Also we felt, all three of us, that we were extremely shabby-looking objects, and though none of us said so, each did his best to improve his personal appearance.  First of all Bickley cut Bastin’s and my hair, after which I did him the same service.  Then Bickley who was normally clean shaven, set to work to remove a beard of about a week’s growth, and I who wore one of the pointed variety, trimmed up mine as best I could with the help of a hand-glass.  Bastin, too, performed on his which was of the square and rather ragged type, wisely rejecting Bickley’s advice to shave it off altogether, offered, I felt convinced, because he felt that the result on Bastin would be too hideous for words.  After this we cut our nails, cleaned our teeth and bathed; I even caught Bickley applying hair tonic from his dressing case in secret, behind a projecting rock, and borrowed some myself.  He gave it me on condition that I did not mention its existence to Bastin who, he remarked, would certainly use the lot and make himself smell horrible.

Next we found clean ducks among our store of spare clothes, for the Orofenans had brought these with our other possessions, and put them on, even adding silk cumberbunds and neckties.  My tie I fastened with a pin that I had obtained in Egypt.  It was a tiny gold statuette of very fine and early workmanship, of the god Osiris, wearing the crown of the Upper Land with the uraeus crest, and holding in his hands, which projected from the mummy wrappings, the emblems of the crook, the scourge and the crux ansata, or Sign of Life.

Bastin, for his part, arrayed himself in full clerical costume, black coat and trousers, white tie and stick-up clergyman’s collar which, as he remarked, made him feel extremely hot in that climate, and were unsuitable to domestic duties, such as washing-up.  I offered to hold his coat while he did this office and told him he looked very nice indeed.

“Beautiful!” remarked Bickley, “but why don’t you put on your surplice and biretta?” (Being very High-Church Bastin did wear a biretta on festival Sundays at home.) “There would be no mistake about you then.”

“I do not think it would be suitable,” replied Bastin whose sense of humour was undeveloped.  “There is no service to be performed at present and no church, though perhaps that cave—­” and he stopped.

When we had finished these vain adornments and Bastin had put away the things and tidied up, we sat down, rather at a loose end.  We should have liked to walk but refrained from doing so for fear lest we might dirty our clean clothes.  So we just sat and thought.  At least Bickley thought, and so did I for a while until I gave it up.  What was the use of thinking, seeing that we were face to face with circumstances which baffled reason and beggared all recorded human experience?  What Bastin did I am sure I do not know, but I think from the expression of his countenance that he was engaged in composing sermons for the benefit of Oro and the Glittering Lady.