She who sleeps A romance of New York and the Nile
Danbazzar waved his cigarette in the direction of John Cumberland, and
the latter, smiling, replied:
“It’s a deal in Egyptian antiquities, Barry, as no doubt you surmise.
But in a new kind of antiquity--different from any Danbazzar has ever
offered me before; different in every way.”
“You are right,” boomed the deep voice. “No such proposition has been
made to any living man, I should guess, since the days of Rameses the
Ninth.”
Danbazzar imparted a quality of awe to this extraordinary statement
which was not without its effect upon Barry. He found himself studying
the large, well-shaped hand holding a lighted cigarette and discovered
a curious fascination in a little scarab ring on the fourth finger. As
one does upon meeting a man of whom one has heard much, he endeavoured
to sum up his impressions of Danbazzar and to compare the result with
what he had hitherto learned about him.
He was reputed to be the agent of an individual or a syndicate in
Egypt, and it was rumoured that his activities had more than once
attracted official attention. Certainly, he had been the medium
through which many rare antiquities had reached collections of wealthy
connoisseurs, and indeed, more than one public institution. John
Cumberland’s museum had been enriched by not a few items obtained in
this way. And since the export of such antiques was contrary to the
laws of the Egyptian government, and their importation subject to a
heavy tax by that of the United States, it was only reasonable to
suppose that Danbazzar was a smuggler. But he was master of his
subject, a fact to which the names of his patrons testified. His
nationality was unknown.
“It is some years since we have met,” John Cumberland pursued, “On the
last occasion, if I remember rightly, you brought me----”
He pointed to a very beautiful enamelled casket enclosed in a glass
case.
“Correct,” Danbazzar nodded. “There are only two of that period in
existence, and the other is in the Louvre. I had the honour to supply
it to France, as I told you at the time of our deal.”
“Yes, I remember,” said John Cumberland. “And now, Barry--” turning to
his son--“I have been given first refusal of a proposition which, if
it matures, will win me a place among the _real_ Egyptologists; let me
in on the ground floor, in fact.”
Danbazzar raised his hand, checking the speaker.
“One moment, Mr. Cumberland,” he interrupted, and turned to Barry,
fixing upon him a penetrating glance from his extraordinary eyes. “You
quite understand that what you are about to hear must not be mentioned
in any shape or form to anyone now outside this room?”
“Quite,” said Barry, almost startled by the intensity of the speaker’s
gaze. “You may rely upon me.”
He glanced at his father, and realized that he was labouring under the
influence of intense excitement. His voice, his colour, his movements
betrayed him.
Enthusiastic though John Cumberland had always been upon this subject,
Barry could never remember to have seen him quite so roused before. He
felt, suddenly, that he stood upon the verge of something momentous.
The shadow of Ancient Egypt at last was reaching out to touch him. He
experienced a momentary shrinking, followed by a thrill of
anticipation, communicated, possibly, from father to son.
“I have seen a papyrus to-night, Barry,” John Cumberland went on,
“which even my limited study of the subject”--he acknowledged with a
smile Danbazzar’s gesture of denial--“shows me to be unique. You shall
see it presently, if you wish--that is, with my friend’s consent.”
Consent was given in a gracious gesture.
“It may mean little to you, but it has meant much to me. I foresee
that reproductions of it will occupy a place in the library of every
student of Egyptology. It will be more sought after than the Papyrus
Harris, or the Papyrus Ebers. The discovery of the Rosetta Stone,
itself, will almost be dwarfed by the publication of the Danbazzar
Papyrus----”
“Mr. Cumberland!” Danbazzar’s voice broke in imperiously. “You have
heard my proposition with all its conditions. If you accept them, the
papyrus shall be known as the ‘Cumberland Papyrus.’ Upon this I
insist. It is no more than your due. By your efforts its authenticity
must be established.”
“A minor point,” John Cumberland assured him. “My share will be that
of a backer. You are the discoverer.”
“Not of the sarcophagus,” was the reply. “This has yet to be
discovered, and can only be discovered by your help.”
“Tremendously thrilling!” said Barry, standing up restlessly and
lighting a fresh cigarette; “but, as I expected, right over my head.
Does it mean a job of exploration or something?”
“It does,” said his father, looking at him.
“Might I take a peep at this papyrus?”
Danbazzar bowed gravely, and from the other side of the library table
took up a large portfolio having double locks. He opened it carefully
and spread out a stained fragment, some three feet in length, part of
which was clearly missing and other parts of which were defaced by
curious stains.
It bore rows of figures of a type quite familiar to Barry, but
nevertheless meaningless, and some of the colouring retained much of
its original freshness. It seemed to deal with the inevitable subject
of burial, but upon one figure, perfectly preserved, he fastened his
gaze as if hypnotized. It was that of a slender girl, more delicately
drawn than any he ever remembered to have seen. But that which held
him enthralled was the resemblance, the uncanny resemblance, of this
figure to the girl of the balcony.
Allowing for the conventional methods of the ancient artist, it might
have been her portrait!
He heard Danbazzar speaking.
“My own translation is here,” he was saying, indicating a manuscript
which he held in his hand. “I have asked your father to have it
checked by any two authorities he may select. But the theory that I
have based upon this is the point that will interest you.”
“It will startle you out of your life!” John Cumberland interjected.
Barry looked up.
“What _is_ the theory?” he asked, looking from face to face.
“The theory is,” Danbazzar replied, “that unless some unforeseen
accident occurs, or has already occurred, we shall shortly be in a
position to learn some of the secrets of Ancient Egypt from the lips
of one who lived there!”
CHAPTER VII.
ZALITHEA
“I should be glad,” said John Cumberland, “if you would just run
over the main facts again for Barry’s benefit.”
Danbazzar inclined his head in that courtly manner which was his and
glanced aside at the younger man.
“Quite so,” Barry agreed. His original purpose was forgotten, for here
apparently was an even deeper mystery than that which had been
puzzling him. “At the moment I simply don’t know what to make of it
all, so please start right at the beginning.”
Danbazzar took up a position before the mantelpiece. Barry could not
help thinking that the background suited the figure. The man had the
majestic presence of a Pharaoh.
“The facts,” he began, speaking slowly and impressively and
emphasizing his statements with graceful and unfamiliar gestures, “are
of a sort which you would be justified in doubting if you met them in
a Sunday newspaper. My reputation, though, gives them a greater value.
But in spite of a life devoted to these subjects, I’m not infallible,
and I won’t consent to go any further, as I have already told you, Mr.
Cumberland”--turning in the latter’s direction--“until two other
opinions have been taken.”
“Your proposal is fair and reasonable,” was the reply; “and I have
already agreed to it.”
“Very well!” Danbazzar resumed. “The story starts from five years ago,
when I was paying one of my periodical visits to Egypt, and when I
discovered”--he pointed--“this papyrus. I won’t bore you with
particulars of how it came into my possession as Mr. John Cumberland
has these already. Nor can I account for its presence in the place
where it was found. Enough to say that I recognized it to be genuine
and immediately set to work to decipher it. I tried to restore, as far
as possible, those parts which had become defaced.
“A first glance had shown me that it was not the ordinary ritual
buried with most mummies. A very short study proved that is was
unique--unique in every way--and that it dated from the latter part of
the reign of Seti the First.”
“When did he reign?” Barry asked.
“Roughly, about thirteen hundred and sixty years before Christ!”
“Good heavens!” Barry stared again at the fragment with its amazing
freshness of colouring; “then this thing is something over three
thousand two hundred years old?”
“Precisely,” Danbazzar nodded. “In other words, it dates from a time
when the art of mummifying human bodies had reached a very high state
of perfection. One day, perhaps very soon, you will see the mummy of
Seti himself in the Cairo Museum. You will never forget the majesty of
his features preserved by that lost art for over three thousand years.
I mention the fact of the high development of the art of the mummy
maker at this period, because the contents of the papyrus show that
this had been achieved by long years of study, and that even more
extraordinary results were looked for by a certain group of students
closely associated with Pharaoh’s court.
“I found it to consist of two parts. The first, fortunately, almost
complete, the second, as you see, with a great part missing. How much
is missing I can’t even surmise, but I should say that from this
point”--he bent forward and laid a long finger upon the papyrus--“to
the end where it is torn covers a period of some two hundred and
eighty years. It bears the names, or as we should say, the signatures,
of six generations of priests.
“The first and shorter part, written toward the end of Seti’s reign,
if I’m not mistaken, states that in accordance with the wishes of a
certain learned high priest of the Temple of Amen Ra at Thebes and
with the consent of Pharaoh, an attempt was made to prove that not
only the physical frame but human life itself could be preserved
indefinitely under peculiar conditions.”
“What!” Barry exclaimed incredulously--“that a living person could be
mummified and remain alive?”
“This priest,” Danbazzar replied, “referred to in the papyrus--his
name would mean nothing to you--believed that he had perfected a
process for accomplishing this! It was all an outcome of that peculiar
egotism which belonged to the Ancient Egyptians. And in this way, no
doubt, he interested Pharaoh in his experiments.
“You get what I mean? The statues and records which had preserved for
posterity the principal events of earlier reigns weren’t good enough
to tell coming ages of the greatness of Seti the First! To _his_ glory
a _living witness_ should be left behind to testify to the ancient
grandeur of Egypt. This is stated at the beginning of the papyrus,
which then goes on to relate that a beautiful captive, attached to the
person of the Queen, was selected for this high honour.”
“High honour!” cried Barry. “You mean she was selected to be put to
death!”
Danbazzar smiled slightly.
“As it is stated that she was of great beauty and bodily perfection,”
he admitted, “it is just possible that an element of jealousy entered
into this selection. At any rate, for whatever reason, this girl was
chosen, and she is referred to in the writing as Zalithea, a Princess
of Unu, taken captive in the wars of Seti. As Egyptologists have never
succeeded in identifying this island of Unu, we can’t even guess at
the nationality of Zalithea. But she possibly came from the
neighbourhood of Cyprus.
“Now--” he paused, raising his finger--“the nature of the process by
which this suspension of life was induced, and that by which it was to