ke
this," said the Major solicitously. "Do rest and be at peace for a
little time at least."

"I can never have peace in this land--I can never forget the day!" she
answered drearily. "Oh, my beloved! Oh, my lord, it was I who sent thee
to it--it was I, it was I! Give me my own country--give me the gods of
my people; here there is only memory and pain, and no rest, no rest
ever!"

She could not be persuaded to sit down and rest until Anita herself took
the matter into her own hands and insisted that she should. That was at
tea-time. Anita, showing some little trace of feeling now that Cleek had
gone to wash his hands and was no longer there to occupy her thoughts,
placed a deep, soft chair near the window, and would not yield until the
violet-clad figure of the mourner sank down into the depths of it and
leaned back with its shrouded face drooping in silent melancholy.

And it was while she was so sitting that Cleek came into the room and
did a most unusual, a most ungentlemanly thing, in the eyes of the Major
and his son.

Without hesitating, he walked to within a yard or two of where she was
sitting, and then, in the silliest of silly tones, blurted out suddenly:
"I say, don't you know, I've had a jolly rum experience. You know that
blessed room at the angle just opposite the library--the one with the
locked door?"

The drooping, violet figure straightened abruptly, and the Major felt
for the moment as if he could have kicked Cleek with pleasure. Of course
they knew the room. It was there that the two mummy cases were kept,
sacred from the profaning presence of any but this stricken woman. No
wonder that she bent forward, full of eagerness, full of the dreadful
fear that Frankish feet had crossed the threshold, Frankish eyes looked
within the sacred shrine.

"Well, don't you know," went on Cleek, without taking the slightest
notice of anything, "just as I was going past that door I picked up a
most remarkable thing. Wonder if it's yours, madam?" glancing at
Zuilika. "Just have a look at it, will you? Here, catch!" And not until
he saw a piece of gold spin through the air and fall into Zuilika's lap
did the Major remember that promise of last night.

"Oh, come, I say, St. Aubyn, that's rather thick!" sang out young
Burnham-Seaforth indignantly, as Zuilika caught the coin in her lap.
"Blest if I know what you call manners, but to throw things at a lady is
a new way of passing them in this part of the world, I c