I succeeded above the average as a student, and in my early time as
a doctor. But in every man's life there happen things which, whatever
excuses may be found for them, would not look particularly well in cold
print (nobody's record, as understood by convention and the Pharisee,
could really stand cold print); also something in my blood made me its
servant. In short, having no strict ties at home, and desiring to see
the world, I wandered far and wide for many years, earning my living
as I went, never, in my experience, a difficult thing to do, for I was
always a master of my trade.

My fortieth birthday found me practising at Cairo, which I mention only
because it was here that first I met Ptolemy Higgs, who, even then in
his youth, was noted for his extraordinary antiquarian and linguistic
abilities. I remember that in those days the joke about him was that he
could swear in fifteen languages like a native and in thirty-two with
common proficiency, and could read hieroglyphics as easily as a bishop
reads the _Times_.

Well, I doctored him through a bad attack of typhoid, but as he had
spent every farthing he owned on scarabs or something of the sort, made
him no charge. This little kindness I am bound to say he never forgot,
for whatever his failings may be (personally I would not trust him alone
with any object that was more than a thousand years old), Ptolemy is a
good and faithful friend.

In Cairo I married a Copt. She was a lady of high descent, the tradition
in her family being that they were sprung from one of the Ptolemaic
Pharaohs, which is possible and even probable enough. Also, she was a
Christian, and well educated in her way. But, of course, she remained an