ichael was silent.

"My dear man, you needn't tell me if you don't want to, but remember that
no secrets are hid from the hand that hath _baksheesh_. I found out what
I wanted to know; I can find out more."

"I'd rather you found out," he said, "than I told you."

"Right ho! Funny man!"

"Do you want to hear about the tomb, or don't you?"

"Oh, yes, rather!" Millicent's teeth were busy picking the leg of a
pigeon. "Tell me everything."

Michael told her everything he could remember, the things which he knew
would interest her, the most personal facts relating to the minute
examination of the tomb. It was proving a great puzzle to Egyptologists.
There were many conflicting theories about it--whether the mummy which
was found on the floor beside the effigy of the dead queen was the
mummified body of the queen or not. It had been sent away to be
carefully examined by experts; the report of the examination had not yet
been made known. If it was the body of the queen, why had they
endeavoured to cut off the golden wrappings which had been rolled round
her body? Why had her name been roughly cut out of the inside of the
coffin? Why had this queen, who had been buried with such royal
magnificence, been "debarred from all benefits of the earthly prayers of
her descendants? Why had she become a nameless outcast, a wanderer
unrecognized and unpitied in the vast underworld?" [2]

These questions had not yet been solved. Millicent was excited and
interested and Michael enjoyed telling her about it. She was inquisitive
and insistent. She wanted to know all about the doings in the camp since
her visit to the Valley, and Michael thoroughly enjoyed talking to a
sympathetic, intelligent listener. Like all Celts, he had the gift of
words.

He was so engrossed that Hassan appeared with their coffee long before he
was ready for it or expected it. Noticing his surprise, the man
instantly took his cue. He salaamed respectfully in front of Millicent.

"_Ta, Sitt_," he said, "will it please you to wait for another hour? The
camels are not yet rested, the day is still young."

Millicent looked at Michael. Time really did not matter to him one
scrap, yet she dared not hint so. He could just as well look for this
phantom treasure a year from now. It was all a mystic's mirage to her, a
delightful excuse for a sojourn in the outer desert.

"I'm ready if you are," she said, addressing Mike. Her woman's tact told
her