Utopian theories
and to follow him to where his flashes of brilliance carried him. His
dream cities and dream people delighted Margaret. He told her stories
as she had never been told stories before, invented as he went along,
stories which kept her one minute fighting against tears and the next
in delicious laughter.

Margaret never could tell stories, not even to little children; she was
not gifted with a creative brain or ingenuity.

On the heights of the Sahara they, had not broken the silence; it was
only on their return journey, under a canopy of southern stars, that
Margaret had said:

"A short story, please."

And Michael had told her a story about a certain king of Egypt who had
a beautiful slave, who had such power over him that she could make him
do anything she liked. The things she liked were more fantastic than
anything Margaret had ever read in _The Arabian Nights_.

CHAPTER V

Now, on her lounge-chair in front of the hut, Margaret was resting
after their walk. Freddy and Michael were both indoors.

Half an hour or perhaps more might have passed, when suddenly a
luminous figure stood in front of her. She had not seen its approach;
it was simply there before her, just as if it had taken form out of the
desert air.

She recognized that it was the figure of an Egyptian Pharaoh or a high
priest--she could not tell which. It wore the short kilt-like garment
and the high head-dress, with a serpent's head sticking out from the
front of it (the double crown of North and South Egypt, though Margaret
did not know it at the time) which had become familiar to her in the
pictures of ancient Egyptian kings. She had seen many such figures in
her brother's books and in the mural paintings of the tombs.

As Margaret looked with amazement--certainly not fear--at the face of
the strange apparition in front of her, she thought that it was the
saddest she had ever seen. In the eyes there was a world of suffering
and sorrow.

She felt conscious of being awake; the moon and the stars were above
her; they surrounded the luminous figure. Her brain struggled for
intelligence. Was this the spirit of some great king of Egypt, or of a
high priest, or what was it? Was it an optical delusion? If it was a
spirit, why had it come to her?

"Tell me who you are," she said. "Do you want anything?" She spoke
nervously, not expecting an answer.

"I once ruled over Egypt, and I return to see what my people