ddy, in his new life,
was understanding and sympathizing, for she knew now with a nervous
certainty that the veil is very thin.

Hadassah had said in her letter, when referring to the death of the
native, "This sounds as if Millicent's servants had played her false.
The police report that she never reached the hills, so whether her
dragoman deliberately took her off the track, and allowed one of her
servants to go to the hills and secure the treasure, remains a mystery
which may never be solved. But one thing is pretty clear--that her
cavalcade was never seen in that part of the desert, for, as you know,
the drifting sand in Egypt carries information; it conceals and reveals
many things undreamed of in our Western philosophy."

As Margaret read these lines she cursed her own stupidity with a bitter
curse. If she had used a little more tact and shown less jealous rage,
she could have learnt from Millicent all which now so baffled them.
She could easily have discovered if she had ever reached the hills.

Margaret was rereading the letter in her off-hours. Her first reading
of it had been very hurried, for it had arrived by the first post, and
she had only found time to devour it with eager eyes, eyes which
searched its pages for one precious item of news. She was scarcely
conscious of her desire for news of Michael's whereabouts. There was
always the hope, unexpressed even to herself, that he had written to
the Iretons. If he really was at the Front, surely he would have told
them? But the letter contained no such information.

Her disappointment was, however, drowned in surprise and pride. With
one fell swoop the letter had obliterated the passion and obsession of
war which had held her in its clutches. It made her forget, for a
little time, at least, that such a country as Germany existed. Her
mind was again vivified with visions of the desert and the various
scenes which Hadassah's letter suggested. Flashing before her eyes was
the open desert, the unbroken light, and the stumbling donkey,
heavily-laden and meekly submissive, with the gleaming gems, betrayed
by the rays of Aton. She could visualize the astonished native
fingering them and holding them up to the light; the sunlight,
Akhnaton's symbol of divinity, was to bear testimony to the fact that
the bright objects which had caught the Arab's eyes were beautiful and
rich-hued gems, that they were indeed a portion of the treasure which
he had hidden