THE GAY BARTENDER

Chapter Ninety Eight

she had fallen and cut herself, as children will; infection had enfered the wound,which naturally had not been washed or cleaned.One small arm was puffed and swollen. When I cut into the swelling, after disinfecting the knife as best I could, the infected matter spurted out in an cvil-smelling flood.i cleaned and dressed the wound, then lectured the distracted parents on the necessity of kecping it clean.Evelyn was a lower of strength. It was not until we got back to the hotel that she was quietly and thoroughly sick. 1 dismissed Mi-chael for the remainder of the day, telling him to go home and keep his horde of female relatives out of the child's room.

By evening Evelyn was feeling better, and I insisted that we dress and dine downstairs, instead of having a bowl of soup in our room, as she wished to do. Although she never complained, I knew she was often depressed on her own account. We had as yet heard no word of the Earl's fate, but Evelyn expected news of his death daily, and it fretted her tender heart to think of him dying alone. For my part,I felt the old reprobate was meeting the end he richly deserved.

In her soft-rose evening dress,with its wide lace cuffs and ruffled undershirt, Evelyn looked quite charming; the wistful droop of her mouth only added td her appealing appearance. I put on my crimson satin, feeling we needed something bright and cheerful, although I still felt self-conscious in the dress. We made 'a fine show. Several of our gentlemen ac-quaintances followed us into the lounge after dinner, and attempted to win a smile from Evelyn. Suddenly I saw a rosy flush spread over her face. I suspected the cause even before I followed her gaze to the doorway. There stood young Walter Emerson, looking'very handsome in evening dress. He had eyes only for Evelyn, and crossed the room so quickly that he nearly stumbled over a low table.

He had brought his brother with him. I had to stifle a laugh at the sight of the irascible Emerson, he wore a look of such gloom. His evening clothes looked as if they had been pulled out of a traveling bag and put on without the benefitliack bear, darting suspicions glances at the elegantly gae

travelers around him.

Affer gnecting me hastily,Walter turned to Evelyn a they wene soon deop in conversation.The other gentlemea being ignoned,faded away;and I was left face-to-face w Emerson.He stood looking down at me with an expresaie of sullen dejection.

"I am to make my apologies,” he growled.

“I accept them," I said, and indicated the place next tom on the sofa. “Do sit down, Mr. Emerson. I am surprised n see you here. I understood that social life was not to your taste.”

"It was Walter's idea,” said Emerson bluntly. He s down, edging as far away from me as the limited confines d the sofa would allow.“I hate such things.”

“What things?” I inquired, enjoying myself hugely.It wa delightful to see the arrogant Emerson cowed by society.

“The hotel.The people.The-the-in short, all tis."

He waved a contemptuous hand at the handsome chambr and its finely dressed occupants.

“Where would you rather be?” I asked.

"Anywhere in Egypt but here.Specifically,at the sie d my excavations.”

the dust of the deset,away from all the comforts civilization?With only ignorant Arabs for company-" "Ignorant perhaps;but lacking the hypocrisies of civile

tion.Giood Cod,how it maddng the to hear the smug o

people。 friendly,

He was recovering his confidence.

intelligent-wh

clenched d

fists

Hishis knees, he glared at me. I rather liked him for his def of an oppressed people, but I could not resist baiting him

"Then you should approve of what we British are doin Egypt. By assuming responsibility for the finances of country-”

“Bah,”said Emerson vigorously. “Do you think we acting out of benevolence? Ask the inhabitants of Alexand how they enjoyed being shelled by British gunboats,t years ago. We are not so uncivilized as the Turk,but have the same purpose-our own self-interest. And we a letting those imbecile French mismanage the antiquities d partment! Not that our own so-called scholars are any be ter.”

“Are they all wrong?”I inquired. “All but you?”

My irony went unnoticed. Emerson considered the ques tion seriously.

“There is one young fellow-Petrie is his name-who seems to have some idea of method in archaeology. He is excavating in the Delta this winter. But he has no influence; and meanwhile every year, every passing day sees destruc-tion that cannot be remedied. We are destroying the past! Digging like children for treasure, wrenching objects out of the ground without keeping proper records of how and where they were found.

I glanced at Evelyn. I could not hear what she and Walter were discussing, Emerson's voice was too loud, but she seemed to find the conversaton enjoyable. I turned my acten-tion back to Emerson, who was still ranting.

scraps of pottery! Something should be done with pottery,you know.One should study the various types-dis-cover what kinds of pottery accompany certain kinds of or-naments,weapons, furnishings...

“For what purpose?”

“Why,there are a dozen purposes. Pottery,like other ob-jects,changes and develops with time. We could work our a basic chronological sequence which would enable us to date not only the pottery,but other objects found wich ie. ot only pottery that can be useful.Every object,every small scrap of the past can teach us something, Momd hese objects are now tossed into rubbish heaps, or caried off by ignorant tourists, lost forever to science. Maspen saves only the impressive objects, and half of those are loa or smashed or stolen, in that reputed museum of his."

“I understand,” I said. “For example, studies might le made of anatomical remains. The race to which the ancient Egyptians belonged might be ascertained, and the racial mixtures. Are they the same stock today as they were n ancient times? But scholars do not collect bones and mum mies, do they, except to display the latter as curiosities."

Emerson's jaw dropped. “Good God,” he said.“A woman with an inquiring mind? Is it possible?”

I overlooked the insult, having become interested in what he was saying. I was about to pursue the subject further when there was a dramatic interruption.

Evelyn was sitting next to the sofa,with Walter leaningon the back of her chair. She suddenly started to her feet.Tum-ing,I saw that her face had gone white as linen.She was staring with a fixed look of horror toward the entrance so the room.

I glanced about. The room was crowded with people.but I saw nothing that might explain her agitation. Before! could make a more searching perusal,Evelyn had collape anda the floor.When Walter Perumsy with agitation,mut faint,from which she was restored with some difficulty

She would not answer our questions;she was only capable

of reiterating her desire to return to our rooms.

"Let me carry you,"Walter begged.

you cannot walk”

"You are no burden

to strike her.

He put out his arms, She shrank back,as if he had offered

"No,no," she gasped.“Amelia will help me.I can wak.

indeed I can. Pray do not touch me.”

Poor Walier was as white as Evelva.

was aoth