“Greeting, Egyptian,” he said, mopping his brow with his sleeve for the sun was hot.  “An honour for you!  A great honour!  The King of kings commands your presence.  Yes, he would speak with you with his own lips, and with that abortion of a servant of yours also.  Come!  Come swiftly!”

“Swift as an arrow, Houman,” I answered laughing, “seeing that for three moons I, like an arrow, have rested upon the string and flown no nearer to his Majesty.”

“Three moons!” screeched the eunuch.  “Why, many wait three years and many go to the grave still waiting; bigger men than you, Egyptian, though I hear you do claim to be of royal blood yonder on the Nile.  But talk not of arrows flying towards the most High, for surely it is ill-omened and might earn you another honour, that of the string,” and he made a motion suggestive of a cord encircling his throat.  “Man, leave your bow behind!  Would you appear before the King armed?  Yes, and your dagger also.”

“Perchance a lion might appear before the King and he does not leave his claws and teeth behind,” I answered drily as I divested myself of my weapons.

Then we started, the three of us, leaving the chariot in charge of a soldier.

“Draw your sleeves over your hands,” said the eunuch.  “None must appear before the King showing his hands, and, dwarf, since you have no sleeves, thrust yours into your robe.”

“What am I to do with my feet?” he answered in a thick, guttural voice.  “Will it offend the King of kings to see my feet, most noble eunuch?”

“Certainly, certainly,” answered Houman, “since they are ugly enough to offend even me.  Hide them as much as possible.  Now we are near, down on your faces and crawl forward slowly on your knees and elbows, as I do.  Down, I say!”

So down I went, though with anger in my heart, for be it remembered that I, the modern Allan Quatermain, knew every thought and feeling that passed through the mind of my prototype.

It was as though I were a spectator at a play, with this difference.  I could read the motives and reflections of this former ego as well as observe his actions.  Also I could rejoice when he rejoiced, weep when he wept and generally feel all that he felt, though at the same time I retained the power of studying him from my own modern standpoint and with my own existing intelligence.  Being two we still were one, or being one we still were two, whichever way you like to put it.  Lastly I lacked these powers with reference to the other actors in the piece.  Of these I knew just as much, or as little as my former self knew, that is if he ever really existed.  There was nothing unnatural in my faculties where they were concerned.  I had no insight into their souls any more than I have into those of the people about me to-day.  Now I hope that I have made clear my somewhat uncommon position with reference to these pages from the Book of the Past.