It was almost dark when the yacht entered the harbour of Port Said,
though the sky at the back of the town still retained the last lingering
colours of the sunset, which had been more beautiful that evening than I
ever remembered to have seen it before. Well acquainted as I was with
the northern shores of the Mediterranean, this was the first time I had
been brought into contact with the southern, and, what was more
important, it was also the first occasion on which I had joined hands
with the Immemorial East. In the old days I had repeatedly heard it said
by travellers that Port Said was a place not only devoid of interest,
but entirely lacking in artistic colour. I take the liberty of
disagreeing with my informants _in toto_. Port Said greeted me with the
freshness of a new life. The colouring and quaint architecture of the
houses, the vociferous boatmen, the monotonous chant of the Arab
coalers, the string of camels I could just make out turning the corner
of a distant street, the donkey boys, the Soudanese soldiers at the
barriers, and last, but by no means least, the crowd of shipping in the
harbour, constituted a picture that was as full of interest as it was of
new impressions.
As soon as we were at anchor and the necessary formalities of the port
had been complied with, Pharos's servant, the man who had accompanied us
from Pompeii and who had brought me on board in Naples, made his way
ashore, whence he returned in something less than an hour to inform us
that he had arranged for a special train to convey us to our
destination. We accordingly bade farewell to the yacht and were driven
to the railway-station, a primitive building on the outskirts of the
town. Here an engine and a single carriage awaited us. We took our
places and five minutes later were steaming across the flat sandy plain
that borders the Canal and separates it from the Bitter Lakes.
Ever since the storm, and the unpleasant insight it had afforded me into
Pharos's character, our relations had been somewhat strained. As the
Fraeulein Valerie had predicted, as soon as he recovered his
self-possession, he hated me the more for having been a witness of his
cowardice. For the remainder of the voyage he scarcely put in an
appearance on deck, but spent the greater portion of his time in his own
cabin, though in what manner he occupied himself there I could not
imagine.
Now that we were in our railway carriage, _en route_ to Cairo, looking
out upon that dreary landscape, with its dull expanse of water on one
side, and the high bank of the Canal, with, occasionally, glimpses of
the passing stations, on the other, we were brought into actual contact,
and, in consequence, things improved somewhat. But even then we could
scarcely have been described as a happy party. The Fraeulein Valerie sat
for the most part silent and preoccupied, facing the engine in the
right-hand corner; Pharos, wrapped in his heavy fur coat and rug, and
with his inevitable companion cuddled up beside him, had taken his place
opposite her. I sat in the farther corner, watching them both and dimly
wondering at the strangeness of my position. At Ismailia another train
awaited us, and when we and our luggage had been transshipped to it, we
continued our journey, entering now on the region of the desert proper.
The heat was almost unbearable, and to make matters worse, as soon as
darkness fell and the lamps were lighted, swarms of mosquitoes emerged
from their hiding-places and descended upon us. The train rolled and
jolted its way over the sandy plain, passed the battle-fields of
Tel-el-Kebir and Kassassin, and still Pharos and the woman opposite him
remained seated in the same position, he with his head thrown back, and
the same death-like expression upon his face, and she staring out of the
window, but, I am certain, seeing nothing of the country through which
we were passing. It was long after midnight when we reached the capital.
Once more the same obsequious servant was in attendance. A carriage, he
informed us, awaited our arrival at the station door, and in it we were
whirled off to the hotel, at which rooms had been engaged for us.
However disagreeable Pharos might make himself, it was at least certain
that to travel with him was to do so in luxury.
Of all the impressions I received that day, none struck me with greater
force than the drive from the station to the hotel. I had expected to
find a typical Eastern city; in place of it I was confronted with one
that was almost Parisian, as far as its handsome houses and broad
tree-shaded streets were concerned. Nor was our hotel behind it in point
of interest. It proved to be a gigantic affair, elaborately decorated in
the Egyptian fashion, and replete, as the advertisements say, with every
modern convenience. The owner himself met us at the entrance, and from
the fact that he informed Pharos, with the greatest possible respect,
that his old suite of rooms had been retained for him, I gathered that
they were not strangers to each other.
"At last we are in Cairo, Mr. Forrester," said the latter, with an ugly
sneer, when we had reached our sitting-room, in which a meal had been
prepared for us, "and the dream of your life is realised. I hasten to
offer you my congratulations."
In my own mind I had a doubt as to whether it was a matter of
congratulation to me to be there in his company. I, however, made an
appropriate reply, and then assisted the Fraeulein Valerie to divest
herself of her travelling cloak. When she had done so we sat down to our
meal. The long railway journey had made us hungry, but, though I
happened to know that he had tasted nothing for more than eight hours,
Pharos would not join us. As soon as we had finished we bade each other
good-night and retired to our various apartments.
On reaching my room I threw open my window and looked out. I could
scarcely believe that I was in the place in which my father had taken
such delight and where he had spent so many of the happiest hours of his
life.
When I woke, my first thought was to study the city from my bedroom
window. It was an exquisite morning, and the scene before me more than
equalled it in beauty. From where I stood I looked away across the flat
roofs of houses, over the crests of palm trees, into the blue distance
beyond, where, to my delight, I could just discern the Pyramids peering
up above the Nile. In the street below stalwart Arabs, donkey boys, and
almost every variety of beggar could be seen, and while I watched,
emblematical of the change in the administration of the country, a guard
of Highlanders, with a piper playing at their head, marched by _en
route_ to the headquarters of the Army of Occupation.
As usual, Pharos did not put in an appearance when breakfast was served.
Accordingly, the Fraeulein and I sat down to it alone. When we had
finished we made our way to the cool stone veranda, where we seated
ourselves, and I obtained permission to smoke a cigarette. That my
companion had something upon her mind I was morally convinced. She
appeared nervous and ill at ease, and I noticed that more than once,
when I addressed some remark to her, she glanced eagerly at my face as
if she hoped to obtain an opening for what she wanted to say, and then,
finding that I was only commenting on the stateliness of some Arab
passer-by, the beautiful peep of blue sky permitted us between two white
buildings opposite, or the graceful foliage of a palm overhanging a
neighbouring wall, she would heave a sigh and turn impatiently from me
again.
"Mr. Forrester," she said at last, when she could bear it no longer, "I
intended to have spoken to you yesterday, but I was not vouchsafed an
opportunity. You told me on board the yacht that there was nothing you
would not do to help me. I have a favour to ask of you now. Will you
grant it?"
Guessing from her earnestness what was coming, I hesitated before I
replied.
"Would it not be better to leave it to my honour to do or not to do so
after you have told me what it is?" I asked.
"No; you must give me your promise first," she replied. "Believe me, I
mean it when I say that your compliance with my request will make me a
happier woman than I have been for some time past." Here she blushed a
rosy red, as though she thought she had said too much. "But it is
possible my happiness does not weigh with you."
"It weighs very heavily," I replied. "It is on that account I can not
give my promise blindfold."
On hearing this she seemed somewhat disappointed.
"I did not think you would refuse me," she said, "since what I am going
to ask of you is only for your own good. Mr. Forrester, you have seen
something on board the yacht of the risk you run while you are
associated with Pharos. You are now on land again and your own master.
If you desire to please me, you will take the opportunity and go away.
Every hour that you remain here only adds to your danger. The crisis
will soon come, and then you will find that you have neglected my
warning too long."
"Forgive me," I answered, this time as seriously as even she could
desire, "if I say that I have not neglected your warning. Since you have
so often pointed it out to me, and judging from what I have already seen
of the character of the old gentleman in question, I can quite believe
that he is capable of any villainy; but, if you will pardon my reminding
you of it, I think you have heard my decision before. I am willing, nay,
even eager to go away, provided you will do the same. If, however, you
decline, then I remain. More than that I will not, and less than that I
can not, promise."
"What you ask is impossible; it is out of the question," she continued.
"As I have told you so often before, Mr. Forrester, I am bound to him
forever and by chains that no human power can break. What is more, even
if I were to do as you wish, it would be useless. The instant he wanted
me, if he were thousands of miles away and only breathed my name, I
should forget your kindness, my freedom, his old cruelty--everything, in
fact--and go back to him. Have you not seen enough of us to know that
where he is concerned, I have no will of my own? Besides--but there, I
can not tell you any more! Let it suffice that I can not do as you ask."
Remembering the interview I had overheard that night on board the yacht,
I did not know what to say. That Pharos had her under his influence I
had, as she had said, seen enough to be convinced. And yet, regarded in
the light of our sober, every-day life, how impossible it all seemed! I
looked at the beautiful, fashionably-dressed woman seated by my side,
playing with the silver handle of her Parisian parasol, and wondered if
I could be dreaming, and whether I should presently waken to find myself
in bed in my comfortable rooms in London once more, and my servant
entering with my shaving-water.
"I think you are very cruel!" she said, when I returned no answer.
"Surely you must be aware how much it adds to my unhappiness to know
that another is being drawn into his toils, and yet you refuse to do the
one and only thing which can make my mind easier."
"Fraeulein," I said, rising and standing before her, "the first time I
saw you I knew that you were unhappy. I could see that the canker of
some great sorrow was eating into your heart. I wished that I could help
you, and Fate accordingly willed that I should make your acquaintance.
Afterward, by a terrible series of coincidences, I was brought into
personal contact with your life. I found that my first impression was a
correct one. You were miserable, as, thank God! few human beings are. On
the night that I dined with you in Naples you warned me of the risk I
was running in associating with Pharos and implored me to save myself.
When I knew that you were bound hand and foot to him, can you wonder
that I declined? Since then I have been permitted further opportunities
of seeing what your life with him is like. Once more you ask me to save
myself, and once more I make you this answer. If you will accompany me,
I will go; and if you do so, I swear to God that I will protect and
shield you to the best of my ability. I have many influential friends
who will count it an honour to take you into their families until
something can be arranged, and with whom you will be safe. On the other
hand, if you will not go, I pledge you my word that so long as you
remain in this man's company I will do so too. No argument will shake my
determination and no entreaty move me from the position I have taken
up."
I searched her face for some sign of acquiescence, but could find none.
It was bloodless in its pallor, and yet so beautiful that at any other
time and in any other place I should have been compelled by the love I
felt for her--a love that I now knew to be stronger than life itself--to
take her in my arms and tell her that she was the only woman in the wide
world for me, that I would protect her, not only against Pharos, but
against his master Apollyon himself. Now, however, such a confession was
impossible. Situated as we were, hemmed in by dangers on every side, to
speak of love to her would have been little better than an insult.
"What answer do you give me?" I said, seeing that she did not speak.
"Only that you are cruel," she replied. "You know my misery, and yet you
add to it. Have I not told you that I should be a happier woman if you
went?"
"You must forgive me for saying so, but I do not believe it," I said,
with a boldness and a vanity that surprised even myself. "No, Fraeulein,
do not let us play at cross-purposes. It is evident you are afraid of
this man, and that you believe yourself to be in his power. I feel
convinced it is not as bad as you say. Look at it in a matter-of-fact
light and tell me how it can be so? Supposing you leave him now, and we
fly, shall we say, to London. You are your own mistress and quite at
liberty to go. At any rate, you are not his property to do with as he
likes, so if he follows you and persists in annoying you, there are many
ways of inducing him to refrain from doing so."
She shook her head.
"Once more, I say, how little you know him, Mr. Forrester, and how
poorly you estimate his powers! Since you have forced me to it, let me
tell you that I have twice tried to do what you propose--once in St.
Petersburg and once in Norway. He had terrified me, and I swore that I
would rather die than see his face again. Almost starving, supporting
myself as best I could by my music, I made my way to Moscow, thence to
Kiev and Lemburg, and across the Carpathians to Buda-Pesth. Some old
friends of my father's, to whom I was ultimately forced to appeal, took
me in. I remained with them a month, and during that time heard nothing
either of or from Monsieur Pharos. Then, one night, when I sat alone in
my bedroom, after my friends had retired to rest, a strange feeling that
I was not alone in the room came over me--a feeling that something, I do
not know what, was standing behind me, urging me to leave the house and
to go out into the wood which adjoined it, to meet the man whom I feared
more than poverty, more than starvation, more even than death itself.
Unable to refuse, or even to argue with myself, I rose, drew a cloak
about my shoulders and, descending the stairs, unbarred a door and went
swiftly down the path toward the dark wood to which I have just
referred. Incredible as it may seem, I had not been deceived. Pharos
was there, seated on a fallen tree, waiting for me."
"And the result?"
"The result was that I never returned to the house, nor have I any
recollection of what happened at our interview. The next thing I
remember was finding myself in Paris. Months afterward I learned that my
friends had searched high and low for me in vain, and had at last come
to the conclusion that my melancholy had induced me to make away with
myself. I wrote to them to say that I was safe, and to ask their
forgiveness, but my letter has never been answered. The next time was in
Norway. While we were there a young Norwegian pianist came under the
spoil of Pharos's influence. But the load of misery he was called upon
to bear was too much for him and he killed himself. In one of his cruel
moments Pharos congratulated me on the success with which I had acted as
his decoy. Realising the part I had unconsciously played, and knowing
that escape in any other direction was impossible, I resolved to follow
the wretched lad's example. I arranged everything as carefully as a
desperate woman could do. We were staying at the time near one of the
deepest fjords, and if I could only reach the place unseen, I was
prepared to throw myself over into the water five hundred feet below.
Every preparation was made, and when I thought Pharos was asleep I crept
from the house and made my way along the rough mountain path to the spot
where I was going to say farewell to my wretched life for good and all.
For days past I had been nerving myself for the deed. Reaching the spot
I stood upon the brink gazing down into the depths below, thinking of my
poor father, whom I expected soon to join, and wondering when my mangled
body would be found. Then, lifting my arms above my head, I was about
to let myself go, when a voice behind me ordered me to stop. I
recognised it, and though I knew that before he could approach me it was
possible for me to effect my purpose and place myself beyond even his
power forever, I was unable to do as I desired.
"'Come here,' he said--and since you know him you can imagine how he
would say it--'this is the second time you have endeavoured to outwit
me. First you sought refuge in flight, but I brought you back. Now you
have tried suicide, but once more I have defeated you. Learn this, that
as in life so even in death you are mine, to do with as I will.' After
that he led me back to the hotel, and from that time I have been
convinced that nothing can release me from the chains that bind me."
Once more I thought of the conversation I had overheard through the
saloon skylight on board the yacht. What comfort to give her or what
answer to make I did not know. I was still debating this in my mind when
she rose and, offering some excuse, left me and went into the house.
When she had gone, I seated myself in my chair again and tried to think
out what she had told me. It seemed impossible that her story could be
true, and yet I knew her well enough by this time to feel sure that she
would not lie to me. But for such a man as Pharos to exist in this
prosaic nineteenth century, and stranger still, for me, Cyril Forrester,
who had always prided myself on my clearness of head, to believe in him,
was absurd. That I was beginning to do so was, in a certain sense, only
too true. I was resolved, however, that, happen what might in the
future, I would keep my wits about me and endeavour to outwit him, not
only for my own sake, but for that of the woman I loved, whom I could
not induce to seek refuge in flight while she had the opportunity.
During the afternoon I saw nothing of Pharos. He kept himself closely
shut up in his own apartment and was seen only by that same impassive
man-servant I have elsewhere described. The day, however, was not
destined to go by without my coming in contact with him. The Fraeulein
Valerie and I had spent the evening in the cool hall of the hotel, but
being tired she had bidden me good-night and gone to her room at an
early hour. Scarcely knowing what to do with myself, I was making my way
upstairs to my room, when the door of Pharos's apartment opened and to
my surprise the old man emerged. He was dressed for going out--that is
to say, he wore his long fur coat and curious cap. On seeing him I
stepped back into the shadow of the doorway, and was fortunate enough to
be able to do so before he became aware of my presence. As soon as he
had passed I went to the balustrading and watched him go down the
stairs, wondering as I did so what was taking him from home at such a
late hour. The more I thought of it the more inquisitive I became. A
great temptation seized me to follow him and find out. Being unable to
resist it, I went to my room, found my hat, slipped a revolver into my
pocket, in case I might want it, and set off after him.
On reaching the great hall, I was just in time to see him step into a
carriage, which had evidently been ordered for him beforehand. The
driver cracked his whip, the horses started off, and, by the time I
stood in the porch, the carriage was a good distance down the street.
"Has my friend gone?" I cried to the porter, as if I had hastened
downstairs in the hope of seeing him before he left. "I had changed my
mind and intended accompanying him. Call me a cab as quickly as you
can."
One of the neat little victorias which ply in the streets of Cairo was
immediately forthcoming, and into it I sprang.
"Tell the man to follow the other carriage," I said to the porter, "as
fast as he can go."
The porter said something in Arabic to the driver, and a moment later we
were off in pursuit.
It was a beautiful night, and, after the heat of the day, the rush
through the cool air was infinitely refreshing. It was not until we had
gone upward of a mile, and the first excitement of the chase had a
little abated, that the folly of what I was doing came home to me, but
even then it did not induce me to turn back. Connected with Pharos as I
was, I was determined if possible to find out something more about him
and his doings before I permitted him to get a firmer hold upon me. If I
could only discover his business on this particular night, it struck me,
I might know how to deal with him. I accordingly pocketed my scruples,
and slipping my hand into my pocket to make sure that my revolver was
there, I permitted my driver to proceed upon his way unhindered. By this
time we had passed the Kasr-en-Nil barracks, and were rattling over the
great Nile bridge. It was plain from this that whatever the errand might
be that was taking him abroad, it at least had no connection with old
Cairo.
Crossing the Island of Bulak, and leaving the caravan depot on our left,
we headed away under the avenue of beautiful Lebbek-trees along the road
to Gizeh. At first I thought it must be the Museum he was aiming for,
but this idea was dispelled when we passed the great gates and turned
sharp to the right hand. Holding my watch to the carriage-lamp, I
discovered that it wanted only a few minutes to eleven o'clock.
Although still shaded with Lebbek-trees, the road no longer ran between
human habitations, but far away on the right and left a few twinkling
lights proclaimed the existence of Fellahin villages. Of foot-passengers
we saw none, and save the occasional note of a night-bird, the howling
of a dog in the far distance, and the rattle of our own wheels, scarcely
a sound was to be heard. Gradually the road, which was raised several
feet above the surrounding country, showed a tendency to ascend, and
just as I was beginning to wonder what sort of a Will-o'-the-wisp chase
it was upon which I was being led, and what the upshot of it would be,
it came to an abrupt standstill, and towering into the starlight above
me, I saw two things which swept away all my doubts, and told me, as
plainly as any words could speak, that we were at the end of our
journey. _We had reached the Pyramids of Gizeh._ As soon as I understood
this, I signed to my driver to pull up, and, making him understand as
best I could that he was to await my return, descended and made my way
toward the Pyramids on foot. Keeping my eye on Pharos, whom I could see
ahead of me, and taking care not to allow him to become aware that he
was being followed, I began the long pull up to the plateau on which the
largest of these giant monuments is situated. Fortunately for me the
sand not only prevented any sound from reaching him, but its colour
enabled me to keep him well in sight. The road from the Mena House Hotel
to the Great Pyramid is not a long one, but what it lacks in length it
makes up in steepness. Never losing sight of Pharos for an instant, I
ascended it. On arriving at the top, I noticed that he went straight
forward to the base of the huge mass, and when he was sixty feet or so
from it, called something in a loud voice. He had scarcely done so
before a figure emerged from the shadow and approached him. Fearing they
might see me, I laid myself down on the sand behind a large block of
stone, whence I could watch them, remaining myself unseen.
As far as I could tell, the new-comer was undoubtedly an Arab, and from
the way in which he towered above Pharos, must have been a man of
gigantic stature. For some minutes they remained in earnest
conversation. Then, leaving the place where they had met, they went
forward toward the great building, the side of which they presently
commenced to climb. After a little they disappeared, and, feeling
certain they had entered the Pyramid itself, I rose to my feet and
determined to follow.
The Great Pyramid, as all the world, knows, is composed of enormous
blocks of granite, each about three feet high, and arranged after the
fashion of enormous steps. The entrance to the passage which leads to
the interior is on the thirteenth tier, and nearly fifty feet from the
ground. With a feeling of awe which may be very well understood, when I
reached it I paused before entering. I did not know on the threshold of
what discovery I might be standing. And what was more, I reflected that
if Pharos found me following him, my life would in all probability pay
the forfeit. My curiosity, however, was greater than my judgment, and
being determined, since I had come so far, not to go back without
learning all there was to know, I hardened my heart, and, stooping down,
entered the passage. When I say that it is less than four feet in
height, and of but little more than the same width, and that for the
first portion of the way the path slopes downward at an angle of
twenty-six degrees, some vague idea may be obtained of the unpleasant
place it is. But if I go on to add that the journey had to be undertaken
in total darkness, without any sort of knowledge of what lay before me,
or whether I should ever be able to find my way out again, the
foolhardiness of the undertaking will be even more apparent. Step by
step, and with a caution which I can scarcely exaggerate, I made my way
down the incline, trying every inch before I put my weight upon it and
feeling the walls carefully with either hand in order to make sure that
no other passages branched off to right or left. After I had been
advancing for what seemed an interminable period, but could not in
reality have been more than five minutes. I found myself brought to a
standstill by a solid wall of stone. For a moment I was at a loss how to
proceed. Then I found that there was a turn in the passage, and the
path, instead of continuing to descend, was beginning to work upward,
whereupon, still feeling my way as before, I continued my journey of
exploration. The heat was stifling, and more than once foul things, that
only could have been bats, flapped against my face and hands and sent a
cold shudder flying over me. Had I dared for a moment to think of the
immense quantity of stone that towered above me, or what my fate would
be had a stone fallen from its place and blocked the path behind me, I
believe I should have been lost for good and all. But, frightened as I
was, a greater terror was in store for me.
After I had been proceeding for some time along the passage, I found
that it was growing gradually higher. The air was cooler, and raising my
head cautiously in order not to bump it against the ceiling, I
discovered that I was able to stand upright. I lifted my hand, first a
few inches, and then to the full extent of my arm; but the roof was
still beyond my reach. I moved a little to my right in order to
ascertain if I could touch the wall, and then to the left. But once more
only air rewarded me. It was evident that I had left the passage and was
standing in some large apartment; but, since I knew nothing of the
interior of the Pyramid, I could not understand what it was or where it
could be situated. Feeling convinced in my own mind that I had missed my
way, since I had neither heard nor seen anything of Pharos, I turned
round and set off in what I considered must be the direction of the
wall; but though I walked step by step, once more feeling every inch of
the way with my foot before I put it down, I seemed to have covered
fifty yards before my knuckles came in contact with it. Having located
it, I fumbled my way along it in the hope that I might discover the
doorway through which I had entered; but though I tried for some
considerable time, no sort of success rewarded me. I paused and tried to
remember which way I had been facing when I made the discovery that I
was no longer in the passage. In the dark, however, one way seemed like
another, and I had turned myself about so many times that it was
impossible to tell which was the original direction. Oh, how bitterly I
repented having ever left the hotel! For all I knew to the contrary I
might have wandered into some subterranean chamber never visited by the
Bedouins or tourists, whence my feeble cries for help would not be
heard, and in which I might remain until death took pity on me and
released me from my sufferings.
Fighting down the terror that had risen in my heart and threatened to
annihilate me, I once more commenced my circuit of the walls, but again
without success. I counted my steps backward and forward in the hope of
locating my position. I went straight ahead on the chance of striking
the doorway haphazard, but it was always with the same unsatisfactory
result. Against my better judgment I endeavoured to convince myself that
I was really in no danger, but it was useless. At last my fortitude gave
way, a clammy sweat broke out upon my forehead, and remembering that
Pharos was in the building, I shouted aloud to him for help. My voice
rang and echoed in that ghastly chamber till the reiteration of it
well-nigh drove me mad. I listened, but no answer came. Once more I
called, but with the same result. At last, thoroughly beside myself with
terror, I began to run aimlessly about the room in the dark, beating
myself against the walls and all the time shouting at the top of my
voice for assistance. Only when I had no longer strength to move, or
voice to continue my appeals, did I cease, and falling upon the ground
rocked myself to and fro in silent agony. Times out of number I cursed
myself and my senseless stupidity in having left the hotel to follow
Pharos. I had sworn to protect the woman I loved, and yet on the first
opportunity I had ruined everything by behaving in this thoughtless
fashion.
Once more I sprang to my feet and once more I set off on my interminable
search. This time I went more quietly to work, feeling my way carefully
and making a mental note of every indentation in the walls. Being
unsuccessful, I commenced again, and once more scored a failure. Then
the horrible silence, the death-like atmosphere, the flapping of the
bats in the darkness, and the thought of the history and age of the
place in which I was imprisoned, must have affected my brain, and for a
space I believe I went mad. At any rate, I have a confused recollection
of running round and round that loathsome place and of at last falling
exhausted upon the ground, firmly believing my last hour had come. Then
my senses left me and I became unconscious.
How long I remained in the condition I have just described I can not
say. All I know is that when I opened my eyes I found the chamber bright
with the light of torches, and no less a person than Pharos kneeling
beside me. Behind him, but at a respectful distance, were a number of
Arabs, and among them a man whose height could scarcely have been less
than seven feet. This was evidently the individual who had met Pharos at
the entrance to the Pyramid.
"Rise," said Pharos, addressing me, "and let this be a warning to you
never to attempt to spy on me again. Think not that I was unaware that
you were following me, or that the mistake on your part in taking the
wrong turning in the passage was not ordained. The time has now gone by
for me to speak to you in riddles; our comedy is at an end, and for the
future you are my property to do with as I please. You will have no will
but my pleasure, no thought but to act as I shall tell you. Rise and
follow me."
Having said this, he made a sign to the torch-bearers, who immediately
led the way toward the door which was now easy enough to find. Pharos
followed them, and, more dead than alive, I came next, while the tall
man I have mentioned brought up the rear. In this order we groped our
way down the narrow passage. Then it was that I discovered the mistake I
had made in entering. Whether by accident, or by the exercise of
Pharos's will, as he had desired me to believe, it was plain I had taken
the wrong turning, and, instead of going on to the King's Hall, where no
doubt I should have found the man I was following, I had turned to the
left and had entered the apartment popularly, but erroneously, called
the Queen's Chamber.
It would have been difficult to estimate the thankfulness I felt on
reaching the open air once more. How sweet the cool night wind seemed
after the close and suffocating atmosphere of the Pyramid I can not hope
to make you understand. And yet, if I had only known, it would have been
better for me, far better, had I never been found, and my life come to
an end when I fell senseless upon the floor.
When we had left the passage and had clambered down to the sands once
more, Pharos bade me follow him, and leading the way round the base of
the Pyramid, conducted me down the hill toward the Sphinx.
For fully thirty years I had looked forward to the moment when I should
stand before this stupendous monument and try to read its riddle; but in
my wildest dreams I had never thought to do so in such company. Looking
down at me in the starlight, across the gulf of untold centuries, it
seemed to smile disdainfully at my small woes.
"To-night," said Pharos, in that same extraordinary voice he had used a
quarter of an hour before, when he bade me follow him, "you enter upon a
new phase of your existence. Here, under the eyes of the Watcher of
Harmachis, you shall learn something of the wisdom of the ancients."
At a signal the tall man whom he had met at the foot of the Pyramid
sprang forward and seized me by the arms from behind with a grip of
iron. Then Pharos produced from his pocket a small case containing a
bottle. From the latter he poured a few spoonfuls of some fluid into a
silver cup, which he placed to my mouth.
"Drink," he said.
At any other time I should have refused to comply with such a request;
but on this occasion so completely had I fallen under his influence that
I was powerless to disobey.
The opiate, or whatever it was, must have been a powerful one, for I had
scarcely swallowed it before an attack of giddiness seized me. The
outline of the Sphinx and the black bulk of the Great Pyramid beyond
were merged in the general darkness. I could hear the wind of the desert
singing in my ears and the voice of Pharos muttering something in an
unknown tongue beside me. After that I sank down on the sand and
presently became oblivious of everything.
How long I remained asleep I have no idea. All I know is, that with a
suddenness that was almost startling, I found myself awake and standing
in a crowded street. The sun shone brilliantly, and the air was soft and
warm. Magnificent buildings, of an architecture that my studies had long
since made me familiar with, lined it on either hand, while in the
roadway were many chariots and gorgeously-furnished litters, before and
beside which ran slaves, crying aloud in their masters' names for room.
From the position of the sun in the sky, I gathered that it must be
close upon midday. The crowd was momentarily increasing, and as I
walked, marvelling at the beauty of the buildings, I was jostled to and
fro and oftentimes called upon to stand aside. That something unusual
had happened to account for this excitement was easily seen, but what it
was, being a stranger, I had no idea. Sounds of wailing greeted me on
every side, and in all the faces upon which I looked signs of
overwhelming sorrow were to be seen.
Suddenly a murmur of astonishment and anger ran through the crowd, which
separated hurriedly to right and left. A moment later a man came
through the lane thus formed. He was short and curiously misshapen, and
as he walked he covered his face with the sleeve of his robe, as though
he were stricken with grief or shame.
Turning to a man who stood beside me, and who seemed even more excited
than his neighbours, I inquired who the new-comer might be.
"Who art thou, stranger?" he answered, turning sharply on me. "And
whence comest thou that thou knowest not Ptahmes, Chief of the King's
Magicians? Learn, then, that he hath fallen from his high estate,
inasmuch as he made oath before Pharaoh that the first-born of the King
should take no hurt from the spell this Israelitish sorcerer, Moses,
hath cast upon the land. Now the child and all the first-born of Egypt
are dead, and the heart of Pharaoh being hardened against his servant,
he hath shamed him and driven him from before his face."
As he finished speaking, the disgraced man withdrew his robe from his
face, and I realised the astounding fact _that Ptahmes the Magician and
Pharos the Egyptian were not ancestor and descendant, but one and the
same person_.