Her lips were
trickling blood where she had bitten them. Her face was ghastly and she
seemed about to swoon. "Pish!" I cried, "there is nothing to be frightened of. A rascally
Arab--knows some secret way of entering this cavern, that is all." She swayed towards me. I caught her as she fell and bore her to a
stool. But though quite overcome she was not unconscious. Yet her
fortitude was broken down at last and she was helpless. She could not
even sit up unassisted. Placing her on the floor a while, I made her
drink some spirit and then, lifting her upon my knee, I rocked her in
my arms like a child and did my best to soothe her fears. Heavens, how
she cried! My handkerchief was soon as wet as if I had soused it in
a basin of water, and yet she still cried on. I spoke to her all the
time. I told her that I would answer for her safety with my life, and
all sorts of things. And thinking of her as a poor little child, I
called her "dear" continually and "darling"--and I let her weep herself
into an exhausted sleep upon my breast. And when that happened I did
not need anyone to tell me that science was no longer the mistress of
my fate or that I, a comparative pauper, had committed the unutterable
folly of falling in love with the daughter of a millionaire--whose
religion was Pride with a capital P. I held her so till dawn, staring
dumbly at her face, and thus when her eyes opened they looked straight
into mine. She did not move, and half-unwillingly my arms tightened
round her. "The bad dream is over, little girl," I whispered. "See--the
golden sunlight." "May--May," said Sir Robert's voice. She started up, her face aflame. I followed her to the bedside. The
patient was awake, and strong and hungry. Also querulous. He complained
of the pain of the wound and ordered me to dress it. He had seen
nothing. But I knew Miss Ottley would not forgive me on that account. I read it in her eyes. After I had dressed the patient's wound and we
had fed him, she followed me to the door. "You had no right to let me sleep--like that," she said imperiously. There was nothing for it but to insult her or to prove myself an
adventurer. I had no mind for the latter course. "Quite right," I
returned, "when you behaved like an idiot I should have treated you
as such and left you to recover from your own silly terror instead of
acting the soft fool and losing my own rest in serving you. I'll do it,
too--next time. What will you have for breakfast?" She swung on her heel and left me. Chapter VI

Enter Dr. Belleville


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.