ad," said Pharos, in Arabic. "What tidings
dost thou bring?"

"I come to tell thee," the man replied, "that he whom thou didst order
to be here has heard of thy coming, and will await thee at the place of
which thou hast spoken."

"It is well," continued Pharos. "Has all of which I wrote to thee been
prepared?"

"All has been prepared and awaits thy coming."

"Return then and tell him who sent thee to me that I will be with him
before he sleeps to-night."

The man bowed once more and made his way to his boat, in which he
departed for the bank.

When he had gone, Pharos turned to me.

"We are expected," he said, "and, as you heard him say, preparations
have been made to enable us to carry out the work we have come to do.
After all his journeying Ptahmes has at last returned to the city of his
birth and death. It is a strange thought, is it not? Look about you, Mr.
Forrester, and see the mightiest ruins the world has known. Yonder is
the Temple of Luxor, away to the north you can see the remains of the
Temple of Ammon at Karnak; five thousand years ago they were connected
by a mighty road. Yonder is the Necropolis of Thebes, with the tombs
that once contained the mortal remains of the mighty ones of Egypt.
Where are those mighty ones now? Scattered to the uttermost parts of the
earth, stolen from their resting-places to adorn glass cases in European
and American museums, and to be sold at auction by Jew salesmen at so
much per head, the prices varying according to their dates and state of
preservation. But there, time is too short to talk of such indignity.
The gods will avenge it in their own good time. Let it suffice that
to-night we are to fulfil our errand. Am I right in presuming that you
desire to accompany me?"

"I should be sincerely disappointed if I could not do so," I answered.
"But if you would prefer to go alone I will not force my presence upon
you."

"I shall only be too glad of your company," he answered. "Besides, you
have a right to be present, since it is through you I am permitted an
opportunity of replacing my venerable ancestor in his tomb. Perhaps you
will be good enough to hold yourself in readiness to start at eleven
o'clock. Owing to the publicity now given to anything that happens in
the ruins of this ancient city, the mere fact that we are returning a
mummy to its tomb, of the existence of which the world has no knowledge,
would be sufficient to attract a concourse of people whose p