“I can never have peace in this land—­I can never forget the day!” she answered drearily.  “Oh, my beloved!  Oh, my lord, it was I who sent thee to it—­it was I, it was I!  Give me my own country—­give me the gods of my people; here there is only memory and pain, and no rest, no rest ever!”

She could not be persuaded to sit down and rest until Anita herself took the matter into her own hands and insisted that she should.  That was at tea-time.  Anita, showing some little trace of feeling now that Cleek had gone to wash his hands and was no longer there to occupy her thoughts, placed a deep, soft chair near the window, and would not yield until the violet-clad figure of the mourner sank down into the depths of it and leaned back with its shrouded face drooping in silent melancholy.

And it was while she was so sitting that Cleek came into the room and did a most unusual, a most ungentlemanly thing, in the eyes of the Major and his son.

Without hesitating, he walked to within a yard or two of where she was sitting, and then, in the silliest of silly tones, blurted out suddenly:  “I say, don’t you know, I’ve had a jolly rum experience.  You know that blessed room at the angle just opposite the library—­the one with the locked door?”

The drooping, violet figure straightened abruptly, and the Major felt for the moment as if he could have kicked Cleek with pleasure.  Of course they knew the room.  It was there that the two mummy cases were kept, sacred from the profaning presence of any but this stricken woman.  No wonder that she bent forward, full of eagerness, full of the dreadful fear that Frankish feet had crossed the threshold, Frankish eyes looked within the sacred shrine.

“Well, don’t you know,” went on Cleek, without taking the slightest notice of anything, “just as I was going past that door I picked up a most remarkable thing.  Wonder if it’s yours, madam?” glancing at Zuilika.  “Just have a look at it, will you?  Here, catch!” And not until he saw a piece of gold spin through the air and fall into Zuilika’s lap did the Major remember that promise of last night.

“Oh, come, I say, St. Aubyn, that’s rather thick!” sang out young Burnham-Seaforth indignantly, as Zuilika caught the coin in her lap.  “Blest if I know what you call manners, but to throw things at a lady is a new way of passing them in this part of the world, I can assure you.”

“Awfully sorry, old chap, no offence, I assure you,” said Cleek, more asinine than ever, as Zuilika, having picked up the piece and looked at it, disclaimed all knowledge of it, and laid it on the edge of the table without any further interest in it or him.  “Just to show, you know, that I—­er—­couldn’t have meant anything disrespectful, why—­er—­you all know, don’t you know, how jolly much I respect Senorita Rosario, by Jove! and so—­Here, senorita, you catch, too, and see if the blessed thing’s yours.”  And, picking up the coin, tossed it into her lap just as he had done with Zuilika.