And now we had our Mummy safe in our cabin. He looked when we removed the cloth quite pretty in all his paint and hieroglyphics. We declared him to be altogether a festive object and not at all a funereal old frump and, being quite done up with excitement and fatigue, we soon fell asleep, with our new friend standing up in the middle of our small apartment. Next day we hid him in the linen closet, carefully securing both window and door, and very anxious [we] were to set sail as soon as possible but the wind turned dead against us and it was not until the day but one after that we got away from the dread spot.

The next thing to be done was the all important operation of sawing up the case, which was accomplished successfully by M.I.B. who had bought a little saw for the purpose at the last town. When the line round the case had been sawn through, the top was lifted up and the thrilling moment arrived—when our hopes were scattered by finding the mummy of a little boy, about 12 years old, no ornaments, papyrus, scarabs, not even a little god or two had been placed on his little person. We supposed they thought him too innocent to need such help on his journey to heaven, from where, I trust, if he looked down upon our proceedings, he felt no bitterness of wrath. The bandages of cloth we carefully wrapt round him again; they must have been fifty or sixty yards in length. There was some writing on the little shirt (probably his name) which was fringed round. His skin was hard and dry and shiny like good old oak and the features of his face were really pleasant and happy in expression and there was hair on his woodeny little head. The little Mummy was buried by night with great secrecy and left in his native land.

Once more safely boxed up, we devoutly hoped it (the case only) might escape the prying fingers of the dreaded police who were waiting for us at Cairo, at Alexandria, everywhere, all suspicious of the Hawagha on the Nile.