"And are you now on your way to visit his tomb, Mike? How thrilling!"
"Yes," Michael said. He answered her simply, forgetful of the fact that she could only have obtained her information on this point in an underhand manner.
"You know where it is?"
"He was buried in the hills which lie beyond his city."
"Tel-el-Amarna?"
"Yes, the City of the Horizon, the capital he built when he found it necessary for the progress of his new religion to get away from Thebes, from the priests of Amon-Ra."
Michael's thoughts became absorbed. They travelled to the mid-African in el-Azhar and then became mixed up with this meeting with the desert-saint. Could this poor, emaciated figure, so shrunken and worn with tropical fevers and famished for want of food, have any knowledge of the hidden treasure which the seer had visualized?
Millicent allowed his thoughts to wander. She knew the force of silent companionship. She knew that, although he was apparently far from her, he was conscious of her presence. She would have liked to ask him a thousand questions, to have talked rather than held her peace; but her instinct as a woman forbade it. Something told her that during their talk Michael was one half saint, one half man, and the man-power was stronger than he knew.
Many stars had appeared in the sky, which had deepened. It was now the violet-blue of a desert night. The passion of the heavens was beginning. Could man and woman remain outside it?
In the distance an occasional roar from one of the camels interrupted the silence. Surely it was a night for love, the love that needs no telling?