or a
leaf in the wind, in and out of the columns and out into the light of
the moon, and through the granite door onto the terrace where once had
been planted the incense trees which had come with the spoil from Punt
to perfume the air to the glory of Ra Hamarkhis.

The rolling of the drum stopped short, and Damaris came to herself with
a start as she stood under the moon, then clasped her hands upon her
thudding heart as she watched a man with two great shaggy dogs walk
across the terrace towards her.

Save for the Mohammedan head-covering he was an Englishman, and he
spoke in his mother's tongue to the girl he loved and whom he had
watched since her arrival with the jostling, laughing crowd.

"The gods of the temple are good to me," he said simply. "I prayed
that I might watch you dance upon the incense terrace of their house;
they have answered my prayer. Come."

As they passed across the terrace to the hall of columns which is the
vestibule of the chapel of the god of Death, he told her how he had
watched and waited, meaning no discourtesy, until she should visit the
temple amongst the limestone hills.

"Where are we going?"

Damaris spoke more to break the spell which seemed to hold her than to
know the end of the walk across the sand. Bewitched by the moon and
the terrific power of old Egypt, she would have followed the man
blindly, fearing no hurt, even into the inner-most sanctuary which,
hewn out of the rock itself, lies at the extreme end of the temple.

"To the Shrine of Anubis the god of Death, where I would show you the
Hawk of Northern Egypt upon the wall."

They passed between the great columns and up the flight of steps to the
doorway beyond which lie the chambers of the Shrine, and there Hugh
Carden Ali took the girl's hand as he called her name aloud, until the
walls or the spirits of the gods thundered back the echo.

"The gods introduced the kings of Egypt to the sanctuary. Anubis god
of Death, as you will see by the painting upon the wall, led the great
queen to the door," he said in reply to a whispered question from
Damaris. "I would not that the shadow of death touched the hem of your
raiment. I called your name aloud so that the gods might hear. . . .
Do I believe in such strange things? How can one say, I believe, or do
not believe, in this land which is in the grip of a dead past which is
not dead?"

And they passed in through the door and stood looking up at the Hawk of