their tom-toms vigorously and chanted weirdly while the passengers stood leaning over, watching and applauding. The crew squatted in a circle, and one after the other sprang up and performed a wild, mad dance while their companions kept time by clapping their hands or strumming upon their big earthenware tom-toms.
Then at eleven, the hour when the dynamos cease their humming and the electric light goes out, the concert ended with all the crew – headed by the venerable, white-bearded old pilot – standing up, salaaming and crying in their broken English:
“Gud nites, la-dees and gen’lemens. Gud nites?”
It was just before three on the following morning when the huge gong, carried around by an Arab servant, aroused everyone, and very soon from most of the cabins there turned out sleepy travellers who found the black giant Hassan ready with his little cups of delicious black coffee.
Boulos was there, already gorgeous in a pale green silk robe, while the steamer had half an hour before moved up to the landing-place.
“La-dees and gen’lemens!” cried the dragoman in his loud, drawling tone, “we no-ow go to see ze gree-at tem-pel of ze gawd, Ra – gawd of ze sun – ze tem-pel of ze sun-rise and ze greatest monument in all our Eg-eept. We shall start in fif mineets. In fif mineets, la-dees. Monuments tick-eets ve-ry much wanted. No gallopin’ donkeys in Abu Simbel!”
Whereat there was a laugh.
Then the under-dragoman, a person in a less gorgeous attire, proceeded to make up a parcel of candles, matches, and magnesium wire, and presently the travellers, all of whom had hastily dressed, followed their guide on shore, and over the tiny strip of cultivated mud until they came to the broad stone steps which led from the Nile bank to the square doorway of the temple.
Here a number of candles were lit by the under-dragoman; and Waldron, taking one, escorted Lola and Miss Lambert. Within, they found a huge, echoing temple with high columns marvellously carved and covered by hieroglyphics and sculptured pictures.
Through one huge chamber after another they passed, the vaulted roof so high that the light of their candles did not reach to it. Only could it be seen when the magnesium wire was burned, and then the little knot of travellers stood aghast in wonder at its stupendous proportions.
At last they stood in the Holy of holies – a small, square chamber at the extreme end.
In the centre stood the altar for the living sacrifices, the narrow groves in the stones telling plainly their use – the draining off of the blood.
All was darkness. Only Boulos spoke, his drawling, parrot-like voice explaining many intensely interesting facts concerning that spot where Rameses the Great worshipped the sun god.
Then there was a dead silence. Not one of that gay, chattering company dared to speak, so impressive and awe-inspiring was it all.
Suddenly, from out of the darkness they saw before them slowly, yet distinctly, four huge figures seated, their hands lying upon their knees, gradually come into being as the sun’s faint pink rays, entering by the door, struck upon their stone faces, infusing life into their sphinx-like countenances until they glowed and seemed almost to speak.
Expressions of amazement broke from everyone’s lips.
“Marvellous!” declared Lola in an awed whisper. “Truly they seem really to live. It is astounding.”
“Yes,” answered Waldron. “And thus they have lived each morning in the one brief hour of the sunrise through all the ages. From Rameses to Cleopatra each king and queen of Egypt has stood upon this spot and worshipped their great gods, Ra and the all-merciful Osiris. Such a sight as this surely dwarfs our present civilisation, and should bring us nearer to thoughts of our own Christian God – the Almighty.”
Chapter Four.
Contains a Bitter Truth
When Hubert returned on board the Arabia and entered his deck-cabin, one of a long row of small cubicles, he started back in surprise, for Gigleux was there.
The Frenchman was confused at his sudden discovery, but only for a second. Then, with his calm, pleasant smile, he said in French:
“Ah, m’sieur, a thousand pardons! I was looking for the book I lent you the other day – that book of Maspero’s. I want to refer to it.”
Waldron felt at once that the excuse was a lame one.
“I left it in the fumoir last night, I believe.”
“Ah! Then I will go and get it,” replied the white-haired old fellow fussily. “But I hope,” he added, “that m’sieur will grant pardon for this unwarrantable intrusion. I did not go to the temple. It was a trifle too early for me.”
“You missed a great treat,” replied the Englishman bluntly, tossing his soft felt hat upon his narrow little bed. “Mademoiselle will tell you all about it.”
“You took her under your charge – as usual, eh?” sniffed the old fellow.
“Oh, yes. I escorted both her and Miss Lambert,” was the diplomat’s reply. “But look here, M’sieur Gigleux,” he went on, “you seem to have a distinct antipathy towards me. You seem to be averse to any courtesy I show towards your niece. Why is this? Tell me.”
The old man’s eyes opened widely, and he struck an attitude.
“Mais non, m’sieur!” he declared quickly. “You quite misunderstand me. I am old – and perhaps I may be a little eccentric. Lola says that I am.”
“But is that any reason why I should not behave with politeness to mam’zelle?”
The old man with the closely cropped white hair paused for a few seconds. That direct question nonplussed him. He drew a long breath, and as he did so the expression upon his mobile face seemed to alter.
In the silence Hubert Waldron was leaning against the edge of the little mosquito-curtained bed, while the Frenchman stood in the narrow doorway, for, in that little cabin, there was only sufficient room for one person to move about comfortably.
“Yes,” responded the girl’s uncle. “Now that you ask me this very direct question I reply quite frankly that there is a reason – a very strong and potent reason why you, a man occupying an official position in the British diplomacy should show no undue courtesy to Mademoiselle Lola.”
“Why?” asked Hubert, much surprised.
“For several reasons. Though, as I expect she has already explained to you, she is a penniless orphan, daughter of my sister, whose wealthy husband lost every sou in the failure of the banking firm of Chenier Frères of Marseilles. I have accepted the responsibility of her education and I have already planned out her future.”
“A wealthy husband, I suppose,” remarked the Englishman in a hard voice.
“M’sieur has guessed the truth.”
“And she is aware of this?”
“Quite,” was the old man’s calm reply. “Therefore you now know the reason why I am averse to your attentions.”
“Well, at least you are frank,” declared the other with a laugh. “But I assure you, M’sieur Gigleux, that I have no matrimonial intentions whatsoever. I’m
