We looked at one another and I saw the Captain understood me. He turned
rather sheepishly away, but did not mount immediately. Miss Ottley was gazing over the desert. "You must know you are behaving
like a child," she cuttingly remarked. I shook my head at the Captain. "That means you are keeping a lady
waiting," I observed. He smiled wrily in spite of himself. "Scottish, are you not?" he asked. "From Aberdeen." He climbed on the mule's back. "I'm thinking Dr. Pinsent would like to
be alone," he said. Miss Ottley nodded and they rode off together. I picked up my swag and
trudged after them. It was dry work. About twenty minutes later Miss
Ottley rode back alone. She did not beat about the bush at all. "I want you to put your things on my donkey," she said; and slipping
afoot, she stood in my path. "Not to-day," said I. "But I'm in trouble, I need your help," she muttered. "With such a cavalier as Frankfort Weldon?" I inquired. She coloured. "And Dr. Belleville. Old friends both, I am led to fancy." She bit her lips. "And both of them in love with you," I went on bluntly. "Dr. Pinsent," said Miss Ottley, "it is my opinion that my father is
not quite right in his mind." "Dr. Belleville is a F. R. C. S.," said I. "I am afraid of him--my own father," she said, in a tragic tone. "I
have a feeling that he hates me, that he wants to--to destroy me." "Captain Weldon would lay down his life for you, I think," said I. She put a hand on my breast and looked me straight in the eye. "I could
not tell this to Dr. Belleville, nor to the other," she half whispered. I thrilled all over. "All right," I said, cheerily. "Just stand aside
till I load your little beastie, will you?" Her whole face lighted up. "Ah! I knew you would not desert me," she
said. But we did not speak again all the way to the Hill of Rakh. We were too
busy thinking; the two of us. When we arrived she flitted off, still
silent. Captain Weldon came to me. "I want you to share my tent," said
he. "I have a tub for you in waiting, and some fresh linen laid out, if
you'll honour me by wearing it." "You are a brick," I replied, and took his arm. But at the door of
the biggest tent in the whole camp to which he brought me I paused in
wonder. It was a sort of lady's bower within. The floor was laid with
rugs, and the sloped canvas walls were hung with silken frills; and
women's photographs littered the fold-up dressing-table. They were all
of the same face, though, those latter; the face of Miss Ottley. "Sybarite!" I cried. He winced, then squared his shoulders. "Well--perhaps so," he said with
a smile. "But your gallery has only one goddess," I commented, pointing to a
picture. He gave a shame-faced little laugh. "You see, Doctor, I have the
happiness to be engaged to marry Miss Ottley," he explained. Then he
left me to my tub. Chapter VIII

Ottley Shows His Hand


The Captain's linen he had laid out for my use on his damask-covered
cot was composed of the very finest silk. Even the socks were silk. I
was positively ashamed to draw my stained and work-worn outer garments
over them; and I thought, with a sigh, of my two decent suits of tweed
lying, like the Dutchman's anchor, far away--in a Cairo lodging-house,
to be precise. I shaved with the Captain's razor and wondered why I did
not in the least mind resting indebted to his courtesy. The removal of
my beard laid bare the weal the Captain's whip had raised. Perhaps that
was the reason. He came in just as I had finished and he saw the weal
on instant. "I wish to the Lord you'd just blacken one of my eyes," he
said remorsefully. "The sight of that makes me feel an out-and-out cad. Not ten minutes before it happened Miss Ottley had been telling me the
angel of goodness you had been to her." I sat down on the edge of the cot and grinned. "It gives me quite a
distinguished appearance," I replied, "and, say, didn't it give me back
my temper nicely, too." "Little wonder you were wild," said he. "But why didn't you break me up
while you were about it? You could have, easily enough. Lord! how big
and strong you are." "And ugly," I supplemented. He flushed all over his face. "You make me feel a silly girl-man by
comparison," he cried. "A man ought to be ugly and strong-looking like
you. I'd give half my fortune to possess that jaw." "What a boy it is!" I said delightedly, for I was proud of my jaw, and
I love flattery. "I'm having a cot made now; it will be put over there for you. You'll
share my diggings, won't you? I want us to be friends," beamed the
Captain. There was something so ingenuous and charming in his frankness that I
assented at once. "It's funny," he said afterwards. "But I detested you at first. Have
a cigar. This box of Cabanas is for you. They're prime. I've more
in my kit when they are finished. Lie down and rest while you smoke
one, won't you? Lunch won't be ready for an hour yet, and you must be
fagged." I wasn't a bit, but I lay back and puffed a mouthful of delicious smoke
with a long-drawn sigh of luxury. "You needn't talk. Miss Ottley says you don't like talking," said
the Captain. He lit a cigar and sat down on his kit box. "I'm a real
gabbler, though," he confessed. "Do you mind?" "No, fire away, sonny!" He fired. It was all about himself and Miss Ottley: how they had been
brought up together, predestined sweethearts: how they had quarrelled
and made up and quarrelled again: how really and truly in their hearts
they adored each other: and how--if it had not been for the girl's
intense devotion for her father, they would have been married long
ago. He characterised Sir Robert as an extremely selfish man, who,
ever since his wife's death, had used his daughter as a servant and
secretary because he could get no other to serve him as well and
intelligently. "But he doesn't really care for her a straw," concluded
the Captain. "And he would sacrifice her without remorse to his beastly
mummy hobby for ever if I'd let him. But I won't. I'm going to put my
foot down presently. I've waited long enough. He has done nothing but
drag her all over Europe translating papyri for him for the last six
years. And she has worked for him like a slave. It's high time she had
a little peace and happiness." "Translating papyri," I repeated. "A scholar, then?" "Between ourselves," replied the Captain, "Sir Robert's fame as
a scholar and an Egyptologist rests entirely upon his daughter's
labours. Without her he would be unknown. She did all the real work. He
reaped the credit. She is three times the scholar he is, and I know a
Frenchman who regards her knowledge of cuneiform as simply marvellous. He is a professor of ancient languages, too, at the Sorbonne, so he
ought to know." "Queer she never mentioned a word of it to me," said I. "Oh!" cried the Captain, "she is the modestest, sweetest creature
in the universe. I sometimes think she is positively ashamed of her
extraordinary ability.