Karamaneh and her brother, Aziz, who occupied a neighbouring room, met
me, near the library. Karamaneh's eyes were wide with fear; her
peerless colouring had fled, and she was white to the lips. Aziz, who
wore a dressing-gown thrown hastily over his night attire, had his arm
protectively about the girl's shoulders.
"The mummy!" she whispered tremulously, "the mummy!"
There came a sound of opening doors, and several passengers, whom
Karamaneh's cries had alarmed, appeared in various stages of undress.
A stewardess came running from the far end of the alleyway, and I
found time to wonder at my own speed; for, starting from the distant
Marconi deck, yet I had been the first to arrive upon the scene.
Stacey, the ship's doctor, was quartered at no great distance from the
spot, and he now joined the group. Anticipating the question which
trembled upon the lips of several of those about me--
"Come to Dr. Stacey's room," I said, taking Karamaneh's arm; "we will
give you something to enable you to sleep." I turned to the group. "My
patient has had severe nerve trouble," I explained, "and has developed
somnambulistic tendencies."
I declined the stewardess's offer of assistance, with a slight shake
of the head, and shortly the four of us entered the doctor's cabin, on
the deck above. Stacey carefully closed the door. He was an old
fellow-student of mine, and already he knew much of the history of the
beautiful Eastern girl and her brother Aziz.
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