He caught the whispered sound of a once familiar name. It seemed to be on everyone’s lips: Hanit! Hanit! Hanit!
Antef turned himself about. At once that same nameless terror held him also in its grip.
In the doorway stood Queen Hanit, Hanit upon whose mummified form he himself had placed a wreath of flowers! Antef stumbled to his feet and there remained, his eyes fixed upon this apparition of the Ex-Queen, as if he likewise had been turned to stone.
A richly plaited robe covered Queen Hanit’s form. About her head was set the vulture diadem, that circlet of gold which queens of the royal blood alone may wear. Her throat was hidden by a necklace of bright blue beads. Upon one finger she wore a blue glazed ring, a ring such as is worn by the dead alone! Before her she held a Book which seemed to glow, as if by some preternatural light.
By now Antef and the horrified nobles had backed to the furthest corner of the room, whence they continued to gaze at this apparition of the former Queen, believing it to be in very fact the visible “double” of Thi’s murdered rival.
Hanit’s black eyes glittered like those of some poisonous snake. She fixed them threateningly upon the shrunken features of the terrified monarch:
“Dost know me, son of Thi?”
The trembling monarch tried in vain to speak.
“Dost know me, Syrian?”
Again Pharaoh essayed to find his nerveless tongue. At last, in a hoarse and breathless whisper, he managed to articulate the one word ... Hanit!