benefited by his wealth or had not suffered through his hardness. Those too, perhaps, who had something to gain through the rich man's death. The most interesting witness for this strange defence was undoubtedly Suem-ka, the slave. She was a fine, rather coarse-looking girl, with large dark eyes and full figure. She was entirely wrapped in the folds of a thick black veil, but her arms and hands, as she raised them imploringly towards the Pharaoh, and swore before Isis that she had never been aught but a lowly handmaiden to her dead master, were, I noticed, covered with rings and gems.
The rich man had many friends. They formed a veritable phalanx round his corpse, defying the outraged relatives, confronting his enemies, and entreating for him the right of embalming, of holy sepulture, so that his body might be kept pure and undefiled from decay, ready to once more receive the soul, when it had concluded its wanderings in the shadowland where dwelleth Anubis and Hor, and Ra, the Most High.
I felt strangely impressed by this curious pleading for one so silent and so still, who seemed to stand there in awesome majesty, hearing accusation and defence with the same contemptuous solemnity, the same dignity of eternal sleep.
When accusers and defenders had had their say, there was a long moment of silence: then the three judges rose and recapitulated the sins and virtues of the dead man. Personally, I must confess that, had I been on the jury, I should have found it very difficult to give any opinion on the case. Suem-ka, the slave, with her arms and hands covered with jewels, was, to my mind, the strongest witness against the master whom she tried to shield. But then it did not transpire that the deceased had had a wife, or had any children. The
