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Also
the
heat
,
it
causes
my
moustaches
to
become
limp
—
but
limp
!
”
“
Look
at
the
Sphinx
,
”
I
urged
.
“
Even
I
can
feel
the
mystery
and
the
charm
it
exhales
.
”
Poirot
looked
at
it
discontentedly
.
“
It
has
not
the
air
happy
,
”
he
declared
.
“
How
could
it
,
half
-
buried
in
sand
in
that
untidy
fashion
.
Ah
,
this
cursed
sand
!
”
“
Come
,
now
,
there
’
s
a
lot
of
sand
in
Belgium
,
”
I
reminded
him
,
mindful
of
a
holiday
spent
at
Knocke
-
sur
-
mer
in
the
midst
of
“
les
dunes
impeccables
”
as
the
guide
-
book
had
phrased
it
.
“
Not
in
Brussels
,
”
declared
Poirot
.
He
gazed
at
the
Pyramids
thoughtfully
.
“
It
is
true
that
they
,
at
least
,
are
of
a
shape
solid
and
geometrical
,
but
their
surface
is
of
an
unevenness
most
unpleasing
.
And
the
palm
-
trees
I
like
them
not
.
Not
even
do
they
plant
them
in
rows
!
”
I
cut
short
his
lamentations
,
by
suggesting
that
we
should
start
for
the
camp
.
We
were
to
ride
there
on
camels
,
and
the
beasts
were
patiently
kneeling
,
waiting
for
us
to
mount
,
in
charge
of
several
picturesque
boys
headed
by
a
voluble
dragoman
.
I
pass
over
the
spectacle
of
Poirot
on
a
camel
.
He
started
by
groans
and
lamentations
and
ended
by
shrieks
,
gesticulations
and
invocations
to
the
Virgin
Mary
and
every
Saint
in
the
calendar
.
In
the
end
,
he
descended
ignominiously
and
finished
the
journey
on
a
diminutive
donkey
.
I
must
admit
that
a
trotting
camel
is
no
joke
for
the
amateur
.
I
was
stiff
for
several
days
.
At
last
we
neared
the
scene
of
the
excavations
.
A
sunburnt
man
with
a
grey
beard
,
in
white
clothes
and
wearing
a
helmet
,
came
to
meet
us
.
“
Monsieur
Poirot
and
Captain
Hastings
?
We
received
your
cable
.
