along toward the 
 next stand; the procession rising and falling among swell- 
 ing dunes, under a sky which seemed to trail like a heavy 
 blue curtain, where at the horizon it met the gold. 
 
 We travelled over pebbly plateaus, scattered with jewel- 
 like stones. Sand-pyramids rose out of the glistening 
 plain. Here and there were rocks like partly hewn sphinxes 
 pushing out of the sand to breathe; other rocks like 
 monstrous toads; and still others dark and dreadful in the 
 distance as ogres' houses. Altogether the desert gave us a 
 truly Libyan effect, which made the Set feel that after all 
 they were getting what they had paid for, with an intro- 
 duction to a beauty and heiress thrown in. But apropos 
 of this latter boon, it is dawning upon me that Rachel 
 Guest is receiving more attention than Monny. This 
 strikes me as inexplicable. There are more men than
 
 228 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 women in our party, all young except Sir John Biddell, 
 General Harlow, and Mills of Manchester, a soft, fat sort 
 of fellow whose first name you can never remember. It 
 occurred to me on starting, that the desire of so many 
 unattached young men to spend a week in the desert and 
 the Fayoum, might not be unconnected with Miss Gilder's 
 intention to join the party. Not being jealous, I expected 
 to see a little fun, and laugh over it with Biddy, who is a 
 heavenly person with whom to share a joke. But if there 
 is a joke, I haven't seen the point yet, nor has she. There's 
 no disputing the fact that Miss Guest, the poor, brave 
 school teacher on holiday, is the belle of the desert. 
 
 Of course, if Monny had stopped in Cairo, Rachel's 
 success with our men wouldn't be astonishing. As Brigit 
 and Monny warned me in their letters to the Candace, she 
 grows better looking every day; but though she is dis- 
 tinctly of Monny's type, despite those slanting eyes, 
 she will never be a real beauty, or a Complete Fascinator, 
 like our Gilded Girl. Besides, Monny has millions, and 
 Rachel hasn't a cent. Yet there it is! Miss Guest is 
 having the " time of her life" in spite of leaky water bottles 
 and bumping camels, while Miss Gilder might be an old 
 married woman, for all the attention she gets from any 
 man on this trip except me. What can be the explanation? 
 Even those two exaggerately German-looking men with 
 Bedr stared at Rachel from their respectful distance. It 
 turns out that they camped not far from us last night. 
 Yusef heard this from one of our camel-boys. But they 
 kept to themselves, and didn't come within a mile of us, 
 so there's nothing to complain of. 
 
 Every one except Sir John delighted with to-day's
 
 TO ITS BITTER END 227 
 
 desert. He can't see anything beautiful in yellow lumps 
 that keep you sawing up and down, though he has no 
 doubt the desert is full of other fools doing what we're 
 doing; and we could all see each other doing it if it weren't 
 for those darn dunes. 
 
 Later: Adventure for sandcart on one of the biggest 
 plateaus. Looked all right from the top; but a shriek 
 from Mrs. East put me to the dire necessity of sliding off 
 Farag and running to the rescue. The plateau was broken 
 off in front and became a precipice which, Cleopatra 
 seemed to think, would not have existed had "Antoun" 
 arrived in time to arrange it. 
 
 Great wind came roaring up again about noon. Feared 
 to learn that it had been impossible to get luncheon-tent in 
 position. But when the time came to find it, there it was 
 with its back to the blast, and its shady open front, of tile- 
 patterned applique, offering the hoped-for picture of white 
 table and smiling brown waiters. 
 
 While we lunched, the fierce gusts striking the back 
 canvas wall were like the frightened flappings of giant 
 wings, and the beating of a great bird's heart. Otherwise 
 we might have forgotten the elements as we ate, save for 
 a slight powdering of sand on our food. But even that 
 wasn't bad, if we selected only the port side of our bread 
 and chicken, leaving windward bits to the Arabs. 
 
 Our night camp was in shelter of the two vast dunes 
 which hide the ancient city of Bacchias, now called Um-el- 
 Atl, where we found "Antoun" awaiting us. He had 
 started from Cairo in the morning on a coastguard camel, 
 coming quickly along the camel route between Bed- 
 rashen and Tomieh, and the extra few miles to our en-
 
 228 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 campment. Before we arrived he had sent the camel 
 back with the mounted Arab who accompanied him; and 
 somehow the camp seemed all the smarter and more ship- 
 shape for the presence of the handsome Hadji, in his 
 green turban. The Set are all extremely interested in 
 him; and on hearing my version of his history, sketchily 
 told, have taken to calling him "the prince. " Enid and 
 Elaine almost fawn upon him, in then* admiration of so 
 romantic and splendid an addition to our party: a real, 
 live Egyptian gentleman, with enough European blood in 
 his veins to justify nice-minded maidens in cherishing a 
 hopeless love for him, when he has safely vanished out of 
 their lives. 
 
 Mrs. East made Anthony pick up pre-historic oyster 
 shells in the desert, between flaming sunset and twilight, 
 when the sky became a vast blue tent hung with a million 
 lamps. And at dinner she was not nice to Enid and 
 Elaine who admired her hero too frankly. She has devel- 
 oped an embarrassing clearness of vision as to other 
 people's former incarnations, especially their disagreeable 
 or shocking ones. 
 
 "Ah, it has just come to me!" she exclaimed, her elbows 
 on the table, looking dreamily into Elaine Biddell's face. 
 "You were Xantippe. I knew I'd seen you somewhere." 
 
 As for Enid, it seems that she was Charmian or Iris, 
 Cleopatra can't be sure which; but the girl has come to me 
 saying that, if Mrs. East doesn't stop calling her "My dear 
 handmaiden, " one or the other of them will have to give 
 up starting on the Nile trip next week. 
 
 Wednesday: We had lobster a la Newburgh for 
 dinner, in mid-Libyan desert, and drank the chef's health
 
 229 
 
 in champagne. I don't know which was to blame, or 
 whether it was the combination; but in the windy middle 
 of the night when tent flaps stirred like a nestful of young 
 birds, there were demands for ginger and for pepper- 
 mint. Now, ginger and peppermint happened to be the 
 only two medicaments in the whole pharmacopoeia left out 
 of the medicine chest. But nothing else would do. The 
 more the things weren't there, the more they were wanted; 
 and all the people who had made notes to remember me 
 in their wills, scratched me out again. Then, to pile Ossa 
 on Pelion, the dogs of Tomieh arrived to pay a visit. 
 They barked, of course; but they barked so much that the 
 noise was like a silence, and nobody minded after the first 
 half hour. The worst was, that they did not confine their 
 demonstrations to barking. In order to signify their 
 disapproval of our stingy ways, they took the boots we 
 had confided to the sand in front of our tents to be cleaned, 
 and worried them at a considerable distance. Some of 
 the boots were past wearing when found, and some were 
 not found. Judging from cold glances directed at me 
 by those obliged to resort to pumps or bedroom slippers, 
 one would imagine me the trainer of this canine menagerie. 
 It has been hinted, too, that a conductor worth his salt 
 would have filled up interstices of the medicine chest with 
 toothbrushes. Several members of the party forgot to 
 pack theirs in moving camp and they are now the property 
 of jackals. A stock of toothbrushes is the one other thing 
 besides peppermint and ginger and hot -water bottles that 
 Slaney and I left out of our calculations; still, I do think 
 bygones ought to be bygones. Anthony is the hero now, 
 because it occurred to him to buy in Cairo flannelette
 
 230 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 nightwear, male and female, of the thickest and most 
 hideously pink description. Had these horrors been 
 suggested at the start, they would have been rejected with 
 fury, in favour of lace and nainsook; but the contribution 
 has made a success fou, at a crisis when vanity has been 
 forgotten, and the girls are employing their prettiest 
 frocks as bed covering. 
 
 Anotlier Day: Have now forgotten which, or how 
 many we've had. This is Anthony's hour but he may 
 take such advantage of it as he chooses I'm indifferent. 
 On top of my troubles I've contracted Desert Snivels. 
 Whether the habit of using sand for snuff has produced the 
 malady, or whether I've caught something (despite the 
 tonic air) from nomads or oasis-dwellers, all of whom emit 
 a storm of coughs and sneezes, I do not know. All desire 
 to use this grand opportunity of taking Cleopatra's advice 
 and winning Monny's love while for once she's neglected 
 by others, has died within me. My one wish is to keep 
 away from her and the rest, except perhaps Biddy, and 
 suffer alone, like a cat. Biddy has got Desert Snivels, 
 too. It makes another link between us, like the mem- 
 ories of our childhood. We swop stories of symptoms. 
 Both feel that sense of terrible resignation which desert 
 babies have when their eyes are full of flies and no one 
 takes them out. 
 
 The sky lowers. Big black birds flap over our heads 
 like pirate flags that have blown away. They are the 
 vultures which used to be sacred to Egyptians, and seem 
 to labour under the delusion that they are sacred still. 
 The sand blows into our back hair, and the Arabs make 
 scarves and veils of their turbans. Apparently these
 
 TO ITS BITTER END 231 
 
 Moslems never say any prayers, and the Candace people 
 feel they've been cheated of a promised sensation of desert 
 life. The only religious thing the men do is to bawl 
 "Allah!" when they lift the heavy, rolled up tents onto 
 the camels. 
 
 People are beginning to grumble about their meals, 
 which at first seemed to them miracles of culinary art. 
 "Same old desert things we've been eating ever since 
 Moses, " I heard Harry Snell mutter. And Sir John Biddell 
 is sick of h. b. eggs. I suppose he means hard-boiled. I 
 should like to feed him on soft-shell scarabs ! 
 
 Tea is the only incident in the desert which has palled on 
 no one yet. Very jolly, having finished the day's exertion, 
 and sitting on folding chairs inside tent door, teacup in 
 hand, watching the winged shadows sweep across the 
 dunes ! One feels like Jacob or Rebecca or some one. 
 There may be a fine saint's tomb standing up, marble- 
 white, against the rose-garden of a sunset sky, but one 
 doesn't bother to walk out and examine it at close quarters. 
 There's nothing like sitting still after a windy day on 
 camel back. 
 
 We lack interest in history ancient and modern, 
 although Egypt is the country which ought to make 
 one want to know all other history. There may be 
 a European war or an earthquake. We don't care 
 what happens to any one but ourselves. It is all we 
 can do to keep track of our own affairs. As for ancient 
 history, we content ourselves with wondering if Anthony 
 and Cleopatra, when picnicking in the desert, dropped 
 orange peel and cake to feed the living scarabs of their day. 
 
 We seem to be lost to the world, yet now and then we're
 
 232 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 reminded that we have neighbours in the desert. We've 
 had glimpses of a distant caravan which must be Bedr's; 
 and when we came in sight of our own camp last evening, 
 we were just in time to catch a party of Germans being 
 photographed in front of it, with our things for an unpaid 
 background. Ever beauteous picture, by the by, your own 
 encampment! White tents blossoming like snowy flowers 
 in a wilderness; a dense black cloud, massed near by on the 
 golden sand, which might in the distance be a plantation 
 of young palms, but is in reality a congested mass of camels. 
 You sing at the top of your voice " From the desert I come 
 to thee, on a stallion shod with fire ! " hoping to thrill the 
 girls. But they are thinking about their tea. Girls in 
 the desert, I find, are always thinking about their tea, or 
 their dinner, or their beds. You would like (when your 
 Desert Snivels improve) to walk with a maiden under the 
 stars; but no, she is sleepy ! She wants to get to bed early. 
 Even the camels are most particular about their bed 
 hours. It would be irritating, if you didn't secretly feel 
 the same yourself. But what a waste of stars! 
 
 Some old Day or Other: Interesting but dusty dyke 
 road into the Fayoum oasis. Every one enraged with 
 Robert Hichens because "Bella Donna's" Nigel recom- 
 mended The Fayoum. "No wonder she poisoned him!" 
 snarled Mrs. Harlow. Our Arabs riding ahead look magni- 
 ficentj-seeming to wade through a flood of gold, the feet and 
 legs of their camels floating in a rose-pink mist. But alas^ 
 the flood of gold and the rose-pink mist are composed 
 of dust that reddish dust hi which presumably the 
 boasted Fayoum roses grow; and it blows into our 
 noses. This upsets our tempers, and prevents our enjoy-
 
 TO ITS BITTER END 233 
 
 ing the pictures we see in the sudden transition from desert 
 to oasis. Biblical patriarchs on white asses, disputing 
 the high, narrow "gisr" or dyke road; women with huge 
 gold nose rings; running processions of girls, in blowing 
 coral and copper robes, large ornamental jars on then* 
 veiled heads, thin trailing black scarves and slim figures 
 dark against a sky of gold. Blue-eyed water-buffaloes 
 gamoushas and exaggerated brown -gray calves, with 
 wide-open, boxlike ears in which you feel you ought to 
 post something. Canals stretching away through emerald 
 fields to distant palm groves; here and there a miniature 
 cataract; children playing in the water, imps whose red 
 and amber rags ring out high notes of colour like the clash 
 of cymbals; now and then a jerboa or a mongoose waddling 
 across the path; travelling families on trotting donkeys or 
 swinging camels who pass us with difficulty. Camels 
 everywhere, indeed, on dyke or in meadow; even the 
 clouds are shaped like camels who have gone to heaven 
 and turned to mother o' pearl. There are horses, too; not 
 little sand stallions like ours, but ordinary, plodding 
 animals whose hoofs know only Fayoum dust or mud. Our 
 desert creature, however, does not spurn them. On the 
 contrary, though he pretends not to notice camels, cows, 
 or buffaloes, he whinnies and prances with delight when he 
 meets anything of his own shape, and assumes hobby- 
 horse attitudes, much to the alarm of Cleopatra and Miss 
 Hassett-Bean. Also, just to remind everybody that 
 sand is his element, he shies at water, and almost swoons 
 at sight of the Fayoum light railway. 
 
 Much wind again. But thank goodness out of Fayoum 
 dust, and in desert sand for lunch! Prop up tent with our
 
 234 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 backs, leaning against the blast. However, we have now a 
 special clothes-brush for the bread, and a moderately clean 
 bandanna for the fruit. Plates, we blow upon without a 
 qualm. Scarabei gambolling in the sand around OUT feet 
 we pass unnoticed. This is the simple desert life! 
 
 But ah, what an encampment for the night! It makes 
 up for everything, and a sudden realization of abound- 
 ing health is tingling in our veins. We adore the desert. 
 We want to spend our lives in it. Thank goodness we 
 have two nights here, on the golden shore of the blue 
 Birket Karun, all that's left of Lake Moeris of which 
 Strabo and Herodotus raved. From the dune-sheltered 
 plateau where our white tents cluster, the glitter of water 
 in the desert is like a mirage: a mysterious, melancholy 
 sheet of steel and silver turning to ruby in the sunset, with 
 dark birds skimming over the clear surface. 
 
 Suddenly the Bible seems as exciting as some wonderful 
 novel. Not far from here ran Joseph's river, making the 
 desert to blossom like the rose. In tents like ours, perhaps, 
 Abraham rested with Sarah, planning how to save himself 
 by giving her to the Egyptian king. To see this lake is 
 like seeing a bright, living eye suddenly open in the face of 
 a mummy, dead for six thousand years ! 
 
 Our best sunset; romance but slightly damaged by an 
 Arab waiter wrapping up his head in a towel with which 
 he had just dried our teacups and no doubt will again. 
 
 Another Day: (Merely slavish to look it out in the 
 calendar, and besides there is none.) All I know is, we've 
 had two on the shore of Birket Kurun (I spell it a different 
 way now, because no books ever spell anything in Egypt 
 twice alike), "The Lake of the Horns"; and we've been
 
 TO ITS BITTER END 235 
 
 on the water in some very old boats, in order to see things 
 which may have existed once, but don't now; and at 
 present we're encamped near Medinet-el-Fayoum, a 
 kind of lesser Cairo: originally named Medinet-el Faris, 
 City of the Horseman, because of a Roman equestrian 
 statue found in the neighbouring mounds of "Crocodilo- 
 polis." We have just arrived, hot and dusty, with more 
 dust of more Fayoum than we had before Lake Moeris. 
 "Fayoum" means Country of the Lake it seems; and it 
 really is a great emerald cup sunk below the level of the 
 Nile as if to dip up water for its roses. 
 
 However, the Set is happy despite the state of its clothes 
 and its hair. None of us quite realized what the Fallah- 
 cen were really like before, or that the word Fellal meant 
 "ploughman." This has been market-day, and we met 
 an endless stream of riding men, and walking women with 
 black trailing garments. They had bought sheep, and 
 goats, and rabbits, and quantities of rustling, pale green 
 sugar cane, which they carried on their shoulders. 
 
 There were wild adventures for the sandcart, and watery 
 spaces across which Cleopatra was carried (at her own 
 urgent request) by Anthony; Miss Hassett-Bean by me 
 and the strongest Arab. There were the wonderfully 
 picturesque squalid mud towns of Senoures and two or three 
 others, honey-yellow in a green mist of palms, against an 
 indigo sky with streaks of sunshine like bright bayonets 
 of Djinns. And then Medinet, through which our caravan 
 had to pass en route to camp, much to the ribald joy of 
 smart, silk-robed Egyptian "undergrade" who strolled 
 hand in hand along the broad streets near the University. 
 They were big, fantastic houses to suit modern Oriental
 
 236 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 taste, painted pink and green, and set in shady gardens. 
 And between high brick embankments we saw the river 
 Joseph made swiftly running, deep golden yellow 
 like the Nile, with ancient water-wheels pouring crystal 
 jets into enormous troughs. 
 
 This was our most fatiguing day, and we wanted our 
 last encampment to be the best. We found the worst: a 
 suburban meadow inhabited by goats and buffaloes. 
 "Can't we move somewhere else?" Cleopatra besought 
 Anthony, to whom she appeals when he's within appealing 
 distance. " Isn't this tour for our pleasure, and can't we 
 do what we like? 
 
 Anthony absolved the camp-makers, explaining that we 
 must be near the town in order to get carriages and see 
 the sights we had come to see. Also our water supply had 
 given out, and we must beg some from the "government 
 people." He hinted that it would be well to make the 
 best of things; but Cleopatra, with her royal memories, 
 is not good at making the best of what she doesn't like. 
 She wants what she wants, especially in her own Egypt, 
 where things ought to know that they once belonged to 
 her. Miss Hassett-Bean is quite as exigeante, in a differ- 
 ent way, more Biblical, less pagan. Her criticism on the 
 encampment was that it, and all her oasis experiences, are 
 destroying her faith in hymns. " By cool Siloam's Shady 
 Rill," for instance, used to be her favourite, but she 
 doesn't believe now that Siloam ever had a rill. 
 
 Later: 11 p. m. Fallahcen and Fellahah (doesn't sound 
 female, but is) pretended to have things to do on the fron- 
 tier of their field and ours, as we were settling in, and 
 stared unblinkingly at us, whenever we stuck a nose out-
 
 TO ITS BITTER END 237 
 
 side a tent. Also they laughed. Also they brought their 
 dogs. But they couldn't spoil the sunset, and Medinet 
 was a colourful picture of the Orient, towering against the 
 crimson west. I took Monny and Biddy into the town 
 to see the bridge and dilapidated Mosque of Kait Bey, 
 with its pillars stolen from Arsinoe. Anthony took 
 Cleopatra, and most of the other unmarried men took 
 Rachel Guest. When Brigit remarked rather sharply 
 upon the ex-school teacher's popularity, Monny laughed 
 an odd, understanding little laugh. " I believe you think 
 you know why they're all so mad about that girl!" ex- 
 claimed Biddy. 
 
 "Perhaps I do, " smiled Miss Gilder. 
 
 " What is her fascination? " 
 
 "Bedr could have told you, *' Monny cryptically replied. 
 "He told several people." 
 
 "What do you mean, child? I'm eating my heart out 
 to know!" 
 
 "Don't eat it, dearest. You can't eat your heart 
 and have it, too. And it's your most important posses- 
 sion. " 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't tease me when I'm tired. Is it 
 part of the secret you and Rachel were always giggling 
 over, when we first got to Cairo? " 
 
 "Yes, dear, it is, if you must know. But I don't want 
 to tell even you what the secret is, please! You might 
 think it your duty to spoil Rachel's fun, and she and I are 
 both enjoying it so much. " 
 
 "Can you guess what she means, Duffer?" Biddy ap- 
 pealed to me. " You know I wrote you that Monny and 
 Miss Guest had a secret. I thought afterward it might
 
 238 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 have been only their plan to see the hasheesh den; but 
 since then I've realized it was something else." 
 
 "Even if I could guess, ought I to give Miss Gilder 
 away, when she has just told you she doesn't want you to 
 know? " I asked innocently. 
 
 They both turned on me in a flash. (I expected that.) 
 ''Do you guess?" 
 
 "I don't see, if I do, why I shouldn't have my little 
 secret, " I mildly replied. I knew that, after this, Monny 
 would give me a good deal of her society, even though she 
 might not have forgiven me for bolting to haul down 
 the Cook ensign, in the midst of her confidences. But in 
 truth I have not guessed the secret ! My wits go wheeling 
 round it, like screaming swallows who see a crumb. 
 I get a glimpse of the crumb, and lose it again. In my 
 present mood I almost regret that Bedr and his supposed 
 Germans have not dumped themselves down in our field. 
 It would have been like them to do so, judging by the 
 aggressive checks on those mustard tweeds; but as a 
 matter of fact the party has disappeared from view since 
 just before Birket Karun. They may have turned back to 
 Cairo; they may have been swallowed up by a palsied sand 
 dune; they may have been eaten by jackals (we saw a dead 
 one), or they may have taken to the fleshpots of a Greek 
 hotel in Medinet; but the fact remains that, just when he 
 might be useful, Bedr is not to be had. 
 
 In our tent to-night, I took advantage of our friend- 
 ship to try and draw Fenton out a little on the sub- 
 ject of his feelings. It seemed the right hour to open the 
 door of the soul. The Fallaheen having taken their fami- 
 lies home, our tent-flaps were up, and only the stars looked
 
 TO ITS BITTER END 239 
 
 in stars swarming like fireflies in the blue cup of a hang- 
 ing flower; but Anthony would speak of nothing more 
 intimate than the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid, or 
 his tiresome sheikh's tomb. I yearned to tell him of the 
 contretemps about the hieroglyphic letter, but something 
 stopped the confession on the end of my tongue, though 
 perhaps in the circumstances, I owed it to Mrs. East. 
 If he had mentioned her name the story might have come 
 out; but the one drop of Eastern blood which mingles with 
 a hundred of the West in Anthony's veins makes him sin- 
 gularly reserved, aggravatingly reticent where women are 
 concerned. I used to think that this was because he was 
 not interested in them. But something I can't explain 
 what, unless it's instinct tells me that this is no 
 longer the case. Another interest has come into his life, 
 rivalling his soldier interest, and the secret hope buried 
 deep in our Mountain. I see it in his eyes. I hear it in 
 the timbre of his voice. It means Woman. But what 
 woman? Is Monny right? Is he falling seriously in love 
 for the first time in his strenuous Life with Biddy, whom he 
 picked out for admiration the moment he set eyes on her? 
 Or is it Monny herself? I must be a dog in the manger, 
 because I don't like the idea of its being either. 
 
 He is asleep on the other side of the tent as I write. Desert 
 dogs do not disturb him. He's great on concentrating his 
 mind, and when he goes to sleep he concentrates on that. 
 
 I wish he'd talk in his sleep! But even in uncon- 
 sciousness, he is discreet as a statue. 
 
 The Last Day. Evening: I am in disgrace, and am 
 left alone to bear it, so I may as well finish my Desert 
 Diary. It's all an account of a lamb, just an ordinary,
 
 240 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 modern lamb you might meet anywhere. But I mustn't 
 begin with that, though it haunts me. In spirit it's here 
 in the tent, sitting at my feet, staring up into my face. 
 Avaunt, lamb! Thy blood is not on my head. Go to 
 those who deserve thee. I wish to write of Crocodilopolis. 
 Shetet, the city was called in the beginning of things; 
 Shetet, or the "Reclaimed," for the Egyptians stole land 
 from the water, and made it the capital of their great Lake 
 Province, which Ptolemy Philadelphus renamed to please 
 his adored wife. Queen Arsinoe was charming, no doubt; 
 and the Greek rums and papyri of her day are interesting, 
 but it is the city sacred to the crocodile god Sebek which 
 can alone distract my thoughts now from the tragedy of 
 the black Iamb. If his Ka refuses to go I shall set croco- 
 diles at it ghosts of crocodiles mummied somewhere 
 under the desert hills which separate the Fayoum from 
 the Nile Valley. 
 
 We drove out to the ruins in a string of hired carriages, 
 at an incredibly early hour this morning. As the night 
 was one long dog-howl, and the dawn one overwhelming 
 cockcrow, people were thankful to get up. But what a 
 waste of hardly obtained baths before the start ! Between 
 Medinet and Crocodilopolis rose a solid wall of red dust. 
 We had to break through it, as firemen dash through the 
 smoke of a burning house; and when our arabeahs stopped 
 at the foot of a mountainous mound, about a mile out of 
 Medinet, the dust had come too. Scrambling up, with 
 the wind on our backs, we began to breathe; but it was not 
 until we had ascended to the old guard house on top of the 
 pottery strewn height, that we could draw a clean breath. 
 Then the reward was worth the pains.
 
 TO ITS BITTER END 241 
 
 Down below us, seen as from a bird's-eye view, lay a 
 vast, unroofed honeycomb. It's size was incredible. The 
 thing could not really be there. It was a startling dream, 
 that endless gold-brown city of regular streets, and mud 
 brick buildings, big and small, shops and houses, theatres 
 and libraries, lacking only their roofs, deserted save by 
 ghosts for thousands of years, yet looking as though it had 
 been destroyed by a cyclone yesterday. Down there in 
 the devastated beehive myriads of bees still worked 
 frantically, human bees, which Cleopatra said were rein- 
 carnations of those who had owned slaves and killed them 
 with forced labour, when Shetet was among the richest 
 cities of the " Two Lands. " These bees of to-day worked 
 to destroy, not to recreate, for the crumbling brick is the 
 best of fertilizers and fertilizing their, land is the one 
 great interest in life for the Fellaheen of the Fayoum. 
 Furiously they tore at the remaining walls; furiously they 
 packed away their treasure of dried mud in sacks; furiously 
 they piled it on backs of donkeys and rushed away to 
 make room for others. Each instarit hundreds of wild 
 figures in dusty black or blue scampered off, beating 
 loaded donkeys, only to be replaced by hundreds more 
 doing the same thing in the same manner. Yet always a 
 few forms remained stationary. They were police guar- 
 dians of the ruins, men armed with staves, whose busi- 
 ness was to oversee each worker's sack, lest some rare 
 roll of papyri, some rich jewel which once adorned a pam- 
 pered crocodile of the lake, should be found and stolen. 
 Glimpsed through the red flame of blowing, ruby dust, 
 the scene was a vision of Inferno; we on our mount looking 
 down on it were in company of Dante and Virgil.
 
 242 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 The rest of the day we gave to a light-railway excursion 
 to HJahun and the brick Pyramid of Hawara. There was 
 much laughing and shrieking among the girls of the Set 
 (I don't count Monny, who shrieks for nothing less terrible 
 than the largest spiders) as Arabs pushed our trolley cars 
 along the line; and we were frivolous even on the site of the 
 labyrinth which was, perhaps, copied from the Laby- 
 rinth of Crete. 
 
 The Set were frankly disappointed in the few remains 
 of granite columns and carvings; but vague memories of 
 jewels seen at the Egyptian Museum waked an interest in 
 the brick pyramid tomb at Hawara where King Amenem- 
 hat and his daughter Ptah-nefru lay for a few thousand 
 years. All of us were eager for the "last camp tea," when 
 we got "home" from our expedition, and it was then that 
 the tragedy happened: the tragedy of the black.lamb. 
 
 How could I guess, when Yusef said the camel-boys 
 wanted money to buy meat as a feast for the last day, that 
 they meant to buy it alive? 
 
 When we arrived in camp, an idyllic scene was being 
 enacted. A woolly black lamb with a particularly engag- 
 ing facial expression was being hospitably entertained by all 
 our men with the exception of the chef. They formed an 
 admiring ring round it, taking turns in feeding it with 
 bersim, and patting its delightfully innocent head. It 
 was difficult to say which was happier, the charming 
 guest or its kind hosts. 
 
 "How sweet of them!" said Miss Hassett-Bean. "I 
 must write a few verses about this, for our home paper ! n 
 
 Everybody joined with her in thinking the Arabs sweet, 
 and Enid Biddell went round and took up a collection.
 
 TO ITS BITTER END 243 
 
 The men arranged a football match for our benefit, to show 
 their gratitude, and played so well and were so pictur- 
 esque that Sir John and other ardent sportsmen pressed 
 more money upon them. It was altogether a red-letter 
 day for the camel-boys, quite apart from the fact that they 
 would get rid of their noble benefactors to-morrow; and 
 by way of a climax they had what we supposed to be a 
 bonfire at dark. 
 
 "Aren't all those white figures wonderful, grouped 
 round the blaze?" asked Monny, who appeared on the 
 whole satisfied with the way in which the desert had taken 
 her. "And look, the flames are reflected on the clouds. 
 I do believe it's going to rain, if such a thing can happen 
 here ! I hope it won't spoil the poor darlings' celebration. 
 Why, they seem to have something big and black hanging 
 over the fire. What can it be? Oh, it looks awful!" 
 
 "It is not awful, mees, " Yusef, standing near, good 
 naturedly reassured her. "It very naice. It is the lamb, 
 they cook for then- supper. The genelman, milord, he 
 give them money to buy it. " 
 
 "Lamb? "shrieked Monny, in a wild voice which brought 
 a crowd round us. "Lamb! Not oh, not " 
 
 " Yes, mees, you all see it feeded when you come home, 
 when you say it so sweet. Camel-boys find sweeter 
 now!" 
 
 " Oh ! " the girl exclaimed. " Fiends ! They invited that 
 lamb here, and brought it in their arms and played with it 
 and did everything they could to make it think it was 
 having a pleasant afternoon, and then they killed it!" 
 
 "Of course, yes, mees," said Yusef, puzzled. "Why 
 else for milord tell they can buy it? They kill and pound
 
 244 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 it up to make it good, and soon they eat in honour of the 
 genelmen and ladies who have been so kind this naice trip." 
 
 "I should like to kill them!" gasped Monny, preparing 
 to cry, and flinging herself into Biddy's arms. "Oh 
 somebody give me a hanky quick! " 
 
 We all felt mechanically in our pockets; but I, being 
 nearest, was first in the field. It was a shock to see Monny 
 wave my handkerchief away with a gesture of horror, and 
 bury her face in a far inferior one tendered by Anthony. 
 
 "No wonder!" exclaimed Miss Hassett-Bean, who is 
 not, as a rule, a Monny -ite. "You're quite right, Miss 
 Gilder. Lord Ernest Borrow, I don't see much difference 
 between you and a murderer!" 
 
 For a minute, I did not know what she meant. Then it 
 broke upon me that the Arabs' monstrous breach of hos- 
 pitality to the lamb was laid at my door. I jabbered 
 explanations, but no one listened; and just then the rain, 
 which nobody had believed in, seized the opportunity of 
 coming down in floods. The camels roared with rage and 
 surprise; the camel-boys swore Arab oaths; the fire sput- 
 tered, and what became of the half -cooked lamb I shall 
 never know. We rushed for the dining-tent, all soaked 
 in an instant, with the exception of Brigit and Monny, 
 whom "Antoun" protected with a long cloak. 
 
 Dinner was a gloomy feast, which might have been 
 composed of funeral baked meats, though the chef himself 
 came to the door and vowed by all his saints that the lamb 
 cutlets were not from that lamb. So well did he exonerate 
 himself, so eloquently did he protest that he had nothing 
 to do with the camel-boys' orgy, that another special 
 collection was taken up for him.
 
 TO ITS BITTER END 245 
 
 "Poor, dear old gentleman!" sighed Miss Hassett-Bean. 
 "I shall never be able to forget him. When I'm out of 
 this awful country of cannibals, and safe in my own home, 
 he will simply haunt me, passing his respectable old age, 
 black though he is, chasing across deserts on camels, 
 wrapped in a blanket and covered with chicken coops, 
 at the mercy of any queer Christian who can afford to 
 pay for him. It's a tragedy! " 
 
 Perhaps she wrote her poem about the cook instead of 
 the camel-boys. Luckily, however, at the last moment I 
 remembered a superstition of the Ancient Egyptians. 
 They were in the habit of sacrificing a black lamb to 
 propitiate Set, the sender of storms. Our lamb was 
 black : and at the hour of his untimely death a storm was 
 coming up. The dreadful deed, therefore, was turned into 
 a Rite.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 AN OILED HAND 
 
 THAT is where my diary of the desert stopped; for the 
 adventure that ended our trip was not of the sort that 
 mixes well with tragedies of lambs. 
 
 Before dinner Monny had apologized for refusing my 
 handkerchief, I really believe because she was sorry she 
 had misunderstood, not because the rain had leaked 
 through her tent, and she wanted me to give her mine. 
 In fact, she and Biddy refused pointblank at first when 
 Anthony and I suggested the change. They would not 
 have told us that the water had come in on their beds if 
 they had thought we would suggest such a thing. All 
 they wished for was to have the tent-roof somehow mended 
 before matters got worse. But we insisted, especially Fen- 
 ton; and he is difficult to disobey. A look from him, and a 
 drawing together of the black eyebrows has the same effect 
 on the mind of a rebellious woman as an "Off with her 
 head!" from an Arabian Nights Sultan, while I might 
 vainly exert my ingenuity to achieve the result he gets by 
 sheer mysterious magnetism. 
 
 It was bedtime when the leak showed itself, but the 
 change of quarters was accomplished with military 
 quickness and precision, as Fenton's undertakings gen- 
 erally are; and almost before they knew what had hap- 
 
 246
 
 AN OILED HAND 247 
 
 pened, Monny and Brigit, who had been tent-mates during 
 the tour, found themselves transferred bag and baggage 
 to our tent, with the last clean sheets in the bedroom- 
 Arab's possession. 
 
 Transferred, we set ourselves to making repairs, and 
 soon patched up the leaks. Rain at this season comes so 
 rarely, it was not surprising that a stitch or two had been 
 neglected. 
 
 Only the pillows and upper blankets had had time to 
 get wet, and we had but to remove the coverings and turn 
 the pillows. We both did this simultaneously, and simul- 
 taneously exclaimed "Hullo!" 
 
 "They've left their treasures" said Anthony, not with 
 quite the masculine scorn of feminine weaknesses I was used 
 to noticing in him. Indeed, he spoke almost tenderly, as a 
 father might speak at finding the forgotten doll of an 
 absent child. 
 
 Each of us stood with a wet pillow in his hand, gazing 
 at his borrowed bunk. In the one I had selected, lay a 
 small chamois-skin bag, attached to a narrow pink rib- 
 bon. In the bed chosen by Fenton, was a tiny white 
 enamelled watch, on a platinum chain. Both these 
 things had been covered by their respective owners' 
 pillows, and forgotten in the hasty change of quarters. 
 The watch was Monny's. She wore it round her neck 
 every day therefore the chamois-skin bag on the other 
 bed must be Brigit's. I told myself that in it she probably 
 kept her pathetic store of money, hidden under her bodice 
 by day, her pillow by night; and beholding this intimate 
 souvenir of my childhood's friend, my heart yearned over 
 her.
 
 248 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "Too late to rouse them up now, " said Anthony. 
 
 "Yes," said I. "We must have been twenty minutes 
 or half an hour getting the roof to rights. They may be 
 asleep, and if not, they won't worry anyhow. They'll 
 know that their things are safe till to-morrow morning." 
 
 Fenton agreed with this verdict, and each keeping 
 charge of his own treasure trove, we went to bed and to 
 sleep. 
 
 I am a champion dreamer. So much so, that I often 
 find the life of dreamland rivalling hi interest the life this 
 side of sleep. I look forward to my dreams, as some 
 people look forward to an int cresting dinner-party; but 
 that night I was too tired to inspect the dream-menu, 
 before lying down to it. The first thing I knew, a hand- 
 some Egyptian god with crystal eyes, like those which 
 Bill Bailey means to make the fashion, stood by my bed- 
 side. I asked him politely whether he were Ra or Osiris, 
 deliberately picking the two best gods of the bunch hi 
 order to flatter him; but without answering, he pointed a 
 bronze hand to the mat on which he stood. It was a 
 white mat, and on it I read a word which evidently he 
 meant me to take as his name: TAM HTAB. For an 
 instant it seemed to me a fine name for an Egyptian god, 
 though I hadn't met it before. Then I burst out laughing 
 disrespectfully. "Why, you're only a Bath Mat wrong 
 side out!" I heard myself sneering; and the god dis- 
 appeared as a flash of lightning comes and is gone. In 
 going, however, he stumbled slightly against the bed. It 
 was a mere touch; but that, or my own voice, half waked 
 me up. 
 
 "TAM HTAB," I mumbled dreamily; and was just
 
 AN OILED HAND 249 
 
 reminding myself before dropping off to sleep again that 
 I must tell Biddy about the new bath god, when I realized 
 that he had not quite gone. No, not quite gone! It 
 must be he who still lingered by the bed, for it could be 
 nobody else. Anthony would not come and hover sil- 
 ently at my bedside in the middle of the night. Besides, 
 I was almost awake now, and I could hear the gentle, 
 regular breathing of a man asleep : Anthony's breathing. 
 
 " Go away, TAM HTAB, " I tried to say, but I was not 
 awake enough to speak. He was bending over the bed. 
 His face was near to mine. I felt rather than saw it. 
 "How could I see in the dark?" sleepily, even fretfully, I 
 asked myself. And yet, IMS the tent dark? ... It 
 had been, I remembered that. I remembered that An- 
 thony had got to bed first, and I had extinguished the two 
 candles on the washhand-stand. Afterward, I had had to 
 grope my way to the bed. Now, however, there was a 
 light ... a very faint, rather curious light. There 
 seemed to be only a square of it, a square sloped off at 
 the top. It was opposite my eyes, which really were 
 open now, I felt sure. I couldn't be dreaming this. It 
 was like a queer-shaped window in the blackness, a win- 
 dow full of starlight, but close to the floor. Then the 
 rain must have stopped. The stars must be out. Yes, 
 but how could I see that? There was no window in the 
 tent. 
 
 This thought dragged the last film of sleep off my tired 
 brain, like a veil snatched away by impatient fingers on an 
 unseen hand. 
 
 Odd! Those very words said over themselves in my 
 head: "Fingers on an unseen hand." And that was
 
 250 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 because a hand was being slipped cautiously, inch by inch, 
 under my pillow. It was the- Egyptian god's hand. But 
 I knew suddenly that the dream-god had turned into a 
 thief: that the silver-glimmering square of light was one of 
 the tent flaps unbuttoned and turned back. That the man 
 must stealthily have pulled up a peg or two while we slept 
 our heavy sleep, must have crept into the tent, soft-footed 
 over the thick rugs, and now here he was, trying to steal. 
 After that, I did not go on with the thought. My dull 
 reasoning snapped off as short as a dry stick. I made a 
 grab for the hand under my pillow, seized a wrist, held it 
 for an instant in a grip which must have hurt, then had 
 the shame and disappointment of feeling it slip out of my 
 grasp, like a greased snake. There was a stifled exclama- 
 tion of pain or surprise, scarcely louder than a sigh, and 
 I was out of bed and after a shadow that ran for the low 
 square of starlight. Something caught and tripped me 
 as I reached the opening. What it was I did not know 
 then and don't know now, but I had a vague impression 
 that it was warm. If I had stumbled against a bare leg 
 thrust out to stop me, it would have felt like that. Yet 
 it could not have been the leg of the man running away. 
 He was using both his, and must have used them well, 
 for I was up and out from under the lifted tent flap which 
 had fallen on top of me as I tumbled, before I could 
 have counted five. Very wide awake now, I stood in the 
 rough, sandy grass, under a sky encrusted with stars, and 
 could see no one. Barefooted, I pattered this way and 
 that, searching every shadow, but the whole camp seemed 
 an abode of peace. There was not a sound or movement 
 even in the black ring of sleeping camels. Rain had
 
 AN OILED HAND 251 
 
 driven to shelter the roving dogs which had troubled us 
 last night. The camp lanterns burned clear and strong, 
 yellow and crude in the silver flood of starlight which 
 dulled their radiance. The smell of earth and grass after 
 the heavy shower was like the fragrance of tea roses. 
 Could it be that an evil, stealthy presence had but just 
 broken this sweet serenity with its vile intention, or had 
 the whole incident been after all a singularly vivid dream? 
 I should have believed so, if my hand which had clutched 
 that other hand, had not been slippery with oil. 
 
 No, I had not dreamed. And suddenly a troubling 
 thought leaped into my mind. "Biddy!" The name 
 sprang to my lips and spoke itself aloud. 
 
 If this were for her! I had laughed at her forebodings. 
 Sensational revenges such as she feared seemed so incon- 
 gruous, so utterly unsuited to those laughing, long-lashed 
 eyes of hers! Yet she had in her past life lived side by 
 side with fear and tragedy for more years than I liked to 
 count. And as she said, men such as those whom Richard 
 O'Brien had betrayed had been known to reach out very 
 far to take revenge. Biddy had done nothing. Surely 
 they owed her no grudge. But she had known things. 
 Perhaps they thought that she knew even more than she 
 did know. Their organization was rich as well as power- 
 ful. It had many branches. Yet why should men use its 
 power to hurt the widow of a dead enemy, now that they 
 or fate had put him underground? 
 
 In a flash I remembered the chamois-skin bag, which 
 she had forgotten under the pillow: and lifting the loos- 
 ened canvas flap with its dangling pegs, I stooped to go 
 back into the tent. Inside, I expected to find darkness,
 
 252 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 but instead I found light; Anthony up, setting a match 
 to a candle wick, and looking a tall, dark silhouette in his 
 pyjamas. 
 
 "What's the row?" he calmly wanted to know too 
 calmly to suit my ruffled mood. 
 
 "A thief, that's all," I answered, hastily searching under 
 the pillow where the unseen hand had been. Sheet and 
 pillow-case were slimy with oil, yet the chamois-skin bag 
 was safe. ''But he didn't get what he wanted !" I finished. 
 
 "Good," said Anthony, who had lighted both candles. 
 "Let's go look for him. " 
 
 " I've been, and couldn't see anything. " 
 
 "I know. I heard a sound. I sang out, and you 
 didn't answer, so I thought something must be up. Let's 
 have another try. I've got Miss Gilder's watch. " 
 
 I slipped Biddy's bag into the pocket of my pyjamas, 
 and pulling on our boots we went out into the night. 
 
 "It's their tent I'm thinking of," I said, though I'd 
 never talked of Brigit O'Brien's affairs to Fenton. "If 
 some one had planned to rob them, not knowing of the 
 change we made at the last minute " 
 
 "All our Arabs did know " 
 
 "I'm not talking of them. We've been here two days. 
 Any one could have spied on us enough to find out which 
 tent was Mrs. Jones' and Miss Gilder's. " 
 
 "You're thinking of Bedr? " 
 
 "Well, yes, I suppose I am. Biddy never believed 
 they were Germans. ** 
 
 "Who, those chaps in checked clothes he had in tow? 
 By Jove ! yes I heard her speak of a scar on the forehead 
 of one. "
 
 AN OILED HAND 253 
 
 "She thought he might have been Burke, the fellow in 
 the street row, that night at the House of the Crocodile." 
 
 "These things happen to heiresses in old-fashioned 
 story books," saM Anthony. "But there's nothing that 
 happens in a story which can't happen in real life, I 
 suppose especially to such a girl. She " 
 
 " Oh, but I wasn't thinking of her ! " I began, then stopped, 
 shocked because it was true, and also because I was unwill- 
 ing to tell why my thoughts had turned to " Mrs. Jones. " 
 
 "We must find out if they're safe," I went on. "The 
 thieves seem to have got clear away and we're not likely 
 to find them, unless they've gone to our old tent " 
 
 "Come along," said Anthony. "We'll slip on some- 
 thing, and call the ladies as softly as we can, not to dis- 
 turb the others and have the whole camp buzzing like a 
 beehive. When we're sure they're all right, we can attend 
 to such details as searching for tracks. " 
 
 He seemed as eager as I was, to know that the two 
 women were safe; but there was no sign to tell me about 
 which one he chiefly concerned himself. 
 
 A minute transformed him from a pyjamaed English- 
 man into a robed Egyptian of that old-fashioned order 
 which despises things European. Only, he forgot to put 
 on his turban. I didn't think of the omission myself at the 
 time, but I recalled it later. 
 
 Going to the tent which had been ours, I scratched on 
 the tight drawn canvas near the spot where I knew one of 
 the folding iron bedsteads was placed. " Biddy Biddy !" 
 I called gently, and after a few repetitions I heard her 
 voice, rather sleepy, a little anxious, cry, "Is that you, 
 Duffer?"
 
 254 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "Yes," I whispered, seeing the tent quiver in the region 
 of some big cushiony buttons. "'Antoun' and I are both 
 here. But don't be scared. Could you come and peep 
 out from under the door flap a minute? " 
 
 "Yes, " said she. "Go round there, and I'll come." 
 
 There was not much delay, for Biddy's crinkled black 
 hair needs no night disfigurements by way of patent cur- 
 lers. In a few seconds the door flap waved, and Biddy 
 looked out into the starlight, the yellow glimmer of a 
 candle flame within the tent silhouetting the Japanesey 
 little figure wrapped in a kimono. Behind her dark head 
 and above it, floated a mist of bronzy gold, which I took to 
 be Miss Gilder's hair. There seemed to be quantities of 
 it, and I should have been feverishly interested in won- 
 dering how long it was, if I had had time to think of any- 
 thing but my thankfulness that Biddy and Monny were 
 both safe. 
 
 "Are either of you ill?" asked the creamy Irish voice 
 which had never sounded hah* so sweet as now, in the 
 starlight and fragrance of this strange night. "Because 
 if you are, I've some lovely medicine " 
 
 "I wouldn't frighten them any more than I could help, 
 if I were you, " I heard Fenton mumbling advice in mufBed 
 tones at my back. 
 
 For obvious reasons I made no audible answer; but I 
 had just been resolving not to tell Biddy my suspicions 
 unless it were necessary to do so. 
 
 "No, we're not ill," I assured her. "But there's been 
 a silly sort of scare about a sneak thief: may have been a 
 false alarm, and we won't say anything about it to- 
 morrow, if others don't. We're horribly sorry to disturb
 
 AN OILED HAND 255 
 
 you and Miss Gilder, but we couldn't rest without making 
 sure you hadn't been worried." 
 
 " You heard nothing, did you, Monny? " Brigit threw 
 a question over her shoulder to the floating mist of gold. 
 
 "No, and I wasn't asleep either," Miss Gilder's voice 
 answered. "I was lying awake thinking about its being 
 our last night and lots of things. " 
 
 " I was lying half awake, too, thinking of ' lots of things,' " 
 Biddy mimicked her friend, "or I shouldn't have heard 
 you so easily when you scratched on the canvas. Oh, by 
 the way, Duffer, did you or Antoun Effendi find a little 
 chamois-skin bag under the pillow? " 
 
 "I found it," said I, and this gave me a chance I had 
 been wanting but hadn't quite known how to snatch. " I 
 was rather worried over the responsibility. Of course 
 you knew that we'd take care of your treasures." 
 
 "It's all my money, and and just one other thing!" 
 Biddy answered, with an odd little hesitation in her manner 
 and a catch in her voice. "I should hate to have anybody 
 open that bag. I'm thankful it's safe. With you, I 
 know it's sacred. All the same, I'd like to have it, if you 
 don't mind the bother. " 
 
 "You oughtn't to carry the thing about with you, if 
 it's so important," I scolded her. "Why not leave your 
 secret treasure, whatever it is, and most of your money, 
 in Cairo, when you come off on an expedition like this? " 
 
 "I don't know," she mumbled evasively. "I'm used 
 to having this thing with me. I can't think how I forgot 
 it under my pillow. I never have before. It isn't the 
 sort of of valuable one keeps in a bank. Monny em- 
 broidered the bag when she was a little girl. It was her
 
 256 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 first work. I taught her how to do it, and she gave it to me 
 for a birthday present. I wouldn't lose it for the world." 
 
 "You shan't," I said soothingly. I had heard what I 
 had been afraid to hear; but why should Biddy's trip be 
 spoiled by another worry if I could shield her? We could 
 not know that the oiled hand had been groping for that 
 bag; and I resolved not to distress Brigit by putting the 
 idea into her head at present. " Go to sleep again in peace, 
 both of you," I went on. "All's well, since you are well. 
 Probably some prowler has been sneaking round the 
 kitchen-tent. " 
 
 "Yes. The news of the lamb has gone forth!" said 
 Biddy. "Good night!" 
 
 "Goodnight!" I answered. 
 
 Down went the tent flap, and hid the sparkle of eyes in 
 starsheen, and mist of gold in wavering candle-light. We 
 trusted that the two had crept back into their beds; but 
 we did not return to ours. We took one of the camp 
 lanterns and searched for footprints those which were 
 freshest after the rain. The rough grass growing sparsely 
 out of the sandy earth was not favourable to such attempts, 
 however; and even at dawn, when we looked again before 
 the camp was stirring, we made no notable discoveries 
 such as amateur detectives make, in books. 
 
 Our next expedition, as soon as light came, was to the 
 town, where we inquired at the few hotels, and put ques- 
 tions to the police. Nobody answering the description 
 of Bedr and his two companions had been seen in Medinet, 
 and we had to go back to camp baffled. 
 
 There was our adventure; and when we reached Cairo 
 by train, the mystery of the oiled hand was still unsolved.
 
 xvn 
 
 THE SHIP'S MYSTERY AGAIN 
 
 I EXPECTED a black mark for the lamb and every little 
 desert difficulty, but, to my surprise, only our joys were 
 remembered. Those who had stayed in Cairo exchanged 
 tales with the desert travellers, and it was astonishing to 
 hear what a marvellous week we had had. Each day had 
 been better than its brother. In fact, our trip had been 
 one long, glorious dream of golden sands and amethyst 
 sunsets; the camels were as easy to ride as sofas, and com- 
 bined the intelligence of human beings with the disposi- 
 tion of angels; the camp was as luxurious as the Savoy or 
 the Plaza; and to me and that wonderful Antoun Effendi 
 all credit was suddenly due. Not to be outdone, the 
 stayers in Cairo had had the "time of their lives. " They 
 had not been herded together like animals in a menagerie, 
 as in Colonel Corkran's day. The girls had not only been 
 to dances, but had danced with darling pets of officers, 
 friends of Ernest Borrow; while their mothers had been 
 asked to those fascinating picnics they get up in Egypt, 
 don't you know, where you dig in ancient burial grounds 
 and find mummy beads and amulets. Somehow or other, 
 all these people attributed their pleasures to me, as they 
 had blamed me for their mishaps; and my spirits were at 
 the top of the thermometer three days later when, after 
 
 257
 
 258 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 some hard work, the Enchantress Isis was ready to start 
 "up Nile." 
 
 Sir Marcus wanted "his tours to be different from every 
 other Nile tour, and a little better." He wanted to 
 "show what he could do," and he was beginning well. 
 Though the Enchantress Isis had had a past under 
 other owners, she looked as if this were her maiden trip, 
 and she was as beautifully decorated as a debutante for 
 her first ball. Her paint was new and gleaming white; her 
 brass and nickel glittered like jewellery; and even those 
 who thought nothing quite good enough for them, uttered 
 admiring "Ohs!" as they trooped on board. 
 
 "The Highway of Egypt" was a silver-paved road, 
 leading to adventure. The masts of native boats lying 
 along the river bank were etched in black lines crowding 
 one over another, on the lightly washed-in background of 
 blue. Near by, the great Kasr-el-Nil bridge gleamed with 
 colour and life like a rainbow "come alive"; and the 
 Enchantress Isis looked as gay and inviting as a houseboat 
 en fete for Henley regatta. She was smaller than the most 
 modern of the Nile boats, for she had been sold cheap to 
 Sir Marcus by another firm: but she was big enough for 
 his experiment, though he had turned some of her cabins 
 into private baths and sitting-rooms. Her three decks 
 towered out of the water with a superior air of stateliness, 
 such as small women put on beside tall sisters; and her 
 upper deck was a big open-air sitting-room. There were 
 Turkish rugs on the white floor, and basket chairs and 
 sofas with silk cushions. On the tables and on the piano 
 top there were picture-books of Egypt, and magazines, 
 and bowls of flowers. From the roof, sprouted electric
 
 THE SHIP'S MYSTERY AGAIN 259 
 
 lamps with brass leaves and glass lotuses; and smiling 
 Arabs in white from turban to slippers had blue larks fly- 
 ing wide-winged on their breasts. Oh, yes, Sir Marcus 
 was "doing" his clients well, that was patent at first 
 glance, and became even more conspicuous to the eyes of 
 the Set as they wandered into the dining saloon, drawing- 
 room and library, or peeped into each other's cabins. Sir 
 Marcus himself had come on board ostensibly to see us off, 
 really to watch the effect of his boat upon Cleopatra. He 
 lay in wait for her outside the door of her suite (the best 
 on board), pretending to engage me in conversation, but 
 forgot my existence as she appeared. The ecstasy on his 
 big face was pathetic, as his brown eyes fixed themselves 
 on a quantity of artificial blue lotuses she held in her 
 hands. 
 
 "Do you like 'em, Mrs. East?" he ventured. 
 
 "Do I like what?" she inquired, that quiver of impa- 
 tience in her tone which she kept for her unfortunate 
 adorer. 
 
 "The those flowers, " he stammered. I " 
 
 "They're awful!" she exclaimed. "The rooms are 
 lovely, but these dreadful artificial things some silly person 
 has stuck all over the place spoil the whole effect. I want 
 to find an Arab to take them away. Or do you think I 
 might throw them overboard? No one could like them, 
 I'm sure. " 
 
 "Of course, chuck 'em overboard or hand 'em to me, 
 and I'll do it," said Sir Marcus, looking ready to cry. 
 "But they're lotuses, I suppose you know? I heard you 
 say you'd give anything to have some. " 
 
 "Not artificial ones," explained Cleopatra, belle dame
 
 260 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 sans merci. " I can't stand artificial flowers even on hats, 
 much less in rooms. Who could have put such horrors 
 all over my salon?" 
 
 "I don't know," Sir Marcus lied stoutly; "but it shan't 
 happen again. There ain't any real lotuses to be got, so 
 maybe the er the decorator " his meanderings died 
 into silence, as he took the bunch of flowers from Mrs. 
 East, and viciously flung them as tribute to the Nile. 
 
 "After all, we oughtn't to do that," said Cleopatra. 
 "In the beautiful old days real lotuses were given to the 
 Nile. These are an insult. " 
 
 "They aren't meant as such," the big man apologized, 
 all joy in his fine boat and the compliments he had received 
 crushed out of him. I knew now that he had hovered at 
 Cleopatra's door hoping for a cry of pleasure. Probably 
 he had ransacked Cairo for the lotuses, or telegraphed to 
 Paris, before his cruel lady went from him into the desert. 
 I was sorry for the "boss," though a snub or two would 
 be good for him, no doubt, and perhaps were being speci- 
 ally provided by a wise Providence. But I had other 
 things to think of than Sir Marcus Lark's love-troubles: 
 Monny, for instance, who at last had found a letter from 
 "Madame Wretched" in Cairo, and had wonderful schemes 
 in her head. On board the Laconia I should have thought 
 such schemes obstinate and headstrong, the wish of a 
 spoiled child to do something dangerous, to meddle in 
 matters which did not concern her, and to have "an 
 adventure." But I understood the Gilded Rose a little 
 better now. I began to see the real Monny as Biddy saw 
 her, bright with the flame of courage and enthusiasm and 
 passionate generosity, behind the passing cloud of super-
 
 THE SHIP'S MYSTERY AGAIN 261 
 
 ficial faults. She wanted everybody to be as fortunate 
 and happy as she, and was prepared to be exceedingly 
 trying and disagreeable in the effort to make them so. 
 
 We had not been on board ten minutes when Biddy told 
 me about the exciting letter, and escorted me to find it and 
 Monny. Miss Gilder was in the act of insisting that 
 General and Mrs. Harlow should accept her suite, and 
 that she should take their cabin. The matter had to be 
 argued out before she could spare attention for anything 
 else; but as she made it clear that the Harlows were not to 
 pay extra, their scruples were soon conquered. "The 
 baggage hasn't been put into the cabins yet," she ex- 
 plained breathlessly to me, "so that's all right!" 
 
 In my astonishment, I forgot Madame Wretched. 
 "But why," I adjured Monny in my professional tone, as 
 conductor, "why on earth should you sacrifice yourself 
 to these people? What have they done for you? I 
 thought you didn't like them?" 
 
 "I don't," she replied, calmly, while Biddy listened, 
 smiling. "That's why I gave them my suite at least, 
 it's partly why." 
 
 "I should think the other part of the 'partly' is more 
 convincing," I remarked; and Monny blushed. 
 
 "Perhaps you know that your friend Antoun Effendi 
 thinks me the most selfish as well as the most obstinate girl 
 he ever saw," she said. "And I don't intend to have for- 
 eigners like him go on doing American girls an injustice. 
 Besides, maybe he's right about me and I want him to be 
 wrong. I hate having all the best things there are every- 
 where, just because I'm rich. The Harlows wanted a suite, 
 and they couldn't afford to take one. They were looking
 
 262 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 sadly through the door at my rooms and envying me, so 
 I thought I would change. I was determined to change, 
 whether they would let me or not. They are old; I'm 
 young, and / shall enjoy thinking I've done something 
 nice for people I thoroughly dislike, as much as they will 
 enjoy having their own bathroom." 
 
 "If Mrs. Harlow could hear you calling her old!" gur- 
 gled Biddy. 
 
 "Well, she is old. And she's perfectly horrid, much 
 more horrid even than Miss Hassett-Bean; so I'd rather 
 give my suite to her and her husband than any one else. 
 Biddy and Rachel are together, and Aunt Clara is alone. 
 I'm robbing no one but myself." 
 
 "How do you -know Antoun Effendi thinks you selfish 
 and obstinate?" I inquired. "Surely he wasn't rude 
 enough to say so?" 
 
 "He was indeed, the day I would have the coastguard 
 camel, and he came after me when it ran away," she con- 
 fessed. "And you're not to tell him about the suite. I 
 didn't give it up to please him." 
 
 "I thought you did," I ventured, "in order that Egyp- 
 tian princes shouldn't do injustice to American girls?" 
 
 "I meant," she explained hastily, "that I like to know 
 they're wrong about us. And now what was it that Biddy 
 and you wanted to say? Oh, poor Mabel's letter! Hovr 
 thankful I am to get it! I've been wondering if I dared 
 write, and thinking of all sorts of desperate plans. But 
 Biddy thought we must wait till Wretched was off his 
 guard. You see, we shall have to rescue her when we get 
 to Asiut." 
 
 I would have answered, but a look from Biddy enjoined
 
 THE SHIP'S MYSTERY AGAIN 263 
 
 silence. And so we were in touch with the "Ship's Mys- 
 tery" again! I took the envelope, which was addressed 
 to Miss Gilder in a distinctively American handwriting, 
 strange to see coming from an Egyptian harem. 
 The letter began abruptly, and showed signs of haste: 
 
 " You were so good, I know I can appeal to you, but I'm 
 not sure if there's any way to help me. I began to be 
 frightened on the ship, when he behaved so queerly, just 
 because I talked about the most ordinary things to one or 
 two men. He made me stay in my cabin but you'll 
 remember that. Already it's like ages ago! I tell myself 
 now that I was almost happy then. At least, I believed I 
 was his wife, and that it was better than being poor, and a 
 governess to hateful French children in Paris. He was 
 kind, too he seemed to love me; and I thought it was 
 like living in a romance to marry a Turk. He swore he'd 
 never loved any one except me, that he'd never been mar- 
 ried, and that he wouldn't try to convert me or shut me 
 up like Turkish women. But everything was untrue and 
 different from what he said. I hardly know how to tell 
 you, for you will think it horrible, yet I must tell. When I 
 came here, I found he had a wife already, and a perfectly 
 fiendish little girl. It is legal in this dreadful country to 
 have four wives, but I don't care about the law. I want 
 to get away. I've been cheated. This isn't marriage! 
 I don't know what will become of me, for I haven't any 
 money, but I'd rather starve than stay. I heard Mr. 
 Sheridan say on board ship that it was easy to get a 
 divorce in Egypt or Turkey. Maybe he meant me to 
 hear, thinking some day I might be glad to know. But I 
 can't get a divorce while I'm shut up in this house and 
 watched. Now, he suspects I want to leave him (since 
 a scene we had about the wife), and he won't let me go out, 
 even into the garden. You are my only hope. You'll 
 wonder why I don't try appealing to the American Consul
 
 264 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 here, instead of to you. I suppose there must be a consul 
 Asiut seems a big, important town. I'll tell you why I 
 don't. For one thing, there mayn't be a consul. For 
 another thing, the woman who has promised to post this 
 wouldn't do so if she guessed I was writing against my 
 husband, who is her brother-in-law, and she would guess 
 if she saw an envelope addressed to a consul, although she 
 knows scarcely any English. I have to talk to her in 
 French. He thinks she is devoted to him, and that she's 
 explaining the Mussulman religion and ideas of a woman's 
 life to me, or he wouldn't let her come. It's true, she is 
 loyal to him, in a way. She wouldn't help me to escape. 
 But I think women in the harems like to have secrets with 
 each other, which they hide from their men. I've told 
 her about you, how pretty you are, and a great lieu-ess and 
 she's so interested, she's dying to see you. She hopes, if 
 she posts this letter, that you will call on me on your way 
 up the Nile. She can perhaps find out what day your 
 boat is to arrive, through her husband, and then she'll try 
 to come to our house on the chance of meeting you. I'm 
 almost sure she'll keep her promise and post this letter. 
 If not if he sees it, maybe he will kill me. I believe now 
 he would do anything. But I must run the risk. Do come. 
 Do think of some way to help 
 
 MABEL. 
 
 I don't feel I have the right to any other name, for surely 
 as he has a wife I'm not truly married. 
 
 "Well?" asked Monny, as she saw me finish and fold 
 up the letter. "You were horrid about her at first, but 
 just at the last minute on the ship, you were good, and 
 kept Wretched Bey talking, so I might have my chance 
 with Mabel. If you hadn't, I shouldn't like you as much 
 as I do. And I'm sure even you'll be anxious to do some- 
 thing now."
 
 THE SHIP'S MYSTERY AGAIN 265 
 
 "Yet we don't wish Ernest or Antoun Effendi to run 
 into danger, do we, dear?" Biddy suggested, coaxingly. 
 " When you wanted to show the letter, I said yes, but " 
 
 Monny listened no longer. Her eyes were sparkling, as 
 they looked straight into mine. "Antoun Effendi!" she 
 repeated. "Tell me first because, you know, you are 
 his friend what would he think about a case like this? 
 Whatever he is, he's not a Mussulman, I'm sure. Still, 
 he's not one of us " 
 
 "You're sure he's not a Mussulman?" I echoed. 
 "What makes you sure, when you know he's been to 
 Mecca, unless somebody has put the idea into your head? " 
 His own head put it there," she answered. "I saw it 
 without his turban, the night of the alarm in camp. It 
 wasn't shaved, as I've read the heads of Moslem men are. 
 It was a head like like the head of every Christian man 
 I know, except that it was a better shape than most! So, 
 as he isn't Mussulman, he might not mind our trying to 
 help this poor deceived girl?" 
 
 " Shall I ask his advice? "I inquired, rather drily perhaps. 
 
 She hesitated for an instant, then said "Yes!" 
 
 "You seem certain that whatever he thinks, he won't 
 betray your plan." 
 
 "I am certain," she replied, looking rapt. "He's not 
 the kind of man who betrays." 
 
 "You're right," I said. "He's not the kind of man who 
 betrays. He's the kind that helps. Though in such a 
 case as this you know, the very meaning of the word 
 ' harem ' is ' sacred ' or ' forbidden. ' Still we shall see ! " 
 
 We could not " see " at once, however, because Anthony 
 had not come on board. Even when the hour for start-
 
 266 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 ing arrived, there was no Anthony, no message from 
 Anthony. "Your friend isn't going to leave us in the 
 lurch, is he?" asked Sir Marcus, watch in hand. He had 
 meant to travel with us as far as Beni Hasan, our first 
 stop, and return to Cairo by donkey and train, but had 
 changed his intention and was going off at once I 
 thought I could guess why. "The Enchantress I sis ought 
 to be under way this minute, but Antoun and you are our 
 chief attractions. We can't leave him behind." 
 
 I agreed. We could not leave Anthony behind, but I 
 was not worrying. If he had to drop down out of an 
 aeroplane, I felt sure that having said he would come, he 
 would keep his word. So, while Sir Marcus stared at his 
 watch and fumed, I rushed usefully about among the la- 
 dies who clamoured for their luggage, or complained that 
 their cabins were too small for innovation trunks. I 
 showed them how these travelling wardrobes could be 
 opened wide and flattened against the walls, taking up 
 next to no room; I assured each woman in confidence that 
 she had been given the best cabin on the boat; I dealt out 
 little illustrated books about the trip; I advised people 
 which tables to choose in the dining-saloon, and consoled 
 them when the places they wanted were gone. Still, 
 the Enchantress Isis had not stirred, and a rumour was 
 beginning to go round that something had happened, 
 when suddenly I saw Antoun Effendi's green turban. 
 
 "Thank goodness!" muttered Sir Marcus, putting his 
 watch into his pocket. And then Mrs. East came swiftly 
 across the deck from the door of her own suite, where she 
 must have stood watching, hidden behind the portiere. 
 "Oh, Antoun Effendi!" she cried, and though her face
 
 THE SHIP'S MYSTERY AGAIft 267 
 
 was turned toward us, she did not seem to know that we 
 existed. How Anthony looked at her we could not judge, 
 for we saw only his back; but her eyes must have told Sir 
 Marcus a piece of news. He glanced from her to Fenton y 
 and from Fenton to her, with the expression of a school- 
 boy who has been punished for something he hasn't done. 
 Then he turned to me as though to ask a question; but 
 shut his mouth tightly, as if gulping down a large pill, 
 wheeled, and left me without a good-bye. I wondered, 
 Cleopatra-fashion, what he had done in his last incarna- 
 tion to deserve these heavy blows in the hour which should 
 have seen his triumph. "What if he changes his mind 
 and doesn't want Fenton and me after all?" I asked my- 
 self. To my surprise, I realized that it would be a genu- 
 ine disappointment not to be wanted by Sir Marcus Lark. 
 The Mountain of the Golden Pyramid had nothing to 
 do with this. It was borne in upon me that I had begun 
 to enjoy the role of conductor; and certainly I was learn- 
 ing lessons in high diplomacy which might be useful in 
 my career. 
 
 Anthony, who was free as an eagle from questions of 
 innovation trunks and how to give everybody the best 
 cabins, and places at table, looked as if he were bound for 
 the Island of Hesperides, on a voyage of pure romance. 
 The air of gravity and responsibility he had worn in Cairo 
 and in the desert was gone with the starting of the boat. 
 I knew suddenly, without asking him, that his mission had 
 been of a far more serious nature than the transplanting of 
 a sheikh's tomb; that there had been something else, and 
 that it had finished at the last moment in success. 
 
 "Sir Marcus was worrying about you," I said, when the
 
 268 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 importance of unpacking left the deck empty save for 
 Anthony and me. 
 
 "You weren't, were you?" He was smiling at me in a 
 friendly, confidential way that showed a happy mood. 
 
 "Not I! I knew you'd turn up, as you'd said you 
 would." 
 
 "Thanks, my good Duffer. But now it's over, I 
 don't mind telling you that it was a toss up." 
 
 "You mean there was a chance of your failing us in 
 spite of the Mountain? " 
 
 "Well, I meant to bring this off somehow. But my 
 first duty was to finish up the Cairo business. I simply 
 had to finish it, and I did. It was a rather bigger job 
 than the sheikh's tomb racket, though of course that was 
 on the cards, too. Everything's all right now; but I spent 
 last night in getting the full details of an Arab plot to blow 
 up the house of a rich Copt, who's been of great service to 
 the Government. Some of the young Nationalists think 
 that the Christian Copts are put ahead of Moslems by the 
 British, and there are jealousies. The whole set of men 
 concerned in this affair were arrested an hour ago, so all's 
 well with the world! I'm free to turn my face toward the 
 Mountain of the Golden Pyramid free to enjoy myself, 
 although I must stick to my turban still." 
 
 "Are you getting tired of it?" I asked. 
 
 "I've been tired of it since the first day I put it on. I 
 don't like play-acting for long. But it was necessary. And 
 it has had its advantages as well as disadvantages for me." 
 
 I should have liked to ask another question then, but 
 dared not, so instead I told him about the letter from 
 Rechid Bey's beautiful American bride, Mabella H&nem,
 
 THE SHIP'S MYSTERY AGAIN 269 
 
 the "Ship's Mystery" of the Laconia. Anthony listened, 
 as the Enchantress Isis slipped past the Island of Roda, 
 past Ghizeh, past old Cairo and still older Babylon, then 
 out on to the broad bosom of the river where the Nile 
 Valley lay bathed in sunshine from Gebel Mokattam in 
 the east, to the Libyan hills haunt of departed spirits 
 in the west. 
 
 "Miss Gilder wants me to help, does she?" he asked at 
 last. "She told you to tell me about this?" 
 
 "I warned her that you mightn't approve," I explained. 
 "I said you had more knowledge of Egypt hi your little 
 finger than I had in all my gray matter, and you might 
 think that nothing could be done " 
 
 "Tell her I think something may be done," he inter- 
 rupted me. "And before we reach Asiut we'll plan out 
 how best to do it." 
 
 "You and I?" 
 
 " You and she and I. She has brains as well as courage." 
 
 "She?" 
 
 "Of course I mean Miss Gilder." 
 
 "Oh! Is it 'of course'? There are others who answer 
 that description." 
 
 Fenton smiled. "But it's going to be her show." 
 
 "She is under the impression," I reminded him, laugh- 
 ing, " that all Egypt, including the Nile, and you and your 
 green turban, are her 'show'." 
 
 Anthony did not answer. Perhaps already he was 
 thinking of something else. I should have liked to be 
 sure exactly what his smile meant. Was it for Monny? 
 Was it for Biddy? Or only for an adventure which he 
 saw in the distance?
 
 xvm. 
 
 THE ASIUT AFFAIR 
 
 NOTHING could be less appropriate to the Spirit of the 
 Nile than our spirit in setting out. We had turned our 
 backs upon medieval Cairo, and our faces toward Ethio- 
 pia. Our minds should have teemed with thoughts of 
 early gods, and the mysteries of their great temples. But 
 not at all. Medieval or prehistoric, it was all one to us 
 in our secret hearts, which throbbed with passionate 
 excitement over our own small affairs of to-day, and to- 
 morrow. Little cared we, as our white boat bore us 
 southward, on the bosom of the sacred river little cared 
 we for the love-story of the Great Enchantress pupil 
 of Magician Thoth, fair Isis, in whose honour that boat 
 was named. Her tragic journey along this river, whose 
 stream she could augment by one sacred tear, should 
 have been followed by our fancy. We should have 
 seen with our minds' eyes the lovely lady asking news of 
 the painted boat which carried the dead body of her mur- 
 dered husband Osiris, asking always vainly, until she 
 thought of questioning the little children. But instead 
 we thought of our own love-stories and amusements. We 
 played bridge, and danced the Tango on deck; we drum- 
 med on the piano, or warbled the latest musical comedy 
 airs. Above all, we flirted, or gossiped about those who 
 
 270
 
 * THE ASIUT AFFAIR 271 
 
 flirted, if for any reason we were off the active list of 
 flirters ourselves. 
 
 To be sure, we had brought learned books, and took 
 pains to leave them in our chairs, open at marked passages 
 of deep interest to students. We even scribbled hetero- 
 geneous notes, if for a moment there were nothing more 
 amusing to do; and bits of paper scampered wildly about 
 the deck informing those who retrieved them that "Nub" 
 was ancient Egyptian for "gold," that Osiris created men 
 and women from the tears he wept over his own body, cut 
 in pieces by Set; that the ivy was his favourite plant; or 
 that "scarabeus" was the Greek word for a blue-green 
 beetle, which created itself from itself, becoming the sym- 
 bol of eternal Me. All this, however, was affectation. Each 
 hoped others might think that he or she was not an ordinary 
 tourist: each wished to pose as a devotee of some phase of 
 history concerning gods, temples, or portrait statues, any- 
 thing not difficult to "study up." But life was too strong 
 for us. The colour and glamour of the Nile got into our 
 blood. Hathor, goddess of Love, bewitched us into 
 doing queer things which we should not have dreamed 
 of doing if we hadn't drunk "Nile champagne." Yet 
 after all, what did it matter? We were absorbing what our 
 hearts, if not our minds, called out for: the enchantment 
 of Egypt. 
 
 More or less conscientiously I performed the duties Sir 
 Marcus Lark had bribed me to perform. I gave neat 
 little lectures, and tried to remind people, whether they 
 liked it or not, that almost every moment the boat was 
 taking us past places of astonishing interest. 
 
 The so-called tombs of "Beni Hasan," the Enchantress
 
 272 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Isis stopped for us to see, in order that we might admire 
 wall-paintings in rock chambers, and gabble about Queen 
 Hatasu or King Seti and his mother Pakhet, the "Beauti- 
 ful Lady of the Speos." But it was difficult to rouse 
 emotion concerning things which we glided by without 
 visiting. 
 
 Ruined temples were everywhere, "thick as flies," as I 
 heard Harry Snell say to Enid Biddell; but why bother 
 about them, when finer ones were waiting further down on 
 the menu-card of the Nile-feast? Especially when there 
 was a pretty girl to walk the deck with, meanwhile? As 
 for Tell el-Marna, the Heretic King's great city, the 
 general vote went against a visit to the ruins. Antoun 
 Effendi praised it as one of the most interesting places 
 near the Nile, because with the exception of Queen 
 Hatasu and Rameses the Great, Amen-hetep IV was the 
 most human personality in Egyptian history. But only 
 Monny, who was making a hero of Aknator, really wished 
 to delay at the Disc Worshipper's Utopia. It must have 
 seemed strange to the Gilded Rose not to have her will 
 prevail; but there was a "clique" on board who appeared 
 to find pleasure in thwarting Monny. Her sacrifice to 
 the Harlows was misunderstood. She had made it, said 
 those who did not like her, in order to gain credit for un- 
 selfishness, or to have an excuse for displaying herself en 
 route to the public bath, in a dream of a dressing-gown, 
 and a vision of a cap, carrying a poem of a sponge bag. 
 Rachel Guest was still mysteriously more popular than 
 Monny, and was said to have had two proposals on the 
 first day. She didn't want to get off the boat to see ir- 
 relevant painted pavements, in the harem of Aknaton's
 
 THE ASIUT AFFAIR 273 
 
 royal palace, and her laziness won, when the vote was 
 taken. But what did anything matter, if the glamour of 
 the Nile was in our blood? 
 
 Not one of us but thrilled to the droning cry of the 
 shadoof men on the brown banks, as the dripping water 
 jars went up and up, tier after tier above the river level. 
 Not one but felt a strange allurement in the passing 
 scene; the dark mystery of palm groves, whose slender 
 stems were prison bars against the shining sky; the copper 
 glow of the mud-bricks in piled-up villages; the colour of 
 the flowing water, where secret gleams as from flooded gold 
 mines seemed to glint through masses of dead violets, that 
 floated with the tide. No eye so dull that it could not 
 see how the shadows on land and water were painted at 
 evening with a blue glaze, like the bloom on old scarabs 
 and mummy beads, and broken bits of pottery that art 
 cannot copy now. 
 
 In her way, even Miss Hassett-Bean felt the charm of 
 the Nile, and its shores of brown and emerald and peacock- 
 purple. "I don't call it scenery" she explained. 
 " Except when the light is different, or there's some green 
 stuff for cattle growing on the banks, everything's the 
 same yellow-brown; and nothing happens but palms and 
 mud villages, and shadoofs, and a few Arabs, or camels, 
 or those ugly water buffaloes they say the devil made, 
 to show what he could do. But the funny thing is, you 
 can't bear to shut your eyes for a single minute for fear of 
 missing a tree, or a mound, or one of those tall-masted 
 gyassas loaded with white and pink pottery: they all seem 
 so ridiculously important, somehow! Then, there's that 
 bothersome north wind following you, and trying to
 
 274 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 freeze your spine, unless you pounce on the best seat 
 where it can't reach. If you put on your fur coat you're 
 too hot; if you don't you're too cold. At night your bed 
 creaks, and so does everybody else's. You hear a creak- 
 ing all down the line when people turn over, which gets 
 on your nerves : but you soon forget ; and the whole expe- 
 rience is so perfectly wonderful that I'd like to spend 
 the rest of nay natural life going up and down on a Nile 
 boat!" 
 
 Through the opalescent dream of these first days and 
 nights, shot the fiery thought of our mission in Asiut. I 
 had been surprised at first that Anthony, who knew so 
 well the dangers and mysteries of the East, encouraged 
 Miss Gilder to meddle in so delicate an affair; and there 
 had never been any explanations between us. But I told 
 myself that his motive was sympathy with Monny's 
 desire to help: or else he had been tempted to associate 
 himself with her in an adventure where again, as once or 
 twice before, he had been able to win her gratitude. Per- 
 haps both motives combined. 
 
 As for Mrs. East, she frankly sulked. Intuition told 
 me that she had never dared speak to "Antoun Effendi" 
 about the proposal in hieroglyphics (so difficult for me to 
 explain) which she attributed to him. Never had she 
 dared say: "You have written me a love letter. Why 
 don't you follow it up, and give me a chance to answer it, 
 one way or the other?" But it was puzzling her, dis- 
 appointing her, if not breaking her heart, that he avoided 
 rather than sought her, on this glorified houseboat where 
 "the Egyptian Prince" was more or less a hero with 
 romantic women. While we four planned, in thrilling
 
 THE ASIUT AFFAIR 275 
 
 whispers, how to rescue the "Ship's Mystery," and Rachel 
 Guest walked the deck with Bill Bailey or Harry Snell, 
 Cleopatra was reduced to writing picture post-cards. 
 I thought, if Sir Marcus had but the inspiration to reap- 
 pear at some stopping place farther on, she might be ready 
 to forgive him the false lotus flowers: and perhaps he 
 would come, for the Lark type is as difficult to snub as 
 Cleopatra's Needle. I was half inclined to send him a 
 telegram, on some excuse or other. 
 
 We came to Asiut in the morning, and it was to be a 
 long stop, for there was much to see, and every one was 
 excited at the thought of our first Nile town, a town 
 already of Upper Egypt, which made it seem that we had 
 come a tremendous way from Cairo. For us, Egypt existed 
 no longer as a country, but as a golden brown, purple- 
 green river-bed and a flowing stream of history on which 
 we floated; so it was fun for those having no special mission, 
 to feel that once again bazaars and more or less sophisti- 
 cated "Sights" awaited their pleasure. I had given my 
 after-dinner lecture the night before, trying to behave as 
 if I were not boiling with emotion, and had told those who 
 deigned to listen that Asiut, "City of the Wolves," was 
 the capital of a province. I had babbled, too, about the 
 tombs which self-respecting tourists must see, even if they 
 hurry over the inspection of carvings, cartouches, and 
 representations of very small queens smelling very large 
 lotuses (most Egyptian queens apparently spent much of 
 their time, lightly clothed, and smelling lotuses, a ladylike 
 pursuit for those about to have their portraits taken) ;
 
 276 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 in order to find time for the mummied cats, the bazaars, 
 the silverscarf s, the red and black pottery, and the images 
 of wolves, crocodiles, and camels cheap enough to be freely 
 bought for poor relations at home. " Antoun" and I hinted 
 at business which must prevent our joining the sight- 
 seers, who would be chaperoned by the dragoman. Luckily, 
 they got the idea into their heads that our affairs were 
 connected with Sir Marcus, and the "trip." We were 
 pitied, rather than blamed, but our real difficulty was with 
 Mrs. East, as Monny did not wish Cleopatra to be let 
 into the secret. If she knew, she would want to be in the 
 adventure, and in Monny 's opinion, Aunt Clara was a 
 dear, but unfitted for adventures. 
 
 We planned that Brigit and Monny should call upon 
 the wife of Rechid Bey, whose house would be easy to 
 find. If they were admitted, they would try to bring her 
 out, as if for a drive, for it seemed a case of now or never if 
 she were to escape. In case she were able to come, they 
 would take her straight to the American Consulate, which 
 I was to visit meanwhile, in order to explain matters. 
 But if the rescuers were refused admission, the Consul 
 must be entreated to give active help. I, as a " diplomat," 
 was considered a suitable person to deal with this side of 
 the affair; and Antoun Effendi was to keep unobtrusive 
 guard within sight of Rechid's house until Brigit and 
 Monny, with or without a companion, should come forth 
 safely. As I said, however, the difficulty was Mrs. East. 
 She would expect her niece if not Brigit to go about with 
 her, and would not be easily persuaded to join any other 
 party. As for Rachel, we need not think of her, as she 
 had been annexed by the Biddells, who would otherwise
 
 THE ASIUT AFFAIR 277 
 
 have lost Harry Snell. But Cleopatra! What to do with 
 Cleopatra? It was Anthony who had an inspiration. 
 
 There lived near Asiut, it seemed, an Italian who bred 
 Sicilian lap-dogs, said to be like those which had been 
 favourite pets in the day of Cleopatra the Great. Indeed, 
 Antony was supposed to have given one to the Queen. 
 Now, Fenton asked permission to present a Sicilian lap- 
 dog to Mrs. East, a dog so small, so polite, that he could 
 be taken anywhere. Anthony could not go himself to 
 select the gift, but would find an interpreter as a guide to 
 the kennel and bring her back to the exploring party. 
 Cleopatra, delighted with her hero's thoughtfulness, 
 caught at the idea: and when the Set went tearing furi- 
 ously away in arabeahs or on donkeys, Mrs. East followed 
 sedately in a carriage with the elderly Greek interpreter, 
 and Miss Hassett-Bean, who also fancied the idea of a 
 Sicilian lap-dog, to replace the lamented Marmoset. 
 
 Everything glittered at Asiut. The sun glittered on 
 the water; palm trees in gardens glittered as the wind 
 waved their big green fans; the white or pink fagades of 
 large, square houses glittered, those fine hpuses along the 
 Nile, in one of which Rechid Bey was known to live. 
 But brighter than all glittered the silver scarfs which 
 Arabs begged us to buy. Hanging over arms raised to 
 show them off, the shining folds glittered like cascades of 
 running water in moonlight. "Very cheap! very beau- 
 tiful!" cried the merchants. "Ladies* see here! Your 
 gen'lemen, they buy for you!" 
 
 In spite of "Antoun's" dignified refusals, putting the 
 men off till our return, they ran after us, waving scarfs 
 and shawls and robes, white as scintillating hoarfrost,
 
 278 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 pink as palest roses, purple as sunset clouds, green and 
 golden as Nile water, or sequined black as a night of stars. 
 Their vendors feared that if we did not buy of them, 
 others might beguile us, and saw danger ahead in a dis- 
 tant group of rivals crowding round some tourists from 
 another boat. This group we had to pass, and as we did 
 so, who should break out from the glittering ring but 
 Bedr. 
 
 He came toward us, humble and cringing, giving the 
 beautiful Arab salute. "Dear gen'lemen and ladies!" he 
 exclaimed. "I am very happy to see you again. Won't 
 you shake hands, to forgive, because I meaned no harm, 
 and did no wrong thing but obey the sweet ladies' wish 
 when they would go to that House of the Crocodile. I 
 too much punished when I been sent away." 
 
 "That's past now, and forgotten," said Monny, shrink- 
 ing slightly from the outstretched hand. "Perhaps it 
 wasn't your fault, that trouble we got into, but we didn't 
 need you afterward, anyhow, and probably the people you 
 are with now are nicer to you than we were." 
 
 "Oh, no peoples could be nicer, though they are very 
 nice, my two gen'lemens you seed with me in the desert. 
 They travel with me yet. We go everywhere by trains, 
 because it takes not so much time as the boats. And 
 Miss Guest, that nice good young lady, is she well?" 
 
 "Yes, she is very well," replied Miss Gilder, beginning 
 to be restless, her beauty-loving eyes avoiding Bedr's face, 
 as had been her habit when the man was in our employ. 
 She did not like to hurt his feelings (Monny can't bear to 
 hurt the feelings of any one below herself in wealth or 
 station, though apparently she doesn't consider that one
 
 THE ASIUT AFFAIR 279 
 
 is bound to be kind-hearted with the rich) ; but I could see 
 that she wanted to escape. Never had she liked Bedr. 
 He had been Rachel's man from the first. "Miss Guest 
 has gone to see the tombs," Monny explained. 
 
 "You not go there, and to the bazaars? I take my 
 gen'lemen in a few minutes." 
 
 "We shall go by and by; just now we've other things to 
 do," said the girl evasively, rather too evasively, perhaps. 
 But in the hope of killing two birds with one stone (luring 
 the man to betray his secret if he had one, and then shunt- 
 ing him), I broke in. 
 
 "How have you been getting on," I inquired, looking 
 into the squint eyes, "since that night I saw you at 
 Medinet-el-Fayoum? " 
 
 But the eyes opened wide, with a stare of innocence. 
 
 "You see me there, milord? I thought your party had 
 not come when we went away. My gen'lemen not like 
 that camping place, and we stay there not even one night. 
 You must make mistake, and think some other man me. 
 Sure!" 
 
 We could not help laughing at the "Sure!" It was 
 spoken in so truly an American way that it was funny 
 on those lips. Afterward, however, it struck me in re- 
 membering the scene, that the man's accent in speaking 
 English was even more distinctly American than it had 
 been. This was odd, if he had been associating with Ger- 
 mans; but natural if his new clients were Americans. 
 
 Another question was on my tongue, but before I had 
 time to speak, Monny cried out: "Oh, there's Wretched 
 Bey, in a carriage, all alone with some luggage! I hope 
 he's going away!"
 
 280 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Naturally we turned, but I saw Biddy raise her eye- 
 brows warningly. The girl looked puzzled, as if, for an 
 instant, she did not see what she had done that was 
 wrong. But I guess that Biddy's distrust of Bedr as a 
 possible spy was still alive in her breast. She did not 
 know of my suspicions concerning the "camp thief," for 
 the affair at Medinet, thanks to a white fib or two, had 
 never assumed serious proportions in her mind. It did 
 not need that, however, to make her feel that Bedr's ears 
 were not fit receptacles for secrets. 
 
 Monny had not been mistaken. It was Rechid Bey, 
 leaning comfortably back in an old-fashioned but not 
 badly appointed open carriage, drawn by two very decent 
 horses, and driven by a smart, red-sashed, white-robed 
 negro. We saw him in profile as he passed along the road 
 at some distance, but he was reading a paper with an ex- 
 pression so placid that I felt sure he had not seen us. On 
 the seat beside him was a suit case with the air of having 
 been made in France; and circumstantial evidence said 
 that Monny's wish was to be granted. 
 
 I glanced hastily at Bedr, to observe, if I could, whether 
 the girl's impulsive exclamation had aroused undue in- 
 terest; for it was not unlikely that he had seen Rechid 
 Bey and Mabel landing at Alexandria the night of his 
 first meeting with us. But the ugly face showed nothing. 
 
 "If you have things you want to do, my ladies," he said, 
 "please excuse that I have keeped you. I go to my gen'- 
 lemen or they give the men with the silver shawls too much 
 money." 
 
 The "gen'lemen" in question were more interested in 
 observing our movements than in completing any bar-
 
 THE ASIUT AFFAIR 281 
 
 gain with the street vendors; nevertheless Bedr hastened 
 back as if in great fear that they might be cheated. An 
 arabeah waited for them; and having bought a scarf or 
 two, they drove off before we had parted to go our several 
 ways. An arabeah was in attendance upon us, also, and 
 we put Brigit and Monny into it alone, for Rechid Bey's 
 house, the driver informed us, was not far off. 
 
 "Good luck!" I said encouragingly, and Brigit smiled 
 gayly at me; but Monny was looking at Fenton She was 
 telling him something with her eyes; and, with a significant 
 little gesture, she touched the small leather handbag 
 she carried. 
 
 "One would think she was a suffragette with a bomb," 
 I remarked to Anthony, trying to speak easily, as though 
 I were not at all anxious, when the carriage had turned its 
 back on us. 
 
 "Instead of which," said Anthony, gazing at the dark 
 head and the fair head, as earnestly as if he never expected 
 to see them again, " instead of which, she's merely a brave 
 girl with a pistol that she knows how to use. Or, anyhow, 
 she says she does." 
 
 "Great heavens! Has she got one in that bag?" I 
 gasped. 
 
 "She has. My Browning." 
 
 "Jove! You gave it to her?" 
 
 "I did. Last night." 
 
 My heart began suddenly to feel like a cannon 
 ball, in my breast. I felt that I had not understood the 
 situation, and that now I did not understand Anthony 
 though that was far from being a new sensation. 
 
 "I thought that you thought there was no danger?" I
 
 282 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 bleated. "You know Egypt and I don't. I didn't want 
 them to go in for this thing, but when you said it would 
 be all right, I yielded. I wish to heaven I hadn't! " 
 
 "Do you think if you hadn't given in, Miss Gilder 
 would have given up?" 
 
 "You and I together could have kept them both out of 
 the business." 
 
 "Only by sheer force. You see, Miss Gilder was inter- 
 ested in this girl and fond of her before she met you. So 
 was Mrs. East. As Rechid tricked the pretty little gov- 
 erness by making her'believe she would be his first and only 
 wife, they don't look upon her as married to him: And 
 I think they're right. Don't you glory in them both for 
 knowing there's a risk, yet taking it so gayly for that fool- 
 ish child's sake?" 
 
 " I glory in them, but I wouldn't have let them go if " 
 
 "You've changed your mind, just because I gave Miss 
 Gilder my Browning? Honestly, Duffer, I don't think 
 there's actual danger. But, anyhow, don't you see, they 
 had to go, and they had to go alone. They would have 
 hated us and themselves and each other if they hadn't 
 answered the girl's appeal. And we couldn't do the 
 thing, unfortunately, as it deals with the harem. If it can 
 be done at all, it's woman's business. These two are the 
 right ones, as they felt bound to do it, and you and I can 
 but see them through, from the outside."
 
 XIX 
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 
 
 Now that we were thoroughly launched on this some- 
 what quixotic adventure, I envied Anthony because his 
 part in the drama kept him " in the wings," within 
 sight of the stage. He was to watch the house of 
 Rechid Bey, and if the rescue party of two did not appear 
 after an hour's absence, the true story of the affair and 
 Mabel's appeal was to be laid before the Inspector Gene- 
 ral of Upper Egypt laid before him not by "Ahmed 
 Antoun Effendi," but by Captain Anthony Fenton, offi- 
 cially on leave, secretly on a special mission for the 
 British government. 
 
 My r61e, less exciting but perhaps no less important, 
 was to play the diplomat in beguiling the American Consul 
 to stand by the wife of Rechid Bey, if the attempt at 
 rescue succeeded, or if possible even if it failed. 
 
 "Antoun" accounted for his presence in front of Rechid 
 Bey's high garden wall, by attracting a crowd, and lec- 
 turing them in his character of Hadji, while I dashed off 
 in a jingling arabeah, to the American Consulate. As 
 in Cairo, my progress was one long adjuration of the 
 crowd by the driver, who would have revelled in con- 
 ducting the car of Juggernaut. 
 
 "Shemalak, ya welad!" ("To the left, oh, boy!"), 
 
 283
 
 284 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 or "Yeminick!" ("To the right!"), he roared, while 
 men dived and dipped under his horse's prancing feet. 
 A hawk flew by on my right side, and my right eyelid 
 twitched, as we neared the Consulate. In Egypt these 
 were good omens. Besides, there had been a red sunrise, 
 which La the Nile country had meant, since Egyptians 
 superseded the prehistoric "new race," that Ra had con- 
 quered his enemies, and stained the sky with their blood. 
 Therefore all should be well with me and the world; and 
 it did seem as if my hopes bade fair to be fulfilled, when 
 in the Consul I recognized a man I had been able to advise 
 in a small official difficulty in my early days at the Em- 
 bassy in Rome. This was even more fortunate than in the 
 case of Slaney. We shook hands warmly, and as soon as 
 was decent, I interrupted a flow of reminiscent gratitude 
 by flooding Mr. James Bronson with the story of Rechid 
 Bey's unhappy American bride, Mabella Hanem, ill 
 treated as well as cruelly deceived, if her story were true. 
 He knew Rechid slightly, but the marriage was news to 
 him. With interest he listened to my account of the 
 lonely little governess in Paris, bewitched by the love- 
 making of a handsome Turk as white as herself. But 
 when I asked for help, the Consul shook his head. 
 
 "Lord Ernest," he said, "there's nothing I'd like 
 better than to pay my debt by doing you some favour. 
 But you're asking me the one thing that's hardest, as 
 you probably know. You understand as well as I do 
 that when a girl marries a man, she ceases to be a 
 subject of her native land. And to interfere with the 
 inmate of a harem is just about impossible. But I'll 
 tell you what I will do for your sake. If you can get the
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 285 
 
 girl out of Rechid Bey 's house which, mind you, I 
 doubt you may bring her to my wife, and we '11 cook 
 up some story about her being a relative of mine. So she 
 is, I guess, through Adam and Eve! If you think she's 
 been badly treated, we'll stand by her, once she's under 
 this roof (which means she'll be on American soil), through 
 thick and thin, whatever the consequences. I can't go 
 farther, and I don't believe you expected that I would." 
 
 I admitted that I had not, and thanked him for his 
 promise. 
 
 By this time, I thought that Brigit and Monny might 
 be on their way to meet me at the Consulate, as arranged, 
 escorted by "Antoun," and perhaps bringing Mabel. 
 Even the route they were to take was planned, so that I 
 could not miss them if I started. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Bronson was to interest his wife in 
 our protegee. Back I flew, my ears deafened by more 
 "Ya Welads," but though I met many things and many 
 creatures on the congested road, there was no arabeah 
 containing the desired ones. I made my driver slacken 
 pace as we neared the big, square pink house of Rechid 
 Bey, set far back in its garden of palms and impossible 
 statues, on the bank of the Nile. No green turban was in 
 sight, and I wondered what could have happened, as we 
 drove slowly past the ponderous black gate-keeper, appar- 
 ently half asleep on his bench. There was nothing to do 
 but crawl along at a snail's pace, lest that droop of the 
 crocodile-lids should be assumed for effect. I went on, 
 meaning to turn presently; but when the arabeah had 
 taken me beyond eyeshot of Rechid's gate-keeper, an 
 Arab sacca, or water seller, ran forward, striking his musi-
 
 286 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 cal gong. From his brass jar, protected by crimson-dyed 
 horse hair to keep out dust, he offered a draught; and his 
 look said that he had something more for me than a drink 
 of water. I beckoned him close, stopping the arabeah; 
 and under the tumbler he handed up was a folded bit of 
 paper. None save the water seller had attention to spare 
 for me just then, as a wedding procession was approach- 
 ing, with a crude but gorgeous curtained litter drawn by 
 camels, and a number of musicians with raitas, dara- 
 bukas, the "key and bottle," and other Eastern instru- 
 ments which may have been ancestors of the Highlanders' 
 bagpipes. The street crowd followed, enchanted by the 
 plaintive, monotonous notes, grotesque to newcomers from 
 the west, but enthralling to those who have fallen under 
 the spell of their melancholy magic. 
 
 "Failure for the present, but Miss G. and Mrs. J. 
 safe," Anthony had scrawled in pencil. "Couldn't 
 wait in front of R. 's house, but you'll find us at an Arab 
 restaurant to which the messenger will guide you. All 
 you have to do is to discharge your arabeah, and walk 
 in the direction the man takes, keeping your distance 
 in case you're watched." 
 
 I obeyed instructions, and in the town of Asiut, far 
 from the gardens along the Nile front, I came to a house 
 between the mosque of the tallest minaret, and the great 
 market whither Arabia as well as Egypt sends her wares. 
 It was a house of some pretension, though in a narrow 
 unpaved street, lined with humble native dwellings. 
 I guessed that it must have been built for a rich man who 
 had died or failed in business, but now a sign in Arabic 
 announced that it was a restaurant. A nod from the
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 287 
 
 water seller told that I had reached the end of the journey. 
 Nubian servants salaamed in the big room where once the 
 master of the house had held receptions, and in a smaller 
 room beyond I saw Antoun, Brigit, and Monny. They 
 were seated at a low table where no forks or knives or 
 even plates were laid. In the centre of the white cloth 
 stood a large dish of something sweet and rich-looking, 
 from which everybody pretended to eat; but at sight of me, 
 Brigit and Monny began talking together. They told 
 me breathlessly how they had been informed by the gate- 
 keeper that "Mabella Hanem" was not well. Having 
 insisted that they were intimate friends whom she would 
 desire to see, they had been bidden to return in an hour. 
 Reluctantly coming away, they had as soon as was pru- 
 dent been joined by Antoun. He had then taken them 
 to the bazaars, hoping to give them a glimpse of the 
 shops before the Set returned from the Tombs; but they 
 had met Neill Sheridan, who had something to tell. He 
 had caught sight of Bedr running after the carriage of a 
 Turk strongly resembling Rechid Bey. The carriage 
 had stopped near the railway station; and after an in- 
 stant's conversation the horses had been turned to gallop 
 off in the direction whence they had come. 
 
 "Of course we were sure the Turk was Rechid," said 
 Monny, "so Antoun Effendi thought we'd better go back 
 to watch his house. When we got there, it was too late, 
 for already some time had passed since Mr. Sheridan 
 saw Bedr. Rechid 's gate-man said that Mabella Hdnem 
 was suddenly better, and had gone away with her husband. 
 He could talk a little French, so we understood perfectly 
 and, anyhow, you know I'm studying Arabic. It's so
 
 288 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 discouraging when Arabs answer me in Cockney English, 
 or say * Sure' hi American ! We believed the fellow, because 
 it seemed exactly what Wretched icould do come back 
 and grab Mabel away at a minute's notice. So unfortu- 
 nate about Neill Sheridan! Wretched was idiotically 
 jealous of him on the Laconia; and if he caught a glimpse 
 of him to-day he's certain to think Mr. Sheridan's here 
 to try and see Mabel. We tore to the railroad depot, but 
 the train was just going out. No doubt Rechid and his 
 wife were both on it. Isn't it heartbreaking?" 
 
 I sat mute, thinking things over, but Anthony tried 
 to give consolation by saying that he still had some hope. 
 He had found out that Rechid Bey owned a sugar plan- 
 tation, with a house on it, near Luxor. The train which 
 had left Asiut was bound for Luxor. In a very few 
 days our boat would land us there, and we would try 
 our luck again. 
 
 "Not much doubt," Fenton added, speaking as always 
 in French, "that this is Bedr's revenge on us. He must 
 have told Rechid that Miss Gilder had mentioned his 
 name saying she hoped he was leaving home. That hint 
 of danger would be enough for any Turk." 
 
 "It will be my fault, then," moaned Monny, "if he 
 kills Mabel. He's deceived and shut her up and tried 
 to convert her. Worse than all, he has another wife. 
 The next step will be murder. Oh, how can we bear the 
 delay of going on to Luxor by boat! Hadn't we better 
 take a train? Better miss all the things we've come to 
 Egypt to see, rather than leave Mabel to her fate." 
 
 "Rechid isn't the sort to have her put out of the way," 
 said Anthony. "He's not a bad fellow, as such men
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 289 
 
 go, and he's hardly had time to tire of his conquest 
 yet. According to his lights, he's right not to allow 
 any interfernece with his harem from Europeans. He 
 was jealous on board ship, of one or two men of your 
 acquaintance, you've told me. This attempted visit 
 of yours will revive his interest in his wife, inconveniently 
 for us; but if I know his type it will die down again, the 
 minute he thinks he has covered his tracks. For a day 
 or two he will be a dragon. Then he'll begin to think 
 we 're discouraged, or that we haven 't found out about his 
 sugar plantation, or that nothing more than a visit to his 
 wife was intended, and he'll turn his attention to other 
 things than watch-dogging. It's far better to go on by 
 boat, and make a dash when he's off guard again." 
 
 After a few arguments, we agreed with "Antoun," as 
 we usually ended by doing, and soothed our restlessness 
 by visiting Mr. Bronson to tell him of our disappointment. 
 If it hadn't been for Monny, I think the Consul would 
 have taken the point of view that he was now "out" 
 of the affair, but Monny, sapphire-eyed with generous zeal, 
 is rather irresistible. Fired by her enthusiasm, as he had 
 not been by my beguiling, he volunteered to go to Luxor on 
 two or three days' leave, with his wife, to visit a Syrian 
 friend who had often vainly invited them to his villa, and 
 arriving if possible about the time our boat was due. If 
 we succeeded in our quest, we might bring Mabel to them, 
 and they would smuggle her back to the American Con- 
 sulate at Asiut. 
 
 Our great adventure thus postponed, we let the Nile- 
 dream take us once more; and though we had moments of 
 impatience, th dream was too fair to be resisted. Be-
 
 290 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 sides, we were all four dreaming it together. Poor Cleo- 
 patra was the only one outside, for Rachel Guest was 
 dreaming her own dream, with an extremely practical side 
 to it, unless Biddy and I were mistaken. She wore 
 Monny 's clothes, and used her special perfume, and took 
 advantage of the same initials, to accept gifts of filmy hand- 
 kerchiefs and monogrammed bags and brushes. Also she 
 had firmly annexed most of the men on board who would, 
 in normal states of mind, have belonged to the Gilded 
 Rose. But they all seemed to have gone mad on the 
 subject of Miss Guest. Even Harry Snell, who had been 
 the property of Enid Biddell on board the Candace, 
 on the Enchantress Isis was gravitating Guest-ward, 
 lured by that meek, mysterious witchery which I was try- 
 ing hard to understand. 
 
 We got past Sohag, and the famous White and Red 
 Coptic Monasteries built by Saint Helena, without jar- 
 ring notes of any sort in the Nile-dream (save for the 
 failure of our rescue plot) : past Akhmin, which Herodotus 
 wrote of as Chemmis: past Girgah, where once stood an- 
 cient This, that gave the first dynasty of kings to Egypt: 
 but when we arrived at Baliana to visit Abydos, between 
 Enid Biddell and Harry Snell I had an interlude of night- 
 mare. It was Rachel's fault, but it was I who had to 
 suffer for her sins. I, who had engaged as Conductor of 
 the Set and found myself their Arbiter as well. 
 
 Other tourists on other boats do not see Abydos until 
 the return trip; but the aim of Sir Marcus was originality 
 as well as "exclusiveness." This was a special tour, 
 and everything we were to do must be special. Some 
 passengers might wish to stay longer than others at
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 291 
 
 Khartum, or from there go up the White or Blue Nile after 
 Big Game. Or they might tire of the Nile, and wish to 
 tear back to Cairo by train. Sir Marcus was boldly 
 outdoing his rivals by allowing clients to engage cabins 
 for "up Nile" only, instead of paying the return also: 
 and they were not to miss any temple because of this 
 concession. "I consider it an advertisement, and a 
 cheap one," he had explained to me, in saying that we 
 were to visit at Abydos on our way south. 
 
 Beautiful smiling donkeys, adorned with beads and 
 amulets, met us at the boat-landing. We ought to have 
 called it Al-Balyana, but we didn 't. We called it Baliana, 
 and we pronounced Abydos according to our education. 
 We had a ride of an hour and a half from the boat to the 
 temple; and having sent off Cleopatra and Lady Biddell 
 in a carriage, my conscience was free, my heart light. 
 The sun shone on tawny desert hills, like lions creeping 
 stealthily out from the horizon toward the Nile to drink. 
 There were sweet smells of unseen flowers, and herbs 
 such as ancient Egyptian doctors used, and I looked for- 
 ward to keeping my donkey near Biddy's. Of course I 
 ought to have preferred Monny's, but then, I could talk 
 of Monny to Biddy, and we had had so many subjects 
 in common since childhood that it was restful to ride 
 even the most energetic donkey at the side of "Mrs. 
 Jones." No sooner, however, had I begun to urge my 
 gray animal after her white one, than I was called by 
 Enid Biddell. "Oh, Lord Ernest! I must speak to you!" 
 she pleaded so piteously that I couldn't pretend not 
 to hear. 
 
 When we were ambling side by side, separated from
 
 292 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 the rest of the party by a gleaming cloud of copper dust, 
 a few long-haired, brown sheep, some blue-eyed water 
 buffalo, and a plague of little birds, Enid turned upon 
 me a pair of tear-wet eyes. 
 
 "Why, Miss Biddell, what is the matter or is it a 
 cold in your head?" I asked anxiously. 
 
 "It's not a cold in my head," she confessed. "It's a 
 dreadful, dreadful pain in my heart. And you're the 
 only one who can cure it." 
 
 For a fearful moment I thought that she was going 
 to propose. One hears of these awful visitations. But I 
 need not have trembled. 
 
 "I feel as if I could say anything to you," she murmured. 
 "You are so understanding, and so sympathetic." 
 
 It was on the tip of my tongue to reply that it was my 
 duty as Conductor to be so, and that, if I succeeded, a 
 mountain full of hidden treasure might perhaps reward me. 
 But just in tune I realized that this speech would not be 
 tactful. Instead of speaking, I looked at her and let 
 her go on. 
 
 " It's Harry Snell," she said. " You have influence with 
 him. He thinks you such a great swell, he'd hate to do 
 anything you would call unworthy of a gentleman. He 
 he's making me so unhappy. He's done everything 
 to win my love and now now he's gone over to that 
 Miss Guest." The donkey having begun inopportunely 
 to trot, the words were jolted out, one after another, like a 
 shower of pebbles. And they fell on my feelings like pav- 
 ing stones. She expected me to do something about it! 
 Horrible! I should almost have preferred the proposal. 
 
 "My dear Miss Biddell," I soothed her in my best
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 293 
 
 salad-oil voice, cultivated at the Embassy, "you are much 
 prettier than Miss Guest, and you can win Snell back 
 easily if you want him. Probably he's only flirting, to 
 make you jealous." 
 
 "It's me he was flirting with," she moaned. "But I 
 don't believe he cares for Miss Guest. It's only a case of 
 'follow my leader,' because other men like her so much. 
 Nothing succeeds like success, you know. And other 
 men's admiration is the most becoming background a girl 
 can have. He told Mrs. Harlow it was haunting him, that 
 Elaine and I would get fat like our mother, and the men 
 who married us would have to spend dull years seeing 
 us slowly grow into mother's likeness. Wasn't it cruel? 
 And we eat scarcely anything except pickles on purpose 
 to keep thin. But that's only his excuse. It's the 
 romance of the situation, and the secret that appeals to 
 him." 
 
 "What secret?" I felt entitled to inquire. 
 
 "Why, the secret between those two girls, Miss Gilder 
 and Miss Guest. You know what all the men believe 
 about them, don't you? But of course you do." 
 
 "But of course I don't." 
 
 "WTiy, that they've changed places, to deceive people, 
 just as heiresses and poor girls do in old-fashioned plays 
 or books. They think Miss Gilder (I mean the girl 
 we call Miss Gilder) is really the school-teacher, and 
 the one we call Miss Guest, and that all the men are 
 after, is Rosamond Gilder the cannon heiress." 
 
 "Whew!" I whistled, bumpily, as my donkey kept up 
 with Enid's. "For goodness' sake, what makes them 
 think that?"
 
 294 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "I don't know exactly how the story started, but it 
 seems authentic. Have you known them long?" 
 
 "Only since Naples. But " 
 
 "Then you can't be certain whether it's true or not?" 
 
 I paused, swallowing an answer. So this was the 
 explanation of the Monny puzzle! Yet it was but the 
 first word of another enigma. Who was responsible 
 for the wild story? There was more than met the eye 
 or ear in this. I could hardly believe that Monny 
 would have chosen, or Rachel dared, to start this rumour, 
 though it might have amused the real heiress, and suited 
 the false one, to watch it run. I dared not contradict 
 it flatly, without consulting Brigit or the Gilded Rose her- 
 self. It was not my business to be a spoil-sport, if there 
 were sport to spoil, no matter how sternly I might dis- 
 approve. 
 
 "In the matter of actual knowledge, I have very h'ttle 
 about Miss Gilder," I decided to reply, "except that she's 
 charming enough and pretty enough for any man to 
 fall in love with, if she hadn't a penny. As for Miss 
 Guest " 
 
 "Miss Guest is a cat! And if only you'll tell Harry 
 Snell so, I'll bless you all my life." 
 
 "Good gracious! I couldn't do that." 
 
 "I mean, tell him you think she isn't the heiress, that 
 she's only what she seems to be, and nothing mysterious 
 or interesting. He'll believe you! Why, she can't have 
 any money, or even a nice mind. She always writes 'No,' 
 with her finger on top of her cold cream at hotels, she told 
 me so herself. Not that it's any good with Arabs, they 
 don't want to steal cold cream. But such a trick would
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 295 
 
 never occur to a rich girl, would it? She grows vainer 
 every day, too, till one can just see vanity spouting from 
 the top of her head. She intends to use this mistake 
 people are making about her, to bag a rich man like Harry 
 Snell, or a successful one with a big, growing reputation 
 like Mr. Bailey the American sculptor. You will help 
 me save Harry from her, and bring him back to me, won't 
 you? You're the only one he'll listen to. If you don't 
 speak, I shall simply jump overboard into the Nile, and 
 Sir Marcus Lark would hate that." 
 
 "So should I, dear Miss Biddell," I assured her. "But 
 what can I possibly do in in such a very intimate 
 matter? " 
 
 "Why, you're a diplomat, aren't you? I thought they 
 always knew what to do. You make us all dance to your 
 tune like puppets, and imagine we're prancing about to 
 please ourselves. Tell him he's breaking my heart." 
 
 "By Jove! You're not in earnest?" 
 
 "I am. Oh, he must come back! I thought on 
 board the Candace we were as good as engaged. I I 
 submitted to his kisses, and now " 
 
 ''Submitted' is a good word," I sneered to my inner 
 self, but outwardly I submitted a handkerchief to the 
 lady, as she had lost hers in one of the last donkey jolts, 
 and ventured to insert sympathetically into a pause a 
 small suggestion. It was usual, I reminded Miss Biddell, 
 if a gentleman's intentions had to be asked, that the 
 father did the asking. This hint, however, fell flatter than 
 a flounder; and all the way to Abydos, most sacred temple 
 of ancient Egypt, I was persecuted with Enid Biddell 's 
 woes, when I should have been free to meditate upon the
 
 296 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 tragic history of Isis and Osiris. It was here that the 
 head of the murdered god was buried, and perhaps his 
 whole body, when the magic secret of Thoth had enabled 
 Isis to collect the fourteen separate pieces Set had hid- 
 den. Many temples claimed the sacred body of Osiris, 
 ruler over departed spirits and Amenti, their dim dwelling 
 place beyond the western desert; Philae and Memphis 
 among others; but it was Abydos to which the Egyptians 
 give their most reverent faith, as the true burial place 
 of the Beloved One. It was there they wished to lie 
 when they died and were mummied, in order to rest 
 through eternity near the relic of their most precious god. 
 Thus a necropolis grew like a poppy-garden of sleep, round 
 the temple; and a city rose also. But even in the long-ago 
 time of Strabo, the city was reduced to a village, and all 
 traces of the shrine had vanished. The great white jewel 
 of the temples temple of Seti I, and the temple of his 
 son Rameses II remain to this day, however, with the 
 Tablet of Ancestors which has helped in the tracing of 
 Egyptian history. Therefore is it that this treasure of 
 the Nile-desert is still a shrine for travellers from the four 
 corners of the earth. 
 
 After the long, straight road, and a high, sudden hill, 
 we came face to face with the marble-wiiite columns of the 
 outer court. If I had been with Brigit or Monny, I 
 could have run back into the past, hand in hand with 
 either, to see with my mind's eyes the white limestone 
 palace of Memnon, copied from the Labyrinth, standing 
 above the city between the canal and the desert. I 
 should have peered into the depths of its fountain; and 
 with a hand shading my eyeballs from the sun I should
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 297 
 
 have gazed at the grove of Horus' sacred acanthus trees, 
 dark against the burning blue. I should have found the 
 Royal tombs which Rameses restored, grouped near the 
 buried body of Osiris. But bad luck gave me Enid Bid- 
 dell for my companion. She would not let any one else 
 come near me, even had the Right Somebody wished to 
 dispute my battered remains with her. "Antoun Ef- 
 fendi"had the others hypnotized, and I wondered if they 
 noticed how like his boldly cut profile was to certain 
 portraits of the youthful Rameses carved on the glit- 
 tering white walls. So splendid were they that had I 
 been a woman my spirit would have rushed back along 
 the sand-obliterated, devious paths of Egypt's history, 
 to find and fall at the feet of their original. But 
 there was Antoun, much easier to get at, and perhaps 
 better worth the gift of a woman 's heart than Rameses the 
 Great with all his faults and cruelties ! 
 
 Crowds of birds lived in interstices of the broken 
 columns, and their tiny faces peeped out like flowers 
 growing among rocks, their eyes bright and arresting 
 as personal anecdotes in long, dull chapters of history. 
 They seemed to look at me, and sympathize, cocking 
 their heads on one side as if to say, "Poor, foolish, modern 
 man, why don't you make a virtue of necessity and get 
 rid of this still more foolish modern maid, by promising 
 her anything she asks? Then you can go listen to that 
 princely looking person in the green turban, who might 
 be descended from the kings our ancestors used to behold. 
 He does seem to know something about the history of 
 this place, on which we are authorities! The dragomans 
 who bring crowds of tourists to our temple and gabble
 
 298 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 nonsense, put us really off our feed. Peep, peep! Just 
 hear him tell about the staircase we're so proud of. 
 Did you know there was a picture of it in the Book of The 
 Dead, with Osiris standing at the top, like a good host 
 waiting to receive his guests? Well, then, if you didn't, 
 do anything you must to escape from that lovesick girl, 
 while there's time to hear a real scholar talk of 'Him who 
 is at the Head of the Staircase ! ' Peep, peep ! Hurry up, 
 or you '11 lose it all, you Silly. Of course, the real stair- 
 case is in Amenti, which your Roman Catholics call 
 Purgatory; and no doubt Osiris is standing on it to this 
 day." 
 
 So I took the birds' advice, and promised Enid to have 
 a "heart to heart" talk with Harry Snell. Satisfied that 
 she had got all that was to be got out of me, she powdered 
 her nose (in the same spirit that David anointed his 
 head) and attached herself to Rachel, in whose train was 
 the Desired One. Thus basely did I free myself to enjoy 
 the society of Biddy and Osiris, with lovely carved glimpses 
 of Isis thrown in, to say nothing of Seti I and Rameses H. 
 Trying to push into the background of my mind the 
 nauseating thought of my vow and its fulfillment, I 
 helped Brigit and Monny take snapshots of King Seti 
 showing his son Rameses how to lasso, and also to catch 
 by its tail the most fascinating of bulls. They were on the 
 wall, of course (Rameses and Seti, I mean, not Brigit and 
 Monny), but seemed so real they might leap off at any 
 instant; and so charmed was Monny with Rameses' 
 braided "lock of youth" that she resolved to try one over 
 her left temple in connection with an Egyptian Princess 
 costume she was having made for some future fancy-dress
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 299 
 
 ball. "I can't take a grain of interest in any one but 
 Egyptian Princes and Princesses and their profiles," 
 she exclaimed; then blushed faintly and added, "I mean 
 Princes and Princesses of the past" 
 
 We got some good pictures of the temple of Seti, for 
 Monny had an apparatus for natural colour photography 
 which gave sensational results in ancient wall-paintings 
 when any one except Monny herself did the taking. It 
 was better still in the Seven Chapels, the holy of holies at 
 Abydos, and in the joy of my first colour photography I 
 forgot the doom ahead. Appropriately, the sword I had 
 hung up over my own cranium descended in the Necro- 
 polis, at that place of tombs called Umm el-Ka'ab, 
 "Mother of Pots." Nobody wanted to see the fragments 
 of this mother's pots, but I insisted on a brief visit, as im- 
 portant discoveries have been made there, among the 
 most important in Egypt. It was a dreary place where 
 Harry Snell strolled up and caught me alone, gazing 
 at a desolation of sandy hillocks, full of Undiscovered 
 treasure. 
 
 "Look here," said he. "You're supposed to know 
 everything. Tell me why they call seats outside shops in 
 bazaars, and tombs of the Ancient Empire by the same 
 name: mastaba?" 
 
 I explained that mastaba was an Arab word meaning 
 bench. Then, realizing that it would be flying in the face 
 of Providence not to get the ordeal over while my blood 
 was up, I spoke of Enid. Among the shattered pots and 
 yawning sepulchres, I racked up her broken heart and 
 blighted affections. I talked to Snell like a brother, and 
 when he had heard me through in silence, to the place where
 
 300 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 words and breath failed, I thought that I had moved him. 
 His eyes were downcast. I fancied that I saw a mist as of 
 tears, a man's slow tears. Then suddenly he opened his 
 eyelids wide, and glared a glare stony as the pots, and 
 as the desert hills. "Borrow," he said, "I thought you 
 were a good fellow and a man of the world. I see now 
 that you're a damned sentimental ass." 
 
 With this he stalked off, and I could not run after him 
 to bash his head, because what he said was perfectly 
 true. I was almost sorry that evening, on board the 
 boat, when he apologized and the Nile-dream went on 
 as if I hadn't broken it by being the sort of fool Snell had 
 said that I was. 
 
 In the dream were Nile cities, with crowding houses 
 whose walls were heightened by tier upon tier of rose- 
 and-white pots, moulded in with honey-coloured mud. 
 There were stretches of sandy shore, and green gloom 
 of palm groves. There were domed tombs of saints, 
 glittering like snow-palaces in the sun. There were 
 great golden mounds inlaid with strips of paler gold picked 
 out with ebony. There were sinister hillsides cut into 
 squarely by door-holes, leading to cave-dwellings. There 
 were always shadoofs, where giant soup-ladles everlast- 
 ingly dipped water and threw it out again, mounting up 
 from level to level of the brown, dyke-like shore. The 
 wistful, musical wail of the men at the wells was as near 
 to the voice of Nature as the sighing of wind, or the 
 breaking of waves which has never ceased since the world 
 began. Sometimes the horizon was opal, sometimes it 
 throbbed with azure fire, or blazed ruby red, as the torch 
 of sunset swept west and east before the emerald dark-
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 301 
 
 ness fell. When our Enchantress landed, great flocks 
 of kites, like in form and wing to the sacred vulture 
 of Egypt, flew to welcome us with swoopings of wide pur- 
 ple wings. Their shadows on the water were like passing 
 spirits; and at night when the Nubian boatmen danced, 
 their feet thudding on the lower deck to the cry of the 
 darabukah, the Nile whispered of the past, with a tinkling 
 whisper, like the music of Hathor's sacred sistrum. Gyas- 
 sas glided by, loaded with pots like magic melons, long 
 masts pointing as though they had been wands in the 
 hands of astrologers: and the reflection of the piled 
 pots as they moved gave vague glimpses as of sunken 
 treasure. 
 
 Denderah meant work for Fenton. There had been 
 trouble there, and tourists had complained of insults. 
 It was the Hadji's business to find out whether natives 
 or Europeans had been more to blame, and whether there 
 were wrongs to right, misunderstandings to adjust. But 
 to the rest of us, Denderah meant the sacred temple of 
 Hathor, Goddess of Love, in some ways one of the most 
 beautiful of all the Nile temples; though, being not much 
 over two thousand years old (it was built upon ruins 
 more ancient than King Menes) archeologists like Neill 
 Sheridan class it as "late Ptolemaic," uninterestingly 
 modern. 
 
 Mrs. East had been looking forward to the temple of 
 Denderah more eagerly than to any other, because she 
 had read that on an outer wall was carved the portrait 
 of Cleopatra the Great. That of Csesarion was there 
 also, as she must have known; but Cleopatra's son was 
 never referred to by her reincarnation, who chose to
 
 302 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 ignore the Caesar incident. Mrs. East had not yet deigned 
 to mount a donkey, but to reach the temple she must do so 
 or walk, or sway in a dangerous looking chaise a porteur. 
 Rather than miss the joy of seeing herself on a stone wall 
 as others had had the privilege of seeing her for two thou- 
 sand years, she consented to accept as a seat a large gray 
 animal, tasselled with red to keep off flies and evil eyes. 
 " Won't you ride with me, Antoun Effendi?" she asked. 
 "I'm afraid. This creature looks as large as an elephant 
 and as wild as a zebra. I feel you could calm him." But 
 Antoun Effendi was not going to ride. He had other 
 fish to fry; and poor Cleopatra's luminous dark eyes were 
 like overflowing lakes, when he had politely excused 
 himself on the plea of a pressing engagement. I felt 
 sure that she would have been kind to Sir Marcus if 
 at that moment he could have appeared from behind the 
 picturesque group of bead-necklace sellers, or emerged 
 from one of the huge bright-coloured baskets exposed for 
 sale on a hill of brown-gold sand. 
 
 I don't know whether it made things better or worse 
 that the gray donkey should be named "Cleopatra," 
 but it was evidently a blow when the animal's white- 
 robed attendant announced himself as Anthony. 
 
 " I can't and won't have the creature with me ! " she mur- 
 mured, as I helped her to mount when she had pushed the 
 boy aside. "Thank you, Lord Ernest. You're very kind. 
 But Antoun ought to have been here. Fancy seeing this 
 temple, of all others, without an Anthony of any sort on 
 the horizon! A pity it isn't your middle name! If you 
 could spare time to ride with me, that would be better 
 than nothing!"
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 303 
 
 "I'll be delighted," I said hypocritically, for I had been 
 dying to talk with Brigit about the Monny and Rachel 
 imbroglio which, as a hard- worked Conductor, I had not 
 since Abydos found a chance to discuss. Besides, Biddy 
 had whispered in passing that a letter just delivered at 
 Denderah, hac' brought exciting news of Esme O'Brien. 
 But I was sorry for Cleopatra, and wondered whether I 
 could manage after all to hint an explanation of the hiero- 
 glyphic love-letter that fatal letter of mine which had 
 stealthily made mischief between Mrs. East and Anthony. 
 I didn't quite see how the subject was to be broached: stilj, 
 some way might open. "I'm sorry about the middle 
 name," I said. "But if I assumed it like a virtue which 
 I have not I should be the third person connected with 
 this trip, labelled the same fashion." 
 
 "Who is the second person?" she asked abruptly, as 
 all the animals of the party started to trot vivaciously 
 through the blowing yellow sand. 
 
 "Sir Marcus. Surely you've heard that his 'A* stands 
 for Antonius?" 
 
 "Good heavens!" she gasped: and I hardly knew 
 whether it was the shock of my news, or a jolt of the 
 donkey which forced the exclamation. Whatever it 
 was, the emotion she felt bound her to silence after that 
 one outburst. She said not a word, and did not even 
 groan or threaten to fall off when both our beasts broke 
 into a thumping gallop. In silence we swept round 
 that great bulk of rubbish heap, Roman and early Chris- 
 tian, under which lies An, the town of the Column. 
 Cleopatra did not cry out when suddenly we came in 
 sight of Hathor's temple, honey-gold against the tur-
 
 304 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 quoise sky, and vast as some Wagnerian palace of the gods. 
 The tasselled donkey (or I) had given her cause to 
 think. Or perhaps she did not consider me worth talking 
 to, as we approached the temple toward which all her 
 previous travelling had been a mere pilgrimage. Still 
 silently, when we had left our donkeys and were following 
 the crowd up the dromos (Harry Snell actually with 
 Enid, thanks to me and the wisdom of second thoughts), 
 Cleopatra's eyes wandered over the Hathor-headed 
 columns with their clinging colour; and over the portal 
 with its brilliant mass of yellow, of dark Pompeian red, 
 and the green-blue sacred to Hathor, whom Horus 
 loved Venus-Hathor, whose priestesses danced within 
 these walls in Cleopatra "s day. "Oh, this red and this 
 green-blue were my colours, I remember," she murmured, 
 and then hardly spoke when I walked with her in the gloom 
 of the temple itself the' rich gloom under heavily orna- 
 mented ceilings. She wanted to save the portrait till the 
 last, she announced, until after she had seen everything 
 else: and she didn't care what Mr. Sheridan said about her 
 temple; it was wonderful. tried to interest her in the 
 crocodiles, which had been detested and persecuted at 
 Denderah in the late Cleopatra's time as ardently as they 
 were worshipped at Crocodilopolis and other places. I 
 joked about Old Egypt having consisted of "crocs and 
 non crocs," just as the inhabitants of Florence had to be 
 Guelphs or Ghibellines. I explained carefully the geog- 
 raphy of the place, or rather, "reminded" Cleopatra of 
 it, adding details of the canal which once led to Koptos, 
 where the magic book of the Wisdom of Thoth lay hidden 
 under the Nile. I could not waken Mrs. East from reverie
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 305 
 
 to interest, as Antoun would have had the power to do; 
 but my vanity was not hurt. It was only my curiosity 
 which suffered, for I wanted desperately to know whether 
 the donkey had seriously jolted the lady's spine, or 
 whether the news that Sir M. A. Lark was Marcus Anton- 
 ius, not a more obvious Marcus Aurelius, had fired her 
 imagination. 
 
 In any case I devoted myself to her while Monny and 
 Brigit frolicked with others; and I had a reward of a kind. 
 When we had seen all the halls and chambers, and the 
 crypt with its carvings all fresh as if made yesterday; when 
 we had been on the roof where chanting priests had once 
 awaited the rising of Sirius; when I had taken her outside 
 the temple, where blowing columns of dusty sand rose 
 like incense from hidden altars of Hathor, we stood at last 
 alone together, gazing up at the figures of Cleopatra and 
 her son. The wall on which they were carved rose behind 
 the Holy of Holies, where the golden statue of the God- 
 dess had been kept; but alas, the figures themselves! 
 Alas! I knew how Cleopatra must be feeling; and I dared 
 not speak. Perhaps she was even blushing: but I did 
 not look. Instead, I gazed helplessly up at that exposed, 
 misshapen form, that flaccid chin. 
 
 "Thank heaven it's only you who are with me!" 
 breathed Mrs. East. 
 
 That was my reward. Or should I call it a punishment? 
 Anyhow, it made it easier for the insignificant person in 
 question to unburden his conscience about the hiero- 
 glyphic letter. I stammered it all out, on the way back, 
 apropos of the rubbish-heap which had been Tentyra. 
 I let it remind me of Fustat and our digging expedition.
 
 306 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 I had meant to follow Mrs. East's advice and propose to 
 Miss Gilder, I explained, but Monny had not found my 
 buried love-letter. What had become of it I er 
 had never been told. All I knew was that it hadn 't come 
 into Miss Gilder's hands; and I should never have as 
 much courage again. 
 
 "Oh!" Cleopatra exclaimed, with a curious light in her 
 eyes, more like relief than disappointment. "You really 
 do want to marry my niece? You delayed so, that I 
 wondered. I wasn 't sure, sometimes, if it were Monny or 
 but I am on your side, Lord Ernest. It isn 't too late yet for 
 any of us, perhaps. Trust in me. I 'm going to help you." 
 
 I could have bitten my tongue out, though I had blun- 
 dered with the best intentions. "Mrs. East," I protested 
 almost ferociously, "you mustn't do anything. I said 
 before I began, that I was going to tell you a secret." 
 
 "I won't betray your confidence. But I will help. 
 I want to. It would be a good thing for Monny to accept 
 you, Lord Ernest, a very good thing in more ways than 
 one. Mrs. Jones wants it too, or did. I promise you, 
 I'll be discreet." 
 
 With that, we arrived in sight of the boat. Once 
 more, necklaces and scarabs and baskets were thrust 
 under our noses. Anthony had returned from his mys- 
 terious whisperings in cafes or mosques in the new town, 
 and was waiting for us. Cleopatra called him, with a 
 note of gayety in her voice, to help her off " the elephant." 
 He came. I felt she was going to hint to him that I was 
 in love with Monny hint to Brigit also. 
 
 Virtue may be its own reward, but it makes you very 
 lonely!
 
 "IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED" 307 
 
 I hadn't another easy moment for dreaming the Nile- 
 dream. And we all woke out of it when, with the pink 
 dawn of a certain morning, we saw a vast temple, re- 
 peated column for column, in the clear river, as in a 
 mirror of glass. 
 
 We were at Luxor; and somewhere not far off, Mabella 
 Hanem was praying for release.
 
 XX 
 
 THE ZONE OF FIRE 
 
 JUST at the first moment of waking, when I was moved by 
 my subconscious self to roll out of my berth and bound to 
 the cabin window, I forgot that we had anything more 
 active to do at Luxor than worship the glory of sky and 
 river and temples. I had room in my mind only for the 
 dream-beauty of that astounding picture, into the fore- 
 ground of which I seemed to have been thrust, so close 
 upon my eyes loomed the line of lotus columns. It was 
 as if the ancient gods had poured a libation of ruby wine 
 from their zenith-dwelling into the translucent depths of the 
 Nile. Even the long colonnade of broken pillars was deep 
 rose-red against a pale rose sky, repeated again in deeper 
 rose down in a magic world beneath the pink crystal roof 
 of shining water. Then, suddenly, bright windows of sky 
 behind the dark rose-columns flamed to the colour of 
 primroses, were shot with pansy purple, and cleared to the 
 transparent green of unflawed emerald. The thought 
 came as I gazed at the carved wonder (reflected flower 
 for flower and line for line in the still river) that here was 
 illustrated in unearthly beauty the chief religious legend 
 of ancient Egypt. As each human soul was believed to be 
 a part of the World-Soul, Osiris, reunited with him beyond 
 the western desert, after death, so did these columns made 
 
 308
 
 THE ZONE OF FIRE 309 
 
 by human hands unite themselves at sunrise with the 
 soul of the Nile, the life of Egypt. I caught a glimpse as if 
 in an illuminated parable, of the Egyptian Cosmos, the 
 Heavens, the Earth, the Depths, three separate entities, 
 yet forever one as is the Christian's Trinity. Almost I 
 expected to see the sun-boat of the gods steered slowly 
 across the river from the city of Kings, westward to the 
 tombs of Kings; and the little white-breasted birds, which 
 promenaded the deck of our boat as though it belonged to 
 them, might have been Heart-birds from the world of 
 mummies across the Nile, escaped for a glimpse of Ram- 
 eses' gayly painted, mosaiced white palace with its carved 
 brass balconies, its climbing roses, its lake of lotuses and 
 its river gardens. I was sure that, if I told these tiny 
 creatures that the Pharaohs and all their glories had van- 
 ished off the earth except for a few bits in museums, they 
 would not believe the tale. I wasn't even sure I believed 
 it myself; and deliberately blotting out of sight the big 
 modern hotels and the low white line of shops away to the 
 right of the temple, I tried to see with the Ba-birds, east- 
 ern Thebes as it must have been in the days of Rameses II. 
 I pictured the temple before Cambyses the Persian, and 
 the great earthquake felled arches and pillars, obelisks 
 and kingly statues. I built up again the five-story houses 
 of the priests and nobles, glistening white, and fantas- 
 tically painted in many colours: I laid out lawns and 
 flower beds, and set fountains playing. Then, with a 
 rumbling shock, a chasm many thousand years deep 
 yawned between me and ancient No, the City of Palaces: 
 It was the voice of Sir John Biddell which opened the 
 ravine of time, and let the Nile pour through it. He was
 
 310 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 on deck, in pyjamas and overcoat, with General Harlow, 
 holding forth on his favourite topic of niummies an 
 appropriate subject for this neighbourhood of all others; 
 yet, I should have preferred silence. 
 
 Poor Sir John! He had been disappointed in Cairo 
 because a villain had not lurked behind each of the trees 
 in the Esbekiya Gardens, and notes tied with silken black 
 hairs had not tumbled on his respectable bald head from 
 the mystery of latticed windows; but he was thoroughly 
 enjoying his Nile trip, and learning something every day 
 to tell at home. Lady Biddell had humiliated him twice, 
 once by asking me if "those old hieroglyphics were writ- 
 ten in Arabic?" again by inquiring whether the stone- 
 barred temple windows had been "filled in once with 
 pretty stained glass?" But he had forgiven her because 
 yesterday had been their silver-wedding day, and he 
 meant to buy her a present at some curiosity-shop at 
 Luxor. "A pity it isn't the wooden wedding," I heard 
 him say to General Harlow, "for I might give a handsome 
 mummy-case. I suppose silver will have to be Persian 
 or Indian, unless I can get hold of one of those old brace- 
 lets or discs the Egyptians used for money: but that's 
 too good to hope for." 
 
 It certainly was: though no doubt some industrious 
 manufacturer of antiques would cheerfully have made and 
 dug up any amount on the site of Barneses' palace, could 
 he have known in time. 
 
 We were to have three days at Luxor three days, 
 when three months would have been too little ! and the 
 second attempt at abducting an ill-used lady from the 
 harem of her treacherous lord would take place as soon as
 
 THE ZONE OF FIRE 311 
 
 we could learn that our auxiliaries, the Bronsons, had 
 arrived. Until they were on the spot, even a success 
 might prove an anti-climax. Meanwhile I had plenty to 
 do in playing my more obvious part of Conductor, and 
 arranging the last details of our excursion programme. 
 Every one had bundled out early to see the sunrise. Con- 
 sequently most members of the Set were cross or hungry, 
 or both. Nothing could be less suitable than to clamour 
 for porridge on the Nile, but they did it, and called for 
 bacon, too, in a land where the pig is an unclean animal. 
 They were the same people who played "coon can" and 
 bridge on the deck at twilight, when moving figures on 
 shore were etched in black on silver, or against flaming 
 wings of sunset, and in gathering darkness the blue-robed 
 shadoof -men who bent and rose against gold-brown dykes, 
 were like Persian enamels done on copper. 
 
 "Hundred gated" Thebes, the dwelling of Amen-Ra 
 whom Greece adopted as Jupiter- Amon, used to He on 
 both banks of the Nile; the east for the living, the west for 
 the dead and those who lived by catering for mummy hood. 
 
 I had arranged to take our people first round Luxor, 
 making them acquainted with the temple which had al- 
 ready introduced its reflection to us. As for the town, 
 they were capable of making themselves acquainted with 
 that, its hotels and curiosity -shops, when there was nothing 
 more important on hand. Next was to come Karnak, 
 the "father of temples," once connected with the younger 
 temple at Luxor as if by a long jewelled necklace of ram- 
 headed sphinxes. And for those whose brains and legs 
 were intact, by evening I thought of a visit to the thrilling 
 temple of Mut. This last would be an adventure; for
 
 312 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Mut, goddess of matter, the Mother goddess, has appar- 
 ently not taken kindly to Moslem rule. Any disagreeable 
 trick she, and her attendant black statues of passion, 
 fierce Sekhet, can play on a devout Mohammedan, are 
 meat and drink to her: but she can work her spells only 
 after dusk, therefore none save the bravest Arab will ven- 
 ture his head inside her domain, past sunset. I was sure 
 we could get no dragoman to go with us, and equally sure 
 that the adventure would be more popular for its spice of 
 horror. 
 
 The second and third days I allotted to western Thebes, 
 the city of the dead : the tombs of the Kings, the tombs of 
 the Queens and the Nobles; then the Ramesseum, the 
 " Musical Memnon" with his companion Colossus, and the 
 great temples wrapped in the ruddy fire of the western 
 desert, where Hathor receives the setting sun in out- 
 stretched arms. 
 
 As I was about to unfold these projects at breakfast, 
 a telegram was handed to me. I read it; and while bacon 
 plates were being exchanged for dishes of marmalade, I 
 cudgelled my brain like a slave to make it rearrange the 
 whole programme without a hitch. 
 
 The American Consul wired from Asiut that he was 
 detained by an Important Personage, who wanted to 
 know things about Egyptian Cotton and its enemy the 
 boll worm. But Mr. and Mrs. Bronson would arrive at 
 the Villa Sirius, Luxor, day after to-morrow, "ready for 
 emergencies." 
 
 Of course, being Conductor of a tour, and next a man, 
 I ought to have put the interests of Sir Marcus and his 
 "Lark Pie" (as we were called by rival firms) ahead of
 
 THE ZONE OF FIRE 313 
 
 personal concerns. I ought to have immolated myself in 
 the western Mummyland with the consciousness of duty 
 done, while on the eastern side of the Nile, Anthony Fen- 
 ton and Monny Gilder and Biddy played the live, mod- 
 ern game of kidnapping a lady. But I determined to do 
 nothing of the sort. I gazed at the telegram with the air 
 of committing to heart instructions from my superior 
 officer; and without sign of inward tremour, announced 
 that we would explore the wonders of the west before 
 visiting those nearer at hand. The weather being cool and 
 the wind not too high (I said), it would be well to seize 
 this opportunity for the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings, 
 an expedition trying in heat or sand storms. To-morrow 
 also would be devoted to the west, and our third day would 
 belong to Luxor and Karnak. As a bonne bouche, I 
 dangled the adventure of the Temple of MM, to sweeten 
 the temper of grumblers: but there were no grumblers. 
 The Set listened calmly to my honeyed plausibilities; and 
 the alarmed stewards dared not betray their consternation 
 at the lightning change. 
 
 No doubt they thought me mad, or worse, because a day 
 in western Thebes meant a picnic: magical apparition at 
 the right moment, in a convenient tomb, of smiling Arabs 
 and Nubian men with baskets of food and iced drinks. 
 
 Somehow the trick had to be managed, however; for I 
 must be in eastern Thebes, alias Luxor, on the day when 
 the Bronsons' presence would render our second attempt 
 at rescue feasible. I had to interview the chei a for- 
 midable person hypnotizing him and the stewards to 
 work my will, and above all, I had to make sure of boats 
 and donkeys for the party at short notice. Only by a
 
 314 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 miracle ould all go well; but I set my heart upon that 
 miracle. "Antoun," hurriedly taken into my confidence, 
 volunteered to arrange about the boats, and the donkeys 
 for the other side. Fortunately there was no rival ahead 
 of us; and with juggling of plans and jingle of silver, An- 
 thony's part was done. Just at the moment when, by 
 dint of bribes and adjurations I had induced chei and 
 stewards to smile, Fenton dashed on board to cry "Vic- 
 tory!" Somehow, less than an hour later than we should 
 have started, we got off in two big boats with white sails 
 and brown rowers. The canvas did its work in silent, 
 bulging dignity; but the rowers exhausted themselves by 
 breathlessly imploring Allah to grant them strength, and 
 shouting extra prayers to some sailor-saint whose name 
 was calculated to pump dry the strongest lungs. 
 
 On the mystic western side, where once landed with 
 pomp and pageant the sun-boat of the gods, and the 
 mourning boats of the dead, we scrambled on shore with 
 that ribald mirth which always made the Set feel it was 
 getting its money's worth of enjoyment. Many donkeys 
 and a few carriages awaited us: the whole equipment pre- 
 viously engaged for to-morrow! and in opaline sunshine 
 which stained with pale rose the Theban hills and piled 
 the shadows full of dark, dulled rubies, we started across 
 an emerald plain, kept ever verdant by Nile water. The 
 touch of comedy in the dream of beauty was the queer, 
 mud-brick village of Kurna, with its tomb dwellings of the 
 poor, and immense mud vases shaped like mushrooms, 
 standing straight up on thick brown stems before the 
 crowded hovels. In each vase reposed sleeping babies, 
 brooding hens, dogs, rabbits, or any other live stock,
 
 THE ZONE OF FIRE r>15 
 
 mixed with such rubbish as the family possessed : and the 
 most ambitious mushrooms were decorated with barbaric 
 crenellations. 
 
 Almost as far as the Temple of Seti I flowed the green 
 wave like a lake in the desert, but beyond, to join the 
 Sahara, rolled and billowed a waste of rose-pink sand, 
 shot with topaz light, and walled with fantastic rocks, 
 yellow and crimson, streaked with purple. In the heart 
 of each shadow, fire burned like dying coals in a mass of 
 rosy ashes : and the light over all was luminous as light on 
 southern seas at moonrise and sunset. Before our eyes 
 seemed to float a diaphanous veil of gilded gauze; and 
 white robes and red sashes of donkey-boys, animals' 
 bead necklaces, and blue or green scarfs on girls' hats, were 
 like magical flowers blowing over the gold of the desert. 
 
 Everything blew: above all, sand blew. We found that 
 out to our sorrow, after we had seen the Temple of Kurna, 
 with its noble columns, and its fine fragment of. roof, 
 where squares of sky were let in like blocks of lapis 
 lazuli. I rushed here and there on donkey-back assuring 
 people that this was not wind we felt : it was only a breeze. 
 We could not have a more favourable day for our excursion 
 into this world of the dead. Why, if we'd waited till to- 
 morrow we might have met a real wind, perhaps even 
 Khamsin, alias Simoom, the terror of the desert. To 
 make Miss Hassett-Bean and Cleopatra forget the smart- 
 ing of their eyes, I told them what a truersand-storm was 
 like, and how its names in Arabic, Turkish, and Persian 
 all came from the fiend "Samiel," who destroyed caravans, 
 just as "devil" came from the Persian "div." Our little 
 breeze was from the east, which at Thebes in old days was
 
 316 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 considered lucky. The west wind used to bear across 
 the river evil spirits disguised as sand-clouds. And these 
 wicked ones had not far to travel, because the Tuat, or 
 Underworld, was a long narrow valley parallel to Egypt, 
 beginning on the west bank of the Nile. Red-haired Set 
 was ruler there, the god who had to be propitiated by 
 having kings named after him. But Ra, greater than he, 
 could safely pass down the dim river running through 
 that world: could pass in his golden sun-boat, guided by 
 magic words of Thoth instead of oars or sails; and the 
 guardian hippopotamus (whom Greeks turned into the 
 dog Cerberus) dared not put out a paw. 
 
 Mrs. East remembered that Thebes was Tape in "her 
 day," at which Miss Hassett-Bean snorted : and when out 
 came that familiar story about Cleopatra making red 
 hair fashionable, Miss Hassett-Bean stared coldly at the 
 lady's auburn waves. "I wonder if the queen got the 
 colour at her hairdresser's, as people do now?" she mur- 
 mured. "I've read that they had beauty-doctors in those 
 days, and used arsenic for their complexion, and all sorts 
 of mixtures. Besides, I can't imagine anything natural 
 about Cleopatra, except the asp wanting to bite her!" 
 Upon this, Mrs. East retaliated by calling her companion 
 Miss Bean without the Hassett. 
 
 I shall always think of the Valley of the Tombs as a 
 place of terror and splendour, meant to be hidden from 
 mortals by the spells of Thoth, who circled the rock- 
 houses of the dead with a zone of fire, as Wotan hid 
 Brunhilda, and decreed that they should be lost forever 
 in the blazing desert. Despite Thoth and his magic, men 
 have burst through the blazing belt and found in the gold-
 
 THE ZONE OF FIRE 317 
 
 rose heart of the rocks, sacred shrines the wise old god 
 would have protected. They have found many but not 
 all: for in the breast of some one among Thoth's sleeping 
 lions which masquerade as rocks, may yet be discovered 
 a tomb, better than all those we know with their buried 
 store of jewels, and their painted walls like drapings of 
 strange tapestry. 
 
 We broke through the zone of fire, and it pursued us 
 with burning smoke of sand, pink as powdered rubies. 
 Always it was beautiful and terrible as we rode in the 
 blowing pink mist: and still it was beautiful and terrible, 
 when half dazed we slipped off donkeys or slid out of car- 
 riages, to enter the tombs which the desert had vainly 
 striven to hide. It was hot and breathless in those under- 
 ground chambers, scooped out of solid rock thousands 
 of years ago, that great kings and their queens and 
 families and friends might rest with their kas in eternal 
 privacy. Enid Biddell waited until Harry Snell hap- 
 pened to be exactly behind her, and then fainted, with 
 dexterity beyond praise. Cleopatra, however, was in her 
 element. She felt at home, and did not turn one of those 
 auburn hairs scorned by "Miss Bean," at sight of the 
 royal mummies lit up by electricity in their coffins. These 
 gave the rest of us a shock, our nerves being already in the 
 condition of Aladdin's on his way down to the Cave of 
 Jewels. When the guardian of the Tomb of Amenhetep 
 (the king had several other names, which annoyed Sir John 
 Biddell) darkened the painted, royal chamber of death, 
 and suddenly lit up several white, sleeping faces, the 
 ghostly dusk was alive with little gasps. There lay 
 Amenhetep himself, in a disproportionately large sar-
 
 318 
 
 cophagus of rose-red granite from Suan; and in companion 
 coffins were a woman and a girl, all three brilliantly 
 illuminated. They had the look of the light hurting their 
 poor eyes, and being outraged because, against their will, 
 they were treated as if they had been paintings by old 
 masters. 
 
 The dreadful rumour ran that the woman was none 
 other than the great Queen Hatasu (never mind her more 
 scientific names), her mummy never having been found, 
 or, at any rate, identified: and it was pitiful seeing her 
 so small and female, when in life she had wished to be rep- 
 resented with a beard and the clothing of a man. Our 
 dragoman, who read English newspapers and whose idea 
 of entertaining his crowd was to make cheap jokes (just 
 as his family doubtless manufactured cheap scarabs), 
 announced that Hatasu was the "first suffragette." But 
 even those who thought her downtrodden nephew, Tho- 
 thmes III, justified in erasing every trace of her existence 
 wherever possible, did not smile at this jest. In fact, 
 having Antoun and me to refer .to, the Set as a whole sat 
 upon the unfortunate dragoman, trying to talk him down 
 in tombs and temples, or ostentatiously reading Weigall, 
 Maspero, Petrie, Sladen, and Lorimer when he attempted 
 to give them information. A few with kinder intentions, 
 however, interrupted his flow of historical narrative by 
 exclaiming, "Why, yes, of course!" "I thought so!" and 
 "Now I remember!" He revenged himself by advising 
 everybody to buy antiques from an extraordinary old 
 gentleman, extremely like a galvanized mummy. The 
 antiques were extraordinary, too, so everybody took the 
 dragoman's advice, neglecting the other curiosity mer-
 
 THE ZONE OF FIRE 319 
 
 chants of the squatting row near the luncheon-tomb and 
 the glorious three-tier temple, in that vast copper cup of 
 desert and cliff which is called Der el-Bahari. The sale 
 in mummied hawks, gilded rams' horns, broken tiles with 
 beetles flying out of the sun, boats of the gods, and gods 
 themselves, was brisk round this ancient gentleman, who 
 advertised a blue mummy-cap by wearing it on his bald 
 pate, and seemed to possess as many royal scarabs as a 
 dressmaker has pins. Afterward I learned that he was 
 our dragoman's father; but I was loyal and did not tell. 
 
 It was a wonderful day, all the more wonderful perhaps 
 because it left in the mind a colourful confusion; pictures 
 of painted tombs hidden deep under red rock and drifted 
 sand, tombs which we should perhaps never reach again 
 through their guarding zone of fire tombs of kings and 
 queens and nobles forgotten through thousands of cen- 
 turies save by their kas and bas, their friends and ser- 
 vants, painted or sculptured on the walls with the sole 
 purpose of caring for or entertaining them eternally. 
 
 Already we had ceased to remember which was which. 
 And back on the boat, in the hour of sunset, when dazzling 
 tinsel and pale pink cloud-flowers sailed over a lake of 
 clear green sky, the Set argued whether the King with the 
 Horses, or the Queen with the Retrousse Nose was in this 
 or that tomb. Sir John Biddell recalled the fact that 
 Egyptian horses had been celebrated, and that it was 
 "as swell a thing to be a charioteer then as it was now to 
 be a Vanderbilt with a coach and four." As for a retrousse 
 nose, it didn't matter where it was, on a tomb-wall or on 
 a girl's face. 
 
 Monny thought differently. She and Biddy were glad
 
 320 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 that the sand and rocks would still hide many secret 
 treasures, while the world lasted. It would be dreadful 
 to think that everything was dug up, for tourists to pry 
 into, or to cart away to museums, and no mysteries left. 
 As for Mrs. East, she was doubtful whether to rejoice or 
 grieve that Cleopatra's mummy had not been found. 
 If, however, it were like the incised wall portrait at Den- 
 derah, it would be well that it should share the fate of 
 Alexander's body and remain lost forever. 
 
 The next day gave us another trip to the west of the 
 Nile : not again in the burning desert, but only as far as the 
 Ramesseum, and then to see the Colossi, seated side by 
 side on their green carpet of meadow, looking out past 
 the centuries toward eternity. 
 
 We had a dance on board that night; and next morning 
 it came out that Rachel Guest, who had disappeared dur- 
 ing a "turkey trot" and a "castle walk," had got herself 
 engaged to Bailey. I was not as pleased about this event 
 as was Enid Biddell, who now saw her "title clear" to 
 Harry Snell; for I had "bagged" Willis Bailey and Neill 
 Sheridan for Sir Marcus in order to gain Kudos for myself: 
 but Biddy, appealed to, consoled me by saying it served 
 Bailey right if he were mercenary: and that both men 
 would have come in any case. 
 
 The third day was to be the Great Day for us, the day 
 big with fate for Mabella Hanem; and the first thing that 
 happened was a letter sent by hand from the Bronsons 
 at the Villa Sirius. They had arrived. The fireworks 
 could begin.
 
 XXI 
 THE OPENING DOOR 
 
 NOT half an hour after the first word from Bronson, came 
 another hurried note. An unexpected obstacle had 
 cropped up. So confident had he and Mrs. Bronson been 
 of their friends' cooperation, that rather than put such 
 important matters on paper, they had waited to explain 
 by word of motith. The owner of the villa was a rich 
 Syrian with a French-American wife. He was a Copt 
 in religion, hating Mohammedanism in general and the 
 father of Rechid Bey in particular. This had seemed to 
 the American Consul a providential combination: but to 
 his disgust he found that there had been a reconciliation 
 between the families. Dimitrius Nekean would not be- 
 tray the Bronsons' confidence, but he could not allow his 
 roof to be used as a shelter for Rechid's runaway wife 
 no, not even if Rechid had three other wives in his 
 harem. 
 
 Here was a situation! And as Monny remarked, in 
 neat American slang, we were "right up against it." She 
 thought that, if Antoun and I "put our heads together," 
 maybe we could think of "some way out." So we did, 
 almost literally put our heads together across a table no 
 bigger than a handkerchief, in my cabin: and decided that 
 the visit to Rechid Bey's harem must be made by Brigit 
 
 321
 
 322 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 and Monny in the late afternoon. They must time their 
 departure from the house at about the hour when the Set 
 would arrive at the Temple of Mut. "Antoun" would be 
 waiting for them, and they would drive in a closed ara- 
 beah to the temple, where Mr. and Mrs. Bronson would 
 happen to be "sightseeing." If Mabella Hanem had 
 been rescued, she would then be put in charge of the 
 American Consul, whose very footprints created American 
 soil around him as far as his shoes could reach. Rechid 
 would be unlikely to search at the Temple of Mut, nor 
 could he induce any Arab servant to accompany him there 
 after sundown. We would escort Mabel and her two 
 protectors to the town, and to the train for Cairo, Mr. 
 Bronson promising to take the girl to Alexandria, whence 
 she could sail for "home." 
 
 It was the best plan we could think of in the circum- 
 stances, and Monny approved it, though her patience was 
 tried by having to wait through nearly all of another day. 
 Mabel must have begun to believe that we had ignored 
 her prayer and meant to do nothing. I argued that the 
 girl would believe we were working for her in our own way. 
 I said, too, that if Rechid were spying, his suspicions would 
 be disarmed by seeing us go the ordinary round of tourists. 
 Every one came to Luxor. We had come, leisurely, by 
 river, and were sightseeing every moment. Even Bedr, if 
 he were on the spot, intending to finish his revenge as 
 neatly as it had been begun, could have noticed nothing 
 suspicious in our actions. The mention of Bedr in this con- 
 nection seemed to startle Biddy, and I was sorry I had let 
 his name slip. But, as I had said t every one came to 
 Luxor. Bedr had with apparent frankness explained that
 
 THE OPENING DOOR, 323 
 
 he was travelling up the Nile by rail with his two clients: 
 and if that were true, he would arrive at all our destina- 
 tions in advance of us. Probably it would depend on 
 "the clients" whether they lingered at Luxor long enough 
 for us to run across them again. 
 
 "What are you afraid of," I asked Biddy when I had 
 a chance with her alone, "even if Bedr is a spy? Surely 
 you kept your promise and left that chamois-skin bag in 
 a Cairo bank?" 
 
 "It wasn't a promise," she reminded me. "I only said 
 I'd think about it. Well, I did think about it, and I 
 couldn't put it in a bank. I told you it was the sort of 
 thing one doesn't put in banks." 
 
 "You didn't tell me what it was I mean, what was 
 in it besides money." 
 
 "No, I couldn't." 
 
 "Will you now?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" 
 
 " Well, then, will you give it to me to keep till we get 
 back to Cairo?" 
 
 "No, indeed! But Duffer dear, honestly and truly it 
 isn't for myself I'm afraid. You know that, don't you?" 
 
 "Of course. Yet if people are believing that Monny 
 Gilder is Rachel Guest, a poor little school teacher, then 
 no one who heard the gossip would bother to risk kid- 
 napping her for ransom. And, also, there'll be no further 
 danger of those you fear mistaking her for " 
 
 "Oh, don't speak the name!" 
 
 "I wasn't going to. I was merely about to use the 
 word 'another.' ' 
 
 "Good Duffer! Yours is a consoling argument. Still,
 
 324 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 I never liked Bedr or wanted him with us. And even now, 
 there seems something mysterious about Rachel thinking 
 so much of him. As if there were a secret arrangement 
 between them, you know ! I've never got over that, or 
 understood it a bit." 
 
 "He flattered Miss Guest, perhaps. She loves flattery. 
 But she's made her market now, and all through Monny's 
 charity. She couldn't want to do her benefactress harm." 
 
 "No-o, I suppose not. Unless it were to do herself 
 good. Don't those eyes of hers say to you that she'd 
 sacrifice any one for herself? " 
 
 "I've been thinking more about a different pair of 
 eyes. And there were such a lot of men crowding round 
 Rachel's for some reason or other." 
 
 "Now we know what the reason was as she and 
 Monny must have known all along, since their joke to- 
 gether began. Oughtn't you to tell Bill Bailey the truth?" 
 
 "No, my dear girl, I must draw the line somewhere! 
 I've gone about at people's beck and call, telling other 
 people disagreeable truths, till I'm a physical and mental 
 wreck. Bill Bailey knows all about statues, with and 
 without glass eyes. Let him find out for himself about a 
 mere girl " 
 
 "With cat's eyes." Biddy snapped. 
 
 If one triumph leads to another, Anthony could afford 
 to be hopeful for the ending of our stay at Luxor. He had 
 not done as much sightseeing as the rest of us, but when 
 we had been asleep in our beds or berths, dreaming of 
 temples or of each other he had been out whispering 
 and listening, in places where his green turban opened
 
 THE OPENING DOOR 325 
 
 doors and hearts. He had traced the mysterious " trouble " 
 to its source, and learned the inner history of that 
 regrettable incident which, like a dropped match, had lit 
 a fire hard to extinguish. A party of young men travel- 
 ling with a "bear leader" had laughed at some Arabs pros- 
 trating themselves to pray, at that sacred moment, just 
 after sunset, ordained by Mohammed lest his people 
 should appear to worship the orb itself. One of these 
 youths, fancying himself a mimic, had imitated the 
 Moslems. They were old men, unable to resent with vio- 
 lence what they thought an insult to their religion; but 
 they had told their sons, and the story had spread. Later 
 that night the joyous tourists with their near-sighted 
 "bear leader," had been attacked apparently without 
 reason, on coming out of a native cafe. Having forgotten 
 the sunset prayer, they honestly believed that they had 
 been set upon by men to whom they had given no prov- 
 ocation. They had uttered statements and complaints; 
 and disgusted with the "beastly natives" had put sued 
 their journey up Nile, visiting their grievances on the 
 innocent, and making more mischief at each stopping 
 place. Murmured threats, with dark looks, insulting 
 words and jostlings of strangers by the inhabitants of 
 Upper Nile villages, had occasioned anxiety at the British 
 Agency. It had proved impossible to get at the truth, 
 and the influence of the Young Nationalists had been sug- 
 gested. Our Hadji had now turned the green light of his 
 sacred turban upon obscurity, and those in power at Cairo 
 would know how to set about repairing damages. In spite 
 of private anxieties, those which I shared and others 
 which I didn't share but suspected, I think Anthony was
 
 326 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 happy on that third morning at Luxor. He must have 
 been tired, for much of his work had been night work, but 
 he showed no fatigue. The true soldier-look was in his 
 eyes, the look I knew far better than the new and strange 
 expression which had said to me lately, "A woman has 
 come to be of importance in Anthony Fenton's life." 
 We spent our morning and a good part of the afternoon 
 at Karnak, lunching irreverently but agreeably in the 
 shade of fallen pillars Cambyses or the great earthquake 
 had thrown down. Neill Sheridan, who had been to Cali- 
 fornia, likened the ruddy columns of the Great Hall to the 
 giant redwoods. He was enjoying Karnak because there 
 was practically nothing "modern and Ptolemaic about it," 
 but I thought how quickly he would lose this calmness of 
 the student if some one blurted out a word about our 
 plan for that evening. According to Monny, he had been 
 "taken" with poor Mabella Hanem on board the Laconia 
 admiring her so frankly thajt Rechid had banished his 
 bride to her cabin. If Sheridan regretted her, as a man 
 regrets a woman vainly loved, he had confided in no one, 
 not even Monny, who had risked seeming to seek his so- 
 ciety in order to reach the secret of his heart. He had, 
 however, been graver in manner than at first, so said the 
 girl, who had been much with him before my appearance 
 on the scene. Whether it was intuition, or sheer love of 
 romance which inclined her to the opinion, she believed 
 that Sheridan was unhappy. It would make things worse 
 for Mabel (if our scheme failed) were Neill Sheridan mixed 
 up in the plot; therefore, even impulsive Monny admitted 
 the wisdom of keeping him out of it. But I could see by 
 the way she looked at him almost pityingly when
 
 THE OPENING DOOR 327 
 
 he discoursed of lotus and papyrus columns, how she was 
 saying to herself: "You poor fellow, if only you knew! " 
 
 The "thing " being to see the Temple of Luxor at sunset, 
 we gave it the afternoon, as if condescending to do it a 
 favour. When I remembered how I had meant to linger 
 here week after week, I felt that I was paying a big price 
 for my share of the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid, 
 making a knock-about comedian of myself, rushing 
 through halls of history followed by a procession of tour- 
 ists, as a comet tears past the best worth seeing stars, 
 obediently followed by its tail. Still, I had Brigit and 
 Monny as bright spots in the tail; and my old dreams of 
 Luxor had been empty of them. 
 
 These ideas were in my mind, while on donkeys and in 
 arabeahs we dashed as if our lives depended on speed, from 
 the Temple of Karnak to the Temple of Luxor, along the 
 dusty white road trimmed with sphinxes. This descrip- 
 tion was Enid Biddell's, she being happy and therefore 
 frivolous. She rode with Harry Snell, as queens may have 
 ridden along that way, guarding a captive prince who had 
 been subdued forever. 
 
 Sunset illumined the world, as for a New Year's fes- 
 tival of Amen-Ra in his ruby -studded boat of gold, when 
 we were ready to leave the glorious temple, and turn to 
 the region of little bazaars and big hotels, fair gardens, 
 and girls with tennis rackets whose shape reminded our 
 Egypt-steeped minds of the key of life. Monny and Brigit 
 had slipped away. Their real day was just beginning. 
 
 My heart was with them ; Anthony's, too, and his work 
 permitted him to conduct his heart along the way that 
 they must take, while I had to conduct the Set to the Win- 
 ter Palace Hotel, and give them tea on the terrace.
 
 328 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 When everybody was rested and had had enough straw- 
 berry tarts, view and flirtation, we were to make for the 
 Temple of Mut: and, having returned at last to the En- 
 chantress Isis, were to steam away just as tourist boats 
 and dahabeahs were lighting up along the shore. We 
 were to dine late, after starting, and anchor in some dark 
 solitude, so as to enjoy a peaceful, dogless night on the 
 Nile. But what would have happened to Brigit and 
 Monny before the sounding of that dinner gong? 
 
 What did happen at the beginning I must tell as best I 
 can, because I was not there, and can speak for myself only 
 from the Temple of Mut. 
 
 When they stole almost secretly away from Karnak, 
 they took an arabeah which was waiting and drove to the 
 sugar-plantation of Rechid Bey. This place of his is not 
 prepared for a lengthy or luxurious residence; but as I 
 have said, there is a house. There is also a small gate- 
 house, in a somewhat neglected condition; but a gate- 
 keeper was there: the usual stout negro. Monny and 
 Biddy were quivering with fear lest they should be refused 
 admission, as at Asiut: but this time their coachman was 
 Ahmed Antoun, carefully disguised as a common driver of 
 an arabeah, a rather exaggeratedly common driver per- 
 haps, for his face and turban were not as clean as the face 
 and turban of a self-respecting Moslem ought to be. He 
 had been helped to play this trick by one of the secret 
 friends he had made in some cafe or other, the cousin of an 
 uncle of a brother of him who should have sat on the box 
 seat. But the motive he had alleged was not the real one. 
 The two beating hearts in the arabeah had confidence in 
 him. If the gatekeeper tried to send them away, Antoun
 
 THE OPENING DOOR 329 
 
 would bribe him, or threaten him with black magic, or say 
 some strange word which would be for them as an "Open 
 Sesame." 
 
 The fat creature at the gate had no French, but the 
 driver of the arabeah addressed him in Arabic, and trans- 
 lated his answers. Yes, the great lady had come hither 
 with her husband the Bey. Word should go to her. It 
 should be ascertained whether it was her pleasure to re- 
 ceive these friends who had journeyed from a far country 
 to pay her a visit. 
 
 Monny and Brigit sat in the arabeah to wait, but they 
 dared not talk to the dirty-faced driver, lest some spy 
 should be on the watch, where every group of flowering 
 plants might have ears and eyes. Even if the big gate- 
 keeper came back with an excuse, as seemed too probable, 
 there was hope from Antoun's diplomacy; but the chances 
 were two to one against success. Rechid Bey had almost 
 certainly been put upon his guard by the revengeful Bedr 
 who had shown himself all grinning friendliness to us. 
 Rechid might have tired of playing dragon, as Antoun 
 prophesied; yet it would be strange if he had not given 
 instructions that no European ladies were to visit his wife. 
 Mabeila Hanem had been snatched in haste from 
 Asiut, but if she were still in Luxor with her husband, she 
 and her women in the harem would be guarded by eu- 
 nuchs, as in the more ambitious villa which Rechid called 
 his home. 
 
 I suppose Anthony, slouching on the box seat in his 
 unattractive disguise, must have been as much astonished 
 as Monny and Brigit when the gatekeeper returned with 
 another big negro to say that the ladies would be welcomed
 
 330 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 by Mabella Hanem. The two girls were wildly delighted. 
 JFenton's emotions were mixed. He wanted to save the 
 American bride from the consequences of her tragic mistake, 
 but he cared more for his friends' safety than for hers. 
 
 He knew that Monny and Brigit were brave, and that 
 Monny had his Browning, but the thought that she might 
 need to use it could not have made him comfortable on the 
 box seat of his borrowed arabeah, outside Rechid's gate. It 
 was arranged that he should give Mabel's visitors one 
 hour, thus allowing for delays and emergencies; but if they 
 did not appear at the end of that time, he would dash off to 
 tell the Luxor police that two ladies were detained against 
 their will in the house of Rechid Bey. 
 
 Once in charge of the chief eunuch, who had come to 
 take them to the harem, Brigit and Monny might almost 
 as well have been deaf and dumb. Brigit knew practi- 
 cally nothing of Arabic; and Monny, though she had been 
 vaguely studying since her arrival, had been too passion- 
 ately occupied with other things to give much time or 
 attention to the language of Egypt's invaders. Her blood 
 was beating in her veins now, and she could think of no 
 words except "Imshi!" "Malish!" and "Ma'salama!" 
 These buzzed in her head, like persistent flies, as she and 
 Biddy followed their silent, white-robed and turbaned 
 conductor along a narrow pink path, toward a modern 
 villa almost shrouded with bougainvillia. And they were 
 the last words she needed. She didn't want to tell the 
 ponderous negro to "get out." On the contrary, she 
 wished to be polite. So far from saying "no matter," 
 everything mattered intensely. And, unfortunately, it 
 was not time yet to bid the creature "farewell."
 
 THE OPENING DOOR 331 
 
 Behind the white house with its crimson embroidery of 
 flowers, rose a thick growth of tall sugar-cane, the shim- 
 mering green pale as beryl, in the dreaming light which, 
 precedes sunset. The dark red of the bougainvillia looked 
 like streaming blood against such a background. 
 
 Though the villa appeared to be comparatively new, it 
 was built according to Turkish, not European ideas, as it 
 might have been were the owner a Copt instead of a 
 Mohammedan. The building was in two parts, entirely 
 separating the selamlik from the haremlik. The latter 
 was small and insignificant compared with the former, for 
 this was not a place prepared for family life : it was but a 
 temporary dwelling, where the master would more often 
 come alone than with the ladies of his harem. 
 
 The eunuch opened a door leading into the women's 
 building, and Brigit and Monny entered the same secre- 
 tive sort of vestibule they must have remembered in the 
 House of the Crocodile. A screen-wall prevented them 
 from seeing what was beyond; and the dead silence fright- 
 ened them a little, so easy was it to make of this place a 
 trap. 
 
 In the vestibule was a long, cheaply cushioned bench, 
 the resting-place of the women's custodian; and upon it 
 lay spread open the eunuch's well-used koran, which 
 he had deserted to meet the visitors. Who had given him 
 the order to go, and why it had been given, the guests be- 
 gan to ask themselves. 
 
 Beyond the screen-wall they entered an anteroom. 
 Through a big window-door they could look into a small, 
 grassy court that served as a garden: and opening from 
 the anteroom was a second room much larger, which also
 
 332 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 gave upon the garden court. At the door of this, the 
 eunuch bowed himself away; but an involuntary glance 
 which Monny threw at him over her shoulder showed that 
 he was grinning. The grin died quickly as a white flash 
 of heat-lightning fades from a black night-sky : but though 
 the heavy face composed itself respectfully, there re- 
 mained a disquieting twinkle in the full-lidded eyes. It 
 struck Monny that the negro was amusing himself at the 
 expense of the visitors, because of something he knew 
 which they did not know. 
 
 "We're not going to be allowed to see Mabel!" she 
 thought, with a jump of her pulses; and even when a 
 negress, smiling invitingly, beckoned her and Biddy into 
 the large room whose three windows looked on the garden, 
 she still believed that they had been deceived. She did 
 not, however, speak out her conviction to Brigit. Noth- 
 ing could be done yet. They must wait and see what 
 would happen. 
 
 The room was furnished in abominable taste, with cheap 
 French furniture, upholstered with blue brocade that 
 clashed hideously with the scarlet carpet. There were sev- 
 eral sofas and chairs stiffly arranged round the walls; but 
 no tables, save low maidahs of carved wood inlaid with 
 pearl, such as they had seen in Cairo bazaars and hotels. 
 The windows were closed, and the air heavy, as in a room 
 seldom used. The two seated themselves close together, 
 on one of the ugly sofas facing a door through which the 
 beckoning negress had gone out. There was no sound 
 except the harsh ticking of a huge, bulbous clock, all gild- 
 ing and flowers, which stood in a corner. Monny's and 
 Brigit's eyes met, with a question.
 
 THE OPENING DOOR 333 
 
 Who would open the door just closed? Would it be 
 Mabel, or would Rechid Bey stride in, to reproach or in- 
 sult them? 
 
 "Are you sure it's loaded?" Biddy whispered. 
 
 No need for Monny to ask what she meant. 
 
 "Sure," she answered. 
 
 The handle of the door turned.
 
 xxn 
 
 ** THANK God!" cried Biddy, as a slim figure in a loose 
 white robe framed itself in the doorway. 
 
 With a sob, Mabel ran toward them, both hands held 
 out, and in an instant she was being hugged and kissed 
 and cooed over. 
 
 "You've found me you've come!" she cried. "I 
 never dared think you would, when he rushed me away 
 from Asiut. He said he would keep me here all the rest 
 of my life, to punish me for complaining to you." 
 
 "But how did he know?" Monny asked. "Did your 
 sister-in-law tell him about the letter? " 
 
 "I don't think so, unless he has made her confess. It 
 was like this: He was coming to his place here on busi- 
 ness. I felt so thankful. It seemed providential he 
 should be away then, just when you were starting up Nile. 
 I was almost happy that morning, when suddenly he 
 appeared again and I was ordered to put on a habberah 
 and yashmak, and travel with him. Yeena, the woman 
 who acts as my maid, had to get ready in a hurry, too. 
 The chief eunuch, a hateful hypocritical wretch, followed. 
 Some clothes have been sent to me since, but not many. 
 At first I couldn't guess what had happened, and lie was 
 in such a fiendish temper I daren't ask questions. It 
 
 S34
 
 THE DRIVER OF AN ARABEAH 335 
 
 wasn't till after we arrived that he explained. I'm sure he 
 took pleasure in hurting me. He said that he left home 
 early the morning he was going to Luxor, because he 
 meant to stop and make a business call on the way to the 
 depot, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to rush home 
 and fetch me as he did, and still be in time to catch his 
 train after the warning. It was some dragoman you em- 
 ployed in Cairo, he told me, who had seen us getting off 
 the Laconia, and who ran after his carriage in the street, 
 in Asiut. The wicked creature warned him that you 
 were all there, and that he'd heard you say something 
 which sounded as if there were a plot to get at me. Just 
 at thai minute, by the worst of luck, Mr. Sheridan passed. 
 You know how foolish and cruel he was about Mr. Sheri- 
 dan on the ship. Well, he hadn't forgotten. So he turned 
 round and almost snatched me out of the house, rather 
 than I should be left in Asiut with him away." 
 
 " This is exactly what we thought must have happened !'* 
 exclaimed Monny. "That beast, Bedr! And to think 
 that Rachel and I wasted our tune trying to convert him ! 
 How I wish I hadn't let Aunt Clara engage him at Alex- 
 andria! She thought he'd come from a man with her 
 favourite name, Antony : but she wouldn't have insisted if 
 I hadn't encouraged her. I feel as if this trouble were 
 partly my fault. And if I hadn't been thoughtless enough 
 at Asiut to blurt out your husband's name " 
 
 "You're not to blame for anything, dearest," Biddy 
 tried to comfort her. "It was your unfailing resolve 
 to help, which has brought us here." 
 
 "You're both my good angels," said Mabel, "Oh, 
 it's heavenly to see you. But I can't understand why
 
 336 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 I'm allowed to, after all the threats and punishments. 
 I'm afraid I shall be made to pay somehow. He loves to 
 torture me and he knows how. I believe he hates me, 
 now he's begun to realize that I'd give anything to leave 
 him, that I don't consider myself his wife." 
 
 "If he hates you, why isn't he willing to let you go?" 
 Monny questioned her. 
 
 "Partly because he's very vain, and it would humiliate 
 him. Partly because he has no son yet, only that horrid 
 little brown girl; and he's set his heart on a boy who's 
 to possess all the qualities and strength of the West. 
 No, he won't let me go!" 
 
 "Well, you'll do it hi spite of him then," said Monny 
 eagerly. "That's what we're here for. We shall take 
 you with us. You must say to your servants that we've 
 invited you to drive, and you've accepted. There's 
 nothing in that to make them suspect. Lots of Turkish 
 ladies go driving and motoring with European women, in 
 Cairo. And you can have that fat black man sit on the 
 box seat, with with our coachman, if it would make 
 things easier, taking him to guard you. He can be hus- 
 tled or bribed or something, when the right time comes to 
 get rid of him, never fear. Oh, it's going to be a glorious 
 adventure, and at the end of it you'll be free! Nobody 
 could blame you, as the man has another wife." 
 
 Mabella Hanem shook her head. " You're splendid to 
 plan this. But it's too late. It was too late from the 
 moment that dragoman warned my husband. Why 
 you've been allowed to come into the house and talk with 
 me, I can't think, unless he is watching and listening 
 through a hidden spyhole. There's sure to be some secret
 
 THE DRIVER OF AN ARABEAH 337 
 
 reason in his head, anyhow a reason that's for his good 
 and not mine. And I shall not be able to get out, if you 
 do." 
 
 "// we do!" echoed Biddy, a catch in her voice. 
 
 She glanced furtively at Monny. What had we all 
 been dreaming of when we let this beautiful girl run into 
 danger? I know Biddy well enough to be sure that her 
 thought at that instant was for Monny Gilder, not Brigit 
 O'Brien. But the fear in her heart was vague, until the 
 next answer Mabel made an answer that came almost 
 with calmness; for Mabella Hanem's whole being was con- 
 centrated upon herself, and her own imbroglio. Every- 
 thing else, everybody else even these friends who were 
 risking much to help her were secondary considerations. 
 
 " I don't suppose real harm will come to you. I don't 
 see how he'd dare. And yet there may be something 
 on foot. Three men had come to-day, one who might be 
 a dragoman, and two Europeans. They came together. I 
 saw them. And I haven't seen them go away. They're 
 in the men's part of the house the seldmlik. They must 
 be with my husband. Perhaps there's only some business 
 about the sugar-cane. But " 
 
 "Did you see the men distinctly?" Biddy asked, in a 
 changed tone. 
 
 " Yes, quite distinctly, for they glanced up at the win- 
 dow where I was peeping out. Of course they couldn't 
 see me, through the wooden lattice and the bougainvillia, 
 but I had a good look at them. The dragoman seemed 
 to have one blind eye. Oh! I hadn't thought of that 
 before! Can it be the man who gave the warning?" 
 
 "What were the Europeans like?" Biddy questioned,
 
 338 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 without answering. "Were they wearing light tweed 
 knickerbockers with big checks?" 
 
 "No, they were in dark clothes, not very noticeable." 
 
 "Had one a scar on his forehead? " 
 
 "Why, yes, I believe he had!" 
 
 The eyes of Brigit and Monny met: but there was 
 none of that deadly fear in the girl's, which Biddy was 
 trying to keep out of hers. Even now, it was hardly 
 fear for herself. It was nearly all for Monny; but Monny 
 must not know, lest she should lose her nerve when it 
 was needed most. That idea of Brigit's, about Monny 
 being mistaken for Esme O'Brien by members of the 
 Organization O'Brien betrayed, had seemed foolish and 
 far fetched, although Esme was hidden from her father's 
 enemies near Monaco, and it was at Monaco that Miss 
 Gilder and Rachel Guest and Mrs. East had joined 
 Brigit on the Laconia. I had laughed at the suggestion, 
 and Biddy had been half-ashamed to make it. But now, 
 in this lonely house where she and the girl had been un- 
 expectedly welcomed, in this house where the master 
 watched, entertaining three strange men, the thought 
 did not appear quite so foolish, quite so far fetched. 
 Indeed, Biddy marvelled why it had occurred to none 
 of us that one of the dangers to be run in rescuing Mabel 
 might come through Bedr, the same danger which had 
 perhaps threatened in the House of the Crocodile. 
 
 Too late to think of this now! The fact remained 
 that we had not thought of it when there was time. 
 Not even Biddy had felt certain that there was a secret 
 motive for taking the girls to the hasheesh den, or 
 that Bedr had been guilty of anything worse than indis-
 
 THE DRIVER OF AN ARABEAH 339 
 
 cretion. His warning to Rechid Bey we had put down to 
 a petty desire for revenge, to "pay us out" for his dis- 
 charge. Though Biddy had never felt sure of his new 
 employers' German origin, and though she had had qualms 
 at sight of the party, following or arriving before us on our 
 pilgrimage through the desert and up the Nile, she had 
 never associated their possible designs with Rechid Bey's 
 grudge against us. Yet how obvious that Bedr should 
 take advantage of it for his clients' sake, if those two men 
 were what she sometimes feared! Brigit had never 
 spoken out to Monny what was in her mind about Esme 
 O'Brien. She had known that Monny would laugh, and 
 perhaps say "What fun!" For the girl had invited 
 Biddy to Egypt "because she attracted adventures," and 
 because Monny badly needed a few, her life having been, 
 up to the date of starting, a "kind of fruit and flower piece 
 in a neat frame." Now, perhaps Monny wouldn't laugh; 
 but it was not the time to speak of new dangers. 
 
 "Well, if your husband thinks that creatures like Bedr 
 and his Germans are going to help him stop us from get- 
 ting out, or taking you out, he's wrong," said Monny, 
 stoutly. "Bedr's the most sickening coward, as Rachel 
 Guest and I have reason to remember. But I'm glad we 
 know what we have to expect, aren't you, Biddy? " 
 
 It was hard to answer, because the girl was in reality 
 so far from knowing what she might have to expect. 
 Brigit tried to smile her reply, as Monny began to tell 
 Mabel something of their plan: about the friends ready 
 to rally round them, once they were in the carriage wait- 
 ing outside the gate; and about the motor coat and veiled 
 hood which had been brought for Mabel to put on, at a
 
 340 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 safe distance from the house. "You'll have to start in 
 your own things," the girl was saying, "otherwise your 
 servants would think it odd. Ring now, dear, for your 
 woman, and have her give you your habberah and 
 yashmak." 
 
 "There are no bells," said Mabella Hanem, with her 
 soft air of obstinate hopelessness. "When I want Yeena, 
 if she isn't in the room, I clap my hands as hard as I can. 
 But I tell you, it is no use. It is too late." As she spoke, 
 throwing up her arms and letting them fall with a ges- 
 ture of helpless despair, both Brigit and Monny felt that 
 Islam had already raised a barrier between them and this 
 delicate creature it had taken into its keeping. In the 
 white wool robe she wore the kind of loose dressing 
 gown affected by Turkish women she looked more like 
 a Circassian than an American girl. Always she had 
 seemed to her would-be rescuers a charming doll, a femi- 
 nine thing of exactly the type which would appeal to a 
 Turk, weary of dark beauties: her hair was so very golden, 
 her eyes so very big and blue, her lashes so very black, her 
 mouth so very red and small : but now she had become an 
 odalisque. Mabel's friends realized that she would do 
 nothing to save herself. They must do all. 
 
 Hesitating no longer, Monny struck her hands loudly 
 together. Yeena did not come. The girl clapped again, 
 and yet again, till her palms smarted, but nothing 
 happened. 
 
 "Yeena is in it whatever they mean to do," said 
 Mabel. "She's had her orders." 
 
 "Very well, then," Monny persisted, her eyes shining 
 and her cheeks carnation, "you must go without your
 
 THE DRIVER OF AN ARABEAH 341 
 
 wraps. Come along. Don't be frightened. Isn't it 
 better to risk something to get away than to stay here 
 alone when we're gone?" 
 
 The pretty doll, with a little moan, gave herself up to 
 her friends. Brigit as well as Monny realized that the 
 moment had come. They must take her while she was 
 in this mood. 
 
 "Let me go ahead," said Monny, in a low, firm voice. 
 "You know why." 
 
 Brigit did know why. Monny had Anthony's Brown- 
 ing, and she alone understood the use of it. Yes, she 
 must lead the way; yet Brigit longed to fling herself in 
 front, to make of her body a shield for the tall white girl 
 she had never so loved and admired. Biddy put Mabel 
 in front of her, and behind Monny, keeping her between 
 them with two cold but determined little hands on the 
 shrinking shoulders, and so pushing her along, protected 
 front and rear, in the piteous procession. 
 
 Of course, if the door leading toward the house entrance 
 had been locked on the outside, there would have been the 
 end of the endeavour, for the moment: but it opened to 
 Monny's hand, and all three went on unchecked, until 
 they came to the vestibule, where on the wall bench they 
 had seen the koran of the fat negro, awaiting his return. 
 
 They had come tiptoeing, and had made no more sound 
 than prowling kittens, yet he sat there facing the door, no 
 longer heavy-lidded, a black mountain of lazy flesh, but 
 alert, beady -eyed, as if he had been counting the minutes. 
 
 As they swept through the doorway, hoping to surprise 
 him, the eunuch jumped to his feet as lightly as a man of 
 half his weight, and smiling with pleasure in the excite-
 
 342 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 ment of an event to break monotony, he blocked with his 
 great bulk the aperture between wall and projecting 
 screen. 
 
 No wonder they had not needed to lock doors, with this 
 giant for a jailer, and a big Sudanese knife conspicuously 
 showing in a belt under his open galabeah! Rechid had 
 perhaps wanted the white mouse in his trap to feel the 
 thrill of hope, and then the shock of disappointment. He 
 had counted completely on the guardian of his harem, but 
 though he had chosen an American wife, he had not 
 counted on the courage of another type of American girl. 
 The knife looked terrible; but it was sheathed and tucked 
 into a belt. Anthony's Browning was in Monny's hand, 
 and hidden only under her serge coat. Out it came, with 
 a warning click of the trigger. And with an astonished, 
 frightened gurgle in his throat the negro involuntarily fell 
 back. 
 
 "Run!" Monny breathed, prisoning him where he 
 stood, with the little bright eye of the Browning cocked 
 up at his face. She had to be obeyed then, and they ran, 
 the two of them, flashing past the black man, touching 
 his clothes as they squeezed by, yet he dared not put out 
 a detaining hand. When they were away safe or not, 
 she could not tell Monny still kept the pistol in position, 
 but began slowly to turn, that she too might pass the 
 dragon, holding him at her mercy till the end. Not a 
 word of Arabic could she recall, but the Browning spoke 
 for her, a language understood without the trouble of 
 learning, by all the sons of Adam. 
 
 When she had backed through the doorway, the girl still 
 faced toward the inner vestibule, and it was well she
 
 THE DRIVER OF AN ARABEAH 343 
 
 did so, for scarcely was she out of his sight before the 
 black giant was after her, taking the chance that she 
 would have turned to run. But there was the resolute 
 young face, with eyes defying his; and there was the 
 weapon ready to blow out such brains as he had, if the 
 hand on the knife moved. Again he fell back, and then 
 Monny did run, making the best use she had ever made of 
 those long limbs which gave her the air of a young Diana. 
 She ran until she had caught up with the other two, flying 
 toward the distant gate; for something told her that the 
 negro would have hurried to tell his master of the trick 
 the women had played preferring the lash on his back 
 perhaps, to a bullet through his head. 
 
 She was right, no doubt, to trust her instinct, for the 
 eunuch did not pursue, though his tale of failure was not 
 needed. Rechid Bey had been watching from a window 
 of the selamlik, as Mabel his wife had watched when he 
 received visitors. He did not wait for the negro's warn- 
 ing, but dashed out of the house, followed and then passed 
 by several long-robed men in Arab dress. The faces of 
 these were almost hidden by the loose hoods which desert 
 men pull over their heads in a high wind, but had they 
 been uncovered the women would not have seen them. 
 The thing was to escape, not to take note of the pursuers; 
 and it was only Biddy, looking over her shoulder for Monny, 
 who even saw that they were followed. She cried out to 
 her friend to hurry, that some one was coming, that they 
 must get to the gate or all would be ended; then feeling 
 Mabel falter, she held her more tightly and ran the faster. 
 
 Rechid and his companions were shouting, not to the 
 women, but to the gatekeeper; and as the master's furious
 
 344 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 voice rang out, just in front of the fugitive (all three to- 
 gether now), appeared the big form of the man at the 
 gate. 
 
 Monny did not know what to do; for in whichever direc- 
 tion she faced with the Browning, she could be captured 
 from the other. She might kill the negro, and then turn to 
 keep the pursuers back: but the thought of killing a man 
 sickened her. She had meant only to threaten, not to 
 take life. Suddenly she felt afraid of the Browning. She 
 hesitated, in a wild second of confusion, hating herself for 
 failing her friends, yet unable to decide or act : but hardly 
 had the gatekeeper sprung in sight than he went down, 
 flat on his face, struck in the back of the neck by the 
 shabby fellow who had driven their carriage. "Go on!" 
 the dirty-faced Arab said in French. "There's some one 
 else to drive you. I'll follow. I'm armed." 
 
 The three sped by him, as he stood aside to let them 
 pass, showing to Monny a pistol which matched the one 
 he had lent her. This consoled the girl in obeying; for 
 as "Antoun" had trusted her courage in this adventure, 
 so did she trust his, and his strength and wit against 
 four men or four dozen men, if need were. 
 
 There was the waiting arabeah, and there on the box 
 was a much cleaner, more self-respecting Arab to drive 
 it than the soiled figure which had left the horses and 
 strayed into the garden. Afterwards they learned that 
 the new man was the "sister's cousin's uncle" of the Had- 
 ji's cafe acquaintance. He had been engaged to stroll 
 past in the road, stop, speak, offer the gatekeeper a cigar- 
 ette, drift into conversation, and be ready to jump onto 
 the box seat the instant Antoun left it. His instructions
 
 THE DRIVER OF AN ARABEAH 345 
 
 included furious driving with the three ladies (once they 
 had bundled into the arabeah), to the Temple of Mut. 
 
 Rechid Bey had every right, according to his own point 
 of view, to resent the kidnapping of his wife, and to get 
 her back in any way he could, even if blood had to be spilt. 
 But his companions they who were muffled in the cloaks 
 and hoods to save their faces from the sharp wind had 
 perhaps not the same right or interest. In any case, when 
 they saw that the women had a man, or men, to help them, 
 and that so helped they had passed from the privacy of the 
 garden to the publicity of the road, the three fell back. 
 Publicity, it may be, did not please them: or else, thinking 
 to have only women to deal with, they were not armed 
 and did not like the look of the pistol. Rechid, evidently 
 no coward, or past feeling fear in rage at the failure of his 
 counterplot, ran on, wheezing slightly he was fat for his 
 age toward the erect Arab and the prostrate negro. 
 
 "Beast! devil!" he panted breathlessly, and cried out 
 other words of evil import in both Turkish and Arabic; 
 threatening the silent man of the pistol with death and 
 things even worse. But before he had gone far, the 
 hooded men caught up with him, and surrounding, urged 
 him back. What they said, Anthony could not hear, or 
 what he said in return; but he thought they were proposing 
 some plan which appealed to Rechid's reason, for he 
 showed signs of yielding. There was now no longer any- 
 thing to detain the protector of the ladies, for by this 
 time, he hoped and believed that their arabeah must be 
 far on its way toward the Temple of Mut, the meeting- 
 place agreed upon. Accordingly, he stepped over the 
 unconscious gatekeeper, who lay with his nose in the
 
 346 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 grass, and backed calmly out of the garden. Not far 
 off, an arabeah was crawling along the road, so slowly 
 that one might have thought the driver half asleep. But 
 this supposition would have done him an injustice. Dusk 
 had fallen now, the purple dusk which drops like a cur- 
 tain just after the pageant of sunset is finished, yet the 
 driver was wide enough awake to pierce the purple with a 
 pair of sharp eyes, and recognize a figure expected. He 
 whipped up his horse, and the dirty Arab running to meet 
 it, hi a few seconds the latter was on the box beside the 
 coachman. Then the arabeah turned, and dashed wildly 
 off according to the custom of arabeahs, back in the di- 
 rection whence it had been crawling. 
 
 The two dark-faced men in the vehicle talked rapidly 
 in low voices, speaking the language not only of the coun- 
 try but the patois of Luxor itself. " Your brother passed 
 you in his arabeah? " 
 
 "Yes, Hadji, he passed with the three European ladies 
 you told me had been in secret to visit their friend." 
 Then Anthony knew that Brigit and Monny had been 
 able already to carry out their plan of wrapping Mabella 
 Hanem in one of their own cloaks. This was well, and 
 would save gossip, if the occupants of the arabeah were 
 stared at by passers by. And at the temple also it 
 would be well, for if possible the Set were to know nothing, 
 now or later, of the adventure. But though Anthony was 
 glad of the news he had got from this Arab ordered to meet 
 him at the gate, he did not settle down comfortably and 
 say to himself: "Thank goodness, the thing is over." 
 Those men back there in the garden would not so easily 
 have persuaded Rechid Bey to let his wife go unpursued,
 
 THE DRIVER OF AN ARABEAH 347 
 
 if they had not offered some alternative plan that could be 
 carried out quickly. 
 
 Still, so far so good. Brigit and Monny had "won 
 out," and secured the prize, as Anthony had prophesied 
 that they would do. They were on their way to the 
 temple, where I would be with the comfortable, common- 
 place crowd from the Enchantress Isis, and where the 
 American Consul and his wife would just "happen" also to 
 be wandering. Instead of driving straight there himself, 
 Anthony went with a friend to an obscure, mud-built 
 house in the village. When he came out of that house, 
 his brown-stained face was no longer disfigured with 
 dirt. It was as immaculate, as noble as the proudest 
 Hadji's face should be, and above it was wound the green 
 turban. Ahmed Antoun Effendi's own dignified, old- 
 fashioned robes of the Egyptian gentleman flowed round 
 his tall figure, when once more he took his place in the 
 waiting arabeah this time not on the box seat and 
 drove off at more furious speed than ever, toward the 
 Temple of Mut.
 
 XXIII 
 BENGAL FIRE 
 
 THE Temple of MM I think must always be mysterious 
 even by day. That night it was more than mysterious. 
 It was sinister. 
 
 Darkness shut us in among the pillars and the black, 
 lion-faced statues. The least imaginative of my charges 
 seemed to feel the influence of the place. Not an Arab, 
 not even the superior boat dragoman, would come inside 
 with us: because after the sun has set, dethroned Sekhet 
 comes into her own again. Strange stories are whispered 
 by Arabs, of the Temple of Mut, and of the ghostly, 
 golden dahabeah that, once a year, sails slowly by to a 
 faint sound of music, on the Sacred Lake. We had 
 brought candles with us, protected by smoky glass from 
 the wind that swept down the avenue of broken Sphinxes 
 outside, and hissed like angry cats through the dark 
 courts lined with granite statues of the Cat-goddess. 
 Yet despite the mystery, or because of it, people seemed 
 curiously happy. The spirit of the past, of Old Egypt, 
 touched them in the shadowy spaces of this ruined temple, 
 brushed them with its wings, and whispered half-heard 
 words into their ears. They talked to each other in low 
 tones, as if not to miss the whispers or the soft footfalls 
 of unseen things; and they did not laugh and make jokes, 
 
 348
 
 BENGAL FIRE 349 
 
 or ask silly questions, according to their irritating 
 custom. 
 
 I blessed this mood, for my nerves were jangled (more 
 than ever after the Bronsons unobtrusively appeared) 
 waiting for Brigit and Monny to come, wondering if they 
 would come, or what we should do if they didn't; because 
 suddenly in this place of gloom and eloquent silence all 
 the clever little plans Anthony and I had made, in case of 
 accident, seemed futile. How could we have let those 
 two walk alone into a trap? I blamed myself, I blamed 
 Anthony; and sometimes I gave the wrong answers to Mrs. 
 East, who walked with me, trying to keep out of the way 
 of the crowd. 
 
 She was anxious to talk of her niece, and to relate how 
 she had been singing my praises to Monny. "You 
 mustn't be discouraged," she said. "Never mind about 
 the hieroglyphic letter. Oh, no, you needn't worry! I 
 haven't told her it was yours. Better let her think 
 what she thought at first. Did she tell you what she 
 thought? Please answer me, Lord Ernest! I don't 
 mind your knowing now that I believed it was from 
 Antoun to me. Believing so, did no harm. Why should 
 it, to me, or to him? I soon guessed that there was a 
 mistake somewhere when he didn't didn't follow 
 the letter up. I was not offended by the proposal as 
 Monny would have been oh, not if she'd known it 
 was yours, but if she'd supposed Antoun was making love 
 to her. Don't you see you must have seen, you're 
 so quick and observant that she's been caught by the 
 romance of him, just as she was afraid she might be by 
 some thrilling prince, when she came to Egypt. She's
 
 350 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 miserable. She's hating herself. And you won't save 
 her though I've prepared her mind!" 
 
 "So that's what you meant when you hinted that I 
 could spare her humiliation!" I said, half in laughter, 
 hah" in bitterness, suddenly able to concentrate my mind 
 upon the talk. "Do you think a man would want a girl 
 to take him for such a reason, when she's caring for some 
 one else?" 
 
 "But, if it would be impossible for her to marry the 
 some one else?" 
 
 "Why should it be impossible?" 
 
 "She would think it impossible." 
 
 "Would she, if I checked myself, but Mrs. East 
 
 understood instantly. "If he has a secret," she said, 
 " then none of us has a right to suggest it to her. Every 
 man for himself, Lord Ernest, in lore! Antoun Effendi 
 has no reason to feel too kindly to Monny. You'll be 
 robbing your friend of nothing, if you speak to her. If 
 he's in love with any one, it isn't my niece." 
 
 "At least it's not you. Perhaps it's Biddy after all!" 
 my thoughts interpolated. 
 
 "To care for Monny would be beneath his dignity, con- 
 sidering all that's passed. And you can make her happy, 
 as well as yourself, by taking my advice," Mrs. East went 
 on. "Aren't you going to be sensible?" 
 
 Just then came a murmur expressing surprise or some 
 other new emotion, from one of the outer courts where 
 the crowd wandered, Cleopatra having lured me yes, 
 "lured" is the word into the sanctuary itself. 
 
 "Something has happened!" I said. "Let's go back, 
 and see what it is."
 
 BENGAL FIRE 351 
 
 " Perhaps Antoun has come ! " Mrs. East caught me up 
 eagerly. "He was coming, wasn't he, when he'd finished 
 his business? Or maybe it's only Monny and Brigit." 
 
 "Only Monny and Brigit!" 
 
 In the hope of seeing Antoun, Cleopatra turned her 
 back upon the dreary sanctuary not unwillingly, even 
 though the burning question was left unanswered. I 
 hurried her through the dark passages which lay between 
 us and the courts, lighting our way with a glassed-in 
 candle; and it was all I could do not to cry out aloud 
 "Thank heaven!" or "Hurrah!" or something else that 
 would have opened people's eyes, when I saw that indeed, 
 Brigit and Monny had arrived. It was Rachel Guest and 
 Willis Bailey who had hailed them from afar, as candle- 
 lights flashed across their faces ; and suddenly to my eyes 
 the gloomy temple seemed to be brilliantly illuminated. 
 I don't know exactly how I contrived to leave Cleopatra, 
 and get to the newcomers; but I did get to them in less 
 than a minute. Perhaps I was a little rude to Mrs. East. 
 I wasn't thinking of that at the time, however, nor of 
 her. 
 
 I separated the two I wanted from the others. Their 
 faces radiated excitement, but I was not sure if it meant 
 success. I was sure only that they had been through an 
 ordeal and were feeling the reaction. 
 
 "You're safe!" I said, and shook hands with them 
 feverishly. Then I shook hands all over again. 
 
 "Safe, yes," Monny answered. "And Mabel why 
 don't you ask about her? Oh, Lord Ernest, we've done it 
 we've done it thanks to Antoun Eff endi ! We should 
 have failed at the last if it hadn't been for him. Just look
 
 35 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 over there, at the Bronsons, and see if you can guess who 
 it is they're talking to?" 
 
 I looked and saw tall, thin Mr. Bronson, and short, 
 plump Mrs. Bronson trying to form a hollow square 
 around a little figure in a long gray coat of Biddy's, and 
 a hood with a veil I remembered her wearing the day we 
 motored to Heliopolis. It seemed about a hundred years 
 ago. I had conducted so much and so violently since; 
 but I was not too old to remember Biddy's hood. What 
 if Neill Sheridan, poking about alone with a candle, could 
 see through that veil? 
 
 "Triumph!" I exclaimed. "You're heroines!" (I 
 didn't know then how true were my own words.) "Was 
 it a great adventure?" 
 
 "Was it, Biddy?" the girl asked, half shyly of her 
 friend. 
 
 "So great that I can't talk about it," Brigit answered, 
 and her eyes implored mine not to ask questions. Also 
 they said that she had things to tell mo not now but 
 by and by. Things for me alone. Biddy's eyes could bo 
 wonderful. 
 
 "Where's Antoun Effendi?" Monny broke in, when I 
 had taken Brigit's hint, and was beginning to say that we 
 must go and speak to the Bronsons. 
 
 "He hasn't come yet," I answered; and then her eyes, 
 too, began to implore. 
 
 "Not come yet? But it's a long time. We found 
 Mr. and Mrs. Bronson outside, hoping for us to arrive, 
 and we talked to them and introduced Mabel, and ex- 
 plained things. They would have liked to go and take 
 her away quickly, but Biddy and I begged them not to.
 
 
 BENGAL FIRE 353 
 
 We said it would be better to wait for the rest, and all 
 the crowd ,to be together in case of trouble. Oh, we 
 discussed everything, for ages minutes and minutes. 
 I do think Antoun Effendi ought to be here, unless 
 
 I caught her up quickly. "Unless?" 
 
 "Well, you see, we left him inside Rechid's gate, where, 
 he'd just knocked down a big negro, and was keeping 
 back Rechid and lots of other men anyhow three 
 with a pistol not the one he lent me. He told us to go, 
 so we went." 
 
 He told them to go so they went ! A change, this, 
 for the Gilded Rose. She spoke at the moment like an 
 obedient little girl. 
 
 "If he told you to go it was all right, you may be 
 sure," I said encouragingly. But despite my faith in 
 Anthony as a fighting man, I felt well, somewhat 
 dismayed at the picture called up. "Rechid and anyhow 
 three men!" It was rather a large order. If with a 
 wish I could have sent every member of the Set back to 
 their peaceful homes in England and America, and thus 
 rid myself of them in a second, they would all have found 
 themselves walking in at their respective front doors. 
 
 I wished this wish, but having a mere smoking candle 
 in my hand, and not Aladdin's lamp, it didn't work. 
 There they inconveniently remained in the Temple of 
 Mut, looking twice as large as life. 
 
 "What if I tell them they've seen everything?" I mut- 
 tered. "They haven't, but that's a detail. If I could 
 rush 'em all back to the boat and you with them, of 
 course, and get Mabella Hanem and the Bronsons off 
 safely, I could go look for Anth for Antoun. Of
 
 354 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 course we were to wait for him, but I don't like the pic- 
 ture you've painted " 
 
 "Oh, do look for him!" broke in Monny. "Leave us 
 to take care of ourselves. I'm sure we can. There are 
 enough of us. And Mr. Bronson is a Consul. Go and 
 get the police." 
 
 "I can't leave you," I said. "Antoun would be the 
 last one to forgive me if I did that. But I'll start off the 
 party, now. The arabeahs and donkeys are waiting. 
 Listen to the stentorian voice of the Conductor, an- 
 nouncing " 
 
 I tried to speak gayly; but the announcement, which I 
 opened my mouth to roar through the temple, was 
 never made. There came instead, at that instant, a 
 rival roar from outside. Mine would have been the roar 
 of a sucking dove. This other was a wild bull roar of 
 rage. What it was for, who was making it, and whether 
 it concerned us, we did not know; but it was the sound of 
 many voices, and flowing to us on the wind, driving 
 nearer out of distance, it was startling and caused the 
 heart to miss a beat. 
 
 Suddenly the thought sprang into my mind that 
 this was like something in a theatre. We were on 
 the stage, in a play of Ancient Egypt, and a mob 
 of supers was yelling for our lives in the wings. 
 They would pour out upon the stage and attack us. 
 Only the hero and heroine would be saved. All the 
 villains and other unnecessary people would be polished 
 off. 
 
 Everybody had stopped talking. Involuntarily groups 
 drew together. We looked over our smoking candles,
 
 BENGAL FIKE 355 
 
 past the standing statues and the fallen statues, away 
 toward the columns of the temple entrance. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Bronson, and the girl in Biddy's veiled 
 hood and cloak, walked across the court and joined our 
 party of three. Neill Sheridan was at a distance. His 
 prophetic soul told him nothing. "I hope that fellow 
 Rechid Bey hasn't worked up any trouble against us," 
 the American Consul from Asiut said in a low, somewhat 
 worried tone. 
 
 Instantly I was certain that what he hoped had not 
 happened, was indeed the thing that had happened. 
 I seemed to see Rechid stirring up a crowd of his fellow 
 Mussulmans, telling them that dogs of Christians had 
 robbed him of his foreign wife, who was on the point of 
 accepting Islam. Nothing easier than for Rechid to 
 find us. All Luxor knew we were in the Temple of Mut. 
 These men of Luxor and other Nile towns of Upper 
 Egypt, had not yet settled down after the outburst 
 against Christian insults which had alarmed the authori- 
 ties in Cairo. In three days Anthony Fenton had dis- 
 covered the dregs at the bottom of the teapot and had 
 doubtless done something toward calming the tempest in 
 it, but the troubled water had not time to cool. It could 
 easily be brought to the boil again; and the despoiling 
 of a harem by Europeans the harem of an important 
 man would be oil thrown onto the dying fire under the 
 tempestuous teapot. 
 
 The furious voices grew louder. From the wave of 
 sound words spattered out and up like spray. Perhaps 
 in all that astonished crowd gathered in the Temple of 
 Mftt, Bronson and I were the only ones who knew enough
 
 356 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Arabic to catch their meaning. His question was an- 
 swered. And this was not a stage. Those shouting men 
 were not supers in the wings. They were in earnest. 
 Foolish and dreamlike and utterly unreal as it seemed, 
 their hearts were hot with savage anger against men and 
 women of an alien race: and though what they might do 
 to us would be visited on their own heads to-morrow, they 
 were not thinking of to-morrow now. As for us it 
 was just possible that owing to this silly dream we were 
 having about a mob of common, uneducated Arabs, for 
 some of us there might not be any to-morrow. 
 
 "Is there a back door where we can dash out and give 
 them the slip?" asked Bronson. 
 
 I was thinking hard. Mine was the responsibility for 
 my charges, these rich, comfortable tourists from London 
 and New York, Birmingham and Manchester, Chicago 
 and St Louis. None of them knew yet that they were in 
 danger. They were thinking about their dinner, and their 
 pleasant, lighted cabins on board the Enchantress Isis, 
 waiting for them not far away. They realized that some- 
 thing was the matter out there, that a lot of Arabs were 
 making a row; but it interested and amused them im- 
 personally. If somebody had robbed or murdered some- 
 body else, morally it was a pity, of course: but it added 
 to the picturesqueness of the scene, and would be nice 
 to tell about at home. I felt myself overflowing with a 
 sudden, new tenderness for the Set, so often troublesome. 
 This that was going to happen unless we could stop 
 it was in truth the affair of Monny and Brigit, Mabella 
 Hanem and the Bronsons, Anthony Fenton and me; but 
 all would be involved, the innocent with the guilty, unless
 
 BENGAL FIRE 357 
 
 very quickly the duffer of the company could think of 
 some way out. 
 
 "No," I heard myself say with decision, "we mustn't 
 leave the temple. They're superstitious about it. Few, 
 if any, will venture in. What they want is to lure us into 
 the open. And there must be no panic. Certainly my 
 friend, unless he 's been hurt, is working for us some- 
 where. It's only a question of minutes. He borrowed 
 
 my Browning to-day. I wish " I glanced toward 
 
 Brigit and Monny. They stood at a little distance, with 
 Mrs. Bronson and Mabel, but the faces of both were 
 turned toward us. I saw that they guessed the meaning 
 of the uproar outside. Biddy's great soft eyes spoke to 
 mine, spoke, and told me all the truth about myself. 
 How I loved her, Biddy O'Brien, and no one else on earth ! 
 How I would die for her, and let all the rest die, if need be, 
 yes, even Monny Gilder, to whom I had been idiot enough 
 to write that letter! If I could save Biddy, what did 
 anything beside matter? But yes, it did matter. I 
 must save them all. And the light that had lit up my 
 dim soul gave me inspiration. Because I loved Biddy, 
 I knew what to do. 
 
 Tve got a little surprise for every one!" I yelled, to be 
 heard over the noise outside, where Rechid Bey's mob was 
 now probably trying to make our donkey-boys and ara~ 
 beah-men join in the fight or the siege. "Mr. Neill Sher- 
 idan will kindly lead the whole party to the sanctuary, 
 which his knowledge of architecture will enable him to 
 find, on the axis of the temple. Down that passage, 
 please ! In fifteen minutes the surprise will be ready, and 
 you will receive the signal to return, from Mr. Bronson,
 
 358 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 American Consul at Asiut no time for introductions 
 now. " 
 
 Sheridan, amazed, but perhaps not displeased, emerged 
 from the dark corner where, until the row began, he had 
 been examining a half -erased wall-carving. "Come 
 along, then, everybody!" he shouted good-naturedly; 
 and as the procession formed discussing the "surprise" 
 and the noise, now mysteriously linked together in the 
 minds of my charges I saw the veiled and hooded 
 Mabel shyly try to pull Mrs. Bronson into place with her, 
 as near as possible to Sheridan. She must have suspected 
 that there was trouble brewing, and guessed the cause. 
 Her timid, self-centred little soul instinctively sought 
 shelter in the neighbourhood of a friend, who would per- 
 haps have been more than a friend, if he could. So she 
 followed him, he not knowing what eyes the gray veil hid : 
 but Mrs. Bronson broke away from the small hand and 
 hurried back to her husband. 
 
 "What am I to do?" she asked. 
 
 "Go with the others," he said, quietly. "Take care 
 of the girl. Lord Ernest has some plan." 
 
 She went reluctantly; but Brigit and Monny and Mrs. 
 East lingered at the tail of the procession, returning to 
 us as the others vanished down the passage that led to- 
 ward the sanctuary. I motioned them away, but Monny 
 ran forward, while Biddy kept Cleopatra from following. 
 They talked together and argued, Biddy's arm round the 
 taller woman's waist, as Monny came straight to me, and 
 put into my hand Anthony Fenton's pistol. 
 
 "I didn't have to use it," she said. "It's all loaded 
 and ready. And I'm going to stay here with you and 

 
 BENGAL FIRE 359 
 
 Mr. Bronson, to help. What are you planning to 
 do?" 
 
 "Please run away," I said, "and take Biddy and your 
 aunt. You must. That's the only help we want " 
 
 "Not till you tell me what you mean to do." 
 
 "Oh, only to try a trick to frighten those Arab sheep 
 out there. They funk this temple at night anyhow. And 
 I've just remembered that I brought some Bengal fire 
 to light the place up and amuse the crowd. I thought 
 if a red blaze suddenly burst out it would give those fellows 
 a scare and the police are on the way " 
 
 "But the Arabs will see that you're only two!" 
 
 "They shan't see us at all. We'll hide behind those 
 statues and pot at them if they do come in, which I doubt. 
 Now, off with the three of you!" And I was getting my 
 illumination ready. 
 
 To my surprise and relief, Monny obeyed without 
 further argument. Dimly it passed through my mind 
 that she had been profiting by her lessons lately. I 
 threw one glance over my shoulder, more, I'm afraid, to 
 see whether my dear Brigit were on her way to safety 
 than through anxiety for Miss Gilder. The three figures 
 had already disappeared in the darkness, and Bronson 
 and I gave ourselves to the work of lighting up. 
 
 An ocean-roar of voices surged round the temple 
 entrance now; but the red light flamed like the fires of 
 hell, and I, peeping from behind a statue, revolver in 
 hand, saw that the temple itself had not been invaded. 
 The flare lit the foreground of the darkness outside, and the 
 columns of the front court. I could see a moving throng 
 of white and black clad figures, gesticulating, running to
 
 360 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 and fro, seeming to urge each other to some action, yet 
 none coming forward. I sprinkled on more powder, and 
 up blazed the Bengal fire again. Now somebody was 
 taking the lead. A tall man was pushing through the 
 crowd. Would they follow this brave one? My fingers 
 closed round the Browning. He was between the columns 
 at last, but the light was dying down. I threw on all I 
 had of the powder, and stared through the red dazzle to 
 make certain what was happening since this might 
 decide our fate. The tall man's back was turned to us. 
 He seemed to be motioning the crowd away instead of 
 urging them on. How to make sure, in the blood- 
 coloured glare, whether a man's turban was white or green 
 or crimson? But that gesture that lift of the head! 
 No mistaking that. The man was Antoun Ahmed 
 Antoun, the worshipful Hadji, haranguing the mob. 
 
 Hardly would they let him speak at first. Those on 
 the outskirts tried to yell him down. I heard the word 
 "traitor!" and before the light ebbed I thought I caught 
 sight of Rechid's pale face under the red tarboosh, Rech- 
 id's broad shoulders in European coat, edging past jeb- 
 bahs and galabeahs, toward the columns. Then, just 
 as the light died, from behind us in the temple came a 
 cry. Above the shouting of the Hadji, who was begin- 
 ning to make himself heard by the crowd, it rang out 
 shrill and clear a woman's voice : Monny Gilder's. She 
 called on the name of Antoun, and then was silent. 
 
 I lifted my candle-lantern all that was left to illu- 
 mine the darkness, and saw at the far end of the court 
 shadowy figures struggling together. It seemed to me 
 that there were not two, but four or five. I ran toward
 
 BENGAL FIRE 361 
 
 them, and Bronson ran, but some one bounded past us 
 both a tall man in a green turban. A shot was fired 
 after him, and hit a statue. I heard subconsciously a 
 miniature crash of chipped granite, but I don't think 
 Anthony heard, or had heard anything since that call 
 for "Antoun!" 
 
 He had dashed ahead, though we had had the start 
 and were running fast. Rounding a group of statues, 
 erect and fallen, I saw a candle-lantern on the floor, and 
 knew that Monny and perhaps Biddy had not 
 obediently followed the procession to the sanctuary, 
 after all. They had waited to watch and listen, hiding 
 behind the black statues of Sekhet, and men who 
 had crept in by another way doubtless by the small 
 Ptolemaic gate opening on the lake had taken them 
 by surprise. 
 
 Anthony had got to the shadowy mass, which moved 
 like black, wind-blown clouds, vague and shapeless, 
 before Bronson and I were near enough to distinguish 
 one form from another. As for our eyes, his tall figure 
 blended with the waving shadows; two revolver shots 
 exploded with thunderous reverberations. We did not 
 know if he, or another, had fired; but almost simultan- 
 eously with the second shot two black shapes separated 
 themselves from the rest, fleeing into darkness. They 
 took the way by which they must have come, the way 
 leading toward the gate on the lake. 
 
 Three seconds later we were on the spot; and the only 
 shadows left resolved themselves under my candle light 
 into the forms of Brigit O'Neill, Monny Gilder, Anthony 
 Fenton, and Mrs. East somewhat in the background.
 
 362 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Monny's hat was off, and Biddy's was apparently 
 hanging by a hatpin. Their hair was in disorder, a rope 
 of Biddy's falling over one shoulder, a shining braid 
 of Monny's hanging down her back. Monny seemed to be 
 more or less in the arms of Antoun, but only vaguely and 
 by accident. Dimly I gathered that she had stumbled, 
 and he had saved her from falling. Biddy was fastening 
 up the front of her gray chiffon blouse, which was open, 
 and torn. Her hands trembled and I could see that her 
 breast rose and fell convulsively; for, though the light was 
 dim, I was looking at her, while I merely glanced at the 
 others. Mrs. East was crying. But Brigit and Monny 
 had smiles for Bronson and me as we came blundering 
 along, stumbling over unseen obstacles. 
 
 " Some one stole up behind with an electric torch, and 
 tried to drag me away," said Monny, in a weak little 
 voice, scarcely at all like her own. It sounded as if a 
 ventriloquist were imitating her. "Some one called me 
 Esme O'Brien whispered right in my ear. And I 
 screamed, and fought, and Antoun came. I think then 
 the man pushed me down as he ran away. Anyhow I 
 fell, and Antoun picked me up. Oh, Biddy, are you 
 safe? Why, your dress is torn!" 
 
 "Yes, but I'm safe," answered another small, weak 
 voice. " I fought, too. I I think they wanted to rob 
 me. Thank goodness, I didn't have it on." 
 
 "The bag, dearest?" 
 
 "Yes, darling, the bag. I thought I wouldn't wear it 
 to-day." 
 
 Out in the night the yells had subsided since the Had- 
 ji's harangue, if not wholly because of it.
 
 BENGAL FIRE 363 
 
 "The police have come," said Anthony. "It oc- 
 curred to me that Rechid and some friends of his were 
 cooking up a plan, and while I was getting into my clothes 
 in the village it jumped into my head what it might be. 
 So on my way out to the temple I stopped and left a 
 warning. We're all right now. And I don't think the 
 Arab lot would have dared venture in anyhow. These 
 chaps who sneaked in at the back and attacked the 
 ladies were dressed like the rest, but I doubt they were 
 Arabs." 
 
 He would have doubted still more, if he had known all 
 that I knew. But the one secret I'd kept from him was 
 Biddy's secret. The words "Esme O'Brien" whispered 
 to Monny, as yet meant nothing save bewilderment to 
 Fenton. 
 
 "The fifteen minutes are up, and no signal yet for 
 your famous surprise," called out Sir John Biddell's com- 
 plaining voice, from the end of a dark passage. "Has 
 anything gone wrong?" 
 
 " Oh, I was going to give you a Bengal fire illumination 
 of the temple, for a climax," I explained, coming suavely 
 forward to meet him with my candle. "But the beastly 
 stuff er sort of went off by itself, and it's all used 
 up. I was er just going to call you." 
 
 "Well, not much harm done," said Sir John. "We've 
 seen the sanctuary, such as it is. A little disappointing^ 
 perhaps, especially as Mr. Sheridan found a friend with 
 Mrs. Bronson, the Consul's wife, and preferred talking 
 with her to giving out information to us, from his stores of 
 knowledge. But luckily not more than twenty minutes 
 wasted. By the way, what's become of the row outside?
 
 364 IT HAPPENED IN EGPYT 
 
 Seems to have fizzled down while we were away, like your 
 red fire." 
 
 "Yes, a great man of some sort was addressing the 
 crowd. But the police came along and made it move on. 
 There's been a bit of native grumbling in these Nile 
 towns lately you may have read some paragraph about 
 it in the Cairo papers? So the police are rather quick 
 to break up meetings." 
 
 "Why should men meet near the Temple of Mut?" 
 inquired Sir John. "7 shouldn't think of doing it." 
 
 "Perhaps in the beginning they hoped to get something 
 out of the Europeans," said I lightly. "But they've 
 given that up, evidently." 
 
 "I hope they haven't seduced our donkey -boys and 
 arabeah drivers!" exclaimed Sir John. "I'm hungry. 
 And I'm in a hurry to get home." 
 
 "Not they. Donkey-boys and arabeah-men aren't 
 easily seduced when there's a question of baksheesh. 
 They're all right! I'm only sorry about the Bengal fire." 
 
 "Well, it was a good idea, anyhow," Sir John patron- 
 ized me. 
 
 "C'est vrai," I heard murmur in his chosen language, 
 the Hadji, who had saved the situation. C'etait une idee 
 ires bien pour un duffer."
 
 XXIV 
 PLAYING HEAVY FATHER TO RACHEL 
 
 NEVER had the Enchantress Isis looked so enchanting 
 to my eyes as she looked that night. I felt, as the Set 
 trooped on board, like an anxious hen-mother who, con- 
 trary to her fears, has safely returned a brood of duck- 
 lings to the home chicken-coop after a swim out to sea. 
 I valued each duckling, even the least downy, far more 
 than I had dreamed it would be possible. But there was 
 one duckling valued so much more than all the rest 
 (how much more I had realized only when, cackling on 
 the bank, I saw it on the wave) that knowing it was 
 safe made me hysterical with joy. I could have kissed 
 its napkin when it slid off its lap and I picked it up the 
 napkin, not the duck at dinner. The drawback was 
 that I had not saved it, as Anthony had saved Monny. 
 It had no reason to be grateful to me, or care more than 
 it had always cared, for a friend. And still another 
 drawback presented itself when the confusion of dressing 
 in haste and dining, as the Enchantress Isis steamed 
 out of Luxor, gave me time to think. The duckling was 
 not my duckling: and considering that it had calmly laid 
 plans for me to capture an heiress, considering also that 
 it had not yet abandoned these plans, I saw little reason 
 to hope that, now I had come to a few just a few of 
 
 365
 
 366 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 my senses it would ever take the idea seriously, of 
 becoming mine. 
 
 To abandon once and forever the duckling simile, the 
 first thing I did on board the boat, after recovering from 
 the excitement of seeing Mabel off by train with the Bron- 
 sons, was to wonder how I could make up for all this 
 hideous waste of time when I might have been making 
 love to Biddy. But there was no chance to say anything 
 personal to her that night. I had to hear and wanted 
 to hear the story of all that had happened from the 
 moment she and Monny entered Rechid Bey's gate, to the 
 moment they came out. Then there was Antoun's story 
 to follow; and after that we had to compare notes: how 
 everybody had felt, what everybody had thought, what 
 everybody had done. This subject was inexhaustible, 
 and kept cropping up in the midst of others; but that of 
 Mabella Hanem, her escape from bondage and from 
 " conversion" to Islam, and what revenge Rechid was likely 
 to take, was almost as engrossing. 
 
 When at last, late that evening, I managed to get 
 Biddy alone for a moment, she could no more be induced 
 to talk of herself than if she had been a ghost without 
 visible existence, a mere voice, to speak of others, Monny 
 by preference. What a heroine Monny had been from 
 first to last! And what did I think now about the fool- 
 ishness of that theory the theory that Bedr was a spy, 
 and had led his employers to believe that "Mrs. Jones" 
 was travelling with her stepdaughter concealed under an 
 impeccably important nom de guerre? 
 
 What I thought was, that we must get hold of Miss 
 Rachel Guest, and question her as to her whole acquain-
 
 PLAYING HEAVY FATHER TO RACHEL 367 
 
 tance with the Armenian learning how, by all that was in- 
 credible, the double mystery of mixed names had origi- 
 nated. "Monny knows only that Rachel was supposed 
 to be the heiress, testing her personal attractions by pre- 
 tending to be the poor school teacher," said Brigit. "The 
 child's been wildly enjoying the situation, for she was 
 tired of young men. Rachel wasn't! And Rachel's been 
 profiting by it far more wickedly. As for Esme, I'm 
 sure no thought of her name coming into this business, 
 ever entered Monny 's head. We must try to find out 
 what Bedr said to Rachel at the beginning, as you advise, 
 Duffer and all about it. After what I told you that 
 I heard from Esme about an exciting love romance, any 
 mistake of this sort might be particularly dangerous. The 
 Organization might think it had more right than ever to 
 be bitter against us. And now, I don't mind your con- 
 fiding in your friend Captain Fenton. I think I'd like 
 him to know my story." 
 
 What Biddy had told me about Esme was, that the 
 girl had confessed, in a letter, having been made love to 
 (during a summer holiday in the mountains with friends) 
 by the son of a man her father had deeply injured. The 
 accidental meeting had been a real romance: the girl 
 and the young man thought that no one, save themselves, 
 shared their secret. But who could tell, when Fate it- 
 self stood between them with a drawn sword? The love 
 of Romeo for Juliet was a safe and simple affair compared 
 with the merest flirtation between the daughter of Rich- 
 ard O'Brien and the son of John Halloran, whom O'Brien's 
 testimony had sent to prison for life. 
 
 Sometimes I thought, as the days went on, that Biddy
 
 368 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 guessed not my change of heart, but my new under- 
 standing of it: and that she wanted quietly and gently to 
 show me, according to Bill Bailey's pet expression, there 
 was "nothing doing." Her expressed wish that Fenton 
 should hear her story, looked to my suddenly suspicious 
 mind as if his strong personality and his extremely 
 picturesque position had made an appeal to the romance 
 in her, as it had in the case of Mrs. East and perhaps 
 Monny Gilder. Always interested in "Mrs. Jones," 
 from first sight, when he had laughingly said that the 
 "little sprite of a woman" would be almost too alluring 
 if surrounded by an atmosphere of mystery and intrigue, 
 Anthony was now frankly preoccupied with her affairs. 
 He was not even annoyed that, unaided by me, her quick 
 mind had grasped the secret of his identity. "It was like 
 her to spring on to it by instinct," he said, smiling that 
 thoughtful smile of his, which wa-s more than ever effec- 
 tive in his Arab get up. "And like her not to give any- 
 body else a hint, except you, of course though she must 
 have been tempted sometimes. I suppose" and he 
 looked up quickly "she hasn't given any one else a 
 hint?" 
 
 "I'd swear she hasn't." 
 
 "Miss Gilder you're sure she hasn't the slightest 
 suspicion?" 
 
 "As sure as a man can be of anything about a woman." 
 
 "You aren't trying to evade the question, Duffer?" 
 
 "On my word, I'm not. I feel morally certain Miss 
 
 Gilder labours under the impression that you're as brown 
 
 as you're painted. That somehow or other you can't 
 
 be Moslem because she's seen you without a turban, and
 
 PLAYING HEAVY FATHER TO RACHEL 369 
 
 you've got the hair of a Christian. Maybe she thinks 
 you're a Copt. I heard her learnedly arguing the other 
 day that the Copts are the only real Egyptians. She has 
 the air of studying you, sometimes : but with all her study, 
 she sees you only as an Egyptian of high birth and attain- 
 ments, with a few drops of European blood in your veins, 
 perhaps just enough to make things aggravating, and a 
 vague right to a princely position if you chose to over- 
 look something or other, and claim it. There you have 
 her conception of you, in a nutshell." 
 
 There would still have been room in that nutshell 
 for Cleopatra's ideas concerning her niece's feelings. But 
 if she were right, it was Anthony's business to discover 
 those feelings for himself, provided he cared to do so. And 
 of this I was not sure. There was the doubt that it might 
 be Biddy, even though he appeared to attach some unex- 
 plained importance to Miss Gilder's continued ignorance 
 about himself. 
 
 The day after leaving Luxor, there was no time for the 
 heart to heart talk I planned with Rachel Guest. Each 
 hour, each minute almost, was taken up with my duties 
 as Conductor, which I was obliged to regard seriously, 
 whether I liked them or no. If I did not, the Set growled, 
 snapped or clamoured; which gave me even more trouble 
 than doing my duty. 
 
 For some reason best known to herself (but suspected 
 by me) Mrs. East kept to her suite, nursing a grievance 
 and the Siberian lap-dog from Asiut. This saved me a 
 certain amount of brain strain, for among other places of 
 interest we had to pass near was ancient Hermonthis, 
 where in her Cleopatra incarnation she had built a temple
 
 370 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 with a portrait of herself adoring the patron Bull of the 
 city. If she had known how easy it would be to visit 
 the ruins, she would have been capable of desiring the 
 boat to stop, or telegraphing complaints to Sir Marcus 
 if it hadn't. 
 
 The two excitements of the day were passing through 
 a huge lock (with sides like those of a canyon, and scar- 
 let doors such as might adorn the house of an ogre) in 
 which we nearly stuck, and were saved by Antoun seizing 
 the pole from the inferior hands of a Nubian boatman; 
 also a visit to Esneh, a very Coptic town, starred with 
 convents built by the ever-present Saint Helena, sacred 
 once to the Latos fish, now sacred to gorgeous baskets of 
 every size and colour, also somewhat over- beaded, and 
 over-scarabed. A ruined quay jutted into the wine- 
 brown water, where Roman inscriptions could have been 
 spied out, if any one had had eyes to spare from the bas- 
 ket sellers, the sellers of grape-fruit, and all the other 
 shouting merchants who flocked to head us off on our way 
 to the temple, despite a flurry of rain that freckled the 
 deep sand of the landing hill. But nobody did have eyes 
 for anything Roman, now that Cleopatra sulked in her 
 throne-room, and our only archeologist was as absent- 
 minded as if he had been his own astral body. He had 
 seen the wisdom of "sticking to the trip," and not turning 
 back by train with the Bronsons and Somebody Else, as 
 he may have yearned to do (if Monny were right) : but 
 History had suddenly become as dry husks to Sheridan. 
 His soul was no longer with us, journeying up the Nile; 
 and I suspected his body of packing to join it, as soon as 
 things had been arranged to un-Hanem Mabel, and send
 
 PLAYING HEAVY FATHER TO RACHEL 371 
 
 her, freed from a marriage which was not marriage, freed 
 from this fear or forcible conversion, home to the United 
 States. 
 
 It was just on the cards, Anthony and I thought, 
 that there might be another "demonstration" at Esneh, 
 that unruly town where Mohammed Ali banished the 
 superfluous dancing girls of Cairo in the eighteen forties. 
 If Rechid Bey had not discovered the truth about that 
 hurried departure from Luxor for Asiut (as a matter of 
 fact, Mabel and her guardians were almost thrown on 
 board as the train began to move) he might have sent 
 emissaries, or come himself to Esneh, where he must have 
 known the Enchantress Isis would land. As for Bedr 
 and his employers, Anthony (who now knew Biddy's 
 suspicions) was inclined to think that, even if she were 
 right, we had seen the last of them. After such a. set- 
 back as that in the Temple of Mut, he thought they would 
 not only be discouraged but frightened. They had run 
 away from us, in the temple; and despite the proverb 
 concerning those who fight and run, to fight another day, 
 it was probable that men of their calibre would see the 
 wisdom of abandoning the chase. They had shown them- 
 selves cowards, Anthony thought, whatever their object 
 had been in attacking Miss O'Brien and Miss Gilder: and 
 though we must be on the watch during the rest of the 
 trip, his idea was that the men had retreated in fear of 
 arrest. 
 
 In any case, we had no trouble at Esneh, and saw no 
 sinister faces peering out of low doorways in the bazaars, 
 or over the heads of the pretty (sometimes fair and blue- 
 eyed) dancing girls' descendants.
 
 372 
 
 Buried in the heart of the village we came upon the 
 temple. Only the portico was visible under piled houses 
 and a triumphant mosque; but once we were down in 
 the entombed temple itself, it gave a sense of secrecy, 
 and mystic rites, to look up from under the dark roof 
 of heavy stone with its painted zodiac, out from hidden 
 halls of carving and colour, to the clustered houses of 
 dried brick built before the temple was uncovered. There 
 was a sense of tragedy and failure, too, toiling up the 
 steep slope to the town level, and passing, on the half- 
 buried walls, gigantic carved figures making thwarted 
 gestures, in commemoration of kingly triumphs forgotten 
 hundreds upon hundreds of years ago. 
 
 At night there was fantasia on board, with our boatmen 
 dancing each other down, like Highlanders, and the next 
 day brought us to Edfu, which all the women were wild to 
 see because Robert Hichens had called its green-blue the 
 "true colour of love": an adorable temple sacred to 
 Horus, as there he conquered and killed Set. 
 
 It was only after we had passed Sir Ernest Cassell's 
 red house, with the smoky irrigation works where four- 
 teen hundred Arabs have chased the desert into the back- 
 ground, and after we had visited the splendid twin temples 
 of Light and Darkness at Kom Ombo, towering majes- 
 tically above the Nile bank, that I found time to catechize 
 and lecture Miss Guest. I contrived to separate her from 
 her sculptor, and lure her to a part of the deck unfre- 
 quented because it was windy. Rachel was looking 
 happy, young and prosperous, in one of Monny's most 
 becoming (and expensive) dresses. 
 
 At first, I think she felt inclined to be flattered by my
 
 PLAYING HEAVY FATHER TO RACHEL 373 
 
 desire for her society, for I had never yet wished her 
 joy, or formally congratulated Bailey. One look inte 
 my eyes, with those clever, slanting green orbs of hers, 
 however, and instinct must have told her that my in- 
 tention was different. She glanced round for an excuse 
 to escape, but found none, for I hedged her in from all 
 her friends. Then she quickly decided to shunt me off 
 on an emergency track laid by herself. 
 
 "What a wonderful day it's been!" she remarked. 
 And Kom Ombo is one of the best temples. The only thing 
 I didn't like was those mummied crocodiles. Their 
 smiles look so hypocritical, and to think they've been 
 smiling them for thousands of years " 
 
 "It must be unpleasant to smile the smile of a hypo- 
 crite, even for a few weeks," I seized the chance to work 
 up to business. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," agreed Miss Guest a slight colour stain- 
 ing her cheeks. "And didn't you notice several new sorts 
 of wall-inscriptions?" 
 
 "Yes," I admitted. "But if you don't mind, I'd like 
 to skip sixteen or seventeen centuries and come down to 
 you. I've been wanting a chat " 
 
 "Why, I'm delighted!" she exclaimed, frightened, but 
 all the more ingratiating. "Oh, isn't the Nile beautiful 
 as we come toward Nubia? And aren't the sakkiyehs 
 more interesting than the shadoofs, which they use mostly 
 when the river is low? Willis said quite a lovely thing, 
 about the sakkiyehs: that their chains of great water 
 cups, going up and down, look like enormous strings of 
 red and green prayer-beads, being 'told' by unseen hands. 
 He ought to be a poet, he's so romantic."
 
 374 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "No doubt everything about you, Miss Guest, must 
 make an appeal to his romantic side," I cut in, while she 
 was forced to pause for breath. 
 
 "I hope I do appeal to him," she said, meekly, "I 
 never thought to be so happy." This was a direct appeal 
 to me; and it hit the mark. I didn't care a rap about 
 Willis Bailey, or his sketches or the wooden statues with 
 crystal eyes which he was going to make the fashion. If 
 Miss Guest chose to hook her shining fish with a false fly 
 it wasn't my business. It was hers and his, and perhaps 
 Monny's, for Monny had backed Rachel up in creating a 
 wrong impression, as if they two had been playing to- 
 gether, like children, to trick the grown-ups. But I had 
 to find out what had started the ball rolling, because it 
 looked as if that ball had come out of the pocket of Bedr. 
 
 "I'm glad you're happy," I said, "and my hope is 
 that you'll remain so. I wish you so well, that perhaps 
 you'll give me the right to ask a few questions. You see, 
 I'm one of your oldest friends in Egypt, after Miss Gilder 
 and her aunt and Mrs. Jones. You met Miss Gilder 
 and Mrs. East travelling in France, they've told me : " 
 
 "Yes, in a dining-car. We were put at the same table, 
 and got talking. I just loved Monny at first sight, and 
 she's been heavenly to me. What fun we've had! I 
 never had any fun before. I hardly knew the meaning of 
 the word." 
 
 "I suppose it must have amused you and Miss Gilder," 
 I planted my arrow at last, though not remorselessly, 
 "this quaint idea that's got round, about your having 
 changed places." 
 
 Rachel's face crimsoned. "Oh, Lord Ernest!" she
 
 PLAYING HEAVY FATHER TO RACHEL 375 
 
 sighed in an explosive whisper, with a glance round to see 
 if any one were near. But we were alone with the begin- 
 nings of a sunset, that flushed the dun hills as unripe 
 peaches are flushed on a garden wall. "I've promised 
 Monny not to say a word and spoil her fun, as long as the 
 trip lasts. She's finding out, you see, which people are 
 really attracted to her, for herself. She says it's a won- 
 derful experience and it's given her such a rest from 
 men : the silly ones, you know. It isn't my fault. I'd tell 
 in a minute if she'd let me." 
 
 "Was it she who began the game?" I dared to inquire. 
 "Or was it Bedr? Now, this is a question I really have 
 a right to ask. I'll tell you why afterward, if you don't 
 know already from Monny." 
 
 "No, I don't think Monny 's said anything to make 
 me understand that," Rachel answered, stammering a 
 little, and trying pathetically not to look anxious. "But 
 I'll answer you, of course. There's nothing to hide from 
 you now that I can see. It was Bedr who began. 
 He was the most intelligent, extraordinary person! I 
 don't believe any one fully realized it, except me. But 
 from that first night at Alexandria, he seemed to feel that 
 I saw something of value behind his poor face. He was 
 very sensitive. And he attached himself to me hi the most 
 beautiful, faithful way. Really and truly, if there hadn't 
 come that trouble about the hasheesh place (which wasn't 
 his fault, because Monny wanted to go, and when she 
 wants things she wants them very much) I believe I could 
 have made a Christian of him. He would have been a 
 wonderful convert ! We talked more about religion than 
 anything else, but he used to like to chat about America,
 
 376 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 because he'd been there, and hoped to go again. That 
 was the way the joke about Monny and me started. He 
 did ask me not to speak of it, but it can't matter now. He 
 told me when he was in New York, with a family who took 
 him from Egypt, one day the great Mr. Gilder's daughter 
 was pointed out to him in the street. She was with her 
 father, in an automobile, but there was a block in the 
 traffic: a policeman was keeping it back, so he saw her 
 distinctly for several minutes, and he was interested, be- 
 cause his employers told him how important the Gilders 
 were, and how Mr. Gilder used to have his daughter 
 guarded every minute for fear she might be kidnapped 
 for ransom, as several rich people's children had been. 
 Monny couldn't have been more than fourteen then, as 
 it's seven years ago; and Bedr said that the little girl he 
 saw in the automobile was exactly like me hardly at all 
 like what Monny is now. He wanted me to tell him, for 
 a reason which he vowed and swore was very important, 
 whether I wasn't really Miss Gilder, and she Miss Guest." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well, I thought the idea so funny, so thoroughly 
 quaint, you know, and like something in a book, that just 
 for fun I answered that I couldn't tell him anything until 
 I'd consulted my friend. Monny nearly went wild about 
 it. She said she'd come to Egypt to have adventures 
 and she was going to have them, no matter whether 
 'school kept or not'. That's just a little slang expres- 
 sion, people use at home, sometimes. I daresay you've 
 heard her say much the same thing. She said this idea 
 of Bedr's was too good to miss, and we'd get bushels of fun 
 out of it. So we have in different ways. And she's
 
 PLAYING HEAVY FATHER TO RACHEL 377 
 
 been lovely, about giving me dresses and things. When 
 she and I talked the matter over, she understood why 
 Bedr should have thought she was more like me, at the 
 age of fourteen, than like her present self. She'd had 
 typhoid fever just before the time she must have been 
 pointed out to him, and it had left her thin as a rail, and 
 as pale as a ghost. Her hair was short, too, and some of 
 the colour had been burnt out of it by the fever. Now, 
 you know, she has a brilliant complexion, and her face 
 is much rounder than mine, as well as more pink and 
 white. Compared to her, I am sallow, I'm afraid, and 
 lanky : and when she and I stand together, her hair looks 
 bright gold, and mine light brown in comparison. 
 
 "Monny wouldn't let me tell Bedr right out that he 
 was mistaken about us. She said we wouldn't fib, but 
 we'd act self-conscious, as if we had a secret, and he'd 
 stumbled on it. He must have started the story oh, 
 if you could call it a story ! I don't believe anything has 
 ever been put into words. It was in the air. People 
 got the idea. But Bedr must have put it into their 
 heads. Neither Monny nor I did more than smile and 
 look away, and change the subject if any one hinted. We 
 said, 'You mustn't breathe such things to Mrs. East or 
 Mrs. Jones, or they'll be angry.' Apparently nobody 
 ever did dare to breathe it to them. And I think Monny 
 mentioned you, too, Lord Ernest. She didn't want you 
 to know. She was afraid you'd say that the whole thing 
 was nonsense. I suppose it was Enid BiddeLl who came 
 to you? She was afraid Mr. Snell but it isn't worth 
 talking about, now. Only she is a cat." 
 
 Miss Biddell had said exactly the same of Miss
 
 378 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Guest. Naturally, however, I did not mention the 
 coincidence. 
 
 "Now I've told you everything you wanted to know, 
 haven't I?" Rachel went on. " Or were there any more 
 questions you'd like to ask I mean, about Bedr?" 
 
 "Only one more, I think. Did it ever strike you that 
 he was curious about you or rather, about Miss Gilder 
 who, you both let him suppose, was really Miss Guest? 
 Anything about your name?" 
 
 "Why, yes, he was curious. They say Arabs always 
 are, if you let them be. Not that he is exactly an Arab. 
 But I suppose Armenians are the same. He seemed to 
 want to know things about me what I'd done, where 
 I'd lived, and oh, lots of little questions he would 
 ask. Monny and I made up our minds from the first, as I 
 told you, that there mustn't be any fibs. I simply put 
 him off. He never got anything out of me at all." 
 
 "t see," I said; and let myself drift away from her 
 into thoughtfulness. 
 
 "Is that all, then?" 
 
 "Yes, that is all, thank you." 
 
 Her tone sounded as if she were relieved of a mental 
 weight, and would like to go. I expected her to make 
 some excuse: it would soon be time to dress for dinner: 
 or she had a letter to write. But no, she lingered. She 
 was trying to bring herself to say something. I waited, 
 in silence, my eyes on the shining river, looking back at 
 the golden trail of the sun that was like a rich mantle 
 draping a gondola on a fete day in Venice. 
 
 "I suppose you think," she forced the words out at 
 last, "that Willis Bailey wouldn't have fallen in love
 
 PLAYING HEAVY FATHER TO RACHEL 379 
 
 or proposed if he hadn't thought like the rest, that 
 I I- -" 
 
 "I don't see why he shouldn't, Miss Guest." 
 
 "He really does seem to care for me as I am, you 
 know. And I've never told him a single untruth. I've 
 nothing to blame myself for." 
 
 "I'm sure of that." 
 
 "Yet you don't approve of me one bit. You think 
 I'm a kind of adventuress. So does Mrs. Jones. Me! 
 Why, what would the people at home in Salem say if 
 any one suggested such a thing? You don't know the 
 life I've led, Lord Ernest." 
 
 "I can imagine. You don't want to go back to it 
 again, do you?" 
 
 "It does seem as if I couldn't, now. It's seemed so, 
 even before Willis oh, I'm sure you think I never 
 meant to go back, once I'd broken free from the dull 
 grind." 
 
 "No harm in that!" 
 
 "I'm glad you say so. I took all my legacy to see the 
 world a little well, nearly all, not quite, perhaps, to 
 tell the truth. And being brave has brought me this 
 reward: the love of a man who can give me everything 
 worth having. I shan't be outside life any more. And 
 Willis won't have any reason to blame me when he 
 when he " 
 
 "No reason, of course," I fitted into her long pause. 
 "But men as well as women are unreasonable, sometimes, 
 you know. And if he should be so er wrong-headed 
 as to think you'd deceived him about yourself " 
 
 "Then he ought to blame Monny, not me!"
 
 380 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "He ought, perhaps. But the question is, what he 
 will do. And you can't like having a sword hanging over 
 your head? Supposing he should be unjust, and refuse 
 to carry out 
 
 "Oh, Lord Ernest, you don't think he will, after he's 
 sworn that I'm the only woman in the world he could 
 ever have loved? He thinks me much better looking than 
 Monny. He says she hasn't got a soul, yet. He doubts 
 if she ever will have one." 
 
 I didn't doubt it. I thought I had heard it stirring 
 in the throes of birth, a soul such as would blind the eyes 
 of a Rachel Guest, with its white shining. Monny had 
 said that she would "find her soul in Egypt." But the 
 mention of this was not indicated just then. 
 
 "I haven't the courage to tell him, even if there were 
 really anything definite enough to tell," Rachel went on. 
 "It would be insulting a man like Willis to suggest that 
 he'd been influenced you know what I mean. But 
 now we're talking of it oh, do advise me ! We're 
 planning to be married in Egypt, at the end of this trip, 
 and then settle down in Cairo, for Mr. Bailey's studies 
 at the museum. He came up the Nile only for me, you 
 see! And he says I shall be his first model for the new 
 style my eyes are just right, as if they'd been made 
 on purpose to help him. I lie awake nights wondering 
 what if, before the wedding, when he finds out for certain 
 that my name is really only Rachel Guest, and that I'm 
 I oh, I daren't think of it!" 
 
 "Then, if you want me to advise, why don't you in 
 some tactful, perhaps joking way, speak of the story Bedr 
 started, and "
 
 PLAYING HEAVY FATHER TO RACHEL 381 
 
 "I can't I simply can't." 
 
 "Yet you feel it would be better?" 
 
 "Yes sometimes I feel it. You help me, Lord Er- 
 nest. You tell him. And then, if you see any signs 
 you'll make him understand how dreadful it would be 
 to throw me over because I'm poor and have been a 
 nobody till now?" 
 
 "I'll do my best," I heard myself weakly promising. 
 
 No wonder I have earned the nickname of Duffer!
 
 XXV 
 MAROONED 
 
 HAD any human fly ever buzzed himself so fatally into 
 the spider-webs of other people's love affairs? I asked 
 myself sternly. As soon as Providence plucked me out 
 of one web, back I would bumble into another, though I 
 had no time for a love affair of my own. 
 
 When the Enchantress Isis had slipped past many 
 miles of desert shore, black-striped and tawny as a 
 leopard's skin, and other desert shores so fiercely yellow 
 as to create an effect of sunshine under gray skies, we 
 arrived at Assuan. I had not yet kept my promise to 
 Rachel, though whether from lack of opportunity or 
 courage I was not sure. 
 
 Here we were at historic Assuan; and nothing had hap- 
 pened, nothing which could be written down in black and 
 white, since the excitements at Luxor. Nevertheless, some 
 of us were different within, and the differences were due, 
 directly or indirectly, to those excitements. 
 
 Now we were nearing Ethiopia, alias the Land of 
 Cush, though Monny said she could not bear to have it 
 called by that name, except, of course, in the Bible, 
 where it couldn't be helped. How would any of us like 
 to "register" at an hotel as Mr. or Miss So-and-So, of 
 Cush? Oshkosh sounded more romantic. 
 
 382
 
 MAROONED 383 
 
 No land, however, could look more romantic than As- 
 suan, City of the Cataracts, Greek Syene, that granite 
 quarry whose red syenite made obelisks and sarcophagi 
 for kings of countless dynasties. "Suan," as the Copts 
 renamed it (a frontier town of Egypt since the days of 
 Ezekiel the prophet), now appeared a gay place, made for 
 pleasure-pilgrims. 
 
 Sky and river were dazzling blue, and the sea of sand 
 was a sea of gold, the dark rocks lying like tamed 
 monsters at the feet of Khnum, god of the Cataract/ 
 glittered bright as jet, over which a libation of red wine 
 had gushed. The river-front of the town, with its 
 hotels and shops, was brightly coloured as a row of 
 shining shells from a southern sea; tints of pink and 
 blue and amber, translucently clear in contrast with the 
 dark green of lebbek trees and palms, in whose shadow 
 flowers burned, like rainbow-tinted flames of driftwood. 
 Between our eyes and the brilliant picture, a network of 
 thin dark lines was tangled, as if an artist had defaced his 
 canvas with scratches of a drying brush. These scratches 
 were in reality the masts of moored feluccas, bristling 
 close to the shore like a high hedge of flower stems, stripped 
 of blossoms and bent by driving wind. 
 
 On the opposite side of the river, the desert crouched 
 like a lion who flings back his head with a shake of yellow 
 mane, before he stoops to drink. And in the midst of the 
 stream rose Elephantine Island, with its crown of feathery 
 palms, its breastwork of Roman ruins (a medal of fame 
 for the kings it gave to Egypt) and its undying lullaby 
 sung by the cataract, among surrounding rocks. 
 
 Very strange rocks they were, black as wet onyx,
 
 384 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 though for thousands of years they had been painted 
 rose by sunrise and sunset; shapes of animal gods, shapes 
 of negro slaves, shapes of broken obelisks and fallen 
 temples; shapes of elephants like those seen first by 
 Egyptians on this island; shapes which one felt could 
 never have taken form except in Egypt. 
 
 Over our heads armies of migrating birds made a net- 
 work like a great floating scarf of beads, each bead a bird : 
 and the blue water round the slow-gliding Enchantress 
 was crowded with boats of so many hitherto un- 
 known sorts, that they might have been visiting craft 
 from another world: feluccas with sails red or white, or 
 painted in strange patterns, or awninged; some with rails 
 like open trellis work of many colours, over which dark 
 faces shone like copper in the sunshine; rowing boats, 
 "galleys" with fluttering flags, and old soap-boxes 
 roughly lined with tin, in which naked imps of boys peril- 
 ously paddled. Out from the boats rushed music in 
 clouds like incense; wild, African music of chanting 
 voices, beating tom-toms, or clapping hands that clacked 
 together like castanets. Very old men and very young 
 youths thumped furiously on earthen drums shaped like 
 the jars of Elephantine, once so famous that they trav- 
 elled the length of Egypt filled with wine. The breeze 
 that fanned to us from beyond the palms and lebbeks, 
 the roses and azaleas, was soft and flower-laden. There 
 was a scent in it, too, as of ripe grapes, as if a fragrance 
 lingered from vanished days when wine for the gods was 
 made from Elephantine vineyards, and fig-trees never 
 lost their leaves. We ourselves, and our big three-decked 
 boat were alone in our modernity, if one forgot the line
 
 MAROONED 385 
 
 of gay buildings on the shore. Everything else might 
 have been of the time when the world supposed Elephan- 
 tine to be placed directly on the Tropic of Cancer, and 
 believed in the magic lamp which lit the unfathomable 
 well; the time when quarries of red and yellow clay 
 gave riches to the island, and all Egypt thanked its gods 
 when Elephantine's Nilemeter showed that the Two Lands 
 would be plentifully watered. 
 
 Most of us were going to live on board the Enchant- 
 ress for our three days at Assuan; but, hearing that 
 lords and ladies of high degrees swarmed at the Cat- 
 aract Hotel with its wild, watery view of tumbled rocks, 
 and at the Savoy in its flowery gardens, some went where 
 they might hope to cross the path of dukes and duchesses. 
 
 The Monny-ites were not "wild" about the aristocracy, 
 nor would royalty (of later date than the Ptolemies) 
 have lured Cleopatra from her suite on the boat. But 
 the whole party was eager for shore, and no sooner had 
 the Enchantress put her foot on the yellow sands than 
 she was deserted by her passengers. The bazaars were 
 the first attractions, for "everybody said" that they were 
 as fine in their way as the bazaars of Cairo; so very soon 
 we were all buying silver, ivory, stuffed crocodiles and 
 ostrich feathers from the Sudan, which now opened its 
 gates not far ahead: the Sudan, mysterious, unknown, 
 and vast. 
 
 Cleopatra clung to me, with a certain wistfulness, as 
 if in this incarnation she were not so intimately at home 
 in Upper Egypt as she had hoped to be. Perhaps this 
 loneliness of her soul was due to the fact that instead 
 of seeking her society, "Anthony with an H" seldom
 
 386 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 came near her now. Something had warned him off. 
 He would never tell me or any one on earth: but, un- 
 used to the ways of women as he was, I felt sure that he 
 had been uncomfortably enlightened as to Cleopatra's 
 feelings. The cure, according to his prescription, was 
 evidently to be "absent treatment." But there was 
 another which I fancied might be efficacious; the sudden 
 arrival on the scene of Marcus Antonius Lark. 
 
 I happened to know that he proposed a dash from Cairo 
 to Assuan by train, for I had received two telegrams 
 at the moment of walking off the boat. The first message 
 announced his almost immediate advent; the second re- 
 gretted unavoidable delay, but expressed an intention not 
 to let us steam away for Wady Haifa without seeing him. 
 The excuse alleged was business, but I thought I saw 
 through it, and sympathized; for he whom I had once 
 cursed as a brutal tyrant of money-bags now loomed 
 large as a pathetic figure. 
 
 Despite the lesson of the lotuses, I believed that 
 his motive was to try his chance with Mrs. East; that 
 life had become intolerable, unless "Lark's Luck" might 
 hold again; and that he could not wait till the cruel lady 
 returned to Cairo. It was a toss-up, as we walked side 
 by side to the incense-laden bazaar, whether I told her 
 the news or left her to be surprised by the unexpected 
 visitor. Eventually I decided that silence would help 
 the cause; and in thus making up my mind I was 
 far from guessing that my own fate and Monny's and 
 Anthony's and Brigit's hung also on that insignificant 
 decision. I was thankful that Mrs. East said no more of 
 bringing her niece and me together, and that, on the con-
 
 MAROONED 387 
 
 trary, she dropped dark hints about "everything in life 
 which she had wanted" being now "too late, and useless 
 to hope for" in this incarnation. Why she had changed 
 her plans for Monny I could not be sure; enough for me 
 that she apparently had changed them. 
 
 Sir Marcus did not appear the next day or the next, and 
 I heard no more. Indeed, between dread of breaking the 
 truth to Bill Bailey, and self-reproach at letting time 
 pass without breaking.it, I almost forgot Lark's love 
 affair. I salved my conscience by working unnecessarily 
 hard, and even helping Kruger with his accounts, when 
 Anthony too generously relieved me of other duties. 
 
 How I envied Fenton at this time, because no girls 
 asked him what men they ought to marry; or implored 
 him to prevent men from jilting them; or urged him to 
 enlighten handsome sculptors with wavy, soft hair, and 
 hard eyes resembling the crystal orbs which were to be- 
 come fashionable in Society! Anthony loved Assuan, 
 and apparently enjoyed displaying its beauties. Not 
 knowing that I hid a fox under my mantle, he meant to 
 be kind in "taking people off my hands," giving them 
 tea on the Cataract Hotel veranda; escorting them to 
 the ruined Saracen Castle which, with Elephantine oppo- 
 site, barred the river and made a noble gateway; lead- 
 ing them at sunset to the Arab cemetery in the desert, 
 and to the Bisharin village where wild, dark creatures 
 (whose hair was pinned with arrows and whose ancestors 
 were mentioned in the Bible) sold baskets and bracelets 
 and what not. There were really, as Sir John Biddell 
 remarked, a "plethora of sights," not counting the mag- 
 nificent Rock Tombs, since the Set had definitely "struck "
 
 388 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 against tombs of all descriptions. But even with an 
 excursion to the ancient quarries, for a look at half- 
 finished obelisks, for once I had not enough to do. And 
 Fenton had snatched Biddy from me as well as Monny. 
 Mercilessly he had them sightseeing every moment. 
 And I could no longer scold Rachel for "letting things 
 slide." To blame her would be for the pot to call the 
 kettle black. 
 
 It was on the day of the Great Dam that I screwed 
 my courage to the sticking-place, and made Bailey 
 understand that his fiancee was nobody but Rachel 
 Guest; that she would be Rachel Guest all her life 
 until she became Mrs. Some One-or-Other: preferably 
 Mrs. Willis Bailey. Somehow it seemed appropriate to 
 do the deed at the Dam. And always in future, when 
 people ask what impression the eighth wonder of the 
 world made upon me, I shall doubt for an instant whether 
 they refer to the American sculptor, or to the Bar- 
 rage. 
 
 The way in which we went was so impressive that it 
 was comparatively easy to be keyed up to anything. 
 
 Most travellers make the trip on donkey back; or else, 
 as far as Shellal, in a white, blue-eyed desert train, where 
 violet window-glass soothes their eyes and prepares their 
 minds for a future journey to Khartum. After Shellal 
 they go on in small boats to the wide, still lake which the 
 Great Dam has stored up for the supply of Egypt. But 
 we of the Enchantress Isis were super-travellers. Our 
 boat being of less bulk than her new rivals, she was 
 able to reach the Barrage by passing up through its 
 many locks and proceed calmly along the Upper Nile,
 
 MAROONED 389 
 
 between the golden shores of Nubia, to Wady Haifa. We 
 remained on board for the experience; and though I had 
 the task of telling Bailey, still before me, I would not 
 have changed places with a king, as standing on deck, 
 with Biddy by my side, I felt myself ascending the once 
 impassable Cataracts of the god Khnum. 
 
 If Biddy had been the only person by my side, I should 
 have risked telling her the secret she ought always to 
 have known. But there were as many others as could 
 crowd along the rail. For once they were reflective, not 
 inclined to chatter. Perhaps the same thought took 
 different forms, according as it fitted itself into different 
 heads; the thought of that marvellous campaign of the 
 boats which fought their way past these cataracts to 
 relieve Gordon. The ascent was a pageant for us. For 
 them it had meant strife and disaster and death. We 
 admired the glimpses of yellow desert: we exclaimed 
 joyously at the mad turmoil of green water, the blood- 
 red and jet-black rocks, below the Dam. For us it was 
 a scene of unforgettable majesty. For those others, 
 the waste of stone-choked river must have yawned like 
 a wicked mouth, full of water and jagged black teeth, 
 which opened to gulp down boats and men. 
 
 It was on the brink of the Barrage itself that I spoke to 
 Bailey. And there, looking down over the immense 
 granite parapet, upon line after line of tamed cataracts 
 breathing rainbows, we were so small, so insignificant, 
 that surely it could not matter to a man whether the 
 girl of his heart were an heiress or a beggar maid ! There 
 was room in the world only for the mighty organ-music 
 of these waters, and the ever underlying song of love. t
 
 390 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 I saw by the look in Bailey's eyes, however, as he gazed 
 away from me to the long-necked dragon form of a huge 
 derrick, that it did matter. I had been tactful. I had 
 mentioned the mistake in identity as if it were a silly 
 game played by children, a game which neither he nor 
 I nor any one could ever have regarded seriously. He 
 controlled himself, and took it well, so far as outward 
 appearance went: but soon he made an excuse to escape: 
 and presently I saw him strolling off alone, head down, 
 hands in pockets. Luncheon was being prepared on the 
 veranda of a house belonging to the chief engineer of 
 the Dam. Its owner was a friend of Sir Marcus Lark, 
 and, being away, had agreed to lend his place to our 
 party, Kruger having done no end of writing and 
 telegraphing to secure it. Many of our people had 
 got off the Enchantress I sis in one of the locks, and 
 had walked up the steps to the summit-level of the 
 Barrage, Brigit and I among others. And as we as- 
 sembled for lunch it was an odd sight to see our white, 
 floating home rising higher and higher, until at last she 
 rode out on the surface of the broad sea of Nile which is 
 held up by the granite wall of the Barrage. She was to 
 be moored by the Dam, and to wait for us there until 
 evening, when we should have exhausted the Barrage and 
 ourselves; and have visited Philae. 
 
 By and by luncheon was ready, served by our white- 
 robed, red-sashed waiters from the Isis, but Bailey did 
 not return. Rachel begged that our table might wait 
 for a few minutes. Perhaps he had gone the length of 
 the Dam in one of those handcars, on which some of our 
 people had dashed up and down the famous granite mile,
 
 MAROONED 391 
 
 their little vehicles pushed by Arabs. He might be back 
 in a few minutes. But the minutes passed and he did 
 not come. The dragon-derrick stretched its neck from 
 far away, as if to peer curiously at Rachel. The black 
 and red and purple monsters disguised as rocks for this 
 wild, masquerade ball of the Nile, foamed at the mouth 
 with watery mirth at the trouble these silly things called 
 girls had always been bringing on themselves, since 
 Earth and Egypt were young together. The look of the 
 forsaken, the jilted, was already stamped upon Rachel's 
 face. She tried to eat : when the picnic meal could be 
 put off no longer, but dbuld scarcely swallow. Monny 
 glanced at her anxiously from time to time, perhaps sus- 
 pecting something of the truth. And the eyes of botii 
 girls turned to me now and then with an appeal which 
 made unpalatable my well-earned hard-boiled eggs, and 
 drumsticks. Bother the whole blamed business! thought 
 I. Hadn't I done all I could? Wasn't I practically run- 
 ning the lives of these tiresome tourists, as well as their 
 tour? What did that adventuress out of a New England 
 schoolroom want of me now, when I'd washed my 
 hands of her and her affairs? 
 
 But all through, there was no real use in asking myself 
 these questions. I knew what Rachel wanted, and that 
 I should have to do it, if only to please Biddy, who 
 would be broken-hearted if Monny 's indiscretions should 
 wreck the happiness of even the most undeserving young 
 female. Darling Monny must be saved from remorse at 
 all costs ! 
 
 One of the costs to me was luncheon as well as peace 
 of mind. I excused myself from the table. I pretended
 
 392 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 to have forgotten some business of importance. I 
 whispered to the Enchantress dining-room steward, who 
 had come to look after the waiters, that the meal must 
 be served as slowly as possible. "Drag out the courses,"' 
 said I. "Make 'em eat salad by itself, and everything 
 separate, except bread and butter." Having given these 
 last instructions, I was off like an arrow shot from the 
 bow, a reluctant arrow sulking at its own impetus. In- 
 stinct was the hand that aimed me; the Enchantress I sis 
 was the target; and deck cabin No. 36 was the bull's-eye. 
 As I expected, Bailey was in his stateroom. I had not 
 far to go; only to hurry from the engineer's house, along 
 the river-bank to the landing-place, where a number of 
 native boats were lying; jump into one, and row out a few 
 yards. But the heat of noon, after the cool shade of the 
 veranda, was terrific. I arrived out of breath, my brow 
 richly embroidered with crystal beads, just in time to find 
 Bailey squeezing his bath sponge preparatory to packing 
 it, in a yawning kitbag already full. At such a moment 
 he could squeeze a sponge ! I hated him for this, as though 
 the sponge had been Rachel's heart. 
 
 On his berth lay a letter addressed to her, and another 
 to me. No doubt he told us both that he had received 
 an urgent telegram. He was so taken aback at sight 
 of the task master that he let me withdraw the sponge 
 from his pulseless fingers. I laid it reverently on the 
 washhand-stand, as a heart should be laid on an altar. 
 
 "My dear fellow," I began. (Yes, to my credit be it 
 spoken, I said "dear fellow!") "You don't know what 
 you are doing. I speak for your own sake. Think what 
 people will say! Every one will see why you left her.
 
 MAROONED 393 
 
 And you don't want to leave her, you know! Of course 
 you don't ! You love Miss Guest. She loves you. Not 
 all the crystal eyes in the world can make you the fashion, 
 if the eyes of your fiancee are red with tears because you 
 jilted her, when you found out she was only herself! 
 People don't like such things. They won't have their 
 artists cold and calculating. It isn't done. You can't 
 afford to squeeze a sp I mean, break a heart in this 
 fashion. It will ruin your reputation." 
 
 So I argued with a certain eloquence, forcing con- 
 viction until with a fierce gesture Bailey snatched six 
 collars from his bag and flung them on the bed. Seeing 
 thus clearly what I thought showed him what others 
 were sure to think : and the world's opinion was life itself 
 to Bailey. He was cowed, then conquered. At last I 
 dared to say: "May I?" 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 Instantly I tore the letters into as many pieces as there 
 were collars. Afterward, when we walked off the boat, 
 arm in arm, I dropped them into the water. 
 
 We got back to the engineer's before the picnickers had 
 finished their belated Turkish coffee. Bailey took the 
 vacant chair between Rachel Guest and Monny Gilder. 
 Biddy said that she had asked to have some coffee kept 
 hot for me. I needed it! 
 
 That is what delayed our start for Philae and is, I 
 suppose, why everything that took place there after- 
 ward happened exactly as it did. If we had left the Dam 
 an hour earlier, there would have been no excuse to stop 
 for sunset at th<j temple which those who love it call the
 
 394 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "Pearl of Egypt." As it was but that comes after- 
 ward. 
 
 When Strabo went from Syene to Philae, he drove in a 
 chariot with the prefect of that place, "through a very flat 
 plain," and on both sides of their road ( I fear, for their 
 bones, it was a rough one!) rose "blocks of dark, hard 
 rock resembling Hermes-towers." Nearly two thousand 
 years later we were rowed to the same temple, across an 
 immensely deep, vast sheet of shining crystal. We 
 lolled (I am fond of that word, though aware that it's 
 reserved for villainesses) in "galleys" painted in colours 
 so violent that they looked like tropical birds. They 
 were awninged, and convulsively propelled by Nubians 
 whose veins swelled in their full black throats, and whose 
 ebony faces were plastered with a grayish froth of sweat. 
 Each pressed a great toe, like a dark-skinned potato, on 
 the seat in front of him for support in the fierce effort of 
 rowing. Turbans were torn off shaved, perspiring heads, 
 and even skull-caps went in the last extreme. Wild 
 appeals were chanted to all the handiest saints to grant 
 aid in the terrible undertaking. An eagle-eyed child at 
 the steering wheel gazed pityingly at his agonized elders. 
 And then, just as you expected the whole crew to fall dead 
 from heart failure, they chuckled with glee at some 
 joke of their own. There w T as always breath and energy 
 enough to spare when they wanted it. But what would 
 you? The labourer must be worthy of his hire, and a 
 little something over. When Strabo saw Philae, she was 
 a distant neighbour of the mighty Cataracts. Now, the 
 waters which once rushed down are prisoned by the 
 Great Dam, and stand enslaved, to wall the temple
 
 MAROONED 395 
 
 round like a great pearl in a crystal case. She is the 
 true Bride of the Nile; for, as long ago the fairest 
 of maidens gave herself to the water as a sacrifice, so 
 Philae gives herself for the life of the people. She 
 drowns, but in death she is more beautiful than when the 
 eyes of the old historian beheld her, glowing with the 
 colours of her youth, yet already old, deserted by gods and 
 priests and worshippers. Now she has worshippers from 
 the four ends of the earth, and the greatest singers of the 
 world chant her funeral hymn. For in all Egypt, with its 
 many temples of supreme magnificence, there is nothing 
 like Philae. None can forget her. None can confuse 
 her identity for a moment with that of any other monu- 
 ment of a dead religion. And if she were the only temple 
 in Egypt, Egypt would be worth crossing the ocean to 
 see, because of this dying pearl in its crystal case. 
 
 Venus rose from the sea. Philae, the Marriage Temple 
 of Osiris and Isis Venus of Egypt sinks into the 
 sea of waters poured over her by Khnum, god of the Cat- 
 aracts. Thus the great enchantress sings her swan-song 
 to touch the heart of the world, her fair head afloat like 
 a sacred lotus on the gleaming water. I think there 
 were few among us who did not fancy they heard that 
 song, as our Nubian men rowed across the sea stored up 
 by the great Barrage. From far away we saw a strange 
 apparition, as of a temple rising from the waters. It 
 seemed unreal at first, a mere mirage of a temple. Then 
 it took solid outline; darkly cut in silver; a low, column- 
 supported roof; a pylon towering high; and to the south, 
 separated from both these, a thing that might have been 
 a huge wreath of purple flowers. We knew, however,
 
 396 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 from too many photographs and postcards, that this was 
 "Pharaoh's Bed," the unfinished temple of Augustus and 
 Trajan, standing on a flooded island. 
 
 Our boat glided close to the flower-like stems of the 
 columns supporting the low roof. Far down in the clear 
 depths we could see the roots of the pillars, or their 
 phantom reflections. And in the light of afternoon, the 
 water was so vivid a green that the colour of it seemed 
 to have washed off from the painted stones. Onto this roof 
 we scrambled, up a flight of steps, and found that we were 
 not to have Philae to ourselves. There were other boats, 
 other tourists; but we pretended that they were invisible, 
 and they played the same game with us. Ignoring one 
 another, the rival bands wandered about, wondered what 
 the place would be like with the water "down," quoted 
 poetry and guide-books, and climbed the pylon. From 
 that height the kiosk called "Pharaoh's Bed" showed a 
 mirrored double, like an old ivory casket with jewelled 
 sides, piled full of a queen's emeralds. We loitered; we 
 explored; and having descended sat down to rest, dang- 
 ling irreverent feet over beryl depths, splashed with gold. 
 Thus we whiled away an hour, perhaps. Then the Set, 
 impressed at first, had had enough of the mermaid- 
 temple's tragic beauty. Sir John Biddell reminded me 
 that it had been a long day for the ladies, and very hot. 
 Hadn't we better get back to the Enchantress before 
 sunset? But that was exactly what some of us did not 
 Want to do. 
 
 The matter was finally settled by retaining our one 
 small boat, with two rowers, and sending off the two 
 larger "galleys" with their full complement of passengers,
 
 MAROONED 397 
 
 excepting only "Mrs. Jones," Miss Gilder, Antoun 
 Effendi, the melancholy Cleopatra, and the guilty shep- 
 herd of the flock, who knew he had no business to desert 
 his sheep. He did nevertheless feel, poor brute, that after 
 such a day he had earned a little pleasure, and, accord- 
 ingly proceeded to snatch it from Fate, despite disap- 
 proving glances. Punishment, however, fell as soon as 
 it was due. I had stayed behind with the intention of 
 amusing Brigit. But Monny took her from me, as 
 if she had bought the right to use my childhood's 
 friend whenever it suddenly occurred to her to want 
 a chaperon. Instead of Biddy, I got Cleopatra. And by 
 this time, so far as we knew, all tourists save ourselves 
 had gone. 
 
 I knew in my heart that, in accusing Monny Gilder of 
 claiming Brigit O'Neill because she was paying her ex- 
 penses, I did the girl an injustice. Monny was afraid of 
 herself with Anthony. I saw that plainly, since the fact 
 had been laid under my nose by Mrs. East. She feared 
 the glamour of this magical place, perhaps, and felt the 
 need of Biddy's companionship to keep her strong, not 
 realizing that any one else was yearning for the lady. 
 This was the whole front of her offending; yet I was so 
 disappointed that I wanted to be brutal. Without Biddy, 
 I should wish but to howl at the sunset, as a dog bays the 
 moon. And feeling thus I may not have made myself 
 too agreeable to Cleopatra. In any case, after we had 
 sat in silence for a while, waiting for a sunset not yet ready 
 to arrive, she turned reproachful eyes upon me. "Lord 
 Ernest," she said, "I think you had better go and join 
 Monny."
 
 398 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "Why?" I surlily inquired. " I thought you thought 
 that idea of yours was too late to be of any use 
 now?" 
 
 "I do think so," she replied. "Everything interesting 
 is too late now. Still, you'd better go." 
 
 "Are you tired of me?" I stupidly catechised her. 
 
 "Well, I feel as if I should like to be alone in this 
 wonderful place. / want to think back" 
 
 "I see," said I, scrambling up from my seat on the edge 
 of the temple roof, and trying not to show by my ex- 
 pression that I was pleased, or that both my feet had gone 
 to sleep. "In that case, I'll leave you to the spooks. 
 ; May none but the right ones come!" 
 
 "Thank you," she returned dryly; and I limped off, 
 walking on air, tempered with pins and needles. Joy! 
 my luck had turned! At the top of the worn stone 
 stairway, cut in the pylon, I met Biddy. She was dim 
 as one of Cleopatra's Ptolemaic ghosts, in the darkness of 
 the passage; but to me that darkness was brighter than 
 the best thing in sunsets. 
 
 "Salutation to Caesar from one about to die!" I 
 ejaculated. 
 
 "What do you mean?" she asked. 
 
 "I mean that both my feet are fast asleep, and I shall 
 certainly fall and kill myself if I try to go one step further, 
 up or down." 
 
 "You, the climber of impossible cliffs after sea- birds' 
 nests!" she laughed. But she stood still. 
 
 "I'm after something better than sea-birds' nests now," 
 said I. "The question is, whether it's not still more 
 inaccessible? "
 
 MAROONED 399 
 
 "Are you talking about Monny?" she wanted to 
 know, in a whisper. 
 
 "Sit down and I'll tell you," was my answer. 
 
 "Oh, not here at the top of the steps, if it's anything as 
 private as that" Biddy objected, all excitement in an 
 instant. "Let's come into a tiny room off the stair- 
 way, which the guardian showed me a few minutes ago. 
 There's a bench in it. You see, he's up there on the pylon 
 roof now with Monny and Captain Fenton (I cant call 
 him Antoun when I talk to you; its too silly!) and 
 he'll probably be coming down in a minute. Then, 
 if we stop where we are, we'll have to jump up 
 and get out of the way, to let him pass. And 
 he's sure to linger and work off his English on us. 
 I don't think we'll want to be interrupted that way, 
 do you?" 
 
 "No, nor any other way," I agreed. 
 
 "Oh, but what about the sunset? We may miss it." 
 
 "Hang the sunset! Let it slide down behind the 
 Dam if it likes!" 
 
 "I don't wonder you feel so, you poor dear," Biddy 
 sympathized, "when it's a question of Monny, and all our 
 hopes going to pieces the way they are doing, every 
 minute. There isn't a second to lose." 
 
 So we went into the little room in the tower, which was 
 lit only by a small square opening over our heads. We 
 sat down on the bench. It was beautifully dark. I 
 began to talk to Biddy. We had forgotten my feet; and 
 I forgot Mrs. East. But I must tell what was happening 
 to her at the time (as I learned afterward, through the 
 confession of an impenitent), before I begin to tell what
 
 400 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 happened to us. Otherwise the situation which developed 
 can't be made clear. 
 
 I left Cleopatra calling spirits from the vasty deep, or 
 rather one spirit; the spirit of Antony. I am morally sure 
 that any other would have been de trop. And sailing to 
 her across the wide water from Shellal came Marcus 
 Antonius Lark. 
 
 I can't say whether she considered him an answer to 
 her prayer, or a denial of it. Anyhow, there he was; 
 better, perhaps, than nobody, until she learned from his 
 own lips tactless though ardent lips that he had 
 come from Cairo to Assuan, from Assuan to Philae, to 
 see her. Then she took alarm, and remarked in the old, 
 conventional way of women, that they'd "better go 
 look for the others." But Sir Marcus hadn't spent his 
 money, time, and gray matter in hurrying to Philae 
 from Shellal, for nothing. Finding himself too late to 
 catch us at Assuan, he had paid for a special train in 
 order to follow his "Enchantress" (the lady and the 
 boat). 
 
 Taking a felucca with a fine spread of canvas and many 
 rowers, which (characteristically) he bargained for at 
 the Shellal landing-place, he sailed across to the moored 
 steamer, only to learn from Kruger that we had gone on 
 our expedition to Philae. That meant a long sail and 
 row for the impatient lover. For us, the longer it was, 
 the better: one of the chief charms of our best day. But 
 for him it must have been tedious, despite a good breeze 
 that filled the sails and helped the rowers. 
 
 On his way to the temple, he met the galleys going 
 "home" to the Enchantress Isis. An instant's shock
 
 MAROONED 401 
 
 of disappointment, and then the glad relief of realizing 
 that the one he sought was still at the place where he 
 wished to find her. There were only four Obstacles which 
 might prevent an ideal meeting. The names of these 
 Obstacles, in his mind were: Jones, Gilder, Fenton, and 
 Borrow; and being an expert in abolishing Obstacles, the 
 great Sir Marcus began to map out a plan of action. 
 
 Luckily fcfr him, our small boat had moved out of 
 Cleopatra's sight, as she sat and dreamed on the low 
 temple-roof, while we four Obstacles disported ourselves 
 on different parts of the high pylon. The two Nubians 
 wished to play a betting game with a kind of Egyptian 
 Jack-stones, and it was not desirable that the pensive 
 lady should behold them doing it. Observing the grace- 
 ful figure of Mrs. East silhouetted against the sky's 
 eternal flame of blue, and at the same time noticing that 
 she could not see the waiting boat, Sir Marcus got his 
 inspiration. He knew that the four Obstacles were some- 
 where about the temple. Now was his great chance, 
 while they were out of the way! And if he resolved to 
 play them a trick, perhaps he salved his conscience by 
 telling it that the Obstacles, male and female, ought to 
 thank him. 
 
 Cleopatra probably thought, if she glanced up to see his 
 boat: "Oh dear, another load of tourists!" and promptly 
 looked down to avoid the horrid vision. By the time 
 Sir Marcus came within "How do you do?" distance, 
 he had bribed our waiting boatmen to row away. This 
 in order not to be caught in a lie. 
 
 With our Nubians and their craft out of his watery 
 way, he was free to fib when the time came. "Go look
 
 402 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 for the others?" he echoed Mrs. East's proposal. "Why, 
 they've gone. I met them." 
 
 "Gone! And left me behind when they knew I was 
 here?" she exclaimed. "They can't have done such a 
 thing." 
 
 "I'm afraid there's been a mistake," replied Sir Marcus 
 presently. "They certainly have gone. I met the boat. 
 Borrow was expecting me to-day, you know or maybe 
 you don't know. And when he saw me in my felucca, he 
 stopped his to explain that evidently there 'd been a 
 contretemps." (I'm sure Lark mispronounced that word!) 
 " The temple guardian said a gentleman had arrived and 
 taken the lady who was waiting, off in a boat. Of course 
 Borrow thought I had come along, and persuaded you to 
 go with me, after telling the guardian to let him know. 
 I expect the guardian's got mighty little English: and 
 they say white ladies all look alike to blacks. He must 
 have mixed you up with some other lady. I suppose 
 my folks haven't been the only people at Philae since 
 you came?" 
 
 Mrs. East admitted that a number of "creatures" had 
 come and gone. But she thought all had vanished before 
 the departure of the galleys. 
 
 "You see you thought wrong. That's all there is 
 to it," Sir Marcus assured her. And having taken these 
 elaborate measures to secure the lady's society for him- 
 self alone (Nubian rowers don't count) he proceeded to 
 lure her hastily into his own boat, lest any or all of the 
 Obstacles should arrive to spoil his coup. 
 
 That was the manner of our marooning. 
 
 At the time, we were ignorant of what was happening
 
 MAROONED 403 
 
 behind our backs; the sunset for instance, and the only 
 available boat calmly rowing away from the drowned 
 Temple of Philae. 
 
 We were thinking of something else; and so was Sir 
 Marcus, or he would not have forgotten the repentant 
 promise he made himself, soon to send back a boat and 
 take us off. We were, therefore, in the position of unre- 
 hearsed actors in a play who don't know what awaits 
 them in the next act: while those who may read this 
 can see the whole situation from above, below, and on 
 both sides. Four of us, marooned at Philae, not knowing 
 it, and night coming on.
 
 XXVI 
 WHAT WE SAID: WHAT WE HEARD 
 
 " BIDDY, you were never wiser in your life," I exploded 
 as I got her on the bench. "You warned me there wasn't 
 a second to lose. I've lost years already, and I can't 
 stand it the sixtieth part of a minute longer, without 
 telling you how I love you!" 
 
 "My goodness!" gasped Biddy. "Do be serious for 
 once, Duffer. This is no time for jokes. Don't you 
 know you've delayed and delayed in spite of my ad- 
 vice, till you've practically lost that girl? And if there's 
 any chance left " 
 
 "The only chance I want is with you," I said. "Dar- 
 ling, I want you with my heart and soul, and all there is 
 of me. Have I any chance?" 
 
 "And how long since were you taken this way?" 
 demanded Biddy, at her most Irish, staring at me 
 through the darkness of the little dim room in the 
 pylon. 
 
 "Ever since you were an adorable darling of four 
 years," I assured her. "Only I was interrupted by 
 going to Eton and Oxford, and your being married. 
 But the love has always been there, in a deep under- 
 tone. The music's never stopped once. It never 
 could. And when I saw you on the Laconia " 
 
 404
 
 WHAT WE SAID: WHAT WE HEARD 405 
 
 "You fell in love with Monny!" breathlessly she cut 
 me short. 
 
 "Nothing of the kind," I contradicted her fiercely. 
 "You ordered me to fall in love with Miss Gilder. I 
 objected politely. You overruled my objections, or 
 tried to. I let you think you had. And for a while 
 after that, you know perfectly well, Biddy, the Set gave 
 me no time to think any thoughts at all, connected with 
 myself." 
 
 "You poor fellow, you have been a slave!" The soft- 
 hearted angel was caught in the trap set for her pity. 
 
 "And a martyr. A double-dyed martyr. I deserve 
 a reward. Give it to me, Biddy. Promise, here in this 
 beautiful Marriage Temple, to marry me. Let me take 
 care of you all the rest of your life." 
 
 " My patience, a nice reward for you !"she snapped. " Let 
 you be hoist by the same petard that's always lying around 
 to hoist me ! What do you think of me, Duffer and 
 after all the proofs we've just had of the dangerous 
 creature I am? Why, the whole trouble at Luxor was 
 on my account. Even you must see that. Monny 
 and I wouldn't have been let into Rechid's house if 
 those secret men hadn't persuaded him to play into their 
 hands, and revenge himself on you men as well as on 
 us, for interfering with Mabel. It was their plot, not 
 Rechid's, we escaped from! And it was theirs at the 
 Temple of Mut, too. Rechid was only their cat's-paw, 
 thinking he played his own hand. Just what they 
 wanted to do I can't tell, but I can tell from what one of 
 them said to Monny in the temple, that they took her 
 for Richard O'Brien's daughter. Poor child, her love
 
 406 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 for me and all her affectionate treatment of me, must 
 have made it seem likely enough to them that she was 
 Esme, safely disguised as an important young personage, 
 to travel with her stepmother. Bedr must have assured 
 his employers that he was certain the pale girl was really 
 Miss Gilder; so they thought the other one with me must 
 be Esme. You can't laugh at my fears any more! And 
 I ask you again, what do you think of me, to believe I'd 
 mix you up in my future scrapes?" 
 
 "I think you're the darling of the world," said I. 
 "And my one talent, as you must have noticed, is getting 
 people out of scrapes. It'll be wasted if I can't have you. 
 Besides, under the wing of an Embassy no one will dare 
 to try and steal you, or blow you up. We'll be diplo- 
 mats together, Biddy. Come! You say I've 'duffed' 
 all my life, to get what I wanted. Certainly I've done a 
 lot of genuine duffing in love; but do bear out your own 
 expressed opinion of the work by saving it from failure. 
 Couldn't you try and like me a little, if only for that? 
 You were always so unselfish." 
 
 "Hush!" said Biddy, suddenly, "Hush!" 
 "Do you hate me, then? Is it by any chance, Anthony, 
 you love?" 
 
 "No no! Hold your tongue, Duffer." 
 " ' No' to both questions? I shan't stop till you answer." 
 "No, to both, then! Now will you be silent?" 
 "Not unless you say you do care for me." 
 "Yes yes, I do care. But, Sh! Don't you hear, 
 they're talking just outside that window in the wall? 
 If you can't keep a still tongue in your head, then for 
 all the saints whisper!"
 
 WHAT WE SAID: WHAT WE HEARD 407 
 
 Her brogue was exquisite, and so was she. I wor- 
 shipped her. When I slipped my arm round her 
 waist, she dared not cry out. The same when I 
 clasped her hand. Things were coming my way at 
 last. And if I put my lips close against her ear 
 I could whisper as low as she liked. I liked it too. 
 And I loved the ear. 
 
 She was right. They were indeed talking just outside 
 the window, Monny Gilder and Anthony Fenton. The 
 prologue was evidently over, and the first act was on. 
 It began well, with a touch of human interest certain to 
 please an audience. But unfortunately for every one 
 concerned, this was a private rehearsal for actors only, 
 not a public performance. Biddy and I had no business 
 in the dark auditorium. We were deadheads. We had 
 sneaked in without paying. The situation was one for 
 a nightmare. 
 
 "For heaven's sake, let me cough, or knock something 
 over!" I implored Biddy's ear, which (it struck me at 
 the moment) was more like a flower than an unsym- 
 pathetic shell, best similes to the contrary. Who could 
 have imagined that it would be so heavenly a sensation 
 to have your nose tickled by a woman's hair? 
 
 "There's nothing you can knock over, but me," Biddy 
 retorted, as fiercely as she could in a voice no louder than a 
 mosquito's. "And if you cough, I'll know you're a dog- 
 in-the- manger . ' ' 
 
 "Why? " curiosity forced me to pursue. 
 
 "Because, you donkey, ye say ye don't want her 
 yourself, yet ye won't give yer best friend a chance!" 
 
 "Can't be a dog and a aonkey at the same time," I
 
 408 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 murmured. " Choose which, and stick to it, if ye want me 
 to know what ye mean." 
 
 " Why, you you Man, don't ye see, if we interrupt 
 at such a minute, and such a conversation, they can never 
 begin again where they left off? If you'd wanted her, 
 I'd have tried to save her for ye, at any cost. But as ye 
 don't, for goodness' sake give the two their chance to 
 come to an understanding. Now be still, I tell ye, or 
 they may hear us." 
 
 "We can't just sit and eavesdrop." 
 "Stop yer ears then. It'll take both hands." 
 It would; which is the reason I didn't do it. That 
 would have been asking too much, of the most honourable 
 man, in the circumstances. 
 
 Meanwhile, the two outside went on talking. Be- 
 lieving themselves to be alone with the sunset, there was 
 no reason to lower their voices. They spoke in ordinary 
 tones, though what they said was not ordinary; and we 
 on the other side of the little unglazed window could not 
 help hearing every word. 
 
 "I've been wanting to say it for a long time," in a 
 voice like that of a penitent child Monny was following 
 up something we had (fortunately) lost. "Only how 
 could I begin it? I don't see even now how I did begin, 
 exactly. It's almost easy though, since I have begun. 
 I was horrid horrid. I can't forgive myself, yet I 
 want you to forgive me for doing your whole race a 
 shameful injustice, for not understanding it, or you, 
 or or anything. You've shown me what a modern 
 Egyptian man can be, in spite of things I've read and 
 heard, and been silly enough to believe. Oh, it isn't
 
 WHAT WE SAID: WHAT WE HEARD 409 
 
 just that you come from some great family, and that 
 you could call yourself a prince if you liked, as Lord 
 Ernest says. He's told me how you could have a 
 fortune, and a great place in your country if you'd 
 reconcile yourself with your grandfather in Constanti- 
 nople; but that you won't, because it would mean going 
 against England. It isn't your position, but what you 
 are, that has made me see how small and ridiculous I've 
 been, Antoun Effendi. Can you possibly forgive me foi 
 the way I treated you at first, now I've confessed and told 
 you I'm very, very sorry and ashamed?" 
 
 "I would forgive you, if there were anything to 
 forgive," Anthony answered. And it must have taken 
 pretty well all his immense self-control to go on speaking 
 to the girl in French an alien language just then. 
 "Perhaps there would be something to forgive, if I 
 weren't on my side a great deal more to blame than 
 you. Will you let me confess?" 
 
 "If you wish. Otherwise, you needn't. For I've 
 deserved " 
 
 " I do wish. But first, will you answer me a question? " 
 
 "I'm sure you wouldn't ask me a question I oughtn't 
 to answer." 
 
 "It's only this: Did Ernest Borrow tell you anything 
 else about me?" 
 
 "Nothing, except his opinion of you. And you must 
 know that, by this time." 
 
 "I think I do. Or Mrs. Jones or Mrs. East? Neither 
 have for any reason advised you to apologize to 
 me for what you very nobly felt was wrong in your 
 conduct? "
 
 410 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "No. Not a soul has advised me. If they had " 
 
 She didn't finish, but Biddy and I both knew the 
 Monny-habit of conscientiously going against advice. 
 
 "Thank you. You've changed your opinion of me, 
 then, without urging from outside." 
 
 "It has all come fiom inside. From recognition of 
 of what you are, and what you've done for for us 
 all. You've been a hero. And you've been kind as well 
 as brave. Antoun Effendi, I think you are a very great 
 gentleman, and I respect Egyptians for your sake." 
 
 "Wait!" said Anthony. "You haven't heard my con- 
 fession. When I first saw you on the terrace at Shep- 
 heard's, I willed you to look at me, and you did look." 
 
 "How strange! Yes, I felt it. Something made me 
 look. Why did you will me, Antoun Effendi? " Monny's 
 voice was soft. But it was not like a child's now. 
 It was a woman's voice. 
 
 Listening with tingling ears, I knew what she wanted 
 him to answer. Perhaps he also knew, but he boldly 
 told the truth. "It was a kind of wager I made with 
 myself. There was some troublesome business I had 
 to carry out in Cairo. A good deal hung upon it. I 
 saw your profile. You didn't turn my way, and I 
 said to myself: 'If by willing I can make that girl look 
 at me, I'll take it for a sign that I shall succeed in my 
 work.' ' 
 
 "Oh ! It was nothing to do with me? " 
 
 "Not then. Afterward I knew that, while I thought 
 my own free will suggested my influencing you, it was 
 destiny that influenced me. Kismet! It had to happen 
 so. But you punished me for my presumption. You
 
 WHAT WE SAID: WHAT WE HEARD 411 
 
 treated me as if I were a slave, a Thing that hardly had a 
 place in your world." 
 
 "I know! That's what I've asked you to forgive me 
 for." 
 
 "And because you've asked me to forgive, I'm telling 
 you this. I was furious; and I said, 'She shall be sorry. 
 I will make her sorry.' My whole wish was to humble 
 you. I wanted to conquer, and though you classed me 
 with servants, to be your master." 
 
 "I don't blame you, Antoun Effendi! And you have 
 conquered, in a better way than you meant when you 
 were angry and hating me. You've conquered by show- 
 ing your true self. You are my friend. That's what 
 you want, isn't it? Not to be my master, when, you 
 don't hate me any longer." 
 
 "No, that is not what I want. I still want to be your 
 master." 
 
 "Then you do hate me, even now?" 
 
 "No, I don't hate you, Mademoiselle Gilder, although 
 you've punished me over and over again for being the 
 brute I was at first. You have conquered me, not I 
 you. But I don't want to be your friend. If you didn't 
 look at me as being a man beyond the pale, you would 
 understand very well what I want." 
 
 "Don't say that!" cried Monny, quickly. "Don't 
 say that you're a man beyond the pale. I can't stand it. 
 Oh! I do know what you' want. I do understand. 
 I think I should have died if you hadn't wanted it. And 
 yet I could almost die because you do." 
 
 "You could die because I love you?" 
 
 "Yes, of joy and "
 
 412 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "You care for me?'* 
 
 "Wait! I could die of joy, and sorrovrtoo. Joy, be- 
 cause I do care, and my heart longs for you to care. 
 Sorrow, because oh, it's the saddest thing in the world, 
 but we can never be any more to each other than we are 
 now." 
 
 "You say that so firmly, because you think of me in 
 your heart as a man of Egypt. Dearest and most beau- 
 tiful, you are great enough if you choose, to mount to 
 your happiness over your prejudice. If you can love 
 me in spite of what I am " 
 
 "I love you in spite of it, and because of it, too; and 
 for every reason, and for no reason." 
 
 "Thank God for that! You've said this to me against 
 your convictions. I have won." 
 
 "No, for it's all I can ever say. There can be no more 
 between us." 
 
 "You couldn't love me enough to be my wife, though 
 I tell you now that you're the star of my soul? Never 
 till I saw you, have I loved a woman or spoken a word 
 of love to one, except my beautiful mother. I've kept 
 all for you, more than I dreamed I had to give. And 
 it's yours for ever and ever. But just because you've 
 said to yourself that we're of stranger races, who mustn't 
 meet in love, you raise a barrier between us. Are our 
 souls of stranger races? " 
 
 "No. Sometimes it almost seems as if our souls were 
 one. You have waked mine with a spark from your own. 
 I think I was fast asleep. I didn't know I had a soul 
 scarcely even a heart. But now I know! Learning to 
 know you has taught me to know myself. And if I'm
 
 WHAT WE SAID: WHAT WE HEARD 413 
 
 kinder to everybody, all the rest of my life even silly 
 rich people I used to think didn't need kindness it 
 will be through loving you. I'm not afraid to tell you 
 that, and though I used to be afraid I might love you, 
 I'm glad I do, now glad ! I shall never regret anything, 
 even when I suffer. And I shall suffer, when we're 
 parted." 
 
 "You're sure we must part?" 
 
 "Sure, because there's no other way, being what we 
 are, and life being what it is. Always I've thought 
 since my father died, that he was near me, watching to 
 see what I did with my life. For he loved me dearly, 
 and I loved him. We were everything to each other. 
 Even if that were the only reason, I couldn't do a thing 
 that would have broken his heart. It would be treach- 
 erous, now that he's helpless to forbid me. Don't you 
 see?" 
 
 "I see. And if it were not for that reason?" 
 
 "If it were not for that oh, I don't know, I don't 
 know! But yes, I do know. The truth comes to me. 
 It speaks out of my heart. If it were only for myself 
 if I felt free from a vow, nothing could make me say 
 to you, ' Go out of my life ! ' 
 
 " That's what I wanted to be sure of. I could thank you 
 on my knees for those words. For I, too, have made a 
 vow which I won't break. And if I were free of it, I 
 might tell you a thing now which would beat down the 
 barrier. Well! We will keep our vows, both of us, my 
 Queen." 
 
 "Yes, we must keep them. But oh, how are we to 
 bear it? Fate has brought us together, and it's going to
 
 414 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 part us. We love each other, and we must go out of one 
 another's lives. What shall we do when we can't see each 
 other any more ever any more? " 
 
 "That time shall not come." 
 
 "But it must soon." 
 
 "Will you trust me, till Khartum?" 
 
 "I'll trust you always." 
 
 "I mean for a special thing just till Khartum. In 
 the foolish days when I wished to conquer you, and make 
 you humble yourself to me, I vowed by my mother's 
 love that I'd not tell you, or let Borrow tell, a fact about 
 myself which might win your favour. It was a bad vow 
 to make: a stupid vow. But a vow by my mother's 
 love I could not break, any more than you can break 
 one to your father's memory. I'll abide by it: but trust 
 me till Khartum, and there you shall know what I can't 
 tell you now. I always hoped you would find out there 
 if we went as far as Khartum together. Then I hoped, 
 because I was a conceited fool. Now I hope this thing 
 and all it means because I am your lover." 
 
 "Ah, dear Antoun, don't hope. Because it seems to 
 me that nothing nearer than Heaven can bring us the 
 kind of happiness you want." 
 
 "If you hadn't told me you cared, nothing that may 
 come at Khartum could have brought any happiness to 
 me at all. For it would have been too late after that, for 
 you to say you cared and for the word to have the 
 value it has now. You've said it in spite of yourself. 
 Trust me for the rest. Will you?" 
 
 "If you ask me like that yes. I trust you. Though 
 I don't understand."
 
 WHAT WE SAID: WHAT WE HEARD 415 
 
 "That's what I want. Say this. 'I believe that we 
 shall be happy; and I trust without understanding, that 
 it will be proved at Khartum.' '' 
 
 Monny repeated the words after him. And although 
 I was that vile worm, an eavesdropper, I was so happy that 
 I could have picked Biddy up in my arms, and waved her 
 like a flag. Anthony was going to be happy, and that 
 ought to be a good omen that I should be happy too. 
 
 "I am almost happy now," Monny went on. "Hap- 
 pier than I thought I could be, with things as they are. 
 I used to be miserable, partly about myself, partly be- 
 cause I thought you were in love with Biddy (you were 
 so much nicer to her than me!), and partly because I 
 believed, till I knew you well, that you wanted to marry 
 Aunt Clara for money, though you cared for some 
 one else. I even told Lord Ernest that about you. 
 I had to tell somebody! And besides, I felt it would 
 be good for him to think you cared for Biddy. Being 
 jealous might wake him up to see that he was in love 
 with her himself. He really is rather a duffer, at 
 times! And oh, talking of him and Biddy reminds me 
 of them! Where can they be, all this time?" 
 
 "Heaven alone knows or cares," replied Anthony. 
 And I realized the truth of the proverb about listeners, 
 even where their best friends are concerned. I was obliged 
 to kiss Biddy to keep from laughing out loud. And she 
 couldn't scream or box my ears, or all our dreadful precau- 
 tions would have been vain. 
 
 "We must find them," said Monny. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Oh, if we don't, they might find us."
 
 416 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Anthony laughed a give-away, English-sounding 
 laugh. But Monny did not recognize its birthplace. Her 
 own laugh interrupted it too soon, ringing out so happily, 
 it probably surprised herself. 
 
 "// they find us here!" quavered Biddy, clinging to me. 
 
 " They can't, if only you'll let me hold you tight enough," 
 I whispered. "If they look in, they'll just take us for a 
 black spot in the dark ! " 
 
 But they didn't look in. They went downstairs. And 
 then was the time to get in the rest of my deadly work 
 with Biddy. We must wait a few minutes, or they 
 couldn't help knowing we'd been near them: and I made 
 the best use of those few minutes. Biddy wouldn't prom- 
 ise anything, but said that she would think it over, and 
 let me know the result of her thinking in a day or two. 
 
 To our great surprise, on arriving in open air at the 
 level of the roof below, we saw that the sun was gone, and 
 a slim young moon was sliding down the rose-red trail. 
 It is indeed wonderful, say prophets of the obvious, he A* 
 quickly time passes when your attention is engaged! 
 And one comfort of being obvious is, that you are gen- 
 erally right. 
 
 We tried to flit forth from the dark recess of the pylon 
 stairway without being seen or heard; but as luck would 
 have it, Monny and Fenton had had just time to dis- 
 cover that our boat was gone. The girl was hunting for 
 us, to see if we were "anywhere," or if in some mad freak 
 we could have gone off and left them to their fate. As 
 we sneaked guiltily out, she caught us. 
 
 "Biddy! Lord Ernest !" she exclaimed. "Why why 
 you have been upstairs! "
 
 WHAT WE SAID: WHAT WE HEARD 417 
 
 A good rule for diplomats, duffers, and others, is never 
 to tell a falsehood when there is no hope that any one will 
 believe it. 
 
 "We er yes," we both mumbled. 
 
 "But there isn't any upstairs except where we 
 were." 
 
 "Yes there is," Biddy assured her hastily too hastily. 
 "You were on the roof. We were in the little room of the 
 guardian." 
 
 "He showed it to us. There's a window. Oh, we were 
 under it I You must both have heard." 
 
 "Murder will out," I said, with the calmness of de- 
 spair. But then it occurred to me that there was a way 
 of using the weapon which threatened, as a boomerang. 
 
 "Dearest," Biddy adjured her beloved, humbly, "you 
 wouldn't have had us spoil everything by moving, would 
 you? I said to the Duffer when he wanted to do some- 
 thing desperate, 'If we interrupt them, nothing will ever 
 come right ' ' 
 
 "Besides, we were too busy getting engaged our- 
 selves," said I, "to bother for long about what anybody 
 else was saying or doing." 
 
 "You were! Oh, Biddy, that's what I've prayed for." 
 
 "Nothing of the sort!" began Mrs. O'Brien, fero- 
 ciously. But the boomerang had come to my hand, and 
 I'd caught it on the fly. Before she could go on contra- 
 dicting me, Anthony, followed by the guardian of the tem- 
 ple, had mounted the steps from the lower ledge of the 
 roof, where we had landed in the afternoon. 
 
 "It wasn't you who took the boat, then, for a joke!" 
 said Fenton, at sight of us. And the mystery of our
 
 418 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 felucca's disappearance had to be discussed. Biddy saw 
 to it that Monny couldn't edge in a word on the forbidden 
 subject. How those two would talk later, in Miss Gilder's 
 stateroom! 
 
 Nobody could explain what had happened, not even 
 the guardian. He, it seemed, spent his night at the siren 
 temple in the water, sleeping in the cell where I had 
 blackmailed Biddy, and not even appearing to know 
 that the custom scintillated with romance. By and by 
 his companion who joined him for night work, would 
 arrive in a small boat, bringing food; but this man 
 rowed himself, and neither could leave the temple again 
 that night. 
 
 "You will lend the boat to us," said Anthony. "We'll 
 row, and send it back to you here by some one who is 
 trustworthy." 
 
 "We have no right to lend the boat," returned the 
 Nubian. 
 
 "Then I will steal it," replied the Hadji. 
 
 But none of us cared how long a time might pass before 
 deliverance came. The Enchantress Isis couldn't steam 
 away and leave her Conductor behind. As Mrs. East 
 had disappeared, I vaguely associated the puzzle of our 
 missing craft with Sir Marcus; and anyhow, curiosity 
 wasn't the strongest emotion in my being just then. 
 I thought that perhaps never in my life again would 
 love and romance and beauty all blend together in 
 one, as here at Philae in the moonlight. The sharp 
 sickle of the young moon cut a silver edge on each tiny 
 wave, that murmured against the submerged pillars like 
 a chanting of priests under the sea. The temple com-
 
 WHAT WE SAID: WHAT WE HEARD 419 
 
 memorating love triumphant was carved in silver, and 
 drowned in a silver flood. The flowering capitols of the 
 columns as they showed above the water, blossomed white 
 as lilies bound together in sheaves with silver cords, and 
 placed before an altar. 
 
 Yes, Egypt was giving us what we asked. But would 
 she give us all we asked? Just as there might have been 
 a renewed chance of getting an answer to this question, 
 black men in a black boat hailed us. Sir Marcus had 
 deigned at last to remember our plight.
 
 XXVII 
 THE INNER SANCTUARY 
 
 WE MADE a sensation when we returned to the fold. 
 Everybody wondered so much that they gave us no time 
 to answer their questions, even if we would. But some- 
 how it seemed to be taken for granted that the whole 
 thing was my fault. Perhaps Mrs. East or Sir Marcus 
 had spread the report. I let it pass. 
 
 As for Sir Marcus, he stayed only long enough for a 
 talk with me. It began with trumped-up business, and 
 ended in a confession. She had snubbed him, it seemed. 
 Snubs being new to Sir Marcus, he had been dazed, and 
 had forgotten for a while to send us a boat. I assured 
 him that we bore no grudge, really none whatever. It 
 had been quite an adventure. And I tried to cheer him 
 up. Better luck next time! Why wouldn't he go on 
 with us? Fenton and I could chum together, to give him 
 cabin-room. And Neill Sheridan, the American Egyp- 
 tologist, had let me know that he was obliged to leave 
 us at Wady Haifa. There would be an empty cabin, 
 going down again. But no, the "Boss" refused his Con- 
 ductor's hospitality. "I think the less she sees of me, 
 the better she likes me," he said dismally. "She was 
 civil enough until I but no matter. I suppose a man 
 can't expect his luck to always hold." 
 
 420
 
 THE INNER SANCTUARY 421 
 
 "Don't split your infinitives till things get desperate," 
 I begged. "It hasn't come to that yet. If you must go 
 back, I'll take it on my shoulders to watch your private 
 interests a bit, as well as the rest. Look out for a tele- 
 gram one of these fine days, saying 'Come at once.' 
 You'll know what it means." 
 
 " I will, bless you, my boy," he said heartily. "Though 
 I am hanged if I know what you mean by a split infinitive. 
 I hope if its improper, I've never inadvertently done it 
 before a lady." 
 
 There seemed to be an atmosphere of suspense for every- 
 body who mattered, as we steamed on between strange 
 black mountainettes, and tiger-golden sands toward Wady 
 Haifa. Anthony was in suspense about the way his fate 
 might arrange itself at Khartum. I was in suspense as 
 to Biddy's decision, which nothing I was able to say 
 could wheedle or browbeat out of her. He and I were 
 both in suspense together, about the Mountain of the 
 Golden Pyramid. It would be ours now, we knew that. 
 But what would be in it? Would it be full of treasure, 
 or full of nothing but mountain, just as a crusty baked 
 pudding is full of pudding? The doubt was harder to 
 bear, now that Anthony was in love with a very rich girl, 
 and desired something from the mountain more substan- 
 tial than the adventure which would once have contented 
 him. Harder to bear for me, too, wanting Biddy and 
 wanting to give her luxury as well as peace, such as 
 she had never known in her life of tragedy and brave 
 laughter. 
 
 Monny was in suspense quite equal to Anthony's 
 about Khartum, and what could possibly happen there
 
 422 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 to give her happiness. Brigit was in suspense about 
 the two men who had so strangely and secretly worked 
 with their spy, Bedr, and whom she expected to 
 meet again later. Rachel was in suspense about Bailey, 
 although I had told her it was "going to be all right," 
 and he had said not a word of the business to her. 
 What she wanted, was to make sure of him, and there 
 was the difficulty at present, since we had failed to ar- 
 range for a registry -office or a clergyman on board. Other 
 hearts were no doubt throbbing with the same emotions, 
 but they were of comparatively small importance to me. 
 
 Our feelings were all so different and so much more 
 intense than they had been, that the extraordinary dif- 
 ference in the scenery gave us a vague sense of satisfac- 
 tion. We were in another world, now that we had heard 
 the first cataract's roar, and left it behind; a world utterly 
 unlike any conceptions we had formed of Egypt. But 
 we did not for a long time leave the influence of the Bar- 
 rage. Black rocks ringed in a blue basin so lake-like 
 that it was hard to realize it as the Nile. Now and then 
 a yellow river of sand poured down to the sapphire sea, 
 and where its bright waves were reflected, the water 
 became liquid gold under a surface of blue glass. The 
 sky was overcast, and through a thick silver veil, the 
 sun shone with a mystic light as of a lamp burning in an 
 alabaster globe; yet the flaming gold of the sand created 
 an illusion as of sunshine. It was as if the treasure of all 
 the lost mines of Nub had been flung out on the black 
 rocks, and lay in a glittering carpet there. 
 
 We passed small, submerged temples, with their fore- 
 heads just above water; drowning palm groves whose
 
 THE INNER SANCTUARY 423 
 
 plumes trailed sadly on the blue expanse, and deserted 
 mud- villages where the high Nile looked in at open doors 
 to say, "This is for Egypt's good'"" 
 
 Then there was the little Temple of Dendur, whose 
 patron goddess was prayed to spit if rain were needed; 
 and so many other ruined temples that we lost count 
 (though one was the largest in Nubia) until we came to 
 Wadi-es-Sabua, "the Valley of the Lions." This we re- 
 membered, not because it was imposing, or because it had 
 a dromos of noble-faced sphinxes the only hawk-faced 
 ones in Egypt or because of its prehistoric writings, 
 on dark boulders; or because it had been used as a Chris- 
 tian Church : but owing to the fact that the ladies bought 
 rag dolls from little Nubian girls, who wore their hair in 
 a million greased braids. Here the influence of the Dam 
 faded out of sight. Forlorn trees and houses no longer 
 crawled half out of water. Mountains crowded down to 
 the shore, wild and dark and stately as Nubian warriors 
 of ancient days. Then came Korosko, point of depart- 
 ure for the old caravan route, where kings of forgotten 
 Egyptian dynasties sent for acacia wood, and English- 
 men in the Campaign of the Cataracts fought and died; 
 deserted now, with houses dead and decayed, their win- 
 dows staring like the eye-sockets of skulls; and the black, 
 tortured mountain-shapes behind, lurking in the back- 
 ground as hyenas lurk to prey. More temples, and many 
 sakkeyehs (no shadoofs here, on the Upper Nile) but few 
 boats. The spacious times were past, when loads of pink 
 granite, honey-coloured sandstone, fragrant woods, and 
 spices from the Land of Punt, went floating down the 
 stream !
 
 424 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 There were tombs as well as temples which we might 
 have seen, savage gorges and mild green hills. There was 
 the great grim fort of Kasr Ibrim; and at last there 
 was Abu Simbel. 
 
 Somehow I knew that things were bound to happen at 
 Abu Simbel. I didn't know what they would be, but 
 they hovered invisible at my berth-side in the night, and 
 whispered to warn me that I might expect them. 
 
 A few people rose stealthily before dawn to prepare for 
 Abu Simbel, because it had been hammered into their 
 intellects by me that this Rock-Temple was the Great 
 Thing of the Upper Nile. Also that every he, she, 
 or it, who did not behold the place at sunrise would be 
 as mean a worm as one who had not read the "Arabian 
 Nights." 
 
 Not everybody heeded the advice, though at bedtime 
 most had resolved to do so. We had anchored for the 
 night not far off, in order to have the mysterious light 
 before sun-up, to go on again, and see the grand approach 
 to the grandest temple of the Old World. But after all, 
 most of the cabin eyelids were still down when we ar- 
 rived before dawn at our journey's end, and only a few 
 intrepid ghosts flitted out on deck; elderly male ghosts 
 in thick dressing-gowns : youthful ghosts of the same sex, 
 fully clothed and decently groomed because of cloaked 
 girl-ghosts, with floating hair (if there were enough to 
 float effectively: others made a virtue of having it put 
 up): and middle-aged female ghosts, with transforma- 
 tions apparently hind-side in front. 
 
 No ghost's looks mattered much, however, for good or 
 ill, once the slowly moving Enchantress had swept aside a
 
 THE INNER SANCTUARY 425 
 
 purple curtain of distance and shown us such a stage- 
 setting as only Nature's stupendous theatre can give. 
 
 It was a stage still dimly, but most effectively revealed : 
 lights down: pale blue, lilac and cold green; a thrilling, 
 almost sinister combination: no gold or rose switched on 
 yet. Turned obliquely toward the river, facing slightly 
 northward, four figures sat on thrones, super-giants, im- 
 mobile, incredible, against a background of rock whence 
 they had been released by forgotten sculptors released 
 to live while the world lasted. These seated kings gave 
 the first shock of awed admiration; then lesser marvels 
 detached themselves in detail from the shadows of the 
 vast facade; the frieze, the cornice, the sun-god in his niche 
 over the door of the Great Temple: the smaller Temple 
 of Hathor, divided from her huge brother by a cataract 
 of sand, whose piled gold-dust already called the sun, as 
 a magnet calls iron. 
 
 The stage-lights were still down when the Enchantress 
 moored by the river bank, within a comparatively short 
 walk of the mountain which Rameses II had turned into 
 a temple, as usual glorifying himself. But though the 
 walk was comparatively short, on second thoughts elderly 
 ghosts already chilled to the bone, funked it on empty 
 stomachs. They made various excuses for putting off the 
 excursion (the boat was to remain till late afternoon), 
 until finally the sun-worshippers were reduced to a party 
 of ten. 
 
 Since Philae, Biddy had kept out of my way when she 
 could do so without being actually rude; but as our small, 
 shivering procession formed, she suddenly appeared at my 
 side. Thus we two headed the band, save for a sleepy
 
 426 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 dragoman who knew the rather intricate paths through 
 scaly dried mud, sand, and vegetation. 
 
 "I want to say something to you, Duffer," she mur- 
 mured; and the roughness of the way excused me for 
 slipping her arm through mine. 
 
 "Not as much as I want to say something to you," I 
 retorted fervently. 
 
 "But this is serious," she reproached me. 
 
 "So is " 
 
 "Please listen. There isn't much time. I heard this 
 only last night, or I'd have spoken before, and asked you 
 what you thought. Do you happen to know whether 
 Captain Fenton wrote a note to Monny, asking her to 
 wait for him in the inner sanctuary of the temple till 
 after the people had gone, as he wanted to see her alone 
 about something of great importance?" 
 
 "I don't know," I said. "Anthony hasn't mentioned 
 Miss Gilder's name to me since Philae. As a matter of 
 fact he's been particularly taciturn." 
 
 "You haven't quarrelled, surely?" 
 
 "Anthony and I! Thank goodness, no. But I'm 
 afraid he misunderstands, and is a bit annoyed. Miss 
 Gilder of course told him we'd overheard a certain con- 
 versation, and he's never given me a chance to explain. 
 After Khartum it will be all right, if not before, but 
 meanwhile " 
 
 "I see. Then let me tell you quickly what's happened. 
 When we came back on board the boat, after climbing 
 about the fort of Kasr Ibrim, Monny found on the table 
 in her cabin a note in French, typewritten on Enchantress 
 Isis paper. It had no beginning or signature, only an
 
 THE INNER SANCTUARY 427 
 
 urgent request to grant the writer five minutes just after 
 sunrise, in the sanctuary at Abu Simbel, as soon as every 
 one was out of the way. There's only one typewriter on 
 board, isn't there? " 
 
 "Yes, Kruger's." 
 
 " And nobody but you and he and Captain Fenton ever 
 use it, I suppose?" 
 
 "Nobody else, so far as I know." 
 
 "Captain Fenton didn't land with us to see the fort, 
 but came up later, just as we were ready to go down. 
 Well, for all these reasons and the note being in French 
 Monny thinks it was written by Antoun Effendi. It was 
 only in chatting last night about the sunrise expedition 
 that she mentioned finding the letter. I begged her to 
 make certain it was from him, before doing what it asked; 
 because, you see, I'm still afraid of anything that 
 seems queer or mysterious. But she laughed and said, 
 'What nonsense! Who else could have written it except 
 Lord Ernest, unless you think Mr. Kruger's in a plot.' 
 And she refused to question Antoun, because if he'd 
 wanted the thing to be talked over, he'd have spoken 
 instead of writing. As for doing what he asked, she pre- 
 tended not to have made up her mind. She said she'd 
 'see what mood she was in,' after the others had 
 finished with the sanctuary. Well, what I want, is for 
 you and me to stay in the place ourselves when the others 
 have gone." 
 
 "With the greatest of pleasure on earth!" said I. 
 
 "Don't be foolish. You aren't to torment me there." 
 
 "That depends on what you call 'tormenting.' If 
 I'm to be made a spoil-sport for Fenton and Miss Gilder,
 
 H8 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 a kind of live scarecrow, I mean to get something out of 
 it for myself." 
 
 There was no time for more. We had arrived at the 
 foot of the long flight of stone steps which lead up to the 
 rocky plateau of the Great Temple. In the east, a golden 
 fire below the horizon was sending up premonitory flames, 
 and the procession must bestir itself, or be too late. 
 The whole object of arriving at this unearthly hour 
 would be defeated, if, before the sun's forefinger touched 
 the faces of the altar statues, we were not in the sanctu- 
 ary. No time to study the features of the Colossi, or to 
 search for the grave of Major Tidwell. These things must 
 wait. The dark-faced guardian examined our tickets, 
 and let us file through the rock-hewn doorway, whose 
 iron grille he had just opened. As we passed into the 
 cavernous hall of roughly carved Osiride columns, the 
 huge figures attached to them loomed vaguely out of 
 purple gloom. There was an impression of sculptured 
 rock walls, with splashes of colour here and there; of 
 columns in a chamber beyond, and still a third chamber, 
 whence three rooms opened off, the side doorways mere 
 blocks of ebony in the dimness. But already the sun's 
 first ray groped for its goal, like the wandering finger of a 
 blind man. We had only time to hurry through the 
 faintly lit middle doorway, and plaster ourselves round 
 the rock walls of the sanctuary, when the golden digit 
 touched the altar and found the four sculptured forms 
 above: Harmachis, Rameses, Amen and Ptah. Night 
 lingered in the temple, a black, brooding vulture. But 
 suddenly the bird's dark breast was struck by a golden 
 bullet and from the wound a magic radiance grew. The
 
 THE INNER SANCTUARY 429 
 
 effect, carefully calculated by priests and builders thou- 
 sands of years ago, was as thrilling to-day as on the 
 morning when the sun first poured gold upon the altar. 
 The sightless faces of the statues were given eyes of an 
 unearthly brilliance to stare into ours, and search our 
 souls. But with most of the party, to be thrilled for a 
 minute was enough. As the sun's finger began to move, 
 they found it time to move also. There was the whole 
 temple to be seen, and then the walk back to the boat 
 before dressing for breakfast. 
 
 Soon Biddy and I had or seemed to have the 
 sanctuary to ourselves. Even the sun's ray had left 
 us, mounting higher and passing above the doorway of 
 the inner shrine. The momentarily disturbed shadows 
 folded round us again, with only a faint glimmer on the 
 wall over the altar to show that day was born. 
 
 "Did you notice that Monny wasn't with the others?" 
 asked Brigit, in a low voice. "She lingered behind, I 
 think, and never came near us. I wasn't sure till I 
 watched the rest filing out of this room. Then I saw she 
 wasn't among them. Neither was Captain Fenton." 
 
 "If they're together, it's all right," I assured her. 
 
 " Yes, but are they ? That affair of the typewritten note 
 has worried me." 
 
 "You're very nervous, darling. But no wonder!" 
 
 "You mustn't call me 'darling.' ' 
 
 "Why not? It's no worse than Duffer. I like your 
 calling me that." 
 
 " I wonder if we ought to go, as she never came or 
 stay and wait? " 
 
 "If we go, we shall be playing into Miss Gilder's hands.
 
 430 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 If we stay, we shall be playing into mine. Which do you 
 prefer?" 
 
 "Oh, I suppose we'd better stay for fear of some- 
 thing. But you must be good." 
 
 Then abruptly I attacked her with a change of weapons. 
 I had fenced lightly, knowing that Biddy liked a man who 
 could laugh. But now I threw away my rapier and 
 snatched a club. I told her I would stand no more of 
 this. Did she want to spoil my life and break my heart? 
 She was the one thing I needed. Now she would have to 
 say whether she'd put me off because she didn't love me 
 and never could, or because of that trash about not 
 wanting to involve me in her troubles. No use pre- 
 varicating! I should know whether she lied or told the 
 truth by the sound of her voice. But I might as well 
 confess before she began, that I'd rather be loved by her 
 and refused, than not loved and. refused. Women seemed 
 to think the unselfish thing was to pretend not to care, 
 if a man had to be sent away; because in the end that 
 made it easier for him. But in real life, with a real man, 
 it was the other way round. 
 
 "I think you're right, Duffer," Biddy said softly. 
 "That's why I wouldn't answer you for good and all, that 
 night at Philae. I felt then it might be kinder to tell you 
 I could never care. But I've thought of nothing else 
 since except a little about Monny and I decided that 
 if it were me, I'd rather be loved, whatever happened. 
 Men can't be so very different where their hearts are con- 
 cerned. So I'm going to tell you I do love you. It was 
 hard to give you to Monny. But I thought it would be for 
 your happiness. I nearly died of love for you when I was
 
 THE INNER SANCTUARY 431 
 
 a little girl. I kept every tiniest thing you ever gave me. 
 I was in love with your memory when you went up to 
 Oxford. And it was then Richard O'Brien came. He 
 swept me off my feet, and made me think my heart was 
 caught in the rebound. When it was too late, I realised 
 that it hadn't been caught at all. Only hypnotized for 
 a while. I've loved you always, Duffer dear. The 
 thought of you was my one comfort, often, although I 
 hardly expected to see you again : or maybe, for that very 
 reason. No, don't touch me! please let me go on now, 
 or I'll not tell you any more. I wonder if you never 
 guessed what I had in that chamois-skin bag you're so 
 worried about?" 
 
 "Why, yes, I did guess, Biddy, right or wrong." 
 
 "And I'll bet you it was wrong! What did you think, 
 when I wouldn't understand any of your hints to tell 
 what I wore over my heart?" 
 
 "I thought then," I answered after a moment's de- 
 liberation, "that you kept compromising documents 
 which might be of interest to the organization you 
 and I have talked about. Now I think differently. 
 I think you kept a lock of my childish hair, or my first 
 tooth." 
 
 "You conceited Duffer! not so bad as that, because 
 I had never a chance of getting either. Once I did keep 
 in that bag just what you said : compromising documents, 
 that the organization would have given thousands of 
 dollars to get. And my life wouldn't have stood in their 
 way for a minute, I'm sure. But that was before Rich- 
 ard died. He was afraid I mean, I thought it would 
 be better and less suspicious if / had charge of the
 
 432 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 papers. And if the Society had ever got hold of him, he 
 believed the letters and lists of names I had, might have 
 bought back his safety, if I played my hand well. He\ 
 told me just what to do. But when he was ill, he had 
 a nurse whom I began to suspect as a spy. Once wher 
 I was called into Richard's room suddenly, half dressed, 
 the chamois-skin bag showed, as my wrapper fell open at 
 the breast. I caught her looking at it with an cage 
 look; and that very night I had it locked up in a bank 
 It was only a few days later that Richard died; and with 
 him gone, I felt there was no more need to keep papers 
 which might cost the lives or liberty of men. Richard had 
 wronged his friends, and I wanted none of them to come 
 to harm through me, though they'd made me suffer with 
 him. I burned every scrap of paper I had, every single 
 one! And it wasn't till there was an attempt to kid- 
 nap Esme that I asked myself if I'd been right. Still, 
 even now, I am not sorry. I wouldn't hurt a hair of their 
 heads. For a while the bag was empty; but coming away 
 from America and feeling a bit lonesome, I thought it 
 would do me good to look now and then at the only love- 
 letter you ever wrote me. It was on my ninth birthday 
 but I don't believe you could write a better one now. 
 There was a photograph, too, of my lord when he was 
 seventeen. I stole that, but it was all the dearer. At 
 this very minute, the letter and the picture are lying on 
 my heart. So now you know whether I care for you or 
 not; and you can understand why I wouldn't put the bag 
 into a bank." 
 
 "Oh, Biddy darling," I said, "you've made me the hap- 
 piest man in the world."
 
 THE INNER SANCTUARY 433 
 
 "Well, I'm glad," she snapped, twisting away from me, 
 "that it takes so little to make you happy." 
 
 "So little, when I'm going to have you for my 
 wife?" 
 
 "But you're not. You said you'd rather be loved and 
 refused " 
 
 "I would, if I had to choose between the two. That's 
 not the case with me, for I shall marry you, now I know 
 the truth, in spite of fifty, or fifty thousand, refusals, or 
 any other little obstacles like that." 
 
 "Never, Duffer! Not for all the world would I be 
 your wife, loving you as I do, unless the organization 
 would forget or forgive Esme and me. And that 
 I can't fancy they'll ever do, till the millenium. I 
 shall be past the marrying age then! Oh, Duffer, I 
 almost wish you had fallen in love with Monny as I 
 wanted you to do ' 
 
 "Honest Injun, you really wanted that to hap- 
 pen?" 
 
 "Well, I tried to want it, for your sake; and in 
 a way for my own, too. If I'd seen you caring 
 for Monny, I should have found some medicine to 
 cure my heartache. Oh, it would have been a very 
 good thing all around, except for your friend, Anthony 
 Fenton." 
 
 "And I was half afraid he was in love with you! I can 
 tell you I've had my trials, Biddy. It's my turn to be 
 happy now, and yours, too. Just think, nearly every- 
 body in the world is engaged, but us or next door to 
 being engaged. Miss Gilder and Anthony who's the 
 only man on earth to keep her in order: and Rachel
 
 434 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Guest and Bailey; and Enid Biddell and Harry Snell; 
 and even your stepdaughter, Esrne O'Brien " 
 
 "Duffer, she's married!" 
 
 "What, to young Halloran? How did they manage 
 it?" 
 
 " I don't know yet. I've had only a telegram. It came 
 to Assuan too late, and Sir Marcus Lark brought it to 
 the boat. I found it that night when we got back from 
 Philae. But I haven't told, because I dared not be with 
 you alone long enough to speak of private affairs, till I 
 could decide whether to let you know I loved you, or 
 make believe I didn't care a scrap." 
 
 "As if I could have believed your tongue, unless you 
 had shut your eyes! So Esme is married, and off your 
 hands?" 
 
 "Not off my hands, I'm afraid. This may be visited 
 on me. They must have known of her meeting Tom 
 Halloran at St. Martin Vesubie, last summer. They 
 find out everything, sooner or later. Probably they 
 thought I'd whisked her off to Egypt with me (helped 
 by my rich friend Miss Gilder, for whom they took Rachel 
 Guest) in order to let her meet Tom Halloran again, and 
 marry him secretly. Well, she has married him secretly. 
 When they discover wHat's happened, they're sure to put 
 the blame on poor me. And indeed, it is a shocking thing 
 for the son of that man in prison, and the daughter of 
 the man who sent him there, to be husband and wife." 
 
 "I don't see that at all," I argued. "Why shouldn't 
 their love end the feud? " 
 
 "It can't, for strong as it may be, it won't release 
 prisoners, or bring back to life those who are dead."
 
 THE INNER SANCTUARY 435 
 
 "Anyhow, don't borrow trouble," said I. "If Esme's 
 married the more reason for us to follow her example. 
 After Khartum, when Miss Gilder 
 
 "Who's taking my name in vain?" inquired the owner 
 of it, at the sanctuary door. 
 
 "Oh, then you have come, Monny!" Brigit exclaimed. 
 "I I'd given you up." 
 
 "I haven't come for the reason you thought," returned 
 the girl promptly. " I was sure you meant to head me off. 
 And I've learned without asking, that Antoun Effendi 
 didn't write that note." 
 
 "I told you so! Who did?" 
 
 "He's trying to find out. Probably it was a silly 
 practical joke some one wanted to play on me. There are 
 lots quite capable of it, on board! Antoun Effendi said 
 the sunrise was much finer really, from on top of the great 
 sandhill, so we climbed up. And it came out that he 
 hadn't asked me to meet him here. If any one not on the 
 boat wrote the letter, some steward must have been 
 bribed to sell a bit of writing-paper, and allow a stranger 
 to come on board, while we were away at Kasr Ibrim. 
 There was a steam dahabeah moored not far off, if you 
 remember, with Oriental decorations; so we fancied it 
 must belong to an Egyptian or a Turk." 
 
 "It could easily have been hired at Assuan," Biddy 
 exclaimed. " And it could have beaten us. WV ve stopped 
 at such heaps of temples where other boats only touch 
 coming back." 
 
 "If there were a plot, as you are always imagining, the 
 dahabeah would have to be near here, too," Monny 
 laughed incredulously.
 
 436 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "And so it may be. We haven't seen round the cor- 
 ner of the Great Temple yet." 
 
 "One would think to hear you talk, that you'd expected 
 this poor little sanctuary to be stuffed with murderers, 
 or at the least, kidnappers." 
 
 "Ugh, don't speak of it!" Biddy shuddered, "Let's 
 go out into the sunlight again, as quick as ever we can!"
 
 XXVIII 
 WORTH PAYING FOR 
 
 WHEN Anthony says that he will find out things he seldom 
 fails. Perhaps nobody but a green-turbaned Hadji could 
 so speedily have screwed information out of secretive 
 Arabs, paid to be silent. And he had to fit deductions 
 into spaces of the puzzle left empty by fibs and glib self- 
 excusings. What he did learn was this: a dragoman had 
 come, in a small boat, from a steam dahabeah to the 
 Enchantress Isis while we were away at Kasr Ibrim. 
 He presented credentials written out for him in Cairo 
 by Miss Rachel Guest, and dated a few weeks ago. 
 Inquiring for her, he seemed sorry to hear that she had 
 gone on the excursion. The dragoman refused to dis- 
 turb Antoun Effendi, on hearing that the Hadji was 
 writing in his cabin. His errand was not of enough 
 importance to trouble so illustrious a man. All he wanted 
 was permission to type one or two letters for bis 
 employers on the neighbouring dahabeah, which pos- 
 sessed no machine. In the absence of Mr. Kruger, 
 who had gone on shore for exercise, the dragoman 
 was given this privilege. Possibly he had taken some of 
 the boat's letter-paper. Who could be certain of these 
 trifles? Possibly, also, he had walked about with one of 
 the cabin stewards^ to see the luxurious appointments 
 
 437
 
 438 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 of the Enchantress I sis. As for paying money for 
 these small favours, who could tell? And nobody knew 
 if the steam dahabeah had hurried on before us, to anchor 
 out of sight round the oblique fagade of Abu Simbel. 
 In any case, when we went to look for the suspicious 
 craft seen near Kasr Ibrim, she was not among the two 
 or three small private dahabeahs of artists and others, 
 moored within a mile of the Great Temple. Notwith- 
 standing her absence, however, Anthony and I (suddenly 
 confidential friends again) thought it likely that the 
 shadows in the Sanctuary had not been its only tenants 
 when we entered there. The invaluable Bedr knew 
 enough of the Nile Temples to know that the sun's first 
 light strikes only the altar and the statues over it, in Abu 
 Simbel's inner shrine: that the four corners of the small 
 cavern-room remain pitch black, unless the place is 
 artificially illuminated: and that this is never done at 
 sunrise. The dragoman and one or both of his employers 
 would have had no difficulty in getting into the temple 
 before the first streak of dawn, if they had warned its 
 guardian the night before. So far, our deductions were 
 simple, after learning how the trick of the typewritten 
 note had been managed: but it was not so easy to guess 
 the object of the plot. Was Monny Gilder to have been 
 murdered in the dark Sanctuary, or was she to have been 
 kidnapped? Either seemed an impossible undertaking, 
 unless the plotters were willing to face certain detection 
 and arrest. 
 
 As it was, we had no more tangible proof against the 
 man than we had before, at the House of the Crocodile, 
 in the desert near Medinet, at Asiut, and at Luxor. With
 
 WORTH PAYING FOR 439 
 
 a sly cleverness which did Bedr, or those employing him, 
 much credit, they had screened themselves behind others. 
 Even if we had the names of the "tourists" Bedr had 
 served as dragoman, and if we could lay our hands on 
 their shoulders, we had not enough evidence of what they 
 had done to obtain a warrant of arrest : and this of course 
 they knew. Our best chance, Anthony thought, lay in 
 springing a surprise on them, as they had vainly (so far) 
 tried to do with us; and when w r e got them somehow at our 
 mercy, force out the truth. 
 
 It was almost certain that a steam dahabeah could not 
 unseen have passed the Enchantress Isis at Abu 
 Simbel in broad daylight, going back toward Assuan. 
 Therefore, since it was not moored near the temple, if it 
 had been in the neighbourhood at all it must have dashed 
 on ahead of us in the direction of Wady Haifa. With 
 pleasure would we have given immediate chase, had not 
 the Enchantress been pledged to remain at Abu Simbel 
 till afternoon. Even as it was, I expected to catch up 
 with a boat so much smaller than our own; but Anthony 
 damped my hopes, explaining the difficulties of naviga- 
 tion between Abu Simbel and Wady Haifa. There were, 
 he said, great shifting sandbanks in the water which looked 
 so transparently green, so treacherously clear. Without 
 the most prudent piloting the river was actually danger- 
 ous, as new sandbanks had a habit of forming the minute 
 you shut your eyes or turned your back. The En- 
 chantress would have to pick her way slowly through 
 the silver sands of the Nile, which mingled with the spilt 
 gold-dust of the desert shore. All the same, these im- 
 pudent rascals would find it hard to hide from us at Wady
 
 440 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 Haifa, especially if we stopped the boat and wired from 
 the next telegraph station to have them watched on the 
 arrival of their dahabeah. 
 
 "Perhaps, as they're so clever they'll be clever enough 
 not to arrive at all," was my suggestion. And Anthony 
 could only shrug his shoulders. "Wait and see" had to 
 be our policy. 
 
 Happily the Set wandered in and out of the two temples, 
 big and little, all the morning, ignorant of OUT worries 
 which, even to us, seemed small under the benign gaze 
 of the great Colossi. The three stone Rameses who had 
 faces, wore expressions no one could ever forget; and 
 there was a sense of loss in turning away from them. 
 
 A crocodile swam past the Enchantress as she steamed 
 up river; a long, dark, prehistoric shape. He seemed an 
 anachronism, but so did Bedr, with his plottings; yet 
 both were real, real as this Nile-dream of dark rocks, of 
 conical black mountains shaped like ruined pyramids, and 
 yellow sandhills whose dazzling reflections turned the 
 blue-green river to gold. 
 
 The next day at noon, we came to Wady Haifa; and the 
 Enchantress Isis who had brought us eight hundred 
 miles from Cairo, was now to be deserted by those with 
 Khartum in view. All save three of the party were 
 going on through this gate of the Sudan, where the river- 
 way ended and the desert-way began. Neill Sheridan 
 was turning back immediately, in a government steamer; 
 and a bride and groom who cared not where they were, 
 if with each other, would wait on board the Enchantress 
 until the band of passengers should return from Khartum. 
 
 These things had to be thought of. But I meant
 
 WORTH PAYING FOR 441 
 
 to let Kruger do most of the thinking, when we landed at 
 the neat, colourful town of Haifa, which lies (as Assuan 
 lies) all pink and blue and green along the river bank, 
 sentinelled with trees. From a distance Anthony and I 
 caught sight of the steam dahabeah seen near Kasr Ibrim, 
 and we could hardly wait to get on shore. The camp 
 was but a mile and a half away, and I had wired in Lark's 
 name, to an officer whom he was sure to know, asking 
 as a great favour to have the passengers on board 
 a boat of that description watched; and requesting him if 
 possible to meet the Enchantress on her arrival. "There 
 he is!" said Fenton, standing at the rail. "7 mustn't 
 seem to recognise him, of course. Can't give myself away ! 
 
 But you " "Good Lord, there's Bedr!" I broke in, 
 
 hardly believing my eyes. And there Bedr was, looking as 
 if butter would by no means melt in his mouth : Bedr, 
 smiling from the pier, evidently there for the special 
 purpose of meeting us. His ugly squat figure, and the 
 tall, khaki-clad form of the officer, were conspicuous 
 among squatting blacks, male and female, in gay turbans, 
 veils, and mantles, muffled babies in arms, and children 
 dressed in exceedingly brief fringes. 
 
 "I'll attend to him, while you powwow with Ireton," 
 said Anthony, ready for the unexpected situation. And 
 while the indispensable if humble Kruger showed the pas- 
 sengers how to get to the desert train, superintended the 
 landing of the luggage, and made himself perspiringly 
 useful, I thanked Major Ireton in Sir Marcus Lark's 
 and my own name. 
 
 His news was astonishing. There were no passengers 
 on board the steam dahabeah Mamoudieh. She had
 
 442 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 arrived with none save her crew, and the dragoman now 
 talking with that good-lookingHadji there. As I murmured 
 "Yes," and "No," and "Indeed Really ! " to the officer, 
 who had kindly worked on our behalf, I was saying to my- 
 self, ""My dear Duffer, what an ass you were not to think of 
 that!" For of course the men had remained at Abu Sim- 
 bel, hiding till we should be out of the way, and sending 
 their boat on to put us off the track. A Cook steamer and a 
 Hamburg-American boat were due to stop at the temple. 
 We had passed both on the river. By this time the 
 two men were doubtless on their way north, making 
 for Cairo and safety. 
 
 Still, here was Bedr, looking like a fat fly who had de- 
 liberately come to pay a call on the lean and hungry 
 spider. I was impatient for the moment when the need 
 for genuine gratitude and "faked" explanations was 
 over, and Major Ireton had gone about other business. 
 
 Then I could follow the Hadji and the Armenian, who 
 had mounted the steps leading up from river-level to the 
 town. Not far off I could see the blue-windowed, white- 
 painted desert train, round which, on the station plat- 
 form, buzzed and scolded the Set, demanding their 
 hand-luggage and their compartments. But Anthony and 
 his victim (or was it by chance vice versa?) were keeping 
 out of eyeshot and earshot of the late passengers of the 
 Enchantress. Brigit and Monny, who must have seen 
 Bedr, were too tactful to hover near: also they knew 
 "Antoun Effendi" too well to think it necessary. 
 
 Bedr gave me no time to speak. He rushed forward to 
 greet me with effusion, as if I were a long-lost and well- 
 loved patron. "I bin so glad see you again after these
 
 WORTH PAYING FOR 443 
 
 days, milord. Sure!" he began. "Antoun Effendi, he 
 tell you I come here on purpose to do you good. I find 
 out those genlemens very wicked men, so I leave them 
 quick. They want to pay me for go back with them, 
 but no money big enough now I know they try to do 
 harm to my nice young lady. She wasn't so good to me 
 as the other nice young lady, but that makes no matter. 
 I not stand for any hurt to her, sure I will not, milord." 
 
 "The meaning of this rigmarole," Anthony cut 
 him short, speaking in German (which he knew I 
 understood and trusted Bedr didn't) "is, that the fellow 
 wants us to buy information from him. He pretends to 
 have broken with his employers on our account (though 
 his explanation of getting here to Haifa on their daha- 
 beah is ridiculous) and that, having come for our benefit 
 against their wishes, he's without pay, penniless, and 
 stranded." 
 
 "A lie of course," I took for granted, also in German. 
 
 "The part about being broke certainly. But it's 
 certain, too, that he must know some things we'd like to 
 know." 
 
 "Could we trust a word he says?" 
 
 "No, as far as his moral sense is concerned. But my 
 idea is to bargain with him. We to pay according to 
 value received. That might be bait for a fish worth 
 hooking." 
 
 "Yes, that's our line. We haven't much time to hear 
 and digest his story, though. The train will start in 
 less than an hour." 
 
 "We shan't waste a minute. Without waiting for you, 
 I began to bargain on the line I've just suggested."
 
 444 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "How far did you get? " 
 
 "A good way, for I was able to scare him a bit. You 
 see, he earns his living in Cairo, and I've persuaded him 
 that I have some influence there, in quarters that can 
 make or break him. He hasn't much more time to spare 
 than we have, if it's true that he wants to start back on 
 the government boat. You know they take natives, 
 third class. My suggestion, subject to your ap- 
 proval, is this: in any case we give a thousand piasters, 
 ten pounds. But if what he can tell us is of real use or 
 even interest, we rise to the extent of ten times that 
 sum." 
 
 "It's a good deal for a beastly baboon like him." 
 
 "Remember, he has been doing services lately for which 
 he probably got high pay." 
 
 "All right, whatever you say, goes," I agreed. 
 
 "I trust to your honours, my genlemens," remarked 
 the beastly baboon in question, in a manner so apropos 
 that I guessed him not entirely ignorant of German, 
 after all. 
 
 "Thanks for the compliment," I responded gratefully. 
 
 "We shall have to talk here. There's no time to find a 
 more convenient place," said Fenton, returning to Arabic 
 as a medium of communication. "Fire away, Bedr. But 
 don't start your story in the middle. Begin where you 
 took service with these Irish-American gentlemen." 
 
 " ^Yas the genlemens Irish? I never know that, " purred 
 the guileless Bedr; but Fenton brought him to his bear- 
 ings. All questions were to be from us to him. So Bedr 
 "fired away": and there, within a stone's throw of the 
 train getting up steam for Khartum, we listened to a
 
 WORTH PAYING FOR 445 
 
 strange tale as strange, and as great an anachronism 
 as that dark crocodile-shape we had seen except in the 
 Nile country, where live crocodiles and many other dark 
 things can easily happen any day. 
 
 Blount's name, according to Bedr, was not Blount, but 
 something else, well-known in America. It was a name 
 already associated with that of O'Brien, which inclined 
 us to hope for some grains of truth in the chaff of lies we 
 expected. Bedr said that in New York, years ago, he 
 had known the man "Blount." He was related to the 
 American family who took Bedr from Cairo. Later, 
 when the Armenians had returned to Egypt, "Blount" 
 had come with him, for a "rest cure." He had engaged 
 Bedr as dragoman, and on leaving had asked for Bedr's 
 card. That was years ago, and nothing had been heard 
 from him since: but before the Laconia was due to ar- 
 rive, Bedr had received a telegram from Blount instruct- 
 ing him to meet the ship, and wire to Paris whether Miss 
 Gilder of New York and a "Mrs. Jones" were on board, 
 with a party. "Blount" knew that Bedr had seen Miss 
 Gilder as a child, and might now be able to recognize her. 
 On the day in New York when a block in traffic had given 
 a glimpse of the little girl in a motor-car with her father, 
 Bedr and "Blount" had been together. 
 
 As soon as possible after Bedr's reply, "Blount" and 
 another man, who called himself Hanna, had arrived in 
 Cairo. Bedr knew that they had a fixed theory in regard 
 to the young lady who passed as Miss Gilder. Who they 
 supposed her to be, he could not tell; but once he had 
 "happened" to be near, when they were not aware of his 
 presence, and had heard one of them mention a woman's
 
 446 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 name, which sounded like "Esny." They accepted his 
 word that he had been able to identify the so-called Miss 
 Guest as Rosamond Gilder, and in her they appeared to 
 take no further interest. Their attention was concen- 
 trated on Mrs. Jones and on the lady who, according to 
 their belief, was but posing as Miss Gilder. Apparently 
 they imagined her to be quite another person, one whom 
 they had taken a great deal of trouble to reach. Also 
 they had an idea that Mrs. Jones possessed something of 
 which they were anxious to get hold. It was a thing which 
 ought to be theirs, and they had been after it for years; 
 but she had contrived to hide herself and it, until 
 lately. 
 
 Why he had been told to guide the two younger ladies 
 to the House of the Crocodile, Bedr pretended not to 
 know. Perhaps only perhaps Blount and his com- 
 panion, Hanna, wished to kidnap the one we called Miss 
 Gilder, and they called "Esney." But good, kind Bedr 
 had never dreamed that they meant any real harm. 
 There had been a plan of some sort for that night. 
 Blount and Hanna were to arrive at the House 
 of the Crocodile for a close look at the young 
 ladies, when the latter had gone to sleep under the in- 
 fluence of the hasheesh they intended to smoke. But the 
 two gentlemen had not kept the appointment. At first, 
 Bedr had not understood why, and had not known what to 
 do. Afterward, of course, when he had heard of the row 
 in the street, which had caused the closing of the house 
 for many tedious hours, he had guessed. And later when 
 he learned that poor Mr. Blount lay wounded in a hos- 
 pital, it had all become clear. Mr. Hanna, who seemed
 
 WORTH PAYING FOR 447 
 
 to work under Mr. Blount's orders, had not been able to 
 act alone. 
 
 Then, as to all the travelling up the Nile, Bedr had 
 never been told why "his genlemen" made the journey. 
 Every one who came to Egypt went up the Nile. Only, 
 he had been instructed to find out, always, where we 
 were, and told to arrange their arrival at about the same 
 time. At Medinet they had not camped, or gone to an 
 hotel, but had stayed in the house of a friend of Bedr's. 
 It was convenient, though not as comfortable as he could 
 wish for his clients. The advantage was, that from the roof 
 it was possible to see into our camp. Bedr had made 
 friends with one of the camel-boys who went to market 
 to buy the black lamb : and while we were away, had found 
 out which was the tent where Mrs. Jones and Miss Gilder 
 (or "Esney") slept. What happened in the night he 
 could not say. He had stayed at his friend's house, while 
 the two gentlemen went out. He had done nothing at 
 all for them in Medinet, except to discover the ladies' 
 tent, and also to buy a bottle of olive oil. When the 
 gentlemen came home in the middle of the night, they 
 were angry with him because they said he had shown them 
 the wrong tent. But that was unjust. It was the only 
 time they had been unkind. Except for that, they had 
 been good, and had given him plenty of money for a while. 
 At Asiut and Luxor they had been pleased with him. All 
 they wanted at Rechid Bey's house, was to get the thing 
 Mrs. Jones had, which ought to be theirs. They had not 
 told him this, but he heard them talk sometimes. He 
 knew more languages than they thought. If they wanted 
 to steal the young lady, they had never said so. When
 
 448 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 the plan failed, they did not blame Bedr. It was not 
 his fault. They saw that. 
 
 The Mamoudieh had been engaged as long ago as just 
 after Medinet, when the thing the gentlemen wanted to 
 do there could not be done. But Bedr thought that, if 
 the Luxor plan had been a success, the steam dahabeah 
 would have gone north from there instead of south. It 
 was because of that failure the boat had followed us up 
 the Nile. At Abu Simbel Bedr had quarrelled with the 
 gentlemen, because he began to suspect they meant harm 
 to the ladies, or to one of them. He had been clever, and 
 got on board the Enchantress as they told him to do. 
 He had obtained writing-paper, and typed a copy of a 
 letter. In America, he had learned to do typing. Often 
 he could make better money in an engagement now, be- 
 cause he knew how to use a machine. And when the 
 steward showed him over the boat, he left the letter in 
 the stateroom which the Arab boy said was Miss Gilder's. 
 In spite of all these good services, which no other drago- 
 man in Egypt could have given, those gentlemen would 
 not listen to a word of advice. Bedr heard them speak 
 with the guardian of the temple, about going in before 
 any one else came to see the sunrise: and afterward they 
 talked of hiding in the Sanctuary. First, they had asked 
 him if it were always dark there, as the guide-books said. 
 After hearing this he had put two and two together: and 
 when he remembered what was in the note he typed for 
 Miss Gilder, Bedr feared for her and Mrs. Jones. He 
 begged the gentlemen not to do anything rash, and they 
 were so angry at his interference that they sent him off 
 with no more pay nothing at all since Luxor.
 
 WORTH PAYING FOR 449 
 
 Oh, no, they were not afraid of him, and what he could 
 tell, because they said nobody would believe a dragoman's 
 word, against rich white gentlemen. People would say 
 he lied, for spite. But Bedr thought maybe we should 
 believe, because we knew already that something strange 
 had been going on. The gentlemen paid off the men on 
 the Mamoudieh and ordered her to go on to Wady Haifa. 
 They did not know that Bedr had slipped on board, and 
 hidden there, on purpose to find us, and tell his story. 
 
 A part of this tale carried truth on its face. But An- 
 thony and I agreed that there was a queer discrepancy at 
 the end. If Bedr spoke the truth, Blount and his com- 
 rade must have had a reason for wishing to get rid of the 
 fellow, or for not caring what became of him, a reason 
 unconnected with a quarrel. And it was certain that, if 
 there had been a quarrel, it was not because of virtuous 
 plain-speaking from Bedr. It seemed impossible that he 
 could have got on board their hired boat to follow us, 
 without his employers' knowledge. Was his appearance 
 at Wady Haifa, and his apparent betrayal of his clients, 
 all a part of their plan? 
 
 We could not decide this question in our minds, or by 
 cross-questioning Bedr, while the train waited, for only 
 time could prove. But what we had heard was inter- 
 esting enough to be worth the promised thousand piasters, 
 and the fare north on the government boat just starting. 
 To make sure that Bedr did start, we called Kruger, put 
 the whole sum into his hands, asking him to help the dra- 
 goman by buying his ticket and getting the notes changed 
 into gold and silver. This little manoeuvre left the Ar- 
 menian so calm, however, that we fancied his wish must
 
 450 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 really be to depart on the government boat. Such in- 
 quiries as we had time to make concerning the Mamoudieh 
 seemed to show that she must remain at Haifa for slight 
 repairs to her engine, and instructions from her owner, 
 who was staying at Assuan. It was just at the last minute 
 of grace, with the station-master adjuring, and the Set 
 reproaching us, that Anthony and I jumped on board 
 the train. 
 
 Strange that two rows of blue glass windows should 
 have power to turn the whole world topsy-turvy, or to 
 create a new one, of an entirely original colour-scheme! 
 But so it was. Those people seated in their grand, travel- 
 ling "bed-sitting rooms," had only a superficial resem- 
 blance to the passengers of the Enchantress Isis. Monny, 
 for instance, had pale green hair, with immense purple 
 eyes; and showed every sign of rapid transformation into 
 a mermaid. Cleopatra's auburn waves had turned to a 
 vivid magenta: Biddy's black tresses had a blue, grapey 
 bloom on them: and Anthony's dark eyes were a sin- 
 ister green, with red lights. Ghostly, mother o' pearl faces 
 with opal shadows, peered through the violet glass at an un- 
 real landscape, which would instantly cease to exist if the 
 windows were opened. But the windows could not be 
 opened, or a rain of sand would pour in; so we gazed out on 
 an impossible fairyland consisting of golden sea, with moun- 
 tainous shores carved from amethyst, through which shone 
 the glow of pulsing fires. Always we carried with us an 
 immense shadow, like a trailing purple banner, unfurling 
 as we moved. Men and women and animals seen at the 
 numbered white stations in the sand, were but fantastic
 
 WORTH PAYING FOR 451 
 
 figures in a camera obscura. The shadow of the train 
 was torn with fiery streaks : and when the sun had burned 
 to death on a red funeral-pyre, the moon stole out to 
 mourn for him. Her coming was sudden. She seemed 
 abruptly to draw aside a hyacinth curtain, and hold 
 up a lamp over the desert, when the sun's fire had died. 
 And the lamp gave forth an unearthly light, which poured 
 over the endless sands a sheet of primrose-yellow flame. 
 The warm sun-shadow was chilled from purple to gray, 
 and flowed over the magic primrose fields like a river of 
 molten silver. 
 
 At Number Six Station, where we stopped for water 
 after dinner, a hyena came galumping over the sand like 
 a humpbacked dog, to stare at us, as we strolled in couples 
 away from the train into the desert. Next morning, 
 every one was up early to see the gray hornets' nest huts 
 which were Sudanese villages, and the villagers them- 
 selves, who urged us to buy straw rugs, baskets, fans, 
 oranges, dried beans, live birds, and milk in wooden 
 bowls, whenever the train stopped : respectable old ladies, 
 dressed in short fringes, and small, full-stomached boys 
 dressed in nothing at all. 
 
 I had not told Biddy about our bargain with Sir Marcus : 
 Anthony's and my services in exchange for the Mountain 
 of the Golden Pyramid. Why should she be forced to share 
 our suspense? For she would share it, if she knew, even 
 though she didn't yet yield to me, in the matter of a united 
 future. I wanted to wait before telling her the story, until 
 Fenton and I had made sure if there were anything golden 
 about the mountain, except its name. If we were doomed to 
 disappointment I could then give the tale a humorous
 
 452 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 turn, easier to do in retrospect than anticipation. Now, 
 when in blinding light of noon we pointed out, in an im- 
 personal manner, to all who cared to see, the pyramid- 
 field of Meroe, it seemed strange to think that no heart 
 but Anthony's and mine beat the faster. The sun was so 
 hot that most people, blinking dazedly, retired behind 
 their screens of blue glass almost as soon as the train 
 stopped, close to Garstang's camp. I had informed the 
 Set, casually, that wonderful things were being found 
 here in the rocky desert: that the few neat white tents 
 sheltered men who were going to make of Meroe a world's 
 wonder: that not only had the army of stunted black 
 pyramids visible from the train, yielded up treasures, but 
 three tiers of palaces were being unearthed, or rather, 
 unsanded. I said nothing, however, of the more dis- 
 tant dark shapes, like the pyramids yet unlike them. 
 Among those low, conical mountains which perhaps gave 
 inspiration to the pyramid builders, was our mountain. 
 And I was not sorry when the burning sun smote curiosity 
 from eyes and brains, and sent nearly all my flock back 
 to their places, while the train had still some minutes at 
 the station. 
 
 Cleopatra had not come out. She had frankly 
 lost interest in scenic history, and did not want to be 
 intelligent: but as Anthony and I stepped off the train, 
 we saw that Brigit and Monny stood arm in arm in the 
 doorway. 
 
 "Would you like to jump down?" I asked, reluctantly. 
 For the first time I did not wish Biddy O'Brien to give 
 me her society. I hoped she would say "No, thank you, " 
 for I wanted Fenton to point out our mountain (which
 
 WORTH PAYING FOR 453 
 
 he had told me could be seen) : and it would be incon- 
 venient to answer questions. 
 
 "Yes, we should like it," they both replied together: 
 so Anthony and I had to look delighted. It really was a 
 pleasure to help them down: but even that we could 
 have waited for till our arrival at Khartum. And the first 
 remark that Biddy made was too intelligent. "What are 
 those weird things off there in the distance, that look ex- 
 actly like ruined pyramids sort of mudpie pyramids?" 
 
 "Mountains," said Fenton. 
 
 "What, didn't anybody make them?" 
 
 "The legend is, that Djinns, or evil spirits, created them 
 to use as tombs for themselves." 
 
 "But they're almost precisely like the made pyra- 
 mids, only a little more tumbledown. Have they 
 names?" 
 
 "Some have, I believe," Anthony returned, with his 
 well-put-on air of indifference. "That blackest and most 
 ruined looking one of all, for instance, between two which 
 are taller there, away to the left, I mean that is called 
 the 'Mountain of the Golden Pyramid.' ' 
 
 Our eyes met over the girls' veiled hats. After all, he 
 had found an opportunity of telling me what I wanted to 
 know. 
 
 "What a fascinating name!" said Monny. "It sounds 
 as if there were some special story connected with it. 
 Is there?" 
 
 "Ye es," Anthony was obliged to admit. "There 
 is a legend that it was used as a tomb by the first Queen 
 Candace, who lived about two hundred years B. C. 
 after Ptolemy Philadelphus. She used to reign over what
 
 454 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 they called the "Island of Meroe." It was this once 
 fertile kingdom, between the Atbara River over there, 
 and the Blue Nile. They say she wished to be buried 
 with all her jewels and treasure, and was afraid of her 
 tomb being robbed, so she wouldn't trust to a man-made 
 pyramid. She ordered a secret place to be hollowed out 
 in the heart of a mountain; and that's the one they pre- 
 tend it is." 
 
 "What a lovely legend! But I suppose there's nothing 
 in it, really, or clever people like those who're digging 
 here now would have found the tomb and the treasure 
 long ago," said Monny. 
 
 "I don't know," I left Anthony to answer, wondering 
 what he would say. "Only a very few have ever put 
 enough faith in the story to search, and they have never 
 been able to discover traces of an entrance into that 
 mountain or any other. Of course, in trying to enter the 
 great pyramid of Ghizeh, they looked a long time before 
 they succeeded. But that was different. There was never 
 any doubt of there being something worth seeing, inside, 
 whereas this black lump may be solid rock, and nothing 
 more. It's many years since anybody has tried to get at 
 the secret." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," politely said (in French) an elderly 
 man, in a pith helmet, blue spectacles, and khaki clothes, 
 who stood near. "I couldn't help hearing your conver- 
 sation; and it may interest you and these ladies to learn 
 that at this very moment work is going on at the so- 
 called Mountain of the Golden Pyramid." 
 
 I envied Anthony the brown stain on his face, for I 
 felt the blood rushing to mine.
 
 WORTH PAYING FOR 455 
 
 " Indeed !" I ejaculated in English. "We are very much 
 interested. Work actually going on!" 
 
 "Yes, it was begun about four or five weeks ago, by 
 an agent of Sir Marcus Lark, the well-known financier, 
 who got the concession which some other party was said 
 to be trying for. I am here," went on the helmeted man, 
 gazing benevolently through his blue spectacles at the 
 two pretty women, "I am here with my son, who is one 
 of Garstang's men. We have nothing to do with the 
 Mountain of the Golden Pyramid. Luckily for Sir Mar- 
 cus, it was adjudged to be off our 'pitch.' Still, we are 
 interested. They are keeping their work very secret, 
 but these things are in the air. The talk here is that 
 they're on the point of making, if they haven't made 
 already, some very startling discovery." 
 
 "All aboard, if you please!" shouted the Greek guard.
 
 XXIX 
 EXIT ANTOUN 
 
 IF THERE had been no Brigit and no Monny in the world 
 we should have let that train go on without us, and 
 hang the Set and its feelings! But there was a Brigit; 
 there was a Monny; and they were more to us than all the 
 treasure Sir Marcus was apparently stealing while we 
 slaved. 
 
 What fools we had been to trust in such a man ! And I 
 had actually wasted pity on the fellow. Now, as we were 
 borne away from Merb'e, we saw our hopes, which had be- 
 gun to seem certainties, dissolving into air. They were 
 like the mirage of the desert which lured us with siren en- 
 chantment and mystery in this Never-Never-land which 
 thousands of brave men had died to win: shimmering 
 blue lakes, that mirrored green trees and low purple 
 mountains, and the gold of sand-dunes, so real, so near, it 
 seemed we might walk to them in a few moments: only 
 mocking dreams, like our belief in a famous financier's 
 loyalty; like our hopes of fortune. For if Sir Marcus Lark 
 had secretly begun work at the Mountain of the Golden 
 Pyramid, it meant that he intended to steal everything 
 best worth having, for himself. 
 
 It was maddening to realize that we might be too late to 
 thwart him, but we had to risk this, or risk losing some- 
 
 4.56
 
 EXIT ANTOUN 457 
 
 thing dearer than the jewels of a Queen Candace. An- 
 thony was staking the happiness of his future on the 
 events of the following night. Now that the small cloud 
 of misunderstanding had passed from the clear sky of our 
 friendship, we were one again in confidence, as we had 
 been before the Philae eavesdropping : and I knew the plan 
 he meant to carry out at the Sirdar's ball. It was rather 
 a melodramatic plan, perhaps, but somehow it fitted into 
 the circumstances of his queer courtship, and I could see 
 why Anthony preferred it to any other more conventional. 
 As for me, I too counted on Khartum to give me a present 
 of happiness. Bedr's story, largely false as it might be, 
 must have a basis of truth. I'd ceased to argue with Biddy. 
 " We'll leave the subject of the future alone till we get to 
 Khartum," I had said. She thought, maybe, that she had 
 half convinced me of. her worldly wisdom. But this was 
 far from being the case. I was only waiting to see whether 
 my theory were right or wrong. I couldn't know until 
 Khartum: and nothing on earth, or hidden under earth, 
 would have induced me to put off the moment of finding 
 out. 
 
 North Khartum was standing in a mirage as we ap- 
 proached. And Fenton and I were superstitious enough 
 to wonder if it were a bad omen, that lovely lake which 
 was not there, reflecting clearly each white and ochre- 
 coloured house of the city in the sand. Only the blue 
 glitter of the Nile was real, as the train crossed the river 
 on a high bridge, and landed us in the surprising garden 
 of beauty which is Khartum itself. Wide streets, bordered 
 with flowering trees, rose-pink acacias and coral pendants 
 of pepper-berries; lawns green as velvet; big, verandaed
 
 458 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 houses of silver-gray or ruddy stone; roses climbing over 
 hedge and wall; scent of lilies and magnolias floating in 
 an air clear as crystal; droning sakkeyehs spraying pearls 
 over the warm bodies of slow-moving oxen; white sails 
 like butterflies' wings dotting the Blue Nile : this was the 
 new city created as if by magic, in sixteen years, upon the 
 sad ruins of Gordon's stronghold. 
 
 On the wide veranda of the Grand Hotel, where pretty 
 girls were giving tea to young officers in khaki, Fenton 
 came up to Brigit and Monny, who were questioning me 
 about letters. The look on his face struck the girl into 
 silence. 
 
 "What is it? " she asked, almost sharply. 
 
 "Don't let me interrupt you," he said. "I can wait a 
 few minutes." 
 
 "No," Monny insisted. "Please speak. I know it's 
 something important." 
 
 "Important only to myself, perhaps," he answered, 
 with a smile that was rather wistful. "I have to say 
 good-bye now." 
 
 "Good-bye?" echoed Monny, surprised and even 
 frightened, more by his look and tone than the words 
 themselves. 
 
 "My engagement with Sir Marcus Lark ended when 
 our train stopped at Khartum. I have other business to 
 attend to here. I've just made my adieux with every- 
 body else. I saved you till the last." 
 
 Monny was pale. Even the fresh young rose that 
 was her mouth had blanched. Otherwise she controlled 
 herself perfectly. Was this part of Anthony's plan? I 
 wondered. He had told me what he intended to do at the
 
 EXIT ANTOUN 459 
 
 Palace ball to-morrow night; but he had said nothing about 
 this preliminary scene. I understood, however, why he 
 had not manoeuvred to get Monny to himself, in a de- 
 serted corner of this big ground-floor balcony of the hotel. 
 Even when with the Set it was a question of getting their 
 tea, or looking at their rooms, eyes were always ready to 
 observe Miss Gilder, especially since it was "in the air" 
 that she really was Miss Gilder "the Miss Gilder." 
 He did not want Miss Hassett-Bean and Mrs. Harlow 
 to be saying: "Look, my dear, at the tragic, private 
 farewell Antoun Effendi and our American Beauty are 
 having!" Since Philae, there would have been no use in 
 trying to conceal his feelings for Monny from Brigit or me. 
 Therefore we made useful chaperons, and could be re- 
 garded as dummies. 
 
 "You never told me you were leaving us at Khartum," 
 
 the girl stammered. "I thought " But, though we 
 
 knew what she thought, she could go no further before an 
 audience. 
 
 "My business prevents me from staying at the hotel," 
 Anthony explained. "And though I shall see you, 
 never again will you see poor Ahmed Antoun." 
 
 "I don't understand," Monny said. 
 
 "I know. But that was what we agreed upon. You 
 promised to trust me without understanding. To- 
 morrow night, at the Sirdar's ball, you will understand. 
 I've arranged with Lord Ernest that you and Mrs. Jones 
 and Mrs. East and he shall write your names in the book 
 at the Palace. Then you will all receive invitations for the 
 ball; you four only, of the party." 
 
 "And you will be there?"
 
 460 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "I've just told you," Anthony repeated, "that Antoun 
 is saying good-bye to you forever." 
 
 "Yet you told me, too, that after Khartum I should be 
 hap She cut herself short, and shut her lips closely. 
 
 I was angry with Fenton for what seemed cruelty to 
 one who had very nobly confessed her love for him. 
 Biddy's eyes protested, too; but the man and the girl cared 
 no more for us or our criticism, at that moment, than if 
 we had been harmless, necessary chairs for them to sit 
 upon. 
 
 "There are many paths to happiness," Fenton an- 
 swered. "I shall see you to-morrow night, and I shall 
 know whether you are happy. Meanwhile I say again 
 trust me. And good-bye." 
 
 He held out his strong, nervous hand, so browned by 
 the sun that it needed little staining for the part he had 
 played and was to play no more. As if mechanically, 
 Monny Gilder laid her hand in it. They looked into each 
 other's eyes, which were almost on a level, so tall was she. 
 Then Antoun Effendi turned abruptly away, forgetting 
 apparently that he had not taken leave of Brigit or me. 
 
 "Let's go upstairs at once, dear, and see our rooms," 
 Biddy said quickly. 
 
 An instant later, I stood alone on the veranda. But I 
 knew well enough where to find Captain Anthony Fenton 
 when I wanted him, although the death knell of Antoun 
 was sounding. I was not in the least melancholy, and 
 despite the tense emotion of that short scene, I had never 
 felt less sentimental in my life. My whole being concen- 
 trated itself in a desire to visit the post-office, and to bash 
 Sir Marcus Lark's head.
 
 EXIT ANTOUN 461 
 
 When Anthony came up for his farewell I had been ask- 
 ing Brigit and Monny if they expected letters at the 
 Poste Restante. Both said no, but advised by me, they 
 gave me their cards, armed with which I could ask for 
 letters and obtain them if there were any. "It's very un- 
 likely any one will address me there," Biddy had assured 
 me. "The only letter I'm hoping for will come to the 
 hotel." 
 
 I was not jealous : because I was sure the said letter was 
 from Esme O'Brien, now for weal or woe Mrs. Halloran. 
 The letter I hoped for would be from a very different per- 
 son, though if it materialized it would certainly mention 
 the runaway bride. And if such a letter came to Khartum, 
 the place to look for it, I thought, would be the Poste 
 Restante. The writer not being a personal friend of Mrs. 
 O'Brien, and presumably not knowing Khartum, could not 
 be certain at which hotel she would stop. 
 
 I was hurrying away, a few minutes later, to prove once 
 and for all whether I were a budding Sherlock Holmes or 
 merely an imaginative fool, when a servant came out from 
 the hotel and handed me a telegram. 
 
 "Lark! " I read the signature at the end with a snort of 
 
 rage. " I wonder he has the cheek to " But by that 
 
 time I was getting at the meat of the message. "What 
 the dev by Jove! Here's a complication!" I heard 
 myself mutter a running accompaniment to Marcus 
 Lark's words 
 
 This is what he had to say on two sheets of paper: 
 
 LORD ERNEST BORROW, Grand Hotel, Khartum: 
 
 In train leaving Assuan met man from Meroe told me work begun at 
 our place strange news don't understand but sure you two haven't gone
 
 462 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 ahead of bargain must be foul play or else mistake but thought matter 
 too serious go on north left train returned Assuan caught government 
 steamer for Haifa just arrived too late for train de luxe but will proceed 
 by ordinary train to camp better meet me there soon as possible leaving 
 boat people take care of themselves. Wire Kabushia Lark. 
 
 His loyalty to us shamed me. We had not given him 
 the benefit of the doubt, but had at once believed the 
 worst. He, though "not a gentleman" in the opinion of 
 Colonel Corkran and some others, was chivalrously sure 
 that we had "not gone ahead of the bargain ! " A revulsion 
 of feeling gave me a spasm of something like affection for 
 the big fellow whom his adored Cleopatra sneered at as 
 "common." 
 
 I longed to show the telegram to Anthony; but he would 
 now be at the Palace, reporting to the Sirdar. Later he 
 would be at his own quarters, transforming himself from a 
 pale brown Hadji in a green turban into a sunburned 
 young British officer in uniform. Meantime I would go to 
 the Poste Restante, and then (whatever the result of the 
 visit) I would return, collect Brigit and Monny, and take 
 them to the Palace to write their names in the book. 
 
 I dare not think what my blood pressure must have 
 been as I waited for a post-office official to look through a 
 bundle of letters. 
 
 "Mrs. B. Jones," he murmured. "No, nothing for B. 
 Jones unless it's O'Brien Jones. Here's a letter ad- 
 dressed to Mrs. O'Brien Jones." 
 
 "That's it," said I, swallowing heavily, "Mrs. O'Brien 
 Jones. I think the letter must be postmarked Assuan." 
 
 Without further hesitation the post-office man handed me 
 the envelope, on the strength of Mrs. B. Jones' visiting card.
 
 EXIT ANTOUN 463 
 
 Going out of the office, I walked on air. "Sherlock 
 Holmes it is ! " I congratulated myself. And I ventured to 
 be wildly happy, because it seemed to me that a letter 
 sent to Mrs. O'Brien Jones, from Assuan, could mean only 
 one thing; a justification of my theory. 
 
 I went straight to Biddy's door and knocked. There 
 was no answer, and I stood fuming with impatience on the 
 upstairs balcony, upon which each bedroom opens. It 
 seemed impossible to live another minute without putting 
 that letter into Biddy's hand. And not for the world 
 would I have let it come to her from any one else. I 
 was tempted to tear open the envelope, but before I had 
 time to test my character, Biddy appeared on the balcony, 
 coming round the corner from Monny's room. 
 
 " Why, Duffer ! You look as if the sky had fallen ! " she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "It has," I returned. "It's lying all over the place. 
 There's a bit of it in this letter. A bit of heaven, maybe.'* 
 
 "A letter for me?" 
 
 "Yes. And if you aren't quick about opening it I'll 
 commit hari kari." 
 
 She was quick about opening it. 
 
 As she read, almost literally my eyes were glued to her 
 face. It went white, then pink. "Thank heaven!" I 
 said within myself. If she had been pink first and white 
 afterward, I should have been alarmed. For a woman's 
 colour to blossom warmly from a snowfield, means good 
 news. 
 
 "Duffer!" she breathed. "Do you know what's 
 in this?" 
 
 "I thought it would come." My voice sounded
 
 464 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 rather queer. I'd fancied I had more self-control. "That's 
 why I wanted your card for the Poste Restante." 
 
 "Read this," she said, and gave me the open letter. 
 
 It was written on paper of a hotel at Assuan, near the 
 railway station, and was as follows: 
 
 MADAM: Let me explain frankly before I go further, that my name is 
 Thomas Macmahan. You may remember it. If you do, you will not 
 think it strange that I as a private person, as well as a member of a 
 Society whose name it is not necessary to mention wanted certain 
 papers you were supposed to possess. For a long time I, and others al- 
 most equally interested, tried to trace you, after learning that you had 
 the documents, or in any case knew where they were. Naturally we 
 were prepared to go far in order to make you give them up. We believed 
 that your step-daughter was with you. As the need was pressing, and 
 we had failed more than once, we would, if necessary, have worked upon 
 your feelings through her. Had we questioned you, and you had replied 
 that we were mistaken concerning the young lady and the papers, we 
 should have been incredulous. But accident enabled us to hear from 
 your own lips, details which we could not disbelieve. As a woman we 
 wish you no harm, therefore we rejoice in this turn of events, for your 
 sake. Your step-daughter must now be one of us, through her husband. 
 She has nothing further to fear, much as we regret her marriage into a 
 family so deeply injured by her father. As for you, Madam, you may 
 be at rest where we are concerned. You said to Lord Ernest Borrow in 
 the Temple of Abu Simbel, that you could never be happy, until the 
 Organization Richard O'Brien betrayed, "forgot and forgave his daugh- 
 ter and yourself." Through me, the Organisation now formally both for- 
 gets and forgives, 
 
 Wishing you well in future, Yours truly, 
 
 T. MACMAHAN (alias Blount). 
 
 P. S. Kindly acknowledge receipt of this letter in care of Bedr el 
 Gemaly whose address you have at Cairo. Not hearing from you, we 
 shall try to communicate this news in some other way. The present 
 method has occurred to us, as you may find it useful to know the state of 
 affairs without delay. 
 
 "Oh, Biddy, do you find it useful? " I asked.
 
 EXIT ANTOUN 465 
 
 She held out her hands to me. There was no one on the 
 veranda just then and I kissed her. 
 
 "Mine!" I said. "What a gorgeous place Khartum 
 would be, to be married in!" 
 
 Mo.nny was very brave next day. She went to Omdur- 
 man with the rest of us. And it was the chance of a life- 
 time, because (through Anthony) Slatin Pasha himself 
 took us to the place of his captivity : Slatin Pasha, slim, 
 soldierly, young, vital and brilliant. It was scarcely pos- 
 sible to believe that this man, who looked no more than 
 thirty-five, and radiated energy, could have passed eleven 
 years in slavery terrible beyond description. He spoke of 
 those experiences almost lightly, as if telling the story of 
 some one else, and it was "all in the day's work" that he 
 should have triumphed over his persecutors in a way more 
 complete, more dramatic than any author of romance 
 would dare invent for his hero. 
 
 He took us, from the river-steps in front of his own big, 
 verandaed house, down the Blue Nile in a fast steam 
 launch. It was a Nile as blue as turquoise; and after the 
 low island of Tuli had been left behind it was strange to 
 see the junction of the Blue and the White Niles, in a quar- 
 relsome swirl of sharply divided colours. Landing on 
 the shore at Omdurman, we met carts loaded with 
 elephant-tusks, and wagons piled with hides. Giant 
 men, like ebony statues, walked beside pacing camels 
 white as milk. The vegetable market was a town of little 
 booths : the grain markets had gathered riches of green and 
 orange-gold. Farther on, in the brown shadows of the 
 roughly roofed labyrinth of bazaars, were stores of sandal-
 
 466 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 wood, and spices smelling like Araby the blest; open- 
 fronted shops showing splendid leopard skins, crocodile 
 heads bristling with knives, carved tusks of elephants, 
 shields, armour said to have been captured from crusaders; 
 Abyssinian spears, swords and strange headgear used by 
 the Mahdi's and Khalifa's men. The bazaars of Cairo and 
 even Assuan seemed tame and sophisticated compared to 
 this wild market of the Sudan, where half the men, and all 
 the bread-selling women who were old enough, had been 
 the Khalifa's slaves. 
 
 With Slatin Pasha we went to the Khalifa's "palace" 
 to gaze at the "saint's" carriage, the skeleton of Gor- 
 don's piano, and scores of ancient guns which had cut 
 short the lives of Christian men. Slatin's house we saw, 
 too, and the gate whence he had escaped: the Mahdi's 
 shattered tomb, and the famous open-air Mosque. 
 
 Then we had a run up the Blue Nile, as far as " Gordon's 
 Tree," and lunched on board the launch. In the after- 
 noon, back at Khartum again, there was still time to 
 group round the statue of Gordon on his camel, holding 
 the short stick that was his only weapon, and gazing over 
 the desert. The Set were allowed to walk through the 
 Palace gardens, to behold the spot at the head of the 
 grand staircase, where Gordon fell, and to have a glimpse, 
 in the Sirdar's library, of the Khalifa's photograph, 
 taken after death. This was a special favour, and as 
 they knew nothing about the four invitations to the ball, 
 they were satisfied with their day. 
 
 Dinner was in the illuminated garden of the hotel: 
 and when it was over, I smuggled Brigit and Monny 
 and Cleopatra inconspicuously away. No one suspected;
 
 EXIT ANTOUN 467 
 
 and if the lovely dresses worn by Mrs. East and Miss 
 Gilder were commented upon, doubtless aunt and niece 
 were merely supposed to be "showing off." 
 
 Never, I think, had Monny come so near to being a great 
 beauty. In her dress of softly folding silver cloth she 
 was a tall white lily. She wore no jewels except a 
 string of pearls, and there was no colour about her any- 
 where, except the deep violet her hazel eyes took on at 
 night, and the brown-gold of her hair. Even her lips were 
 pale as they had been when Antoun bade her good-bye. 
 Hers was no gay, dancing mood. She was going to the 
 ball because Antoun Effendi had ordered, rather than 
 asked, her to go. But she was like some fair, tragic 
 creature on trial for her life, waiting to hear what the ver- 
 dict of the jury might be.
 
 XXX 
 
 THE SIRDAR'S BALL 
 
 BIDDY, radiating joy, walked beside me with wide-open, 
 eager eyes, taking in every detail of the historic house. 
 She admired the immense hall, whose archways opened 
 into dim, fragrant gardens. She was entranced with the 
 Sudanese band, ink-black giants uniformed in white, 
 playing wild native music in the moonlight. She wanted 
 to stop and make friends with the Shoebill, a super-stork, 
 apparently carved in shining metal, with a bill like an 
 enormous slipper, eyes like the hundredth-part-of-a-second 
 stop in a Kodak, and feet that tested each new tuft of 
 grass on the lawn, as if it were a specimen of some hitherto 
 undiscovered thing. 
 
 No question but she was happy! I was proud of her. 
 and proud of myself because my love had power to give 
 her happiness. What matter now if I were being robbed 
 at the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid, by some un- 
 known thief? Neither he nor any one could steal Biddy. 
 
 Even Cleopatra seemed pleased to be coming to the 
 Sirdar's ball, though gloom lay heavy upon her. She 
 wanted to look her best. She wanted to be admired by 
 the officers she was to meet, and to have as many partners 
 as she could split dances for. To be admired by some one 
 was essential to her just now, a soothing medicine to heal 
 
 468
 
 THE SIRDAR'S BALL 469 
 
 the smart of hurt vanity. Monny, I felt, had made her- 
 self look beautiful only because she thought that Antoun, 
 unseen, would see her. As we entered the ballroom, her 
 eyes were wistful, searching, yet not expecting to find. 
 He had said that she would never see Antoun again. 
 
 I found friends in the ballroom : men I knew at home, 
 and a few pretty women I had met in England or abroad : 
 but there was no more than time to be received by the 
 Aide-de-Camp, and to introduce a few officers to my three 
 ladies, when the moment came for the formal entry of our 
 host and hostess, the soldier-Sirdar and his graceful wife, 
 the Royalties of the Sudan. We were presented: and I 
 guessed at once that the Sirdar had been prepared in ad- 
 vance to take a special interest in Rosamond Gilder. 
 
 "Anthony has told him the whole thing, and asked his 
 help," was my thought. From the instant of his kindly 
 greeting for the girl, I found myself suddenly, excitedly 
 assuming the attitude of a spectator in a theatre, on the 
 night of a new play. I knew the plot of the play, but 
 not how it would be presented, nor how it would work 
 out. 
 
 I saw that the Sirdar ; had made up his mind to a certain 
 line of action where Monny was concerned. And by and 
 by, when he had time to spare from his general duties as 
 host, I heard him ask if she would like to go on the roof, 
 where Gordon used to stand watching for the English 
 soldiers to come. 
 
 "I will take you," he said. "And if you like to stay 
 longer than I can stop away from our guests, I'll give you 
 another guide." 
 
 He turned to Biddy and me. (Cleopatra was dancing
 
 470 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 with Baron Rudolph von Slatin Pasha, gorgeous in medals 
 and stars: Brigit and I had just stopped.) 
 
 "Would you like to come, too?" the Sirdar asked. 
 
 I answered for Biddy, knowing what she would want me 
 to say. And still the sense of being a spectator in a won- 
 derful theatre was dreamily upon me. Stronger and 
 stronger the impression grew, as the Sirdar led us out onto 
 a wide loggia white with moonlight, and up a flight of 
 stairs to a flat roof. Overhead a sky of milk was spangled 
 with flashing stars. Beneath our eyes lay the palace 
 gardens, where the torches of the Sudanese band glowed 
 like transfixed fireflies, in the pale moon-rays. Palms and 
 acacias and jewelled flower-beds, were cut out sharply in 
 vivid colour by the lights which streamed from open 
 windows. Beyond past the zone of violet shadow so 
 like a stage background was the sheen of the river, 
 bright as spilt mercury under the moon. And beyond 
 again, on the other side of the Nile, the tawny flame of that 
 desert across which came the Khalifa's fierce army. 
 
 "This is where Gordon used to stand," the Sirdar 
 stopped us near the parapet. "Only the roof was one 
 story lower then. He climbed up here every day, till the 
 last, to look out across the desert, saying: 'The English 
 will come ! ' There's a black gardener I have, who thinks 
 he meets him now, on moonlight nights like this, walking 
 in the garden. It wasn't much of a garden in his day; 
 only palms and orange trees: but a rose-bush he planted 
 and loved is alive still. I've just asked one of my officers 
 one whom I particularly want you to meet, Miss Gilder 
 to pluck a rose from Gordon's bush and bring it to you 
 here. He knows where to find us; and when he comes, I
 
 THE SIRDAR'S BALL 471 
 
 must go back to the ballroom and leave you all three 
 to his guidance. Lord Ernest and he used to be friends 
 as boys, I believe. Perhaps you've heard him speak of 
 Captain Anthony Fenton?" 
 
 "Perhaps. I don't remember," Monny answered, 
 apologetically. She, so self-confident and self-possessed, 
 was charmingly shy with this great soldier who had made 
 history in the Sudan. 
 
 "If you don't remember, Lord Ernest can't have done 
 justice to the subject. Fenton's one of the finest young 
 officers in Egypt, or indeed, in the service. We're rather 
 proud of him. Lately he's been employed on a special 
 mission, which he has carried out extremely well. Few 
 others could have done it, for a man of great audacity 
 and self-restraint was needed: a combination hard to 
 find. He has been in the Balkans. And since, has had a 
 particularly delicate task intrusted to him, to be con- 
 ducted with absolute secrecy. No 'kudos' to be got out 
 of it in case of success. And failure would almost cer- 
 tainly have cost his life. It was a question of disguise, 
 and getting at the native heart." 
 
 "It sounds like something in a story book," said Monny, 
 while Brigit and I kept mum, drinking in gulps of moon- 
 light. 
 
 "Yes," the Sirdar agreed, "or the autobiography of Sir 
 Richard Burton. Fenton has the same extraordinary gift 
 of language and dialect that Burton had : the art of 'make- 
 up,' too; and he's been to Mecca; a great adventure I be- 
 lieve he had. Perhaps you can get him to talk of it : though 
 he's not fond of talking about himself. Altogether he's 
 what I sometimes hear the ladies call 'a romantic figure.'
 
 472 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 His father was a famous soldier. If you were English you 
 would have heard of him. He broke off a brilliant career 
 in Egypt by running away with a beautiful princess. She 
 was practically all Greek and Italian, though her father 
 called himself a Turk: no Egyptian blood whatever. But 
 there was a great row, of course, and Charles Fenton left 
 the Army. Now Anthony Fenton 's grandfather, who 
 lives in Constantinople, would like to adopt his grandson : 
 but the young man is in every sense of the word an English- 
 man, devoted to his career, and doesn't want a fortune or a 
 Turkish title." 
 
 "Why, that sounds " Monny faltered. 
 
 "Like a man of character, and a born soldier, doesn't 
 it? Here he comes now." 
 
 There was a sound of quick, light footsteps on the 
 stairs. In silence we turned to see a tall young officer in 
 uniform walk out upon the flat roof. The moon shone 
 straight into a face grave, yet eager, so deeply sun- 
 burned as to be brown even in that pale light: long eye- 
 brows sketched sharply as if in ink the black lines run- 
 ning down toward the temples; large, sad eyes; a slight 
 upward hitch of the mouth on one side; clear cut Roman 
 nose; aggressive chin. 
 
 "Miss Gilder, let me introduce Captain Anthony Fen- 
 ton," the Sirdar said. 
 
 "I've brought you a rose," said Anthony. 
 
 They stood looking at one another for a long moment, 
 the sun-browned British officer, and the pale girl. We, 
 Biddy and I, stared at them both from our distance; and 
 when the spell of the instant had broken, we saw that the 
 Sirdar had gone.
 
 THE SIRDAR'S BALL 473 
 
 We, too, would have gone, though the man and the 
 girl were between us and the stairway, and we should have 
 had to push past them. But Anthony, seeing our hesita- 
 tion, spoke quietly. "Don't go," he said. "I may want 
 you." 
 
 Never until to-night had Monny Gilder heard him speak 
 English. 
 
 "You see," he said to her, "why I told you yesterday 
 you would never see Antoun again. I had to tell you that, 
 to make sure you would trust me fully, through every- 
 thing. You have trusted me, and so you've made it pos- 
 sible for me to keep my vow a wrong and stupid vow, 
 but it had to be kept. When I was angry because you 
 treated me like a servant, I swore that never, no matter 
 how I might be tempted, would I tell you with my own lips 
 who I was or let Borrow tell. I was going to make 
 myself of importance in your life as Ahmed Antoun, if I 
 could, not as Anthony Fenton. But long before that 
 night at Philae I was ashamed. I but you said then, 
 you would forgive me. Now, when you understand what 
 you didn't understand then, can you still say the same?" 
 
 "I hardly know what to say," she answered. "I 
 don't know how I feel about anything." 
 
 "Well, I know, you goose!" exclaimed Biddy, rushing to 
 the rescue, where angels who haven't learned to think with 
 their hearts might have feared to tread. "You feel so 
 happy you're afraid you're going to howl. Why, it's all 
 perfectly wonderful! And only the silliest, earliest Vic- 
 torian girls would sulk because they'd been 'deceived.' If 
 anybody deceived you, you deceived yourself. I knew 
 who he was from the first ! So did your Aunt Clara. We'd
 
 474 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 kept our ears open, and heard the Duffer talk about his 
 friend Anthony Fenton who was coming to meet us. You 
 were mooning I suppose, and didn't listen. We didn't 
 give him away partly because it wasn't our business, and 
 partly because each of us was up to another game, never 
 mind what. Captain Fenton never tried to play you a 
 trick. You threw yourself at his head, you know you did, 
 from Shepheard's terrace. He had his mission to think of, 
 and you'd be very conceited if you thought he ought to have 
 let you interfere with it. As it happened, you worked in 
 quite well with the mission at first. Then Fate stepped 
 in, and made the band play a different dance tune; no 
 military march, but a love-waltz. That wasn't his fault. 
 And I have to remind you of all this, because you're 
 glaring at Captain Fenton now as if he'd done something 
 wrong instead of fine, and he can't praise himself." 
 
 As she finished, out of breath, having dashed on with- 
 out a single comma, the giant black musicians in the 
 garden began to sing a strange African love song, in deep 
 rich voices, their instruments, which had played with pre- 
 cision European airs, suddenly pouring out their primi- 
 tive, passionate souls. 
 
 "Biddy dear," said the girl in a small, meek voice, 
 "thank you very much, and you're just sweet. But I 
 didn't need even you to defend him to me. I was only 
 just stopping to breathe, for fear my heart would burst, 
 because I was dizzy with too much joy. I worship him! 
 And and you can both go away now, please. We don't 
 want you." 
 
 We went. Biddy would have fallen downstairs, if I 
 hadn't caught her round the waist. Needless to say, I
 
 THE SIRDAR'S BALL 475 
 
 didn't look back; but Biddy did, and should by rights 
 have been turned into a pillar of salt. 
 
 "My gracious, but they're beautiful!" she gasped. 
 "For goodness' sake, let's dash as fast as we can, down 
 into the garden, and do the same thing!" 
 
 "What? "I floundered. 
 
 "Why, you duffer, kiss each other like mad!" 
 
 Boiling with excitement, when I met Cleopatra later in 
 the ballroom, I told her what was going on above, in the 
 moonlight, on the roof. 
 
 "At last your niece knows what I think you have 
 guessed all along, but so wisely kept to yourself," I said. 
 "About Fenton, I mean. It's all right between those two 
 now. They will come downstairs engaged." 
 
 " Everybody is engaged ! " Cleopatra stormily retorted. 
 
 "That's exactly what I remarked to Brigit, before I 
 could persuade her to follow the general example. 'Every- 
 body in the world is engaged except ourselves,' are the 
 words I used." 
 
 "And except me," added Mrs. East. "You forgot me, 
 didn't you?" 
 
 "Never ! " I insisted. "You could be engaged to a dozen 
 men any moment, if you wanted to." 
 
 "I think you're exaggerating a little, Lord Ernest," 
 Cleopatra replied modestly and unsmilingly. But her 
 countenance brightened faintly. "Of course there are a 
 few men there were some in New York " 
 
 "You don't need to tell me that," I assured her. 
 
 "I feel as if I'd like to tell you something else," she 
 went on, "if you can spare a few minutes."
 
 476 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 " Will you sit out the next dance? " I asked. " It isn't a 
 Bunny Hug or Tango, or anything distracting for lookers- 
 on." 
 
 "Aren't you dancing with Brigit? " 
 
 "No such luck I mean, fortunately not. She has 
 grabbed Slatin Pasha, and forgotten that I exist. By jove, 
 there come Miss Gilder and Fenton. What a couple! 
 They're rather gorgeous, waltzing together what? " 
 
 "Very nice," said Cleopatra, trying with all her over- 
 amuleted heart, not to be acid. "But oh, Lord Ernest, 
 that settles it! I must be engaged myself, before Monny 
 brings him to show me, like a cat with a mouse it's caught. 
 Otherwise I couldn't stand it ; and afterward would be too 
 late." 
 
 Hastily I rushed her out into the garden, where the Shoe- 
 bill regarded her with one eye of prehistoric wisdom. If 
 she really were a reincarnation, I'm sure he knew it : and 
 had probably belonged to her in Alexandria, when she was 
 Queen. 
 
 "There's a Mr. Talmadge in New York," she went on, 
 wildly. "He said he would come to me from across the 
 world, at a moment's notice, if I wired. Only it would be 
 awkward if I announced our engagement to-night, and 
 then found he'd changed his mind. Besides, he'd be a 
 last resort: and Sayda Sabri said I ought " 
 
 "WTiy not wire Sir Marcus?" I ventured. (If his tele- 
 gram had not come yesterday, I would as soon have 
 advised Cleopatra to adopt an asp.) 
 
 "Oh! well I was thinking of it. That's one thing I 
 wanted to ask your advice about. I believe he does love 
 me."
 
 THE SIRDAR'S BALL 477 
 
 "Idolizes is the word." 
 
 "And now and then in the night I've had a feeling, it 
 was almost like wasting something Providential, to refuse 
 a Marcus Antonius. Saydra Sabri warned me to wait for 
 a man named Antony, whom I should meet in Egypt. 
 That's why I but no matter now. The 'Lark' is a 
 dreadful obstacle, though. How could I live with a lark? *' 
 
 "Lady Lark has quite a musical lilt." 
 
 "Do you think so? There's one thing, even if you're 
 the wife of a marquis or an earl, you can only be called 
 'Lady' This or That. You might be anything. He'i 
 taller than Antoun I mean, Captain Fenton. And hi 
 eyes are just as nice in their way. They quite haunt 
 me, since Philae. But Lord Ernest, he has some horrid, 
 common little tricks! He scratches his hair when he's 
 worried. If you look up his coat sleeves you catch glimp- 
 ses of gray Jaeger, a thing I always felt I could never 
 marry. And worst of all, when he finishes a meal and 
 goes away from the table, he walks off eating!" 
 
 "I don't suppose," said I, "that your first Marcus 
 Antonius ever went away from a table at all on hi: 
 feet; anyhow, while you were doing him so well in Egypt. 
 He had to be carried. 7 call Sir Marcus (and I stole the 
 Sirdar's epithet for the other Anthony) a Romantic 
 Figure ! His adoration for you is a a sonnet. There's 
 no *h' in his name to bother you. And he fell in love at 
 first sight, like a real sport I mean, like the hero of a 
 book. If he has ways you don't approve, you can cure 
 them; redecorate and remodel him with the latest Ameri- 
 can improvements. Why, I believe he'd go so far as to give 
 his Lark a tail if you asked him to spell it with an 'e'."
 
 478 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "Well I suppose you're right about what I'd better do," 
 she sighed. "A bird in the hand oh, I'm not making a 
 silly pun about a lark is worth two in New York ! Please 
 tell every one you see I'm engaged to Sir Marcus, for he is 
 mj bird in the hand: and I'll send off a telegram the first 
 thing to-morrow morning, for fear he hears the news that 
 he's engaged to me, prematurely. Where is he do 
 you know?" 
 
 "By to-morrow he'll be at Meroe Camp," I said: But 
 I did not add: "So shall we!"
 
 XXXI 
 THE MOUNTAIN OF THE GOLDEN PYRAMID 
 
 THERE was not much room in our hearts for mountains or 
 gold just then: yet somehow, before we left the Palace, 
 Anthony and I had told Brigit and Monny the secret 
 which had been the romance of our lives, until they came 
 into it to paint dead gold with the living rose of love. 
 
 Victorian women would have been grieved or angry 
 with men who could leave them at such a time; but these 
 two, instead of reproaching us, urged us on. Naturally, 
 they wanted to go with us. They said, if there were 
 danger, they wished to share it. And if there were to be a 
 "find," they wished to be among the first to see what no 
 eyes had seen for two thousand years. But when An- 
 thony explained that there wasn't time to get tents to- 
 gether and make a decent camp for ladies, even if we were 
 sure not to tumble into trouble, they said no more. 
 This was surprising in Monny, if not in Brigit. I sup- 
 posed, however, that she was being on her best behaviour, 
 as a kind of thank-offering to Providence for its unexpected 
 gift of legitimate happiness. 
 
 Our secret was to be kept. Only the Sirdar knew 
 and gave Fenton leave of absence for a few days. The 
 Set did not suspect the existence of a mountain at Meroe 
 more important than its neighbours. They did not even 
 
 479
 
 480 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 know what had become of Antoun Effendi after he bade 
 them farewell, and "good luck." From the first, he had 
 given it out that he must leave the party at Khartum. The 
 object of returning to Merb'e was to "meet Sir Marcus;" 
 and I promised to be back in plenty of time to organize the 
 return trip to Cairo. My departure, therefore, was all in 
 the day's work: and the great sensation was Mrs. East's 
 engagement. Even though, for obvious reasons, Mon- 
 ny's love affair was kept dark, Cleopatra could not resist 
 parading hers, the minute her wire to Sir Marcus had 
 been safely sent. I got an invitation for all the members 
 of the Set to a tennis party in the Palace gardens, at which 
 the Sultan of Dafur and a bodyguard armed with battle 
 axes would be the chief attraction. Also I induced the 
 landlord of our hotel to promise special illuminations, 
 music, and an impromptu dance for the evening. This 
 was to make sure that none of our friends should find time 
 to see me off at the tram. Anthony was to join me there, 
 in mufti, and might be recognised by sharp eyes on the 
 lookout for mysteries. Once we got away, that danger 
 would be past: unless Cleopatra told. But I was certain 
 that she would not to any one ever asain mention the name 
 of Antoun. 
 
 It was a full train that night, but no one in it who knew 
 Antoun. Many people who had been visiting friends or 
 staying at an hotel for weeks, were saying good-bye. The 
 narrow corridors of the sleeping-cars had African spears 
 piled up on the floor against the wall, very long and incon- 
 venient. Ladies struggled in, with rainbow-coloured 
 baskets almost too big for their compartments. Seats 
 were littered with snake-skins like immense, decayed
 
 MOUNTAIN OF THE GOLDEN PYRAMID 481 
 
 apple parings; fearsome, crescent-shaped knives; leopard 
 rugs in embryo; and strange headgear in many varieties. 
 Stuffed crocodiles fell down from racks and got under- 
 foot: men walked about with elephant tusks under their 
 arms; dragomans solicited a last tip; a six-foot seven 
 Dinka, black as ink and splendid as a Greek statue, 
 brought flowers from the Palace for some departing ac- 
 quaintance of the Sirdar and his wife. Officers in evening 
 dress dashed up through the sand, on donkey -back, to see 
 the last of friends, their mess jackets making vivid spots of 
 colour in the electric light. All the fragrant blossoms of 
 Khartum seemed to be sending farewell messages of per- 
 fume on the cool evening air. No more fantastic scene 
 at a railway-station could be imagined. If the world 
 and its doings is but a moving picture for the gods on 
 Olympus they must enjoy the film of "a train departing 
 from Khartum." 
 
 Anthony did not join me until just as the train was 
 crawling out of the station, for we had asked Brigit and 
 Monny not to see us off, and they had been startlingly 
 acquiescent. We had a two-berthed compartment to- 
 gether, and talked most of the night, in low voices; of the 
 mountain; of the legends concerning it, and the papers of 
 the dead Egyptologist Ferlini, which indirectly had brought 
 Fenton into Monny Gilder's life, and given Brigit back to 
 me. There was the out-of-doors breakfast party, too, on 
 the terrace at Shepheard's. Had it not been for this in- 
 cident Antoun, the green-turbaned Hadji, would never 
 have been selected by Miss Gilder, in words she might now 
 like to forget. "I'll have that! " But, had not a distressed 
 artist called on me one morning in Rome, months ago,
 
 482 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 with an old notebook to sell, I should not have come to 
 Egypt for my sick-leave; and none of us would have met. 
 I had visited the artist's studio to please a friend, and 
 bought a picture to please him (not myself) ; therefore he 
 regarded me as a charitable dilettante, likely to buy any- 
 thing if properly approached. Bad luck had come to him; 
 he wanted to try pastures new, and needed money at short 
 notice: therefore he wished to dispose of a secret which 
 might be the key to fortune. Why didn't he use the key 
 himself? was the obvious question; which he answered by 
 saying that a poor man would not be able to find the lock 
 to fit it. 
 
 The notebook he had to sell had been the property of a 
 distinguished distant relative, long since dead; the Italian, 
 Ferlini, who about 1834 ransacked the ruins of Meroe in 
 the kingdom of Candace. Ferlini had given treasure in 
 gold, scarabs, and jewels to Berlin, all of which he had dis- 
 covered in a secret cache in the masonry of a pyramid, in 
 the so-called "pyramid field" of Meroe. But he had 
 been blamed for unscientific work, and in some quarters it 
 was not believed that he had found the hoard at Meroe. 
 This jealousy and injustice had prevented Ferlini's 
 obtaining a grant for further explorations he wished to 
 make. He claimed to have proof that in a certain moun- 
 tain not far from the Meroe pyramids, and much resem- 
 bling them in shape, was hidden the tomb of a Candace 
 who lived two hundred years earlier than the queen of that 
 name mentioned in the New Testament, mistress of the 
 eunuch baptized by St. Philip. In the notebook which had 
 come down with other belongings of Ferlini the Egyp- 
 tologist, to Ferlini the artist, was a copy of certain Demo-
 
 
 MOUNTAIN OF THE GOLDEN PYRAMID 483 
 
 tic writing, of a peculiar and little known form. The orig- 
 inal had existed, according to the dead Ferlini's notes, 
 on the wall of an antechapel in one of the most ruinous 
 pyramids at Meroe, decorated in a peculiarly barbaric 
 Ethiopian style. The wall-writing described the making 
 of the mountain tomb, ordered by Candace in fear that 
 her body might be disturbed, according to a prophecy 
 which predicted the destruction of the kingdom if the 
 jewels of the dead were found. 
 
 Ferlini, a student of the Demotic writings which had 
 superseded hieroglyphics, doubted not that he had trans- 
 lated the revelation aright, though he admitted supplying 
 many missing words in accordance with his own deduc- 
 tions. He was in disfavour at the time he tried to organ- 
 ize an expedition in search of the queen's hoard, and 
 though legends of the mountain confirmed the writings 
 which Ferlini was the first to translate, the Italian could 
 induce no one to finance his scheme. The one person he 
 succeeded in interesting had a relative, already excavat- 
 ing in Egypt: but eventually addressed on the subject, 
 this young man replied that the antechapel in question 
 had fallen completely into ruin. It would be impossible, 
 therefore, to find the wall- writing, "if indeed it ever ex- 
 isted." 
 
 This verdict had put an end to Ferlini's hopes, and 
 nothing remained of them save the translated copy of the 
 writing in his notebook (the missing words inserted) and 
 the legends of the negroes who, generation after generation 
 since forgotten times, had told the story of the "Moun- 
 tain of the Golden Pyramid." Nobody, within the mem- 
 ory of man, had ever searched for the problematical tomb :
 
 
 484 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 and as tales of more or less the same character are common 
 in Egypt, I did not place much faith in the enthusiastic 
 jottings of Ferlini. However, my love of the unknown, 
 the mysterious and romantic, made me feel that the pos- 
 session of the notebook was worth the price asked: two 
 thousand lire. When I had brooded over it myself, I 
 posted it to Fenton at Khartum; and his opinion had 
 brought me to Egypt. Thinking of the matter in this 
 way, it seemed that we owed our love stories to the im- 
 pecunious artist, who had probably spent his eighty pounds 
 and forgotten me by this time. In a few hours, or a few 
 days, we might owe him even more. 
 
 Anthony, acquainted with Meroe, its pyramids and 
 pyramidal mountains, since his first coming to the Sudan, 
 had been able to plan out our campaign almost at an 
 hour's notice. He knew where to wire for camels [to take 
 us to our destination, eighteen miles from Kabushta], also 
 for trained excavators. And he knew one who, if the 
 white men were in ignorance, could tell us all the most 
 hidden happenings of the desert for fifty miles around. 
 This was the great character of the neighbourhood, among 
 the blacks, the Wise Man of the Meroitic desert, who 
 claimed to be over a hundred years old, had a tribe of sons 
 and grandsons, and practically ruled the village of Baka- 
 rawiya. For countless generations his forbears had lived 
 under the shadow of the ruined pyramids. Family tradi- 
 tion made them the descendants of those Egyptian war- 
 riors who revolted in the time of King Psammetichus, 
 migrating from Elephantine Island to Ethiopia. There 
 they were well received by the sovereign, given lands in 
 Upper Nubia, and the title of Autolomi, or Asmack, mean-
 
 MOUNTAIN OF THE GOLDEN PYRAMID 485 
 
 ing "Those who stand on the left side of the King." An- 
 thony's friend and instructor in the lore of legends re- 
 joiced in the name of "Asmack," which, he proudly said, 
 had been bestowed on the eldest son in his family, since 
 time immemorial. 
 
 Asmack the old and wise was to meet us at Kabushia 
 Station, with camels, one for each, and one for Sir Marcus, t 
 in case he had arrived and wished to ride to the Mountain 
 of the Golden Pyramid. 
 
 It was orange-red afternoon when our white train slowed 
 down, to pause for a moment at Kabushia Station, and the 
 first face we saw was that of Sir Marcus Antonius a 
 radiant face whose beaming smile was, I knew, not so 
 much a welcome for us as a sign that he had received the 
 telegram from Cleopatra. He hurried along the plat- 
 form to the steps of our sleeping car; and Anthony, ready 
 to swing himself down before the train stopped, pointed 
 out Asmack not far off, a thin old black man who must 
 once have been a stately giant, but bent forward now as if 
 searching the earth for his own grave. He had got to his 
 feet, from a squatting position in the coal-stained, alluvial 
 clay of this strange desert, and was gazing toward us, his 
 few rags fluttering in the warm wind. Beside him stood 
 a mere youth of fifty or so, and two or three young mem 
 with several sulky camels. 
 
 Sir Marcus began to shake hands almost before we were 
 on the platform; and so did he engross himself in us and 
 absorb our attention that none of us quite knew when the 
 train went out. 
 
 "My dear boys!" he addressed us, nearly breaking our 
 finger bones. "Lord, Fenton, you're even better looking
 
 486 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 as a true Britisher than a false Arab! But never mind 
 that now. Borrow, you're a trump. I believe I owe 
 everything to you. I mean, in the matter of Mrs. East 
 Clara. It always was my favourite name. Fenton 
 knows? Thanks for the congratulations. Thanks to you 
 both. You must be my best men. What? Can't have 
 but one? Well, it must be Borrow, then, I suppose. Oh, 
 about the mountain? Why, of course you're anxious. 
 Don't think I have not been busy. I have. Got here by 
 special train. Cost me a lot of money. But who cares? 
 It's worth it. I want to hurry things up, and get to Khar- 
 tum. What your blessed mountain is to you, that is a 
 certain lady to me." 
 
 "What have you found out?" I managed at last to cut 
 short his rhapsodies. 
 
 "Why, not much, I'm bound to confess. But I've had 
 only a few hours. Some one heaven knows who 
 came here, it seems, with Arabs he'd engaged heaven 
 knows where, and pretended to be my agent, empowered 
 by me to work at the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid, 
 where it was well known I'd got the right to excavate. 
 Well, the chap was armed with credentials, and had 
 a contract signed by me, so the authorities thought he 
 was all right of course, and let him go on. This was more 
 than a month ago. He pitched his camp out by the 
 mountain, and nobody disturbed him. Fact is, from 
 what I hear, I don't believe the excavating men from the 
 Liverpool School of Archeology or whatever you call it, 
 thought much of his chances of success. A case of looking 
 for Captain Kidd's treasure ! He and his men were exca- 
 vating round the mountain, and he'd engaged some more
 
 MOUNTAIN OF THE GOLDEN PYRAMID 487 
 
 fellows from the neighbourhood to make the work go 
 faster. But a few days ago not yet a week he dis- 
 charged the lot, paid them up and sent them off saying 
 he'd abandoned hope of finding any entrance to an alleged 
 tomb. The Arabs departed by train; but the fellows from 
 hereabouts gossiped a bit, it seemed, and the story was 
 started that they'd been got rid of because the Boss had 
 hit on something, and wanted to be left to himself. 
 
 "You haven't told us yet the name of the man," An- 
 thony reminded him. 
 
 "By Jove, no more I haven't! I'm so excited about 
 sverything. You won't know it, but Borrow will. Col- 
 onel Corkran." 
 
 Anthony gave me a look. "I do know the name," he 
 said. "It's the man of my dream." 
 
 "The man of your dream? Corkran a dreamf" 
 
 "A dream which has kept repeating itself until I grew 
 superstitious about it. A red-faced man with a purplish 
 sort of moustache, I saw coming between you and us, or 
 looking at me out of a dark recess, something like a deep 
 doorway. Borrow said when I told him, I was describing 
 your man, Corkran, whose place he took on your yacht 
 Candace." 
 
 "Well, I'm hanged! If that's not the rummiest go! I 
 only hope he's not in that recess or deep doorway now, if it 
 leads into your mountain. You remember, Borrow, my tell- 
 ing you he'd been alone for a while in the sitting-room I use 
 as an office at the Semiramis Hotel, and had had a good 
 chance if he wanted to browse among my papers? Well, I 
 didn't mention this to you at the time, but an unsigned con- 
 tract with you for your services, in return for all my rights in
 
 488 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid, was lying on the desk. 
 (As for the contract he's been showing here, it could only 
 have been for the trip; but it showed him to be my agent 
 right enough.) And there were two confidential letters 
 on my desk: one from a man I'd written to, an Egyptol- 
 ogist chap, saying in his opinion there might be a tomb in 
 the mountain; the other, an answer, not finished, telling 
 him I meant to run the risk, and had secured the rights. 
 You know how queer I thought it, Corkran should throw 
 up his job, which was paying him pretty well? But it 
 wasn't my business, and I was jolly glad to be rid of him 
 as it happened. Well, here we have the mystery ex- 
 plained." 
 
 "Not quite yet! I wish we had," I said, thinking of the 
 sly old poacher on our preserves, who had perhaps by this 
 time skimmed the cream off the secret. It was easy to 
 guess why he had sent away his workers if, indeed, he had 
 imagined himself on the eve of a discovery. Rights to dig 
 are given on the understanding that the Egyptian govern- 
 ment shall have half of anything found, worth the taking. 
 Corkran's scheming to be alone must mean that he intended 
 annexing what treasure he could carry off, and then getting 
 out of the bad business. Already six days had passed since 
 the Arabs and Nubians had left him alone in his camp; and 
 though it was lucky that we had learned what was going on, 
 it might be too late to profit by the information. Even if 
 we caught Corkran red-handed, he might have hidden his 
 spoil where none but he, or some messenger, could ever 
 find it. 
 
 "You'll go out with us to the mountain, Sir Marcus? " I 
 went on. "We'll be ready to start "
 
 MOUNTAIN OF THE GOLDEN PYRAMID 489 
 
 But Sir Marcus had suddenly become deaf. He had 
 turned as if to gaze after the long ago departed train. 
 Instead of answering me, he was stalking off toward a 
 group of people at the far end of the platform : three ladies 
 and two men in khaki. For a second I felt an impulse of 
 indignation. Cheek of him to march away like that, not 
 caring much that we had been robbed, largely through his 
 carelessness, and by one of his own men ! 
 
 But the indignation turned to surprise, sheer incredulous 
 amazement. I glanced at Anthony to learn whether he 
 had seen; but he was beckoning the old wise man of the 
 desert. "Fenton," said I, "it seems we weren't the only 
 passengers to get off here. There are three people we 
 know, talking to two we don't." 
 
 Anthony looked. "Great Scott!" said he. And in an- 
 other instant we were following Sir Marcus hastily along 
 the platform to greet or scold (we weren't sure which it 
 ought to be) the big hatted, green-veiled, khaki-dressed 
 but easily recognised figures of Brigit O'Brien, Monny 
 Gilder, and Mrs. East. 
 
 "We couldn't help it," Monny cried in self-defence 
 to Anthony, before he had time to reach the group. "We 
 knew you wouldn't let us come, so we came because 
 we had to be in this with you. Even Biddy wanted 
 to and she's so wise. As for Aunt Clara, I believe 
 she'd have started without us, if we hadn't been wild for 
 the journey. So you see how it was ! " 
 
 We did see. And we couldn't help rejoicing in their 
 pluck, as well as in the sight of them, though it was all 
 against our common sense. 
 
 " We've ordered our own camels, and a tent, and things
 
 490 
 
 to eat and drink, so we shan't be any bother to you," 
 Monny went on, as Anthony rather gravely shook hands, 
 his eager brows lifted, his eyes smiling in spite of himself. 
 "We couldn't have done it, if it hadn't been for Slatin 
 Pasha. We first went and confided everything to him, 
 because we knew he loved adventures and would be sure 
 to sympathize. These gentlemen from the camp are his 
 friends, and they've organized our little expedition at his 
 request. More than one person can use the telegraph, 
 you know ! And oh, won't it be lovely going with you out 
 into the desert !" 
 
 It was not yet evening when we set forth; but it was the 
 birth of another day when we arrived within sight of 
 Corkran's camp. The tents glimmered pale in the light 
 which comes up out of the desert before dawn, as light 
 rises from the sea; and so deep was the stillness that it 
 might have been a ghost camp. There was not even the 
 howling of a dog; and this silence was more eerie than the 
 silence of sleep in a lonely place; because of the tale a 
 grandson of Asmack's had brought to the village. He was 
 one of the Nubian men Corkran had engaged to help his 
 Arab workmen from the north; and when the whole gang 
 had been discharged he, suspecting that some secret thing 
 was on foot, hid in the desert-scrub that he might return 
 by night to spy. He had wished his brothers to stay with 
 him, but they, fearing the djinns who haunt the mountain 
 and have power at night, refused, and begged him to come 
 away lest he be struck by a terrible death. The legend 
 was that Queen Candace, the queen who ordered the mak- 
 ing of the tomb had been a witch. When she died, by
 
 MOUNTAIN OF THE GOLDEN PYRAMID 491 
 
 her magic arts learned from the lost Book of Thoth, she 
 had turned all those aware of the tomb's existence, into 
 djinns, to guard the secret dwelling of her soul. Even the 
 great men of the court who by her wish hid in the 
 mountain her body and jewels and treasure, became 
 djinns the moment they had closed and concealed the 
 entrance to the tomb. They could never impart the 
 secret to mortals; and because of the knowledge which 
 burned within their hearts, and the anguish of being parted 
 forever from those they loved, the tortured spirits in 
 prison grew malevolent. While the sun (still wor- 
 shipped by them as Ra) was above the horizon they had 
 no power over men, but the moment that Ra "died his 
 red death" the djinns could destroy those who ventured 
 within such distance of the mountain as its shadow might 
 reach: and if any man ventured nearer in the darkness 
 of night, he heard the wailing of the spirits. Camp had 
 been pitched beyond the shadow's furthest reach; but the 
 night after the workmen were discharged, Asmack's one 
 brave grandson had been led by curiosity to approach 
 the haunted mountain. When he had crept within the 
 trench most lately dug, he had heard the wicked voice of 
 the djinns raging and quarrelling together. There had 
 been a threatening cry when they knew how a man had 
 defied their power, and the Nubian had escaped a fate too 
 horrible to put in words, only by running, running, until 
 his breath gave out, and the sun rose. 
 
 This story gave the silent desert power even over 
 European minds, as we came where the small camp glim- 
 mered, just outside the Shadow's wicked circle. 
 
 Not one of Asmack's men would go with us to the tent,
 
 492 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 which was evidently that of the leader. He might be 
 lying there dead, struck by the djinns, they said, and all 
 those who looked upon the body would be accursed. The 
 three women would not have gone to Corkran's tent, even 
 had we allowed them to do so; and Sir Marcus, already a 
 slave, though a willing one, stayed with his adored lady 
 and her friends, inside the ring which the Nubians pro- 
 ceeded to make with the camels. Carrying a lighted lan- 
 tern Anthony and I walked alone to the tent. 
 
 The flap was down, but not fastened, and the canvas 
 moved slightly as if trembling fingers tried to hold it taut. 
 
 "Colonel Corkran!" I called out, sharply. But there 
 was no answer.
 
 XXXII 
 THE SECRET 
 
 ANTHONY lifted the flap, holding up the lantern, and we 
 both looked in. 
 
 No one was there but the tent had the look of recent 
 occupation. It was neatly arranged, as the tent of an old 
 soldier should be : but on the table stood a half -used candle 
 stuck in a bottle; and beside it a book lay open, face 
 downward. Entering the tent the first thing I did was to 
 glance at the title of this book. It was a learned archeo- 
 logical treatise. Here and there a paragraph was marked, 
 and leaves dog's-eared. Three other volumes of the 
 same sort were piled one upon the other. Anthony and I 
 had read all four during the last few months, since our 
 minds had concentrated on the subject of pyramids and 
 rock tombs. 
 
 "What do you think has become of Corkran?" I said 
 to Anthony. 
 
 "I think the djinns have got him," he answered, gravely. 
 
 "You mean " 
 
 "I don't quite know what I mean. But he must 
 have hit upon something, and then have been pre- 
 vented from coming back." 
 
 " Why should he have had such luck, after a few weeks' 
 work, an unscientific fellow like him, if the secret of the 
 
 493
 
 494 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 mountain has been inviolate for over two thousand 
 years?" 
 
 "Wait and see what's happened to him before you call 
 it 'luck,' Duffer. But you must remember that nobody 
 except Ferlini and a few superstitious blacks ever believed 
 that the mountain had a secret. Incredulity has pro- 
 tected it. And Corkran had to work like a thousand 
 devils if he hoped to get hold of anything before he was 
 found out. I believe he has got hold of something, and 
 that it then got hold of him. But we shall see." 
 
 "Yes, we shall see," I repeated. "And before long if 
 we too have luck." 
 
 "I hope it won't be the same kind as his. But come 
 along out of this. We must get to work before sunrise, 
 and try for a result of some sort before the worst of the 
 heat. If he's found anything, we ought pretty quickly to 
 profit by his weeks of frantic labour. That, maybe, will 
 be our revenge." 
 
 We had to tell the party what we had found in the tent, 
 and what we meant to do next. Sir Marcus was now ex- 
 cused by Mrs. East; but until summoned by us the ladies 
 were to remain where they were, under shelter of the tent 
 which the camel-boys were getting into shape. When 
 exhorted to be patient, they received the advice in sweet 
 silence; but we did not until later attach much importance 
 to this unusual mood. Perhaps at the moment we were 
 too preoccupied to notice expressions, even in the eyes we 
 loved best. 
 
 We took with us two men whom Asmack had provided 
 as diggers, and in five minutes we were at the base of the 
 little dark, conical mountain which for weeks had been
 
 THE SECRET 495 
 
 the object of our dreams. Now, standing face to face with 
 it, the glamour faded. The Mountain of the Golden 
 Pyramid was exactly like a dozen other tumbled shapes of 
 black rock, grouped or scattered over the dull clay desert 
 which many centuries ago had been the fertile realm of 
 Candace. Why should a queen have selected it from 
 among its lumpish fellows, to do it secret honour? But 
 Corkran had had faith. Here were traces of what Fenton 
 called his "frantic labours." 
 
 A parallel trench had been dug with the evident object 
 of unearthing a buried entrance into the mountain. Down 
 it went through hardened sand and clay, to a depth of 
 eight or ten feet; and descending, we found as we expected 
 to do, several low tunnels driven at right angles toward 
 the mountain itself. One after another we entered, 
 crawling on hands and knees, only to come up against a 
 solid wall of rock at the end. Each of these burrows rep- 
 resented just so much toil and disappointment. But 
 Corkran, whose undertaking could be justified even to his 
 own mind only by success, had not been discouraged. The 
 trench went round three sides of the mountain, as we soon 
 discovered ; and the corner of the fourth f agade not having 
 yet been turned, it seemed a sign that Corkran had, as 
 Anthony said, "hit upon something," or thought that he 
 had done so. Otherwise he would not have discharged his 
 men before the fourth gallery was begun. We had started 
 from the south because our camp faced the long trench on 
 that side, and it was quicker to jump into it than to walk 
 round and examine the excavations from ground-level. 
 On the east, the plan of the work was the same as on the 
 south, except that the tunnels leading mountainward
 
 496 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 were driven at different distances, relatively to each other; 
 and each of these also ended in a cut de sac. Now remained 
 the trench on the north side of the mountain, which was 
 the most promising direction for a "find": and as we turned 
 the corner which brought us into this third trench the sun 
 rose, making the sky blossom like the primrose fields of 
 heaven. 
 
 On this side, sand driven by the northerly wind which 
 never rests, had banked itself high against the mountain, 
 and the excavation had been a more serious task. There 
 were only two tunnels, and into both sand had fallen. 
 One was nearly blocked up, and impossible to enter with- 
 out reopening; but we took it for granted hopefully that 
 the second had been made later. This ran toward the 
 mountain with a northeasterly slant; and though it was 
 partly choked by sand, it was possible to crawl in. An- 
 thony insisted on going first. I followed, at the pace of my 
 early ancestor the worm, and Sir Marcus comfortably 
 waited outside. He wanted to be a pioneer only in finan- 
 cial paths; and after all, this was our mountain now. It 
 wasn't worth his while to be killed in it. Besides, as he 
 pointed out, if anything happened to us there must be 
 some one to organize a rescue, and break the news to the 
 ladies. 
 
 Anthony had a small electric torch, and I a lantern, but 
 going on hands and knees, we could use the lights only now 
 and then. When we had crept ahead (descending always) 
 for twelve or fifteen feet, Anthony stopped. "Hullo!" I 
 heard him call, in a mufBed, reverberating voice. "Here's 
 the reason why Corkran sent his Arabs away!" 
 
 "What is it? " I yelled, my heart jumping.
 
 THE SECRET 497 
 
 "The rock's been cut back, by the hands of men." 
 
 "His men, perhaps." 
 
 "No, it isn't done like that nowadays. The tunnel 
 turns here, dips down, and goes on along this flat wall. I 
 bet Corkran always kept ahead of the men. When he 
 saw this, he discharged his workers And yet, it may be 
 nothing of importance after all. Only a flat surface for 
 some old wall-inscription such as Romans and even Egyp- 
 tian soldiers made constantly, on the march." 
 
 The rumbling voice ceased, as Anthony crawled round 
 the turn of the passage. I followed, literally close on his 
 heels, the burrow descending like a rabbit-hole. Sud- 
 denly Anthony stopped again. "I've come into a sort 
 of chamber Corkran's scooped out," I heard him say. 
 "It's high enough to sit up in no, to stand up in. This 
 is the end of the passage, I think. By Jove, look out!" 
 
 He had disappeared in the darkness behind a higher 
 arch in the roof of the gallery. As he cried out, I slipped 
 through after him, slid down a steep, abrupt slope, and 
 by the light of my agitated lantern saw Anthony standing 
 waist-deep in a well-like hole, into which he had evidently 
 stumbled. 
 
 "Let me give you a hand up," I said. 
 
 "No thank you," he answered, in a tense, excited voice. 
 "This is where I want to be. Look!" 
 
 I looked and saw, at the bottom of the scooped-out hole, 
 a crevice in the flat wall of rock which we had been follow- 
 ing down the passage, after its turn from the right angle 
 way to creep along the mountainside. Out of this crevice 
 protruded a large iron crowbar, apparently jammed into 
 place, the first tool we had seen anywhere.
 
 498 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 The chamber in which I stood, was littered and piled up 
 with hard masses of earth which had been thrown out of 
 the hole; and on the rough floor of the latter I stepped on 
 the spade which had done the work. It nearly turned my 
 ankle as I jumped on to it, but I hardly felt the pain. 
 Torch and lantern showed clearly that the crevice in the 
 wall was not a natural crack, but a man-made opening. 
 It was as if a slab of rock fitted roughly into grooves had 
 first been lifted, and had then fallen heavily on to the 
 crowbar. 
 
 I set the lantern on the earthy floor and its yellow light 
 streamed through the crack, whence the crowbar pro- 
 truded like a black pipe in a negro's mouth. It was all 
 darkness on the other side; from behind the screen of 
 rock, set in its deep grooves, came the strangest sound I 
 ever heard, or shall ever hear. It was a voice, groaning, 
 yet it was not like a human voice. The horrid idea 
 jumped into my head that it was the howl of an evil spirit 
 sitting in a dead man's skull. 
 
 "He's alive then," exclaimed Anthony, pale in the sickly 
 light. "Is that you, Corkran?" he called. The only an- 
 swer was another groan. 
 
 "I see the whole business now, don't you?" Fenton 
 said. "This passage is very steep. Already it was far 
 under ground-level, before we got to the cutting on the 
 mountain wall, and it must have been under ground-level 
 for many centuries. They dug deep down, to make the 
 tomb, and then covered up the entrance with earth. 
 When Corkran got to his portcullis, he thought he'd 
 reached the reward of his labours. Well so he had 
 the punishment. Here's the heap of stone he used as a
 
 THE SECRET 499 
 
 fulcrum for his lever. The heap tumbled when he was 
 on the other side, and the slab of rock came down to trap 
 him. We'll have to build up his fulcrum again, before 
 we can do anything ourselves." 
 
 Together we forced the flat end of the crowbar into the 
 crevice, pressed a piece of rock under it, and exerted all our 
 strength. The slab moved upward an inch or two, gra- 
 ting in its rough grooves. The crack, no higher than the 
 diameter of the crowbar plus a stone or two, when we saw 
 it first, was now twice its original height. In went an- 
 other stone, and so on. We worked like demons in hell, 
 and in an atmosphere almost as hot and breathless. Yet 
 we could breathe. Whether all the air we got came 
 through the long twisting passage Corkran had made, or 
 whether there were ventilation from the other side of the 
 rock-curtain some opening in an unseen cave we 
 could not tell. All we knew was that the mountain had a 
 secret, and that the man who had tried to rob us of our 
 rights to it, was caught in the trap of the djinns. 
 
 Our " rights ! " How fragile as spider-webs, how almost 
 laughable they seemed down here! Rights we had bar- 
 gained for with men, which they, not owning them, had 
 gravely given ! I suddenly realized, and I think Anthony 
 realized, as sweating and silent we piled up the fulcrum of 
 stones thrown down by the djinns, that they alone, or the 
 sleeping queen they guarded, had "rights" in this hidden 
 place. 
 
 When we had raised the slab to a height of about two 
 feet in its grooves, and had made sure that the stones held 
 it firmly in place, we told each other that it was time to 
 cross the threshold. The rock-door was scarcely more
 
 500 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 than a yard in width, and we crawled through in single 
 file, Anthony going ahead as before, with his torch. I 
 passed my lantern in after him, and then followed. As I 
 crept through the narrow aperture I was conscious, among 
 other emotions, of vague disappointment. "If this is 
 the way to a tomb, and the only way, there can't be any- 
 thing very fine to discover," I said to myself. "Why, the 
 entrance isn't big enough to let in a decent-sized sar- 
 cophagus." 
 
 "It's the man of my dreams all right, and he's lying 
 close to a deep-set doorway, like the one where I've seen 
 \\]jn often. I told you so!" Anthony was saying in quite 
 a commonplace voice, as I picked myself up, on the other 
 side of the rock-screen. 
 
 We were in a small chamber more roughly hewn, and 
 not so large as the inner sanctuary of Abu Simbel, which I 
 had such good cause to remember. Exactly opposite the 
 entrance by which we had come in was as Anthony had 
 said a door, deeply set in the rock a door of the same 
 type as that through which we had passed; and in the 
 shadow of the overhanging arch lay the heavy figure of 
 Colonel Corkran, dressed in khaki. 
 
 His eyes were open, but he did not stir as we bent over 
 him. Only his lips moved slightly, as if he were making a 
 grimace. 
 
 "He's trying to ask for something to eat or drink," said 
 Fenton. "What a confounded fool I am! I've noth- 
 ing, not even a flask. Have you? " 
 
 "No. I'll go back at once and get something," I an- 
 swered. Strange, but I was not in the least angry with 
 Corkran, whom I had been execrating. Perhaps this was
 
 THE SECRET 501 
 
 partly because the impresson that the djinns had sole rights 
 here was growing stronger every moment. We were all in- 
 terlopers, usurpers. 
 
 Without stopping for more words, I turned my back to 
 the secret still unsolved. To my surprise, however, I saw 
 a light stronger than our own shining outside the partly 
 raised screen of rock. Getting on my knees to crawl out, 
 my face almost met the face of Monny Gilder, about to 
 crawl in. Involuntarily I gave way, and in she crept like 
 a big baby, Biddy coming after. Then we laughed, though 
 I had seldom felt less like laughing. And the echo of our 
 laughter was as if the spirits laughed, behind our backs. 
 
 " We never promised we wouldn't come," Monny hastily 
 began, before Anthony could speak. "We just kept still. 
 And Sir Marcus thought you wouldn't much mind, be- 
 cause the two nicest Nubians brought us quite safely. 
 Oh, isn't it wonderful? And to be here when you open 
 that door! But why, it isn't one of our men with you. 
 It's it's the thief! " 
 
 "Don't call him names now, dearest," Brigit begged. 
 "Poor wretch! He looks nearly dead. What a good 
 thing we brought the biscuits and brandy." 
 
 "I was going for some," I said. Not only had I got to 
 my feet again, but had helped Biddy to hers, and An- 
 thony had snatched his tall Monny up, as if she had been a 
 bundle of thistle-down. The Angels! It would never 
 have done to tell them how glad we were that they had dis- 
 obeyed us. It was Providence, apparently, not Marcus 
 Lark, who had sent them to the rescue. 
 
 "We thought perhaps if you found anything interesting 
 you'd want to stay with it a long time," explained Monny.
 
 502 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "That's why we brought you food and drink. It is a good 
 thing we came, isn't it?" 
 
 Fenton and I did not answer. Instead, we occupied 
 ourselves with ministering to the enemy: a few bits of 
 crumbled biscuit, a few drops of brandy to moisten them. 
 He mumbled and swallowed and choked; and slowly the 
 veinous red came back to the flabby gray cheeks, with their 
 prickles of sprouting beard. 
 
 "It's fresh air he needs now," said Anthony. "He 
 won't die from two or three days' fasting, not he! And it 
 can't be more, for it would have taken him days and nights 
 of hard work to get here, after his men were sent off. 
 Jove, I believe it's more funk than anything else, that's 
 laid him low. Thought he was done for, and all that. 
 Look, there's his candle-lantern upset on the floor. It 
 couldn't have been very gay for him when the light went 
 out. Lend a hand, Duffer, and we'll give him to the 
 Nubians the girls have brought. They'll carry him to his 
 own tent. He never got as far in as the second door here, 
 BO we needn't search him. Otherwise I would, like a shot." 
 
 Yes, it was Something higher than a mere financier who 
 sent the girls to us in the antechamber of the secret. We 
 could not, for their own sakes, have risked bringing them. 
 But here they were, and we should always have this mem- 
 ory together, we told ourselves, though we did not tell the 
 disobedient ones. That would have been a bad precedent. 
 What there was to see, they would see with us. And even 
 the djinns could not work harm to Angels. 
 
 We went out and collected more stones with which to 
 prop up the second screen of rock, which was not so thick 
 as the first, and used Corkran's spade to hold it up at last.
 
 THE SECRET 503 
 
 Beyond, was another roughly hewn chamber, and at the 
 far end, set in a curiously fitted frame of wood, a wooden 
 door, looking almost as new as though it had been made 
 yesterday. Anthony flashed his electric torch over it, and 
 we saw the grain of deal. There was a bronze lock, and a 
 latch of strange, crude workmanship which Monny touched 
 deprecatingly. "May I?" she half whispered. For to 
 her also the place was haunted. She seemed to ask per- 
 mission of spirits rather than of her lover. But the latch 
 did not move. 
 
 "It would be sacrilege to break the lock," she said. 
 "What shall you do?" 
 
 "Take the door off its supports: they're not hinges," 
 Fenton answered, in the queer low tone which somehow 
 we all instinctively adopted. "We've got one or two im- 
 plements may help to do the trick." 
 
 He worked cautiously, even tenderly: for this queen's 
 secret was our secret in the finding, even if the right to it 
 was in the keeping of the djinns. Monny held my lantern, 
 and it was a good half hour before Anthony and I together 
 could carefully lift the deal door, unbroken, from its place. 
 
 Still Monny held the lantern, and at the threshold of a 
 dimly seen room beyond, we all drew back: for on the 
 sanded floor were footprints. To them the girl pointed, 
 her eyes turning to Anthony's face, as if to ask; "How 
 can it be that any one came in, when the door was locked, 
 and there was that screen of rock to raise?" 
 
 But as we looked, over one another's shoulders, we 
 realised that the prints were not made by modern boots. 
 They were the marks of sandals; and they went across the 
 floor to a thing that glittered in the middle of the room
 
 504 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 a vague shape like a draped coffin, with something high 
 an,d pointed on top : crossed to a glittering table on which a 
 ray from the lantern revealed offerings to the dead: a loaf; 
 a roasted duck, its wings neatly tied with string : cakes and 
 fruit, all dried and blackened, but perfect in form : and a 
 saucer of incense, from which a little ash had fallen from 
 a ghostly pastille onto the table. There the sandalled feet 
 had paused, while the incense caught a spark, and mov- 
 ing on, had walked straight to the door. 
 
 A faint fragrance from perfume jars came to our nos- 
 trils: a strange, subtle fragrance still, though most of its 
 sweetness had gone, leaving more marked the smell of fat 
 which had held the perfume all these years, while civiliza- 
 tions grew up and perished. The man who had lit the 
 incense and locked the door seemed to have hurried back 
 from who knew where? to stand behind us, saying 
 "I forbid you entrance, in the name of the ancient gods!" 
 We could not see him, nor hear his voice; but we could feel 
 that he was there, and something in us revolted against 
 the ruthlessness of disobeying, of forcing our way into the 
 room in. spite of him, to crush his footprints with ours. 
 
 "Why does the sand glitter so?" Monny asked. 
 "Everything glitters! Everything looks as if it were 
 made of gold." 
 
 "The Mountain of the Golden Pyramid," Biddy mur- 
 mured. 
 
 "Go in first, you two, and bless the place," I said, my 
 heart wildly beating. 
 
 They obeyed for once, moving delicately as if to music 
 which ears of men were not fine enough to hear. They 
 went hand in hand: and as Monny in her straight, pale-
 
 THE SECRET 505 
 
 tinted dress, held up the lantern, I thought of the Wise 
 Virgin. When this room had last been lighted, the par- 
 able of the Virgins of the Lamps was yet unspoken. 
 
 "It is not sand," said Monny, gasping a little in the 
 heavy air. " It is sprinkled gold dust. Now it is on the 
 soles of our feet. It shines it shines!" 
 
 Anthony and I followed, still with that curious sense of 
 hesitation, as if we ought to apologize to some one. The 
 room of the dead was very close, and we drew our breath 
 with difficulty for a moment. But the discomfort passed. 
 Mechanically we avoided the footmarks printed in gold 
 avoided them as if they had been covered by invisible 
 feet. 
 
 Monny was right. Everything was gold and it 
 shone it shone. Dust from the terrible mines of Nub, 
 whence the convict-miners never returned, lay thickly 
 scattered over the rock -floor. The walls of rock were plas- 
 tered with gold leaf, as high as the low ceiling: and upon 
 the ceiling itself, on a background of deep blue colour, was 
 traced in gold the form of Nut, goddess of Night, her long 
 arms outspread across an azure sky of golden stars. 
 
 The table of offerings was decorated with gold in bar- 
 baric patterns, and the saucer which held the burnt pas- 
 tille of incense was of gold, crudely designed, but beautiful. 
 Cloth of gold, soft as old linen, draped a coffin in the centre 
 of the room, and hid the conical object on the coffin's lid. 
 On a sudden half savage impulse I lifted the covering, with 
 a pang of fear lest the fabric should drop to pieces. But 
 it did not. Its limp, yet heavy folds fell across my feet, 
 as I stood looking at the wonderful thing it had concealed. 
 
 There was no sarcophagus of stone. The doors leading
 
 506 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 to the rock-tomb were not large enough to have admitted 
 one. Instead, there was an extraordinarily high, narrow 
 coffin or mummy -case, richly gilded, and decorated with 
 intricate designs different from any I had seen in the 
 museum at Cairo. The top of the case represented the 
 figure of a woman, with a smiling golden face, painted lips 
 and hair. But the strangeness and wonder were under the 
 long eyelids, and in the woman's hands. The slanting 
 eyes had each an immense cabuchon emerald for its iris, 
 set round with brilliant stones like diamonds, curiously 
 cut. A.nd the carved, gilded hands of wood, with realistic 
 fingers wearing rings, were clasped round a pyramid of gold. 
 This it was which had betrayed its conical shape through 
 the drapery of gold cloth. 
 
 The opening in the miniature pyramid was not con- 
 cealed. There was a little door, guarded by a tiny golden 
 sphinx; and on the neck of the sphinx, suspended by a 
 delicate chain, was a bell. 
 
 "It is to call the spirit of the queen, if a profane touch 
 should violate her tomb," Fenton said, dreamily. He was 
 beginning to look like a man hypnotized. Perhaps it was 
 the close air, with its lingering perfume of two thousand 
 years ago. Perhaps it was something else, more subtile; 
 something else that we could all feel, as one feels the touch 
 of a living hand that moves under a cloak. 
 
 No one spoke for an instant. I think we hah* expected 
 the bell to ring. Then Fenton said: "Monny, you and 
 Mrs. O'Brien must choose which is to have the privilege 
 of finding out the secret of the golden pyramid. The 
 Duffer and I want it to be one of you." 
 
 "Oh no, not I!" cried Monny, almost angrily.
 
 THE SECRET 507 
 
 "Nor I," Biddy firmly echoed. 
 
 "Duffer, the papers were yours. Will you " 
 
 Anthony began. 
 
 "No I It was your faith in the mountain that 
 brought us to it," I reminded him. "It ought to be 
 you " 
 
 "If if it ought to be anyone of us," Monny broke in, 
 with a little breathless catch in her voice. 
 
 "If But what do you mean?" Anthony turned an 
 odd, startled look upon the girl. 
 
 "I hardly know what I mean. Only I couldn't 
 touch anything here. They are hers. They've been 
 hers for two thousand and two hundred years. I never 
 thought I should feel like this. I'd rather drop dead, this 
 minute, than try to take that little pyramid out of those 
 golden hands. They've clasped it so long ! She wanted so 
 much to keep the secret. Anthony this is the strong- 
 est feeling that ever came into my heart except love 
 for you, this feeling that we have no right that it 
 would be monstrous to rob this queen." 
 
 "It wouldn't be robbing," Anthony said, heavily, 
 "we have the right " 
 
 "Oh, I wonder?" Biddy whispered. 
 
 "What would become of museums if everybody felt 
 as you suddenly feel or think you feel?" Fenton went 
 on. "If it were wrong to open tombs, the best men in 
 Egypt " 
 
 "Not wrong, perhaps," Monny explained, "but oh, 
 I'm sure you understand. I'm sure in your hearts you 
 both you men feel just as we do now we're in this 
 wonderful secret place. That something forbids I don't
 
 508 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 know whether it's something in ourselves or outside, but 
 it's here. It says "No; whatever others do, you cannot 
 do this thing." If you didn't feel it, you would have 
 taken the pyramid out of those poor hands, and tried to 
 tear off the rings, and open the coffin itself, to get at the 
 mummy. But you haven't either of you. You don't 
 want to do it. You can't! I dare one of you to tell me 
 it's only for Biddy and me that you've kept your hands 
 off." 
 
 "We've come a long way, and have done a good deal to 
 find this secret that we expected Egypt to give us," I said, 
 dully, instead of answering her challenge. 
 
 Monny had no argument for me. She turned to An- 
 thony. 
 
 "The secret you expected Egypt to give!" she echoed. 
 " And hasn't Egypt given you a secret? " 
 
 "Yes," said Anthony, "Egypt has given us a secret: 
 the greatest secret of all. But " 
 
 "Is there a 'but'? I wonder if that isn't the only secret 
 which one can open and learn by heart, without breaking 
 the charm?" Biddy seemed to be speaking to herself, 
 but we heard. " The secret of love goes on forever being 
 a secret, doesn't it, the more you find out about it, just as 
 the world and its beauty grows greater and more wonder- 
 ful the higher you climb up a mountain? But other 
 secrets ! You find them out, and they're gone, like a 
 bright soap bubble. Nothing can mend broken ro- 
 mance!" 
 
 "If we didn't touch anything here, what a memory this 
 would be to carry away!" Monny said. "Don't you 
 remember, Anthony, my saying once how I loved to
 
 THE SECRET 509 
 
 dream of all the beautiful lost things, hidden beneath the 
 sea and earth, never to be found while the world lasts, and 
 stuck miserably under glass cases? You said you felt 
 the same, in some moods. I love those moods!" 
 
 "I felt I feel so about things in general," An- 
 thony admitted. " It was my romantic side you appealed 
 to " 
 
 "Have you a better side?" 
 
 "No better, but more practical. This isn't 'things in 
 general.' It's a thing particular, personal, and definite. 
 If we should be quixotic enough not to take what we've 
 earned the right to take, we should be called fools. In- 
 stead of claiming our half, the Egyptian government 
 would get all " 
 
 "Let it! " Monny cried. "A government is a big, cold, 
 soulless impersonality ! It never could know the thrill 
 that's in our blood this wonderful minute or miss the 
 thrill if it were destroyed. Do you mind being called a 
 fool, Anthony and you, Lord Ernest? " 
 
 Anthony was silent; but something made me speak. 
 "I don't mind. You know, I've always been a Duffer." 
 
 "Our future largely depends on this," Fenton persisted, 
 with a conscientious wish to persuade us and himself. 
 
 "I believe it does!" Monny strangely agreed with him. 
 
 "'What do you mean? " Anthony's voice was suddenly 
 sharp with some emotion; which sounded more like anx- 
 iety than anger. "Do you mean, that if Ernest Borrow 
 and I insist on our rights to whatever treasure is hidden 
 here, you and Mrs. O'Brien will think less of us? " 
 
 " Not less. Nothing you could do would make us think 
 less, after all that has happened to us, together. But
 
 510 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 could it ever be as it has been as beautiful, as sweet, 
 with all the dearest kind of romance in our thoughts of 
 you? You see, you have the glory of finding the secret. 
 Queen Candace saved it for you. She wouldn't give it to 
 such a man as Colonel Corkran. She knew he wouldn't 
 respect her. Maybe she hoped you would. I seem to 
 hear her saying so. All this gold, and the treasure we 
 haven't seen, is hers. It's been hers for more than two 
 thousand years. Why should we steal it? We aren't 
 a horrid, cold Government. It won't be our fault, what- 
 ever a Government may choose to do. She'll know that, 
 and so shall we. Besides, we can beg to have the tomb 
 kept like this for the great shrine of Merb'e. Our mem- 
 ory of this place can't have the glamour torn away what- 
 ever happens. Nothing sordid will come between it 
 and us, as it would if why, after all, where's the great 
 difference between opening the coffin of a woman dead 
 thousands of years ago, or a few months? Supposing 
 people wanted to dig up Queen Elizabeth, to see what had 
 been buried with her? Or Napoleon? What an outcry 
 there'd be all over the world. This poor queen is defence- 
 less, because her civilization is dead, too. Could you 
 force open the lid of her coffin, Lord Ernest, and take the 
 jewels off her neck?" 
 
 "Just now, I feel as if I couldn't," I confessed humbly. 
 
 "And you, Anthony? What if / died, and asked to 
 have the jewels I loved because you'd given them, put on 
 my body to lie there till eternity, and " 
 
 "Don't," Anthony cut her short. '* There are some 
 things I can't listen to from you." 
 
 "And some things you can't do. You may think you
 
 THE SECRET 511 
 
 could, but Go and take the golden pyramid out of those 
 golden hands if you can!" 
 
 "I shall not take it," said Anthony, "I shall never take 
 it now. You must know that." 
 
 "I'm not saying I shan't go on loving you if you go 
 against me. I shall love you always. I can't help that. 
 But " 
 
 "That's it: the 'but'. Let it all go! At least, we've 
 had the adventure. And we've got Love. I don't want 
 the treasure, now. Or the secret. I give up my part in 
 them forever." 
 
 "Forme?" 
 
 "Yes, for you. But there's something more." 
 
 "Another reason?" 
 
 "I think so. Frankly, it isn't all for you. Only, you've 
 made me feel it. Without you, I might have felt it but 
 too late. If there's a drop of Egyptian blood in my veins 
 why, yes, it must be that, telling me the same thing 
 that you have told. This Egyptian queen may lose her 
 treasure, and must lose her secret; but it won't be through 
 me." 
 
 "And because you wouldn't steal them, she has given 
 you the secret and the treasure, the best of both, with her 
 royal blessing," Biddy said. "This is what Ferlini's papers, 
 and the legends, really meant for you and Ernest. Every- 
 thing that's happened, not only in Egypt, but in our whole 
 lives, has been leading up to the discovery of the Treasure 
 and the Secret that we can take without stealing. Do you 
 know what I'm talking about? And if you do, was it 
 worth coming so far to find this treasure that I mean, 
 and this secret?"
 
 512 IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT 
 
 "We know very well," Anthony said, "and you know 
 that we realize it was worth journeying to the end of the 
 world for or into the next." 
 
 "Or into the next!" Monny echoed. "Here we're on 
 the threshold of the next. That's why the Queen's bless- 
 ing feels so near." 
 
 THE END
 
 THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS 
 GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACI JY 
 
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