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                         PHAROS, THE EGYPTIAN

                              _A ROMANCE_

                            BY GUY BOOTHBY

               AUTHOR OF DOCTOR NIKOLA, THE LUST OF HATE,
                    THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL, ETC.


NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1899

Copyright, 1898, 1899,
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.

_All rights reserved._




PHAROS, THE EGYPTIAN.




PREFACE.

BEING A LETTER FROM SIR WILLIAM BETFORD, OF BAMPTON ST. MARY, IN
DORSETSHIRE, TO GEORGE TREVELYAN, OF LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, LONDON.



"My dear Trevelyan: Never in my life have I been placed in such an
awkward, not to say invidious, position. I am, as you know, a plain man,
fond of a plain life and plain speaking, and yet I am about to imperil
that reputation by communicating to you what I fancy you will consider
the most extraordinary and unbelievable intelligence you have ever
received in your life. For my own part I do not know what to think. I
have puzzled over the matter until I am not in a position to judge
fairly. You must, therefore, weigh the evidence, first for us both. For
pity's sake, however, do not decide hastily. _In dubiis benigniora
semper sunt praeferenda_, as they used to say in our school days, must be
our motto, and by it we must abide at any hazards. As far as I can see,
we are confronted with one of the saddest and at the same time one of
the most inexplicable cases ever yet recorded on paper. Reduced to its
proper factors it stands as follows: Either Forrester has gone mad and
dreamed it all, or he is sane and has suffered as few others have done
in this world. In either case he is deserving of our deepest pity. In
one way only are we fortunate. Knowing the man as we do, we are in a
position to estimate the value of the accusations he brings against
himself. Of one thing I am convinced--a more honourable being does not
walk this earth. Our acquaintance with him is of equal length. We were
introduced to him, and to each other, on one and the same occasion,
upward of twelve years ago; and during that time I know I am right in
saying neither of us ever had reason to doubt his word or the honour of
a single action. Indeed, to my mind he had but one fault, a not uncommon
one in these latter days of the nineteenth century. I refer to his
somewhat morbid temperament and the consequent leaning toward the
supernatural it produced in him.

"As the world has good reason to remember, his father was perhaps the
most eminent Egyptologist our century has seen; a man whose whole mind
and being was impregnated with a love for that ancient country and its
mystic past. Small wonder, therefore, that the son should have inherited
his tastes and that his life should have been influenced by the same
peculiar partiality. While saying, however, that he had a weakness for
the supernatural, I am by no means admitting that he was what is
vulgarly termed a spiritualist. I do not believe for an instant that he
ever declared himself so openly. His mind was too evenly balanced, and
at the same time too healthy to permit such an enthusiastic declaration
of his interest. For my part, I believe he simply inquired into the
matter as he would have done into, shall we say, the Kinetic theory of
gases, or the history of the ruined cities of Mashonaland, for the
purpose of satisfying his curiosity and of perfecting his education on
the subject. Having thus made my own feelings known to you, I will leave
the matter in your hands, confident that you will do him justice, and
will proceed to describe how the pathetic record of our friend's
experiences came into my possession.

"I had been hunting all day and did not reach home until between
half-past six and seven o'clock. We had a house full of visitors at the
time, I remember, some of whom had been riding with me, and the
dressing-gong sounded as we dismounted from our horses at the steps. It
was plain that if we wished to change our attire and join the ladies in
the drawing-room before dinner was announced, we had no time to lose.
Accordingly we departed to our various rooms with all possible speed.

"There is nothing pleasanter or more refreshing after a long day in the
saddle than a warm bath. On this particular occasion I was in the full
enjoyment of this luxury when a knocking sounded at the door. I inquired
who was there.

"'Me, sir--Jenkins,' replied my servant. 'There is a person downstairs,
sir, who desires to see you.'

"'To see me at this hour,' I answered. 'What is his name, and what does
he want?'

"'His name is Silver, sir,' the man replied; and then, as if the
information might be put forward as some excuse for such a late visit,
he continued: 'I believe he is a kind of foreigner, sir. Leastways, he's
very dark, and don't speak the same, quite, as an Englishman might do.'

"I considered for a moment. I knew of no person named Silver who could
have any possible reason for desiring to see me at seven o'clock in the
evening.

"'Go down and inquire his business,' I said, at length. 'Tell him I am
engaged to-night; but if he can make it convenient to call in the
morning, I will see him.'

"The man departed on his errand, and by the time he returned I had
reached my dressing-room once more.

"'He is very sorry, sir,' he began, as soon as he had closed the door,
'but he says he must get back to Bampton in time to catch the 8.15
express to London. He wouldn't tell me his business, but asked me to say
that it is most important, and he would be deeply grateful if you could
grant him an interview this evening.'

"'In that case,' I said, 'I suppose I _must_ see him. Did he tell you no
more?'

"'No, sir. Leastways, that wasn't exactly the way he put it. He said,
sir, "If the gentleman won't see me otherwise, tell him I come to him
from Mr. Cyril Forrester. Then I think he will change his mind."'

"As the man, whoever he was, had predicted, this _did_ make me change my
mind. I immediately bade Jenkins return and inform him that I would be
with him in a few moments. Accordingly, as soon as I had dressed, I left
my room and descended to the study. The fire was burning brightly, and a
reading-lamp stood upon the writing-table. The remainder of the room,
however, was in shadow, but not sufficiently so to prevent my
distinguishing a dark figure seated between the two bookcases. He rose
as I entered, and bowed before me with a servility that, thank God! is
scarcely English. When he spoke, though what he said was grammatically
correct, his accent revealed the fact that he was not a native of our
Isles.

"'Sir William Betford, I believe,' he began, as I entered the room.

"'That is my name,' I answered, at the same time turning up the lamp and
lighting the candles upon the mantelpiece in order that I might see him
better. 'My man tells me you desire an interview with me. He also
mentioned that you have come from my old friend, Mr. Cyril Forrester,
the artist, who is now abroad. Is this true?'

"'Quite true,' he replied. 'I do come from Mr. Forrester.'

"The candles were burning brightly by this time, and, as a result, I was
able to see him more distinctly. He was of medium height, very thin, and
wore a long overcoat of some dark material. His face was distinctly
Asiatic in type, though the exact nationality I could not determine.
Possibly he might have hailed from Siam.

"'Having come from Mr. Forrester,' I said, when I had seated myself,
'you will be able to tell me his address, I have neither seen nor heard
of or from him for more than a year past.'

"'I regret exceedingly that it is impossible for me to give you the
information you seek,' the man replied, civilly but firmly. 'My
instructions were most explicit upon that point.'

"'You come to me from him, and yet you are instructed not to tell me his
address?' I said, with natural surprise. 'That is rather extraordinary,
is it not? Remember, I am one of his oldest, and certainly one of his
firmest, friends.'

"'Nevertheless, I was instructed on no account to reveal his present
residence to you,' the man replied.

"'What, then, can your business be with me?' I asked, more nettled at
his words than I cared to show.

"'I have brought you a packet,' he said, 'which Mr. Forrester was most
anxious I should personally deliver to your