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he had examined earlier。〃 And this； Samir； I want you to examine it。 This is none other than a letter from Cleopatra to Ramses。〃
〃A hoax； Lawrence。 Some sort of little Roman joke。〃
〃No； my friend； nothing of the kind。 She wrote this letter from Rome when Caesar was assassinated！ She told Ramses she was ing home to him； and to Egypt。〃
He laid the letter aside。 When Samir had time he would see for himself what these documents contained。 All the world would see。 He turned back to the original papyrus。
〃But listen to this； Samir…Ramses' last thoughts： 'The Romans can not be condemned for the conquest of Egypt； we were conquered by time itself in the end。 And all the wonders of this brave new century should draw me from my grief and yet I can not heal my heart； and so the mind suffers； the mind closes as if it were a flower without sun。'〃
Samir was still looking at the mummy； looking at the ring。〃 Another reference to the sun。 Again and again the sun。〃 He turned to Lawrence。〃 But surely you don't believe it…！〃
〃Samir； if you can believe in the curse； why can't you believe in an immortal man？〃
〃Lawrence； you play with me。 I have seen the workings of many a curse； my friend。 But an immortal man who lived in Athens under Pericles and Rome under the Republic and Carthage under Hannibal？ A man who taught Cleopatra the history of Egypt？ Of this I know nothing at all。〃
〃Listen again； Samir： 'Her beauty shall forever haunt me； as well as her courage and her frivolity； her passion for life； which seemed inhuman in its intensity while being only human after all。'〃
Samir made no answer。 His eyes were fixed on the mummy again； as if he could not stop looking at it。 Lawrence understood perfectly； which is why he sat with his back to the thing in order to read the papyrus； so that he would get the crucial work done。
〃Lawrence； this mummy is as dead as any I have ever seen in the Cairo Museum。 A storyteller； that is what the man was。 Yet these rings。〃
〃Yes； my friend； I observed it very carefully earlier； it is the cartouche of Ramses the Great； and so we have not merely a storyteller but a collector of antiquities。 Is that what you want me to believe？〃
But what did Lawrence believe？ He sat back against the sagging canvas of the camp chair and let his eyes drift over the contents of this strange room。 Then again he translated from the scroll。
〃 'And so I retreat to this isolated chamber； and now my library shall bee my tomb。 My servants shall anoint 。my body and wrap it in fine funerary linen as was the custom of my time now so long forgotten。 But no knife shall touch me。 No embalmer shall extract the heart and brain from my immortal form。〃
A euphoria overcame Lawrence suddenly； or was it a state of waking dream？ This voice…it seemed so real to him； he fed the personality； as one never did with the ancient Egyptians。 Ah； but of course； this was an immortal man。。。
Elliott was getting drunk； but no one knew it。 Except Elliott； who leaned on the gilded rail of the half…landing again in a rather casual manner that he almost never assumed。 There was a style to even his smallest gestures； and now he carelessly violated it； keenly aware that no one would notice； no one would take offense。
Ah； such a world； made up almost wholly of subtleties。 What a horror。 And he must think of this marriage； he must talk of this marriage； he must do something about the sad spectacle of his son； quite obviously defeated； who； after watching Julie dance with another； came now up the marble stairs。
〃I'm asking you to trust in me；〃 Randolph was saying。〃 I guarantee this marriage。 All it takes is a little time。〃
〃Surely you don't think I enjoy pressing you；〃 Elliott answered。 Thick…tongued。 Drunk all right。〃 I'm much more fortable in a dream world； Randolph； where money simply doesn't exist。 But the fact is； we cannot afford such reverie； either of us。 This marriage is essential for us both。〃
〃Then I shall go to see Lawrence myself。〃
Elliott turned to see his son only a few steps away； waiting like a schoolboy for the adults to acknowledge him。
〃Father； I badly need consolation；〃 Alex said。
〃What you need is courage； young man；〃 Randolph said crossly。〃 Don't tell me you've taken no for an answer again。〃
Alex took a glass of champagne from the passing waiter。
〃She loves me。 She loves me not；〃 he said softly。〃 The simple fact is I cannot live without her。 She's driving me mad。〃
〃Of course you cannot。〃 Elliott laughed gently。〃 Now； look。 That clumsy young man down there is stepping on her feet。 I'm sure she'd be very grateful if you came to her rescue at once。〃
Alex nodded； scarcely noticing as his father took the half…full glass from him and drank down the champagne。 He straightened his shoulders and headed back to the dance floor。 Such a perfect picture。
〃The puzzling part is this；〃 Randolph said under his breath。〃 She loves him。 She always has。〃
〃Yes； but she's like her father。 She loves her freedom。 And frankly I don't blame her。 In a way she's too much for Alex。 But he'd make her happy； I know that he would。〃
〃Of course。〃
〃And she would make him supremely happy； and perhaps no one else ever will。〃
〃Nonsense；〃 Randolph said。〃 Any young woman in London
would give her eyeteeth for the chance to make Alex happy。 The eighteenth Earl of Rutherford？〃
〃Is that really so important？ Our titles； our money； the endless maintenance of our decorative and tiresome little world？〃 Elliott glanced around the ballroom。 This was that lucid and dangerous state with drinking； when everything began to shimmer； when there was meaning in the grain of the marble； when one could make the most offensive speeches。〃 I wonder sometimes if I should be in Egypt with Lawrence。 And if Alex shouldn't peddle his beloved title to someone else。〃
He could see the panic in Randolph's eyes。 Dear God； what did the title mean to these merchant princes； these businessmen who had all but the title？ It wasn't only that Alex might eventually control Julie； and thereby control the Stratford millions； and that Alex himself would be far easier than Julie to control。 It was the prospect of true nobility； of nieces and nephews roaming the park of the old Rutherford estate in Yorkshire； of that miserable Henry Stratford trading on the alliance in every despicable way that he could。
〃We're not defeated yet； Elliott；〃 Randolph said。〃 And I rather like your decorative and tiresome little world。 What else is there when you get right down to it？〃
Elliott smiled。 One more mouthful of champagne and he must tell Randolph what else there was。 He just might。。。
〃I love you； fine English；〃 Malenka said to him。 She kissed him； then helped him with his tie； the soft touch of her fingers against his chin making the hairs rise on his neck。
What lovely fools women were； Henry Stratford thought。 But this Egyptian woman he had enjoyed more than most。 She was dark…skinned； a dancer by profession…a quiet and luscious beauty with whom he could do exactly what he wanted。 You never knew that kind of freedom with an English whore。
He could see himself settling someday in an Eastern country with such a woman…free of all British respectability。 That is； after he had made his fortune at the tables…that one great win he needed to put him quite beyond the world's reach。
For the moment； there was work to be done。 The crowd around the tomb had doubled in size since last evening。 And the trick was to reach his uncle Lawrence before the man was swept up utterly by the museum people and the authorities…to reach him now when he just might agree to anything in return for being left alone。
〃Go on； dearest。〃 He kissed Malenka again and watched her wrap the dark cloak about herself and hurry to the waiting car。 How grateful she was for these small Western luxuries。 Yes； that kind of woman。 Rather than Daisy； his London mistress； a spoilt and demanding creature who nevertheless excited him； perhaps because she was so difficult to please。
He took one last swallow of Scotch； picked up his leather briefcase； and left the tent。
The crowds were ghastly。 All night long he'd been awakened by die grind and huff of automobiles； and frenzied voices。 And now the heat was rising； and he could already feel sand inside his shoes。
How he loathed Egypt。 How he loathed these desert camps and the filthy camel…riding Arabs； and the lazy dirty servants。 How he loathed his uncle's entire world。
And there was Samir； that insolent； irritating assistant who fancied himself Lawrence's social equal； trying to quiet the foolish reporters。 Could this really be the tomb of Ramses II？ Would Lawrence grant an interview？
Henry didn't give a damn。 He pushed past the men who were guarding the entrance to the tomb。
〃Mr。 Stratford； please；〃 Samir called after him。 A lady reporter was on his heels。〃 Let your uncle alone now；〃 Samir said as he drew closer。〃 Let him savor his find。〃
〃The hell I will。〃
He glared at the guard who blocked his path。 The man moved。 Sa