"Its sense of s.p.a.ce is its greatest charm. There is everything you can possibly want in it, and yet it has none of the absurd knick-knacks and useless lumber of Western houses. My brother and I have learned to do without so much that I don't think we shall ever fall into the sin of overcrowding our rooms again."

Hada.s.sah laughed. "Will you have the courage to burn family relics?--Aunt Maria's uncomfortable ottoman, Aunt Elizabeth's escritoire, which is too small to write at, and Aunt Anne's firescreen with strawberries worked in bead-work?"

"Oh, I know them all," Margaret said. "Just compare them to these beautiful things!"

"Don't forget," Hada.s.sah said, "that you are comparing the things of England's worst period to the things of the finest period in Cairo. If you saw some of the native houses, furnished from the European store in the Ezbekiyeh, you would think Queen Victoria's private apartments at Osborne beautiful," Hada.s.sah's voice expressed her meaning.

"Good-bye," Margaret said laughingly. "It is hard to believe that, but I take your word for it."

As Margaret walked through the outer courtyard, she kept saying to herself, "So that is the Syrian's daughter, the girl whom the English people rejected and would have none of!"

Freddy had often corrected his sister for her careless use of the word "beautiful." He maintained that few people had ever seen a really beautiful human being. The Greeks idealized their models in their types of Venus and Apollo. Margaret felt that at last she could truthfully tell him that she had seen a beautiful woman, and that that woman was a Syrian, Michael Ireton's "wife out of Egypt."

CHAPTER XIV

When Margaret reached her hotel she was more than astonished to hear that in her absence her brother had called to see her. He had left a message to say that he would return in half an hour.

"How long ago was that?" Margaret asked.

The very grand servant, in his elaborately-embroidered and gold laced native dress, said, "About twenty minutes ago, my lady. The gentleman said that it was important that he should see you."

"I will wait for him on the terrace," Margaret said. "Bring him to me directly he arrives."

She was so taken back by this inexplicable piece of news that she heard nothing more of what the man said. Why on earth had Freddy come to Cairo? Margaret knew that he had business which was to have kept him four more days at least in Luxor. Her first thought was that he had heard something about Michael, but she doubted if even that would have made him neglectful of his duty. With Freddy his work and the responsibility it entailed came before every other consideration.

Margaret had ever been mindful of the fact that her presence in the camp was not to interfere with his work. She knew him so well, or she fancied that she did. His coming must be in some way connected with his work. Perhaps he wished to stop her carrying out the instructions which he had given her; he might have learned something in Luxor which had upset his plans.

A few minutes before the half-hour was up, Margaret saw her brother walking quickly towards the hotel. The moment she caught sight of him, she left the terrace and hurried down the street to meet him. There was no one else within sight. He was walking with his head bent and as though he was deeply immersed in thought.

When she got within speaking distance, she called out, "Oh, Freddy, what is it? Why have you come?"

His expression had convinced her that something was wrong, that something very serious had brought him to Cairo.

Freddy linked his arm in his sister's and took a deep breath before he spoke. "Chum dear," he said, "I've brought bad news for you."

"Michael's dead!" Meg stood still and dropped her brother's arm. It was a pitiful face, that paled to the lips as her eyes gazed into Freddy's.

"No, Meg, Mike's not dead."

"Then he's dying, and you're afraid to tell me!" Margaret strode forward, as if she was then and there starting off to find her dying lover. Freddy laid his hand on her arm. "Freddy, let me go!" she said impatiently. "Take me to him quickly. Wild horses won't detain me!"

She shook off his hand.

"Steady, old girl. Let me tell you all about it. Mike's quite well, so far as I know. I've heard nothing about any illness."

"Then what's the matter? More lies? Hada.s.sah Ireton doesn't believe a word of them! She is an angel--she is going to help me." Meg's head dropped; her chest rose and fell with suppressed emotion.

"Don't walk so quickly, Meg. I can't tell you while you dash on like that. Have some pity on me--I hate my job."

Meg fell back. "Well, tell me--out with it!"

"The Government has got wind of the 'site.' Michael's discovery has been antic.i.p.ated. Experimentary digging has begun."

"And where is Mike?" Meg's eyes blazed.

"That is just it! He ought to have reached the hills two weeks ago, at least. While he has been idling, someone has played him false--betrayed him--informed the Government for the sake of the reward."

Meg gave a little cry. It lashed Freddy to fury against Michael; it was the cry of a crucified soul.

"It's just his casual drifting again!"

"But you didn't believe in the treasure!" Meg's loyalty was up in arms against Freddy's voice of accusation.

"I know I didn't, and it's yet got to be proved that it is there. But the fact remains that I heard from the Director of Public Works that a temporary camp has been pitched on the very site Mike was going for.

The whole story is a complication of truth and fiction."

Meg spoke with difficulty. The agony at her heart was choking her.

"Why have they suddenly sent excavators to that particular spot, if there is nothing there?"

"On the strength of the information given by a native."

"And what had the native found? Isn't it just too diabolical and wicked?"

"It's jolly hard lines, but if Mike had gone there straight and as quickly as he could, if he hadn't played the idiot, he'd have been there before the native who has betrayed him."

While Freddy was speaking, thoughts came to Meg of her vision of Akhnaton, of the strange and occult incidents connected with the story of the hidden treasure.

"What do you mean by playing the fool?" she said. "Have you heard from Michael? Have you any reliable ground for supposing that he played the fool?" Meg's voice was beautifully scornful.

"I've heard again, that Millicent was with him. The facts are undeniable. The whole thing makes me furious. Why couldn't he have written to me and told me, if she followed him, as you suggested? His silence condemns him."

"It makes me more than furious." Meg's voice was horrible in Freddy's ears; it was older, shriller, cruelly defiant. "It makes me furious to think how easily evil is believed of the absent, who can't defend themselves."

They strode along. Both were walking blindly forward.

"It makes me sick, sick, sick!" She flung the words out and then broke into a little cry. "Oh, Freddy, have you no faith? no trust? Is that your friendship?"

"What can I do?" he said. "I'm not blinded with love as you are. I see things dispa.s.sionately. I want to do what is best for you. Why hasn't he written? I'm quite willing to believe what Michael tells me--I don't doubt his word--but he has said nothing. This is another example of his weakness."

"Do you believe that Millicent is still with him?"

"Her dragoman who took her into the desert has returned to Luxor. I haven't seen him--he could tell us everything we want to know."

"The news came from him?" Meg's voice was a stinging reproach.

"Yes. He only remained in Luxor a few hours; he was going to his home in a.s.siut, but he spread the story."