"My cask was empty, so perforce I could not wash," I murmured. The Captain looked thunderstruck. "It's the most wonderful thing," he kept repeating, "the most wonderful thing in the world."
"And I never thought of looking in the mirror. It was packed up," I went on. I took out a rather grimy kerchief and began to rub at my neck.
"Has that wretched Arab—worried you at all—since I left, Miss Ottley?"
"I have seen him twice—and once more" (she shuddered) "in my dream."
"And where did you see him out of dreams?"
"Once in the cavern and once in my father's tent. Each time at night. Each time he vanished like a shadow."
"Did anyone else see him?"
"My father and Captain Weldon."
"The most hideous brute I ever saw," commented the Captain; "you could put a good-sized head between his eyes. And such eyes. Dull as mud, but horribly intelligent."
"Well, well," said I. "We'll know more about him some day soon, perhaps, that is, if we stay long enough at the Hill of Rakh. He has a hiding thereabouts—without a doubt. Your father is pining to open the tomb of Ptahmes, I suppose, Miss Ottley?"