them. It was left for us to discover that."

"Was that so? It certainly does not look like a valley of tombs."

"They were hidden with all the cunning which the Eastern mind could
devise, and yet most of them have been robbed."

They had left the house and were sitting on lounge chairs in the front
of the hut. There was a beautiful moon and a sky full of stars, such
as Margaret had never seen before.

"Come on, Mike!" Freddy called out. "Don't make yourself scarce. Meg
and I don't want to discuss family secrets. Her first night in the
valley is going to be the real thing--no intrusion of family
skeletons--they can wait."

"Our family skeletons would feel themselves very out of place here,"
Margaret said as Michael Amory appeared.

Michael sat down beside her and very soon all three were talking about
topics of general interest. Meg gave them the latest London gossip,
which at the time was very dominated by the unrest in Ireland and the
Ulster scandals.

Michael, who had on one side of his family Irish blood and strong Irish
sentiments, did not voice his opinions. He listened to all that
Margaret had to tell her brother, news principally gathered from
friends living in Ulster and from the violently anti-Nationalist press.
There certainly seemed exciting times in Ireland and Margaret's talk
was unprejudiced and interesting.

While they were talking Mike was able to enjoy the girl's beauty and
study her individuality. Pretty as she was--and more than pretty--it
was her personality which pleased him--the bigness of her nature, the
evidence of her wide-mindedness and her quick grasp of fresh subjects,
and above all, in her, as in Freddy, there was the ring of
unquestionable honour and clean-mindedness.

Margaret under the Eastern moonlight was charming. Her brown hair was
so soft and thick that Mike would have liked to put his hand through
it, as he saw her do every now and then. Most women, he knew, were shy
of disturbing their hair, however naturally arranged it might seem.
Margaret, when anything excited her, had a trick of putting her long
fingers through her hair, upwards from her forehead, and letting it
fall down again as it felt inclined. Her nicety of dress, too, pleased
her critical inspector. It was fastidiously simple and fastidiously
worn. In this again she was one with her brother.

When English news had been discussed, their talk turned again to Egypt.
Margaret greatly desired to st