wheezing and gusty.
'It is genuine. I will guarantee it with my life.'
'It may come to that,' von Schiller warned him. His eyes were glittering
with the hard brilliance of pate sapphires.
This column was carved nearly four thousand years ago,' Nahoot repeated
stoutly. 'This is the veritable seal of the scribe.' He translated
glibly and easily from the blocks of figures, his face shining with an
almost religious rapture: ''Anubis, the jackal-headed, the god of the
cemeteries, holds in his paws the blood and the viscera, the bones and
the lungs and the heart that are my separate parts. He moves them like
the stones of the bao board, my limbs serve him as counters, my head is
the great bull of the long board'!--'
'Enough!' von Schiller commanded. There will be time for more later. Go
now. Leave me alone. Do not return until I send for you.'
Nahoot looked startled and scrambled to his feet uncertainly. He had not
expected to be dismissed so abruptly in the moment of his triumph. Helm
beckoned him, and the two of them went quickly to the door of the hut.
'Helm,' von Schiller called thickly after him, 'make certain that nobody
disturbs me.'
'Of course, Herr von Schiller.' He glanced enquiringly at Utte Kemper.
'No,' said von Schiller. 'She stay The two men left the room, and Helm
shut the door carefully behind them, Utte crossed the room and turned
the key. Then she faced von Schiller with her hands behind her and her
back pressed to the door.
Her breasts were thrust forward firm and pointed The nipples showed
clearly through the thin cotton blouse, hard as marbles.
'The costume?' she asked. 'Do you want the costume Her own voice was
tight and strained. She enjoyed this game almost as much as he did.
'Yes, the costume,' he whispered.
She crossed the room and disappeared through the door into his private
quarters. As soon as she was gone von Schiller began to undress. When he
stood mother-naked in the centre of the room, he threw his clothing in a
heap into one corner and turned to face the door through which she would
return.
Suddenly she stood in the doorway, and he gasped at the transformation.
She wore the wig of tight Egyptian braids and over it the uraeus, the
golden circlet with the hooded cobra standing erect above her forehead.
The crown was genuine, as old as the ages - von Schiller had paid five
million Deutschmarks for it.
'I am the reincarnation of the ancient Egyptian Queen Lostris,' she
puffed. 'My soul is immortal. My flesh is incorruptible.' She wore
golden sandals from the tomb of a princess, and bracelets and finger
rings and earrings from the same tomb. All were authentic royal relics.
'Yes.' His voice was choking, his face as pale as death.
'Nothing can destroy me. I will live for ever,' she said.
Her skirt was diaphanous yellow silk, belted with gold and precious
stones.
'For ever,' he repeated She was naked above the waist. Her breasts were
big and white as milk. She cupped them in her own hands.
