So there it is," his wife concluded, after a silence. "And that's true.
It happened to my niece, didn't it, John?"

Stories and legendary accounts of strange things that the presence of
these two brought poured out then. They were obviously somewhat mixed,
one account borrowing picturesque details from another, and all in
disproportion, as when people tell stories in a language they are
little familiar with. But, listening with avidity, yet also with
uneasiness, somehow, Henriot put two and two together. Truth stood
behind them somewhere. These two held traffic with the powers that
ancient Egypt knew.

"Tell Felix, dear, about the time you met the nephew--horrid
creature--in the Valley of the Kings," he heard his wife say presently.
And Mansfield told it plainly enough, evidently glad to get it done,
though.

"It was some years ago now, and I didn't know who he was then, or
anything about him. I don't know much more now--except that he's a
dangerous sort of charlatan-devil, _I_ think. But I came across him one
night up there by Thebes in the Valley of the Kings--you know, where
they buried all their Johnnies with so much magnificence and processions
and masses, and all the rest. It's the most astounding, the most haunted
place you ever saw, gloomy, silent, full of gorgeous lights and shadows
that seem alive--terribly impressive; it makes you creep and shudder.
You feel old Egypt watching you."

"Get on, dear," said his wife.

"Well, I was coming home late on a blasted lazy donkey, dog-tired into
the bargain, when my donkey boy suddenly ran for his life and left me
alone. It was after sunset. The sand was red and shining, and the big
cliffs sort of fiery. And my donkey stuck its four feet in the ground
and wouldn't budge. Then, about fifty yards away, I saw a
fellow--European apparently--doing something--Heaven knows what, for I
can't describe it--among the boulders that lie all over the ground
there. Ceremony, I suppose you'd call it. I was so interested that at
first I watched. Then I saw he wasn't alone. There were a lot of moving
things round him, towering big things, that came and went like shadows.
That twilight is fearfully bewildering; perspective changes, and
distance gets all confused. It's fearfully hard to see properly. I only
remember that I got off my donkey and went up closer, and when I was
within a dozen yards of him--well, it sounds such rot, you know, but I
swear the things suddenly rushed off an