He paused impressively. My father looked at his watch and Uncle Naboth yawned. For myself, I should have liked to hear more, but my wound was paining me and Bry awaited my coming to dress it properly. So I said to our guest:
“If you please, Professor, we will hear your story in the morning. It is now late, and we are all longing for our berths. So we will bid you good-night and wish you pleasant dreams.”
He glared at me indignantly.
“Can you sleep after what I have told you?” he demanded.
“I hope so, sir,” I replied, and turned away to call Joe to show the man to his room. He made no farther protest, but going away and looking rather thoughtful.
Bry found that the knife had merely inflicted a flesh wound on my arm, and promised it would give me little trouble. The bleeding had stopped, so my black surgeon washed the cut thoroughly, bandaged and plastered it quite professionally, and sent me to bed to sleep soundly until morning.
Really, I forgot all about the Professor, who looked the part of a savant much better than he acted it, it seemed to me.
CHAPTER V.
THE PROFESSOR’S SECRET.
At breakfast Professor Van Dorn was silent and preöccupied, and as soon as the meal was over asked for a private interview with the person in authority aboard the Seagull. We went to the Captain’s room, a large cabin where all could be comfortably seated. None of us had much confidence in the stranger’s romantic assertions of the night before, but we were all curious to know what tale the man had to relate, and were disposed to listen. Archie’s eyes bunged out so far from his round face that I took pity on the boy and asked him to join us. Ned Britton came, too, for he had been present at Van Dorn’s rescue and we trusted him implicitly.
When we were seated and the Professor had assured himself we could not be overheard, he at once asked permission to relate the business that had brought him to Egypt and the strange experiences he had encountered here. We told him to fire away and we would hear his story.