"Quite so," said Sir Robert. "We need his Arabs. How brightly the stars shine to-night, Dr. Pinsent."
The cool impudence of the pair struck me dumb. I shook with passion. For a moment I thought of calling a halt and returning the way we had come to my own camp with my Arabs. But for my curiosity to see the tomb of Ptahmes very probably I should have done so. In a few seconds, however, my rage cooled, and my uppermost feeling was admiration mixed with mirth. I had never been treated with such open and absurd contempt before. It was a refreshing experience. I burst of a sudden into a peal of laughter. Miss Ottley joined me in the exercise. But Sir Robert rode on like a hook-nosed Sphinx.
"I knew I could not be mistaken," said Miss Ottley. "You should thank God for your sense of humour, Dr. Pinsent."
"And who is benefiting from it at this moment, I should like to know?" I retorted. "The thanks are due from you, I fancy."
"Deo gratias!" she flashed. "In sober truth, we need your Arabs sadly."
"I repeat, I am glad to be of use."
"We shall use you, but not necessarily in the cause of your Society. Understand that fully."
"You mean?"
"That you must not expect to share our secrets."
"In plain words, you will not let me help you open the sarcophagus."