cepts any theory or idea. Although she was influenced more deeply by
Egypt than she had ever imagined it possible to be influenced by the
unseen, or by atmosphere and surroundings, she still walked firmly on
her two feet. Her momentary standings on her head were passing and
spasmodic. She neither felt convinced nor unconvinced upon the subject
of Akhnaton's vision or upon the truth and reliability of the old man's
words at el-Azhar. Suggestion is so often at the root of what appears
to be the supernatural. Michael might have talked to the old man, as
he had often talked to herself, about the possibility of such a
treasure having been hidden by the King when he, Akhnaton, knew that he
was dying and when he realized that his new capital of Tel-el-Amarna
would not long survive his decease, that the priests of the old
religion would do all in their power to obliterate his memory and
teachings. She knew that Michael was not the only person who held this
view. He was not the originator of the theory.

Meg had never had anything to do with people who believed in visions
and the power of seeing into the future. The occult had had no
fascination for her. Until she arrived in the valley all such things
had come under the heading of charlatanism. Her thoughts were
different now. She had learned more; she had discovered that her
powers of vision might be limited to the very fine mental qualities of
which her family were so proud; she had found out that the sharpest
brains for practical purposes may be extremely blunt for higher ones.
Freddy and she could play with figures; problems which could be worked
out by practical methods were to them difficulties to be mastered by
hard work, and hard work was pleasure to the Lamptons; it was their
form of enjoyment. They were not imaginative; they were combative;
they enjoyed a fight which usurped their mental energies.

In Egypt Meg had been given new eyes, new understanding. There were
finer things than mathematical problems, things of the super-intellect,
infinitely more delicate and wonderful, to which neither she nor Freddy
held the key. She felt like a child. She was a child again, an
inquisitive child, crying out for answers which would satisfy her
awakening intelligence. Her fine college education had been confined
to the insides of books. She knew nothing whatever of the finer truths
which were every day being thrust upon her senses. It was just as if
Freddy and s