While waiting for the kettle to boil I happened to glance in the direction of the Nile. A column of moving smoke at once attracted my attention. A launch, of course, and what more likely than that it should contain soldiers, Arabs, servants, and a surgeon. "I shall soon be free to return to my work, it seems!" I said aloud, and it is wonderful what a lot of dissatisfaction the reflection gave me. I came within an ace, indeed, of consigning the Nile Monuments to literary perdition. But only temporarily. For I felt that I should need as engrossing mental occupation soon. Work is a fine consoler. The party arrived a few minutes before noon. It consisted of Sir Robert Ottley's dragoman, half a company of Egyptian camel corps under command of a fussy little English-French lieutenant named Thomas Dubois, some twenty swart-faced fellaheen labourers, and two English friends of Sir Robert and his daughter. The latter were rather singular personages. One was middle-aged, short and thick and "bearded like the pard" up to his very eyes. He rejoiced in the name of William Belleville and was a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons. The other one was tall and thin and marvellously good-looking. He called himself Captain Frankfort Weldon, and I soon discovered was an Honourable. Preparatory to discharging myself in toto of my responsibilities, I took charge of the entire crowd. I have been assured by my best friends that I am a natural autocrat. Those who are not my friends have sometimes described me as an arrogant and self-assertive egotist. I contend, however, that I was eminently well qualified to judge what was best to be done, in that instance, at all events, and it is not my fault that Weldon and Belleville chose to consider themselves slighted because I did not ask their advice. Within ten minutes I had sent the camel soldiers packing across the desert in the direction taken by the Arab robbers. They did not want to go in the least, but I put my foot down hard, and they went. Without losing a moment thereafter I made the fellaheen erect a large double tent in a shaded cleft in the mountain at some distance from the temple. It did not take them long, for I directed their operations personally. I then marched them to the temple. Miss Ottley was talking to the Englishmen in the pylon. I bowed and passed her, followed by the fellaheen. I gave to each man a task, the carriage of some piece of furniture. The two strongest I appointed as bearers of Sir Robert Ottley's cot. The baronet was awake. He questioned me.

"What are you doing, Pinsent?"

"I'm going to move you to a tent for better air, to hasten your recovery," I said.

He only sighed and wearily closed his eyes.

Then the procession started. When Miss Ottley saw her father being carried out, she was so surprised that she stood dumb. Turning round a little later I saw that she and her friends were conversing amiably. Arrived at the tents, I fixed the patient comfortably, then arranged the furniture in both apartments; the outer, of course, was to be Miss Ottley's room.

When all was done, I dismissed the fellaheen to other tasks and walked up to Ottley's cot. "Sir Robert," said I.

His eyes opened and he looked at me.

"You know that your friend, Dr. Belleville, has come?"

"Yes—we have had a chat."

"So. Well, I now propose to turn the case over to him. Your recovery should be rapid. You are already practically convalescent."

"You are leaving me?"

"You no longer need my services."

"How can I ever repay you, Pinsent, for your extreme kindness to me?"

"Easily; let me be present when you open the coffin of Ptahmes."

"What?"

"Ah!" said I, "I forgot." I then told him of my experiment with the sarcophagus, and the perfume. He listened with the most passionate attention. Finally he said:

"You are not certain the sarcophagus does contain the body, though?"

"Not certain, Sir Robert."

"Yet you told me, if I remember aright, that, that——"

"You were dying," I interrupted. "I had to arouse you. But, after all, I feel sure your desire will be gratified. I have no sort of doubt but that a body lies in the coffin."

"Nor I," said he. "The papyrus speaks of an essential oil the mere scent of which arrests decay. Ptahmes alone knew the secret of its preparation. But the sarcophagus must be guarded, Pinsent."

"I'll fix a watch," I said, and held out my hand. "Good-bye, sir."

"You are returning to your camp?"

"Yes."

"Then au revoir, Pinsent. I shall send for you as soon as I am well enough to investigate the coffin."

"Thank you."

But he continued to hold my hand and looked me in the eyes earnestly. "Be careful of yourself," he murmured.

"Careful," I repeated, puzzled.

"Ay," he murmured still lower, "you have incurred the curse unwittingly—but still you have incurred it."

"What curse?"

"The curse which Ptahmes directed against all desecrators of his tomb."

I thought he raved, and felt his pulse. But it was steady as a rock. "Come, come," I said with a smile. "I shall be thinking you a superstitious man, Sir Robert, presently."

"Do you believe in God?" he asked.

"Yes," I cried, astounded.

"Then are you not superstitious, too? But there, I have warned you. I'll say no more. Good-bye. Kindly send my daughter to me."

I found Miss Ottley and the two Englishmen at the door of the outer tent. "Sir Robert wants you, Miss Ottley," I observed, and passed on. I had hardly gone a dozen yards, however, when I found I had a companion on either side of me.

Dr. Belleville immediately opened fire. "You have been taking time by the forelock, Dr. Pinsent," he said softly. "I should hardly have moved the patient for a day or two. He is very weak."

"My name is Frankfort Weldon—Captain Weldon," said the handsome soldier—introducing himself. "I think you have annoyed Miss Ottley, Dr. Pinsent. Seems to me you should have consulted her before acting, at least."

I glanced from one to the other and shrugged my shoulders. "The thing is done," said I. "Gentlemen, good-day." My long legs left them quickly in the rear. There seemed no good reason to waste time in explaining myself to them. They would soon enough find out the reasonableness of my actions for themselves, if possessed of ordinary human curiosity. But a second later I stopped and turned. "Dr. Belleville," I shouted, "I shall fix a watch at the temple. Ottley wishes it maintained. Miss Ottley will tell you why."

I found the fellaheen collected in a group near the old store house. They eyed me approaching with open sullenness. I chose two among their number and directed them to stand guard before the pylon for four hours. The two I had picked moved off obediently enough, but they were stopped almost on instant by their leader, a big ruffian with a scarred, black face and wild, fiercely scowling eyes. Sir Robert Ottley's dragoman hurried to my side. "Softly, Excellency, or there will be trouble," he muttered. "Let me speak to them. Yazouk is a chief—he will not be commanded. His term of service does not start till to-morrow. He is angry."

"Silence, you," I responded in the same tone. "There is but one way to crush a nigger mutiny."

I stepped smilingly forward, looking into Yazouk's eyes. The black giant—he stood six feet four in his bare feet and was a splendid physical specimen—put his hand on the knife in his belt. But before he could guess at my intention he was sprawling on the sand. He uttered the yell of an angry wild beast and, springing up, rushed at me with bare blade. I stepped aside and kicked him in the stomach. He collapsed, howling dismally. I marched up to the rest, who were all handling their knives, and showed them my revolver. Two minutes later they were all disarmed and I was a walking arsenal. I turned to the dragoman. "I am going away, Mehemet—to my own camp. But so that you will have no trouble with this scum, I shall take their chief with me. I need a servant."

Mehemet bowed to the very ground. "Your Excellency knows best," he muttered reverently.

"Yazouk," said I, "yonder is my ass. Go saddle him for me."

Yazouk went. He returned with the ass saddled and bridled before I was half through a cigarette. I mounted forthwith and started towards my long-deserted camp. "Come, Yazouk!" I called out carelessly, and I took good care not to look back. There is no means surer of making an African obey you than to act as if you are certain he has no alternative. Perhaps Yazouk hesitated for a moment, torn with fear and hate, but he followed me. Soon I heard the patter of his footsteps on the sand. Then I said to myself, "Now, if this man is to remain with me and be my servant I must make him fear me as he would the plague. But how?" I solved the riddle at the end of five miles. I must show him that I despised him utterly. So I stopped. He stopped. Twenty paces separated us. "Yazouk," I said, "come here!"

He approached, eyeing me like a wolf. "From this day for a month, Yazouk, you shall be my slave," I observed calmly. "If you prove a good slave I shall pay you when the term ends at the rate of fifty piasters a day. If you offend me by so much as winking an eyelash I shall not only pay you nothing, but I shall ask Poseidon to transform you into a hyena. Will you like that?"

Yazouk did not remark on my dreadful threat, but there was murder in his eyes. I smiled at him, and, always looking him full in the face, I took one by one the knives I had taken from his fellows, from my belt and cast them on the sand at his feet. "It is not fit for a lord to carry such trash when he has a slave," I said. "Pick up those knives."

Yazouk obeyed me. When he stood upright again there was a great doubt in his eyes. I thought to myself, it would be quite easy for this ruffian to murder me at any time in my sleep, and already I am a wreck for want of sleep. I threw my revolver on the sand. "Carry that, too!" I commanded loftily—and spurred my ass on. Probably a volume might be written on the state of Yazouk's mind as he trudged along behind me to my camp—a whole compendium of psychology. But I cannot write it, because I never once glanced at him, and, therefore, I can only guess at the turmoil of his thoughts. But the event justified my expectations. I was so mortally wearied when I reached my camp that I had no heart left even to discover whether my precious manuscripts had been disturbed by some chance wayfarer of the wilderness. It sufficed me that my tent was standing and that it contained a cot. I cast myself down, without even troubling to remove my boots, and I slept like the dead for sixteen solid hours. When I awoke it was high noon. A steaming bowl of coffee stood upon my table and a mess of baked rice and fish. Beside the plate lay my revolver, and every one of the knives I had given Yazouk to carry. Yazouk himself stood at the flap of the tent, a monstrous, stolid sentinel. When I arose he bent almost double. I swept the armoury into a drawer and attacked my breakfast with the relish of a famished man. Then I set to work with the energy of a giant refreshed; and with short intervals for meals, sleep and exercise, I toiled at my book thereafter till it was roughly finished. So twenty days sped by. Throughout Yazouk waited upon me like the slave of Aladdin's lamp. I had not a fault to find with him. Indeed, he was a perfect jewel of a servant, and he stood in such abject terror of my every movement, nod or smile or frown, that I could have wished to retain his services for ever. But that was not to be. On the twenty-first morning he accidentally dropped a cup and broke it. I heard the smash and looked up. It was to see Yazouk flying like a panic-stricken deer into the desert. I shouted to recall him, but he only sped the faster.