The few windows of this house that could be seen (the greater number opening on the garden and court) were closed with shutters, and at the door stood an old man, dressed in the plain white robe of a priest's servant.

He was endeavoring, with loud cries, to prevent a number of men of his own class from carrying a large chest out of the house.
"What right have you to rob my master ?" he shrieked indignantly.

"I am the guardian of this house, and when my master left for Persia (may the gods destroy that land!) he bade me take especial care of this chest in which his manuscripts lay." "Compose yourself, old Hib!" shouted one of these inferior priests, the same whose acquaintance we made on the arrival of the Asiatic Embassy.
"We are here in the name of the high-priest of the great Neith, your master's master.

There must be queer papers in this box, or Neithotep would not have honored us with his commands to fetch them." "But I will not allow my master's papers to be stolen," shrieked the old man.

"My master is the great physician Nebenchari, and I will secure his rights, even if I must appeal to the king himself." "There," cried the other, "that will do; out with the chest, you fellows.