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This was not a transcript of the material in Ramses' scrolls。 Rather the paragraph contained Lawrence's private ments on what he'd read。
〃Claims to have taken this elixir once and once only。 No further infusion was required。 Brewed the mix for Cleopatra； but felt it was unsafe to discard it。 Reluctant to take it into his body for fear of adverse results。 What if all chemicals in this tomb are properly tested？ What if there is some chemical here which has a rejuvenating effect upon the human body； and can substantially prolong life？〃
The two lines in Egyptian were incoherent。 They said something about magic； secrets； natural ingredients bined to wholly new effect。
So that is what Lawrence had believed； more or less。 And he had taken pains to conceal it in the ancient languages。 Now what did Elliott really believe about this situation？ Especially in light of Henry's story of the mummy ing to life？
It occurred to him again that he was playing a very dramatic little game； that belief is a word we seldom thoroughly examine。 For example； he had all his life〃 believed〃 in the teaching of the Church of England。 But he did not really for a moment expect to enter a Christian heaven when he died； and certainly not a Christian hell。 He would not have gambled one farthing on the existence of either。
One thing was most certain。 If he had actually seen the thing climb out of the coffin； as Henry claimed to have done； he would not be behaving like Henry。 A man of no imagination； that was Henry。 Perhaps the lack of imagination had always been the tragic flaw。 It occurred to him that Henry was a man who did not grasp the implications of things。
Far from running from this mystery； as Henry had chosen to do； Elliott had bee obsessed with it。 If only he had stayed longer in the Stratford house； been a little more clever。 He could have examined those alabaster jars； he could have taken one of the scrolls。 That poor little Rita would have settled for just about any explanation。
He wished he had tried。
He also wished that his son； Alex； were not suffering。 For that was the only unpleasant aspect of this entertaining mystery so far。
Alex had been calling Julie all day。 He was in a great state of alarm over the guest in Julie's house； whom he had only glimpsed through the conservatory doors…〃an enormous man； well； very tall； anyhow； with blue eyes。 Quite a 。。。 a good…looking fellow； but certainly too old to be courting Julie！〃
Then at eight this evening； there had e a call from one of those well…meaning friends who make a point of circulating rumours relentlessly。 Julie had been seen dancing at the Victoria Hotel with a handsome and imposing stranger。 Were not Alex and Julie engaged？ Alex was now beside himself with worry。
Though he had called Julie every hour upon the hour all afternoon； there had been no response from her。 Finally he had begged his father to intervene。 Could not Elliott get to the bottom of this？
Yes。 Elliott would get to the bottom of this。 In fact； Elliott felt curiously enlivened by this entire development。 Elliott felt almost young； daydreaming about Ramses the Great and his elixir hidden among poisons。
He rose now from his fortable chair by the fire； ignoring the familiar pain in his legs； and went to his desk to write a letter。
Dearest Julie；
It has e to my attention that you are entertaining a guest； a friend of your father's； I believe。 It would give me great pleasure to meet this gentleman。 Perhaps I can be of some service to you during his stay； and certainly would not wish to miss such an opportunity。
May I ask you to join us here tomorrow night for family dinner。。。
In a few moments he had finished this note。 He put it in an envelope； sealed it； and took it into the front hall； where he laid it in a silver tray for his man； Walter； to deliver in the morning。 Then he paused。 Of course it was what Alex wanted him to do。 But he knew that he was not doing it for Alex。 And he knew that if any such dinner took place that Alex might be hurt even more than he had been already。 On the other hand； the sooner Alex realized 。。。 He stopped。 He did not really know what it was that Alex was supposed to realize。 He knew only that he himself was inflamed with the mystery that was slowly unfolding before him。
He limped uneasily to the hook behind the stairs； removed his heavy serge cloak and then went out the side door of the house onto the street。 There were four motor cars parked there。
But the Lancia Theta with the electric starter was the only one he ever drove。 And a whole year had passed during which he had not enjoyed that extraordinary pleasure。
It delighted him now that he might take the thing out all alone； without having to consult a groom； a coachman； a valet or a chauffeur。 What a lovely development； that such a plex invention took one back to simplicity。
The worst of it was easing himself onto the front seat； but he managed it。 Then he pressed down on the starter pedal； gave it petrol and he was soon on horseback again； free； as he'd been when he was a young man； heading toward Mayfair at a gallop。
Leaving Ramses； Julie hurried up the stairs and into her room； closing the door behind her。 For a long moment she leaned against the door； her eyes closed。 She could hear Rita bustling about。 She could smell the fragrant wax of the candles Rita always lighted by her bed。 A romantic little touch that Julie retained from her childhood…before there had been electric lights…when the smell of the gaslights had always faintly sickened her。
She thought of nothing now except all that had happened： it filled her so pletely there was no room for true reflection or evaluation。 That pounding sense of an all…consuming adventure was the only attitude she could rationally identify within herself。 Except of course for a physical attraction to Ramses that was acutely painful。
No； not merely physical。 She was falling in love totally。
As she opened her eyes； she saw the portrait of Alex on her dressing table。 And Rita in the shadows； who had just laid out her nightgown over the lace…covered counterpane。 Then gradually she became aware of flowers everywhere。 Bouquets of flowers in glass vases on the dressing table； on the night tables； on her desk in the corner。
〃From the Viscount； miss；〃 Rita said。〃 All these bouquets。 I don't know what he's going to think； miss； about all this 。。。 these strange goings…on。 I don't know what 1 think myself； miss。 。。。〃
〃Of course you don't；〃 Julie said；〃 but； Rita； you mustn't tell a soul； you know that。〃
〃Who would believe me； miss！〃 Rita said。〃 But I don't understand it； miss。 How did he hide in that box？ Why does he eat all that food？〃
For a moment Julie couldn't answer。 What in the world was Rita thinking？
〃Rita； there's nothing to worry about；〃 she said firmly。 She took Rita's hands in hers。〃 Will you believe me when I tell you that he is a good man； and there is a good explanation for everything？〃
Rita stared blankly at Julie。 Her small blue eyes grew very wide suddenly。〃 But； Miss Julie！〃 she whispered。〃 If he's a good man； why did he have to sneak into London like that？ And why didn't he smother under all that wrapping？〃
Julie considered for a moment。
〃Rita； my father knew of the plan；〃 she said soberly。〃 He approved of it。〃
Can we really burn in hell for telling lies？ Julie thought。 Especially lies that calm other people immediately？
〃I might even add；〃 Julie said；〃 that the man had a very important purpose here。 And only a few people in the government know about it。〃
〃Ohhhh 。。。〃 Rita was dumbfounded。
〃Of course a few very important people at Stratford Shipping know as well； but you mustn't breathe a word。 Especially not to Henry； or Uncle Randolph； or Lord Rutherford or anyone else； you see。。。〃
Rita nodded。〃 Very well； miss。 I didn't know it was like that。〃
After the door had closed； Julie started to laugh and put her hand to her mouth like a schoolgirl。 But the truth was； it made perfect sense。 For what Rita believed； mad as it seemed； was a great deal more plausible than what had really happened。
What had really happened。 She sat down before her mirror。 She began almost idly to take the pins from her hair； and her vision blurred as she looked at her own reflection。 She saw the room as if through a veil； she saw the flowers； she saw the white lace curtains of her bed； she saw her world； remote； and no longer important。
She drifted slowly through the motions of brushing her hair； of rising； undressing； putting on her gown； and climbing under the covers。 The candles still burned。 The room had a soft lovely glow。 The flowers gave a faint perfume。
Tomorrow she would take him to the museums； if he wanted。 They would take a train perhaps out in the country。 To the Tower of London they might go。 Oh； so many things 。。。 so many； many things。。。
And there came that great lovely cessation of all thought； she saw him； she saw herself and him together。
Samir had been sitting at his desk for the better part of an hour。