The blown sand had obliterated the tracks of men and camels. The desert, so far as we could see, was a vast ocean of rippling waves. I had brought no compass, trusting to the sun: but the sun was hidden behind the copper veil of sand. "We shall be lost, sir," said my man. "Shall we not be wise while there is time, and go back before our own tracks are blotted out? See, there ahead is a lesson for us: a camel that has fallen and been choked to death by the sand. Before night we and our animals may lie as it lies now, with the shroud that the desert gives, wrapped round our heads."
"A camel that has fallen!" I echoed. And striking my beast I rode forward till I reached the low mound to which the brown hand pointed.
The white mehari lay on its side, the head and half the body buried, the bead collar faintly blue under a coating of yellow sand. The watching eye was closed for ever: but I had the needed clue.
"We're not lost," I said. "This is the right way. We'll push on to Hathor Set."
EPISODE VIII
THE HOUSE OF REVENGE
This chapter of my life, which stands last but one in my journal, is Maida Odell's chapter rather than mine: and to make my part in it clear, her part should come first. Then the two should join, like a double ring of platinum and gold bound together with a knot.
One day Maida waked, after confused dreams of pain and terror. The dreams were blurred, as she began remembering. It was as if she were in a dim room trying to see reflections in a dust-covered mirror; then, as if she brushed off the dust, and the pictures suddenly sharpened in outline.
She saw herself reading a letter signed John Hasle. It seemed to be a true letter, and if it were true she must obey the instructions it gave; yet—she doubted. She saw herself scribbling a few words on the back of the letter, and hiding it behind the portrait of her mother, in the room she always called her "shrine," leaving just an end of white paper visible in the hope that John Hasle's eyes might light on it there. This picture was clear, and that of the mummy-case being taken out of the shrine by two men in a hurry. Why were they taking it? Why did she let it go? Oh, she remembered! The Head Sister had promised long ago to try and discover the secret of the past. She knew people all over the world, who were grateful, and glad to repay her goodness to them. Because of the mummy-case and the eye of Horus, those two mysterious treasures, the Head Sister believed that the enemy who strove unceasingly to ruin the girl's life must be an Egyptian, working to avenge some wrong, or fancied wrong. She suggested photographing the mummy, and the pictures of Maida's father and mother, in order to send snapshots to a man she knew well in Egypt—a doctor. He would take up the affair, out of friendship for her, and with those clues to go upon might learn details of inestimable value. Maida remembered writing to John Hasle at the Head Sister's suggestion, asking him to send the key of the shrine. He had answered, agreeing reluctantly; and to prove her good faith, the Head Sister had offered permission for a meeting at Roger's house. Then had come the letter from John Hasle, with its warning that the mummy was no longer safe in the shrine. Maida had done what he told her to do, and let the mummy-case be taken away, although the Head Sister had objected, and had even seemed hurt. But the Head Sister had not objected to go to the ship on which John Hasle said he would sail. She wished to question him before he went, and was as anxious as Maida was to know what danger threatened the mummy.