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Baroness Orczy. The Gates Of Kamt
The Gates Of Kamt
Table of Contents
Chapter 1. Tankerville’s Hobby
Chapter 2 The Shade Of Neit-akrit
Chapter 3. The Tomb Of The Greek Priest
Chapter 4. The Rock Of Anubis
Chapter 5. The Gates Of Kamt
Chapter 6. The Temple Of Ra
Chapter 7. The Temple Of Ra
Part 2 - Men-Ne-Fer
Chapter 8 The Idol Of The People
Chapter 9. The Messenger Of Princess Neit-akrit
Chapter 10 The Judgment-Hall Of Men-ne-fer
Chapter 11. The Trial Of Kesh-ta, The Slave
Chapter 12. The Crown Of Kamt
Chapter 13. The Iridescent Scarabæus
Chapter 14 The Making Of An Enemy
Part 3 - The Palace Of Neit-Akrit
Chapter 15. Neit-akrit, Princess Of Kamt
Chapter 16. Divinely Fair
Chapter 17. Danger
Chapter 18 Love Or Hate?
Chapter 19. A Kiss
Chapter 20 A Letter From Hugh
Chapter 21. A Debt Of Honour
Part 4 - Tanis
Chapter 22. The Bridal City
Chapter 23. The Crime
Chapter 24 The Alternative
Chapter 25. Helpless
Chapter 26 The Marriage
Chapter 27. White Rosemary
Chapter 28. The Threat
Chapter 29. The Departure From Tanis
Chapter 30. Rosemary For Remembrance
Chapter 31. The End
THE END
Отрывок из книги
Baroness Orczy
Published by Good Press, 2021
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“Illness and death overtook him in the midst of a task but half accomplished, but before he died he initiated me into the secrets of his work; it was not necessary that he should request me to continue it. One glance at the parchment, then still in a very fragmentary condition, was sufficient to kindle in me the same mad enthusiasm for the secrets it revealed which had animated, then exhausted, him. I was young, my sight was at its prime, my patience unbounded. He had all his life helped me to a knowledge of hieroglyphics as great as his own. The sneer of the scientific Press at what it called ‘mad Tankerville’s hobby,’ his visions, acted but as a spur to my enthusiasm. It is six years since my father died, and to-day I fitted the last fragment of the parchment into its proper place.”
Amazed, I listened to this wonderful tale of toil and patience, extending over the greater part of half a century, and amazed, I looked down at the result of this labour of Sisyphus, the framents of brown dust—they could have been little else—which now, after thousands of years, had revealed secrets which Hugh said would set the world gaping. My knowledge of Egyptology and hieroglyphics had become somewhat rusty since the happy days when, sitting in the room in the fitful light of the fire, I used to hear from the dear old man’s lips the wonders of Khefren and the mysteries of Queen Neit-akrit; but, as I looked, suddenly the old familiar cartouche, the name of the Queen, caught my eye. There it was
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