A strong tremor ran over him and he averted his face. The
murket came to his side and smoothed the damp hair.
The old housekeeper entered with broth and bread and a bottle of wine.
Mentu broke the bread and filled the beaker, while Sema stood aloof and
gazed with troubled eyes at the unhappy face of the young master.
Silent, they watched him eat and drink, grieved because of the visible
effort it required and because no life or strength returned to him with
the breaking of his fast. When he had finished, the bowl and platter
were taken away, but at a sign the old housekeeper left the wine with
the murket. After she had gone Mentu glanced at the draggled dress of
his son.
"Thou needest, further, the attention of thy slave, Kenkenes," he
suggested.
The young man shook his head. "Not yet," he said. "My time is short,
and it is thy help I need."
The murket sat down beside his son.
Without further introduction Kenkenes plunged into his story. He had
had no time to tell it four days before. Then he had asked for Rachel
with his second word, and finding her not, had rushed immediately to
the search for her.
Mentu heard without comment till the story was done. Most of it he had
known from Hotep, and only the recent events at the tomb excited him.
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