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THE GATES OF KAMT

staring at the intruder with great, wondering eyes, while in the Queen's face a look of superstitious dread and one of slowly-awakening hope struggled for mastery. The Pharaoh's thin sallow face was inscrutable as a waxen image. He, too, stared at Hugh for a moment, then presently he yawned audibly, as if the advent of any celestial emissary was a matter of complete indifference to him, and turned to the more congenial companionship of his bald-faced chattering apes.

A few minutes—an eternity I thought them then—elapsed in this breathless silence, while to my excited fancy it seemed as if I could hear the beating of my own heart; then Hugh, beckoning to me to follow him, walked down the metal steps and stood at the foot of the sanctuary, framed in by the clouds of the gossamer veil, himself the most impressive thing in this strangely impressive place. His great height, his fine erect carriage, his air of indomitable will and masterfulness, his handsome head, rendered almost spiritual-looking by the long fast and enforced asceticism, seemed all to tower over this land, which was still unknown to him, and over its few awestruck representatives.

He took no heed of the priest, but looked straight at the woman, throwing into his gaze that strange, almost mystic attraction which I myself had so often felt. After a while we heard like a soft sigh, an appealing whisper, a woman's voice repeating:

"Who art thou?"

"The wandering soul of Khefren, come back to Kamt to claim his own again."

"Khefren?"

"Far out, oh, Queen, beyond the valley of death, where flows the sacred river, by whose shores thy ancestors were born and were great, Khefren left a record