He was acquainted with the story of the apparition seen by Danbazzar and Barry, and had even explored the hollow by daylight, but had found no evidence of human habitation. “Strange,” Danbazzar muttered, in his deep voice. “Did she seem to be speaking English?” “I couldn’t say. No words were distinguishable.” “Was it a young voice?” John Cumberland asked. “Yes.” Danbazzar and John Cumberland exchanged swift glances. Then: “Is it possible,” asked the latter, “that some camping party has crossed?” “No!” Danbazzar spoke confidently. “I’d have had news of it from Hassan. He knows everything that’s arranged in Luxor. And there’s no _dahabîyeh_ up either. I can’t account for it.” He stared hard at Barry. “I heard it,” the latter repeated. “I don’t doubt you heard _something_,” Danbazzar admitted. “But I’m just wondering what it was. There are night birds that have a note not unlike a woman’s voice. Some small animals, too, when a jackal gets them, squeal like hares. And the cry of a hare is very human. Did you know that?” “I knew it,” Barry replied, “although I never heard one. But this was no animal or bird. It was a woman a long way off, but unmistakably a woman.” The mystery unsolved, they presently parted; Danbazzar taking over the watch, and John Cumberland and Barry returning to camp. They exchanged greetings with Hassan es-Sugra, posted at the head of the valley, and then, silent for the most part, tramped on to the tents. Professor Blackwell was very much awake. In fact, he had got Mahmoud to prepare coffee for them. Sandwiches consisting of Huntley and Palmer’s biscuits, native butter, and bottled prawns were also in readiness. “Highly indigestible,” the Professor admitted. “But one or two extra nightmares count for little upon such an expedition.” The phenomenon of the mysterious voice was discussed at length. “I vote for some kind of nighthawk,” John Cumberland finally declared. “It was no nighthawk,” Barry assured him. “H’m!” murmured Professor Blackwell. “I am consistently unfortunate at games of chance. But I venture to hope that on my watch I may draw the upper end of the valley and Mahmoud the lower!” How this fell out, and what Danbazzar and Hassan had to report, Barry did not learn. Determined though he had been not to close his eyes until the night was ended, tired nature prevailed. Not even the prawns and coffee could keep him awake. He found himself nodding over his pipe. John Cumberland was deep in slumber in a chair, and Professor Blackwell’s snores rang out sonorously upon the desert silence. Barry aroused himself, and: “It’s no good, Dad!” he said. John Cumberland started into wakefulness. The Professor snored on. “We must turn in,” Barry continued. “We are both dead beat!” “You’re right, my boy,” his father agreed. “But who’s going to wake Blackwell when the time comes?” Barry pointed, laughing sleepily.