Later on, for political and religious reasons, his mummy was disentombed, taken up the river to the western desert and placed in his mother's splendid tomb in the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings. It was in these same hills that Michael believed the King to have concealed his treasure.

The treasure was Michael's practical objective. To others the idea might seem absurd and unpractical; to him it was quite possible and practical.

He could not have been more businesslike in his marching and halts if he had been a general taking his troops across the desert to relieve a beleaguered city. It was a part of his nature to be practical about the unpractical. The words of his old friend in el-Azhar often came back to him as his camel bore him through a spell of light, or as he listened to the thundering silence of the Arabian desert. He recalled his counsel, to journey undoubtingly, to follow in the steps of a "child of G.o.d," who would lead him to the treasure which no eyes had seen for countless centuries.

So far no child of G.o.d had crossed his path. From dawn until dusk he had seen nothing living or moving but one pale lizard, almost colourless as the rocks from which it had come; it had scurried across his path, the sole inhabitant of the untrodden sands, alarmed at the invasion of its kingdom.

These thoughts were pa.s.sing through his mind as his camel bore him nearer and nearer to the cavalcade which was coming towards him. The unexpected sight of travellers had raised a whirlwind of new doubts in his brain and called up undesired visions before his eyes. For the last three days nothing had disturbed the divine calm of his desert surroundings. He had contentedly become a part of his camel; its somnolent tread had lulled his senses like the gentle movement of an ocean steamer on the high seas.

As the two cavalcades drew nearer to each other, Abdul pressed forward to his master's side. His long sight, well used to desert distances, had clearly discerned what to Michael was still indistinct, blurred by the sun.

"One lady in party, Effendi."

Michael showed surprise. It was an extremely unlikely place to meet a lady on camel-back; there were no tourists in that part of the desert, so far back from the Nile; it was not a likely place to meet an European pleasure-party. Michael knew that Abdul had meant an European lady when he spoke of "one lady" being in the party; he would not have mentioned the fact if it had been only a Bedouin Arab woman moving her home to some more desirable spot. Perhaps it was some excavation-party. A number of European women, he knew, were now engaged on archaeological work in Egypt.

As the distance shortened, he began to count the number of the camels.

It was not a large equipment.

Quite suddenly the two leading camels of the approaching party strode forward, almost at a gallop, the curious gallop of fast-travelling desert camels. The next minute a clear voice called out:

"Hallo, good morning! Have you used Pears' Soap?"

Michael's heart stopped beating. It was Millicent's voice. For the sake of appearances he returned her greeting gaily, although his heart was filled with anger.

"No," he cried back. "But I've used desert sand, which the Prophet said does as well."

Millicent had tricked him, cheated him. She had discovered his plans; she had laid hers very cleverly so as to meet him on the most desolate part of his journey. A vision of Margaret's anger, had she seen her riding towards him, rose before his eyes. The tone of Michael's voice expressed something of his feelings; it made Millicent all the more daring.

"I arranged a surprise for you--wasn't I clever?"

"It is certainly a surprise," Michael said. "Where are you going?"

"Whither thou goest, I will go," she said laughingly. "Where do you suppose I am going?"

"This is absurd, Millicent!" Michael lowered his voice.

"Why absurd? The desert's big enough for us both, isn't it?"

"I should have thought it sufficiently big to have made our meeting unnecessary."

"Now, Mike, don't be an ungracious pig! Here I am and here I mean to stay. I won't bother you, so just be nice."

The mules and camels of both parties had met. The men had joined forces and much talking was going on amongst the natives.

"Have you come alone?" Michael asked.

"My dragoman is with me."

"Of course," Mike said. "I know that. But are you by yourself, without any other European?"

"Quite," Millicent said. "I didn't want anyone. Ha.s.san's a reliable dragoman. I came to meet you."

"Do you think it was nice of you?"

"Well, no," she said. "Perhaps not, but it is nice for me, Mike, and it will be nice for you, too, if you will only be sensible and accept the situation."

"What do you mean by being sensible?" he asked.

"Just allowing me to come, and being pleasant and happy and enjoying yourself. I've everything I need--I won't ask you for a single thing but happiness."

"I shan't be happy--I wished to be alone. You knew it."

"What harm shall I do you? I'll halt when you halt, I'll go on when you go on. I'll be _douce comme un lapin blanc_--I really can be, Mike."

Her eyes asked him if in that respect she was not speaking the truth.

"Yes," he said. "You can be anything you want to be." He sighed. "I wish you oftener wanted to be good, Millicent; I wish you oftener wanted to please me and not always only yourself."

"I'd get nothing if I did, Mike. I stole this march on you, half for fun and half because it's no use trusting to you. I never see you--you are afraid of yourself."

"I told you it was useless." He moved his camel further from hers. "I must see what is to be done. You must turn back. Your very presence disturbs all my ideas."

"The natives think this is a prearranged plan, of course. They give you the benefit of being more human than you are."

Michael looked at her in annoyance. He knew that she was right; he knew that even Abdul, the visionary, would not believe him if he told him otherwise; he knew that already he had formed his own opinion of Michael's surprise.

Millicent's veil almost completely hid her face. She flung it up over her sun-hat. As Abdul came to his master's side, Michael saw his eyes linger on the Englishwoman's beauty. He knew that to the Eastern, mixture of mystic and fanatic as he was, her freshness and fairness were like the scent of white jasmine to his nostrils.

This woman, who loved his master--for already Millicent's dragoman had confided her secret to him--was very rarely beautiful, and in his eyes very desirable; but she was false. His eyes had instantly seen beyond.

Because she was false she interested him. She was not like other Englishwomen; she was not like the girl who was the sister of Effendi Lampton. This wealthy Englishwoman, whose body was as sweet as a branch of scented almond-blossom, had thoughts in her heart like the thoughts of his own countrywomen. In his Eastern mind, Englishwomen retained their virgin minds and ideas even when they were married women with families; to their end they retained the hearts and minds of innocent children.

This slender creature, a sweet bundle for a man's arms, thought as his countrywomen thought. He saw into her mind as he had seen into the unopened tomb.

He was amazed at the Effendi, not because of this meeting with his mistress--it was not an unheard-of thing in the desert; he was not unaccustomed to the ways of men and women of all nations when their pa.s.sions control their actions--he was amazed at his own false impression of Effendi Amory's character and mind. He had never for one moment contemplated such a contretemps; he would never have imagined that he could be false to Effendi Lampton's sister. The meeting, however, lent a double interest to their journey.

"The Effendi has been fortunate in meeting his friend," he said respectfully. Michael had turned to address him.

"Yes," Michael said. "We have been fortunate." He saw no other way of settling the question. For the present he must quietly accept the inevitable. Millicent had insisted that she had a perfect right to follow him, even if he refused to allow her to join his party.

"We will go on, Effendi? The _Sitt_ will accompany us?" Abdul's voice was expressionless, deferential.

"For to-day, at least," Michael said, "the _Sitt_ will travel with us."

He knew that equivocation was useless.

Abdul searched his master's eyes. There was no love in them, no pa.s.sion for the woman he had taken all this trouble and secrecy to meet.

Englishmen were strange beings. Time would prove which way the wind of desire blew. Was it from the woman to the man or from the man to the woman? Had Michael the qualities of Orientals for dissembling his feelings? It was rare amongst Europeans.

The cavalcade moved on. A fresh element had been introduced into it.

The at-all-times low talk of the natives soon became more obscene than it is possible for Western minds to imagine. Its influence affected the sublime silence of the desert. G.o.d no longer shadowed the distance.

Michael knew the native mind. He had heard the workmen at the excavation camp, and even the girls and women in the desert villages, discussing subjects freely and openly which to the Western mind are impossible. He had heard children and boys using language and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns which would disgrace the lips of the most degraded Western.