It was far into the tenth night that Kenkenes arrived in Thebes. On the sixteenth day Rachel would begin to expect him, and he could not hope to reach Memphis by that time. She should not wait an hour longer than necessary. He would get the signet that night and return by the swiftest boat obtainable in Thebes. The dawn should find him on the way to Memphis.
He entered the streets of the Libyan suburb of the holy city, and passed through it to the scattering houses, set outside the thickly-settled portion, and nearer to the necropolis. At the portals of the most pretentious of these houses he knocked and was admitted.
He was met presently in the chamber of guests by an old man, gray-haired and bent. This was the keeper of the tomb of Rameses the Great.
"I am the son of Mentu," he said, "thy friend, and the friend of the
Incomparable Pharaoh. Perchance thou dost remember me."
"I remember Mentu," the old man replied, after a space that might have been spent in rumination, or in collecting his faculties to speak.
"He decorated the tomb of Rameses," the young man continued.
"Aye, I remember. I watched him often at the work."
"Thou knowest how the great king loved him."
The old man bent his head in assent.
"He was given a signet by Rameses, and on the jewel was testimony of royal favor which should outlive the Pharaoh and Mentu himself."