"Betty," a woman's voice said, in English, but with a slight French accent, "I want to see the stars. This awning hides them. Come for a little walk." "Yes; I want to see the stars too, and the awning does hide them," a girl's voice answered. "Do let us take a little walk." Bellairs smiled, as he said to himself, "The first voice is the voice of the musician, and the second voice seems to be its echo." He was still standing on the bank when the two women stepped upon the gangway to the shore and climbed to the narrow path. As they passed him by they glanced at him rather curiously. One was a woman of about thirty, dark, with a pale, strong-featured face. The other was a fair, aristocratic-looking girl, not more than seventeen. "She is the echo," Bellairs thought. "Rather a sweet one." Then, at a distance, he followed them, and presently found them sitting together in the garden of the Hotel. He sat down not far off. A man, whom he knew slightly, spoke to them, and afterwards crossed to him. "That lady plays very cleverly," Bellairs said. "Mademoiselle Leroux, you mean--yes. You know her?" "Not at all. I only heard her from the river bank." "She is travelling with Lord Braydon. She is a great friend of Lady Betty Lambe, his daughter." "That pretty girl?" "Yes. Shall I introduce you?" "I should be delighted." A moment later Bellairs was sitting with the two ladies and talking of Egypt. It seemed to him that they were the first nurses to dandle his new baby-nature, this nature which Egypt had given to him, and which only to-night he had definitely accepted. Perhaps this fact quickly cemented their acquaintance. At any rate, a distinct friendship began to walk in their conversation, and Bellairs found himself listening to Mdlle. Leroux, and looking at Lady Betty, with a great deal of interest and of admiration. Presently the former said:-- "I knew you would be introduced to us to-night." Bellairs was surprised. "When?" he asked. "When we passed you just now on the bank of the Nile." "I knew we should too," said Lady Betty. "You must be very intuitive," said Bellairs. "Women generally are," remarked Mdlle. Leroux. "Yes. Do your intuitions tell you whether our acquaintance will be long and agreeable?" "Perhaps--but I never prophesy." "Why?" "Because I am always right." "Is that a valid reason for abstention?" "I think so. For in this world those who look forward generally see darkness." "I cannot achieve a proper pessimism in Upper Egypt," Bellairs replied. * * * * *