Now he understood what that
nightmare foreshadowed. He was about to be convicted in a court of
which all the kings and queens of Egypt were the jury, Menes was
Chief Justice, and the magician Khaemuas played the _role_ of
Attorney-General.
In vain did he sit down and hold fast. Some power took possession of him
which forced him first to stretch out his arm and pick up the cigar-box
containing the hand of Ma-Mee, and next drew him from the friendly
shelter of the deal boards that were about the boat.
Now he was on his feet and walking down the flight of steps opposite to
those on which Menes stood far away. Now he was among all that throng
of ghosts, which parted to let him pass, looking at him as he went with
cold and wondering eyes. They were very majestic ghosts; the ages that
had gone by since they laid down their sceptres had taken nothing from
their royal dignity. Moreover, save one, none of them seemed to have any
pity for his plight. She was a little princess who stood by her mother,
that same little princess whose mummy he had seen and pitied in the
Director's room with a lotus flower thrust beneath her bandages. As he
passed Smith heard her say:
"This Vile One is frightened. Be brave, Vile One!"
Smith understood, and pride came to his aid.
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