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 "He who calls himself beloved of the gods hath no love for the sick Pharaoh, who stands between him and absolute power.… The night is lonely … the gardens silent … and the Pharaoh helpless. The stranger has the strength of a lion … the strength which breaks the golden wand of the high priest of Ra with one touch of the hand … and which smothers the last cries of a dying man as easily as the carrion of the wilderness devour their prey …"

"Thou wouldst …"

"I would break the might of him who has ensnared the people of Kamt and broken their allegiance…. The priests of Isis will softly follow in the wake of the stranger, as he turns his footsteps within the hallowed nook…. Horror-struck, they will see the murderer standing beside his victim, then they will loudly call upon the people of Kamt to quit their rejoicings, to forget their songs and laughter and behold the hideous crime committed by him who dared to call himself the son of Ra!"

"Ur-tasen!" shouted the Queen, appalled at the hideousness of so vile a plot.

But I did not wait to hear more—cared not to hear how the man of evil, that cowardly, treacherous priest, succeeded in forcing the unfortunate, criminal woman's will. My only thought was to fly to Hugh, to warn him of the base plots which threatened him, of the villainy of the woman to whom he had all but pledged his troth. Thank God! that monstrous oath had not yet been spoken, and my friend Hugh Tankerville had not, by any pagan ritual, sworn to love a murderess. Thank God!—our God—who led my footsteps to this idolatrous temple to-night, whereby I was allowed to see and hear, and warn Hugh in time.