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Updated: June 22, 2025
Mechanically we avoided the footmarks printed in gold avoided them as if they had been covered by invisible feet. Monny was right. Everything was gold and it shone it shone. Dust from the terrible mines of Nub, whence the convict-miners never returned, lay thickly scattered over the rock-floor.
"I think he came from your friend Anthony with an 'H," Cleopatra broke in. "He seemed providential. And he speaks English. The only objection is, he's not as good-looking as Monny and I wanted our dragoman to be. We did hope to get one who would be becoming to us, you see, and give the right sort of Eastern background. But I suppose one can't have everything!
Anthony was going to be happy, and that ought to be a good omen that I should be happy too. "I am almost happy now," Monny went on. "Happier than I thought I could be, with things as they are. I even told Lord Ernest that about you. I had to tell somebody! And besides, I felt it would be good for him to think you cared for Biddy.
Three seconds later we were on the spot; and the only shadows left resolved themselves under my candle light into the forms of Brigit O'Neill, Monny Gilder, Anthony Fenton, and Mrs. East somewhat in the background. Monny's hat was off, and Biddy's was apparently hanging by a hatpin.
Why, the whole trouble at Luxor was on my account. Even you must see that. Monny and I wouldn't have been let into Rechid's house if those secret men hadn't persuaded him to play into their hands, and revenge himself on you men as well as on us, for interfering with Mabel. It was their plot, not Rechid's, we escaped from! And it was theirs at the Temple of Mut, too.
You might think it your duty to spoil Rachel's fun, and she and I are both enjoying it so much." "Can you guess what she means, Duffer?" Biddy appealed to me. "You know I wrote you that Monny and Miss Guest had a secret. I thought afterward it might have been only their plan to see the hasheesh den; but since then I've realized it was something else."
It was only my curiosity which suffered, for I wanted desperately to know whether the donkey had seriously jolted the lady's spine, or whether the news that Sir M. A. Lark was Marcus Antonius, not a more obvious Marcus Aurelius, had fired her imagination. In any case I devoted myself to her while Monny and Brigit frolicked with others; and I had a reward of a kind.
It was a missive which cost me midnight electricity and brain-strain; for not only must I appeal to my lady, I must also suit an environment. Monny had taken up the study of hieroglyphics, in order to appreciate intelligently the tombs and temples of the Nile. She had bought books, and was learning with the energy of a stenographer, to write and read.
But in real life, with a real man, it was the other way round. "I think you're right, Duffer," Biddy said softly. "That's why I wouldn't answer you for good and all, that night at Philae. I felt then it might be kinder to tell you I could never care. But I've thought of nothing else since except a little about Monny and I decided that if it were me, I'd rather be loved, whatever happened.
I did not see that we could be of use to the poor little fool who had married a Turk, yet I was suddenly ready to do what I could. As Rechid Bey brought his wife to the top of the gangway, I lounged out, and spoke. Disconcerted, the stout, good-looking man of thirty let drop the arm of the girl, putting her behind him. And this was what Monny wanted.
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