Part 16 (1/2)

”I expected thee, Salem Awad,” said Pharos, in Arabic. ”What tidings dost thou bring?”

”I come to tell thee,” the man replied, ”that he whom thou didst order to be here has heard of thy coming, and will await thee at the place of which thou hast spoken.”

”It is well,” continued Pharos. ”Has all of which I wrote to thee been prepared?”

”All has been prepared and awaits thy coming.”

”Return then and tell him who sent thee to me that I will be with him before he sleeps to-night.”

The man bowed once more and made his way to his boat, in which he departed for the bank.

When he had gone, Pharos turned to me.

”We are expected,” he said, ”and, as you heard him say, preparations have been made to enable us to carry out the work we have come to do.

After all his journeying Ptahmes has at last returned to the city of his birth and death. It is a strange thought, is it not? Look about you, Mr.

Forrester, and see the mightiest ruins the world has known. Yonder is the Temple of Luxor, away to the north you can see the remains of the Temple of Ammon at Karnak; five thousand years ago they were connected by a mighty road. Yonder is the Necropolis of Thebes, with the tombs that once contained the mortal remains of the mighty ones of Egypt.

Where are those mighty ones now? Scattered to the uttermost parts of the earth, stolen from their resting-places to adorn gla.s.s cases in European and American museums, and to be sold at auction by Jew salesmen at so much per head, the prices varying according to their dates and state of preservation. But there, time is too short to talk of such indignity.

The G.o.ds will avenge it in their own good time. Let it suffice that to-night we are to fulfil our errand. Am I right in presuming that you desire to accompany me?”

”I should be sincerely disappointed if I could not do so,” I answered.

”But if you would prefer to go alone I will not force my presence upon you.”

”I shall only be too glad of your company,” he answered. ”Besides, you have a right to be present, since it is through you I am permitted an opportunity of replacing my venerable ancestor in his tomb. Perhaps you will be good enough to hold yourself in readiness to start at eleven o'clock. Owing to the publicity now given to anything that happens in the ruins of this ancient city, the mere fact that we are returning a mummy to its tomb, of the existence of which the world has no knowledge, would be sufficient to attract a concourse of people whose presence would be in the highest degree objectionable to me.”

”You must excuse my interrupting you,” I said, thinking I had caught him tripping, ”but you have just said that you are going to open a tomb of the existence of which the world has no knowledge. Surely my father opened it many years ago, otherwise how did he become possessed of the mummy?”

”Your father discovered it, it is true, but he stumbled upon it quite by chance, and it was reburied within a few hours of his extracting the mummy. If he were alive now I would defy him to find the place again.”

”And you are going to open it to-night?”

”That is my intention. And when I have done so it will once more be carefully hidden, and may woe light upon the head of the man who shall again disturb it!”

I do not know whether this speech was intended to have any special significance, but as he said it he looked hard at me, and never since I have known him had I seen a more diabolical expression upon his countenance. I could scarcely have believed that the human face was capable of such malignity. He recovered himself as quickly, however, and then once more bidding me prepare for the excursion of the evening, took himself off to his cabin and left me to ponder over all he had said.

Eleven o'clock had only just struck that night when the tall Arab, my acquaintance of the Pyramids, came along the deck in search of me. I was sitting with the Fraulein Valerie at the time, but as soon as he told me that Pharos was waiting and that it was time for us to start, I made haste to rise. On hearing our errand my companion became uneasy.

”I do not like it,” she said. ”Why could he not do it in the daytime?

This going off under cover of the night savours too much of the conspirator, and I beg you to be careful of what you do. Have you a revolver?”

I answered in the affirmative, whereupon she earnestly advised me to carry it with me, a course which I resolved to adopt. Then bidding her good-bye I left her and went to my cabin, little dreaming that upward of a week would elapse before I should see her again.

When I joined Pharos on deck I discovered that he had made no difference in his attire, but was dressed just as I had always seen him, even to the extent of his heavy coat which he wore despite the heat of the night.

”If you are ready,” he said, ”let us lose no time in starting.” Then turning to the tall Arab, he bade him call the boat up, and as soon as it was at the ladder we descended and took our places in it. A few strokes of the oars brought us to the bank, where we found two camels awaiting us. On closer inspection I discovered that the individual in charge of them was none other than the man who had boarded the steamer that afternoon, and whom I have particularized as having shown such obsequious respect to Pharos.

At a sign from the latter, one of the camels was brought to his knees, and I was invited to take my place in the saddle. I had never in my life ridden one of these ungainly brutes, and it was necessary for the driver to instruct me in the art. Pharos, however, seemed quite at home, and as soon as he had mounted, and the camels had scrambled to their feet once more, we set off.