They returned to camp in the _wâdi_, taking turns in the portable bath supervised by the grinning Mahmoud. This was a rare luxury, for water had to be brought a great distance, and inadequate though these baths might be, they were keenly appreciated by the party. All brought keen appetites to dinner, which was well up to Mahmoud’s standard. Having reached coffee (into which they were forced to pour their cognac, lest Mahmoud should see the bottle which they kept concealed in the sand, or, worse, smell the glasses): “To-night,” said Danbazzar, selecting a cigar, “the lid of the sarcophagus will be raised.” “What then?” cried Barry. “There’ll be an inner sarcophagus,” was the reply, “probably of sycamore and elaborately painted. Our next task will be to raise that, which won’t be difficult. Nor will the opening of the wooden lid; but--” he paused, carefully lighted his cigar and rolled it between his fingers for a moment--“I’m going to give orders, and in these orders you are included, Mr. Cumberland.” “I am at your service,” said John Cumberland. “You know more of this business than I do.” “Very well,” Danbazzar went on. “The raising of the second lid will be easy. But it won’t be raised until I say the word.” “Why?” cried Barry. Danbazzar turned to him. “Because,” he answered, “the raising of that lid will be the first critical moment. We don’t know what we shall find. We don’t care to think what we shall find. But we have to suppose that there is a woman there--in what we might describe as a trance. Now”--he performed a slow, impressive gesture--“according to the formula, as you’ll remember, Mr. Cumberland, there must be no delay between the opening of the sarcophagus and the beginning of the ceremony for waking the sleeper.” “Good heavens!” exclaimed Professor Blackwell. “Is this some strange dream?” “It may be,” Danbazzar admitted, “but we have to suppose that it isn’t. Also, we have to suppose, or rather to remember, that the Princess Zalithea, if she’s there and still living, last saw this world in the days of the Pharaohs!--according to my calculations, about the time of Rameses the Ninth. Let’s put ourselves in her place. If we aren’t all crazy--if those old priests weren’t all crazy--she will suddenly find herself surrounded by a group of wild-eyed devils--I include myself--wearing fantastic clothes and speaking a barbaric language! Now this can’t be. Think a minute!” “I follow you entirely,” said Professor Blackwell. “Quite! Quite! And I see what you are about to propose.” “Good for you, Professor!” Danbazzar nodded appreciatively. “We’ve got to dress the part, and I came prepared for it.” “What!” Barry exclaimed. “Yes, sir,” Danbazzar went on; “when we take that lid off, we have got to be dressed like Ancient Egyptians!--and we have got to be silent! Leave the talking to me. I have the outfit. Does everybody agree?” Everybody agreed.… They did not linger long over their coffee, but hurried back to the excavation.