Truly, he furnished a striking instance of the ruling passion strong in death.

All through those days of starvation and utter misery, until he grew too weak and the oil gave out, he trudged backward and forward between the old temple and the Tomb of Kings carrying a large basket on his arm.

Going out with this basket empty, he would bring it back filled with gold cups and other precious objects that he had collected from among the bones and scattered rubbish in the Tomb.

These objects he laboriously catalogued in his pocket-book at night, and afterwards packed away in empty cases that had contained our supplies of explosive and other goods, carefully nailing them down when filled.
"What on earth are you doing that for, Higgs ?" I asked petulantly, as he finished off another case, I think it was his twentieth.
"I don't know, Doctor," he answered in a thin voice, for like the rest of us he was growing feeble on a water-diet.

"I suppose it amuses me to think how jolly it would be to open all these boxes in my rooms in London after a first-rate dinner of fried sole and steak cut thick," and he smacked his poor, hungry lips.