"The Jewel of Seven Stars\n\n\nby\n\nBram Stoker\n\n\n\n\nTo Eleanor and Constance Hoyt\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n I A Summons in the Night\n II Strange Instructions\n III The Watchers\n IV The Second Attempt\n V More Strange Instructions\n VI Suspicions\n VII The Traveller's Loss\n VIII The Finding of the Lamps\n IX The Need of Knowledge\n X The Valley of the Sorcerer\n XI A Queen's Tomb\n XII The Magic Coffer\n XIII Awaking From the Trance\n XIV The Birth-Mark\n XV The Purpose of Queen Tera\n XVI The Cavern\n XVII Doubts and Fears\n XVIII The Lesson of the \"Ka\"\n XIX The Great Experiment\n\n\n\n\nChapter I\n\nA Summons in the Night\n\n\nIt all seemed so real that I could hardly imagine that it had ever\noccurred before; and yet each episode came, not as a fresh step in the\nlogic of things, but as something expected. It is in such a wise that\nmemory plays its pranks for good or ill; for pleasure or pain; for weal\nor woe. It is thus that life is bittersweet, and that which has been\ndone becomes eternal.\n\nAgain, the light skiff, ceasing to shoot through the lazy water as when\nthe oars flashed and dripped, glided out of the fierce July sunlight\ninto the cool shade of the great drooping willow branches--I standing\nup in the swaying boat, she sitting still and with deft fingers\nguarding herself from stray twigs or the freedom of the resilience of\nmoving boughs. Again, the water looked golden-brown under the canopy\nof translucent green; and the grassy bank was of emerald hue. Again,\nwe sat in the cool shade, with the myriad noises of nature both without\nand within our bower merging into that drowsy hum in whose sufficing\nenvironment the great world with its disturbing trouble, and its more\ndisturbing joys, can be effectually forgotten. Again, in that blissful\nsolitude the young girl lost the convention of her prim, narrow\nupbringing, and told me in a natural, dreamy way of the loneliness of\nher new life. With an undertone of sadness she made me feel how in that\nspacious home each one of the household was isolated by the personal\nmagnificence of her father and herself; that there confidence had no\naltar, and sympathy no shrine; and that there even her father's face\nwas as distant as the old country life seemed now. Once more, the\nwisdom of my manhood and the experience of my years laid themselves at\nthe girl's feet. It was seemingly their own doing; for the individual\n\"I\" had no say in the matter, but only just obeyed imperative orders.\nAnd once again the flying seconds multiplied themselves endlessly. For\nit is in the arcana of dreams that existences merge and renew\nthemselves, change and yet keep the same--like the soul of a musician\nin a fugue. And so memory swooned, again and again, in sleep.\n\nIt seems that there is never to be any perfect rest. Even in Eden the\nsnake rears its head among the laden boughs of the Tree of Knowledge.\nThe silence of the dreamless night is broken by the roar of the\navalanche; the hissing of sudden floods; the clanging of the engine\nbell marking its sweep through a sleeping American town; the clanking\nof distant paddles over the sea.... Whatever it is, it is breaking the\ncharm of my Eden. The canopy of greenery above us, starred with\ndiamond-points of light, seems to quiver in the ceaseless beat of\npaddles; and the restless bell seems as though it would never cease....\n\nAll at once the gates of Sleep were thrown wide open, and my waking\nears took in the cause of the disturbing sounds. Waking existence is\nprosaic enough--there was somebody knocking and ringing at someone's\nstreet door.\n\nI was pretty well accustomed in my Jermyn Street chambers to passing\nsounds; usually I did not concern myself, sleeping or waking, with the\ndoings, however noisy, of my neighbours. But this noise was too\ncontinuous, too insistent, too imperative to be ignored. There was\nsome active intelligence behind that ceaseless sound; and some stress\nor need behind the intelligence. I was not altogether selfish, and at\nthe thought of someone's need I was, without premeditation, out of bed.\nInstinctively I looked at my watch. It was just three o'clock; there\nwas a faint edging of grey round the green blind which darkened my\nroom. It was evident that the knocking and ringing were at the door of\nour own house; and it was evident, too, that there was no one awake to\nanswer the call. I slipped on my dressing-gown and slippers, and went\ndown to the hall door. When I opened it there stood a dapper groom,\nwith one hand pressed unflinchingly on the electric bell whilst with\nthe other he raised a ceaseless clangour with the knocker. The instant\nhe saw me the noise ceased; one hand went up instinctively to the brim\nof his hat, and the other produced a letter from his pocket. A neat\nbrougham was opposite the door, the horses were breathing heavily as\nthough they had come fast. A policeman, with his night lantern still\nalight at his belt, stood by, attracted to the spot by the noise.\n\n\"Beg pardon, sir, I'm sorry for disturbing you, but my orders was\nimperative; I was not to lose a moment, but to knock and ring till\nsomeone came. May I ask you, sir, if Mr. Malcolm Ross lives here?\"\n\n\"I am Mr. Malcolm Ross.\"\n\n\"Then this letter is for you, sir, and the bro'am is for you too, sir!\"\n\nI took, with a strange curiosity, the letter which he handed to me. As\na barrister I had had, of course, odd experiences now and then,\nincluding sudden demands upon my time; but never anything like this. I\nstepped back into the hall, closing the door to, but leaving it ajar;\nthen I switched on the electric light. The letter was directed in a\nstrange hand, a woman's. It began at once without \"dear sir\" or any\nsuch address:\n\n\"You said you would like to help me if I needed it; and I believe you\nmeant what you said. The time has come sooner than I expected. I am\nin dreadful trouble, and do not know where to turn, or to whom to\napply. An attempt has, I fear, been made to murder my Father; though,\nthank God, he still lives. But he is quite unconscious. The doctors\nand police have been sent for; but there is no one here whom I can\ndepend on. Come at once if you are able to; and forgive me if you can.\nI suppose I shall realise later what I have done in asking such a\nfavour; but at present I cannot think. Come! Come at once! MARGARET\nTRELAWNY.\"\n\nPain and exultation struggled in my mind as I read; but the mastering\nthought was that she was in trouble and had called on me--me! My\ndreaming of her, then, was not altogether without a cause. I called\nout to the groom:\n\n\"Wait! I shall be with you in a minute!\" Then I flew upstairs.\n\nA very few minutes sufficed to wash and dress; and we were soon driving\nthrough the streets as fast as the horses could go. It was market\nmorning, and when we got out on Piccadilly there was an endless stream\nof carts coming from the west; but for the rest the roadway was clear,\nand we went quickly. I had told the groom to come into the brougham\nwith me so that he could tell me what had happened as we went along.\nHe sat awkwardly, with his hat on his knees as he spoke.\n\n\"Miss Trelawny, sir, sent a man to tell us to get out a carriage at\nonce; and when we was ready she come herself and gave me the letter and\ntold Morgan--the coachman, sir--to fly. She said as I was to lose not\na second, but to keep knocking till someone come.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know, I know--you told me! What I want to know is, why she\nsent for me. What happened in the house?\"\n\n\"I don't quite know myself, sir; except that master was found in his\nroom senseless, with the sheets all bloody, and a wound on his head. He\ncouldn't be waked nohow. Twas Miss Trelawny herself as found him.\"\n\n\"How did she come to find him at such an hour? It was late in the\nnight, I suppose?\"\n\n\"I don't know, sir; I didn't hear nothing at all of the details.\"\n\nAs he could tell me no more, I stopped the carriage for a moment to let\nhim get out on the box; then I turned the matter over in my mind as I\nsat alone. There were many things which I could have asked the\nservant; and for a few moments after he had gone I was angry with\nmyself for not having used my opportunity. On second thought, however,\nI was glad the temptation was gone. I felt that it would be more\ndelicate to learn what I wanted to know of Miss Trelawny's surroundings\nfrom herself, rather than from her servants.\n\nWe bowled swiftly along Knightsbridge, the small noise of our\nwell-appointed vehicle sounding hollowly in the morning air. We turned\nup the Kensington Palace Road and presently stopped opposite a great\nhouse on the left-hand side, nearer, so far as I could judge, the\nNotting Hill than the Kensington end of the avenue. It was a truly\nfine house, not only with regard to size but to architecture. Even in\nthe dim grey light of the morning, which tends to diminish the size of\nthings, it looked big.\n\nMiss Trelawny met me in the hall. She was not in any way shy. She\nseemed to rule all around her with a sort of high-bred dominance, all\nthe more remarkable as she was greatly agitated and as pale as snow.\nIn the great hall were several servants, the men standing together near\nthe hall door, and the women clinging together in the further corners\nand doorways. A police superintendent had been talking to Miss\nTrelawny; two men in uniform and one plain-clothes man stood near him.\nAs she took my hand impulsively there was a look of relief in her eyes,\nand she gave a gentle sigh of relief. Her salutation was simple.\n\n\"I knew you would come!\"\n\nThe clasp of the hand can mean a great deal, even when it is not\nintended to mean anything especially. Miss Trelawny's hand somehow\nbecame lost in my own. It was not that it was a small hand; it was\nfine and flexible, with long delicate fingers--a rare and beautiful\nhand; it was the unconscious self-surrender. And though at the moment\nI could not dwell on the cause of the thrill which swept me, it came\nback to me later.\n\nShe turned and said to the police superintendent:\n\n\"This is Mr. Malcolm Ross.\" The police officer saluted as he answered:\n\n\"I know Mr. Malcolm Ross, miss. Perhaps he will remember I had the\nhonour of working with him in the Brixton Coining case.\" I had not at\nfirst glance noticed who it was, my whole attention having been taken\nwith Miss Trelawny.\n\n\"Of course, Superintendent Dolan, I remember very well!\" I said as we\nshook hands. I could not but note that the acquaintanceship seemed a\nrelief to Miss Trelawny. There was a certain vague uneasiness in her\nmanner which took my attention; instinctively I felt that it would be\nless embarrassing for her to speak with me alone. So I said to the\nSuperintendent:\n\n\"Perhaps it will be better if Miss Trelawny will see me alone for a few\nminutes. You, of course, have already heard all she knows; and I shall\nunderstand better how things are if I may ask some questions. I will\nthen talk the matter over with you if I may.\"\n\n\"I shall be glad to be of what service I can, sir,\" he answered\nheartily.\n\nFollowing Miss Trelawny, I moved over to a dainty room which opened\nfrom the hall and looked out on the garden at the back of the house.\nWhen we had entered and I had closed the door she said:\n\n\"I will thank you later for your goodness in coming to me in my\ntrouble; but at present you can best help me when you know the facts.\"\n\n\"Go on,\" I said. \"Tell me all you know and spare no detail, however\ntrivial it may at the present time seem to be.\" She went on at once:\n\n\"I was awakened by some sound; I do not know what. I only know that it\ncame through my sleep; for all at once I found myself awake, with my\nheart beating wildly, listening anxiously for some sound from my\nFather's room. My room is next Father's, and I can often hear him\nmoving about before I fall asleep. He works late at night, sometimes\nvery late indeed; so that when I wake early, as I do occasionally, or\nin the grey of the dawn, I hear him still moving. I tried once to\nremonstrate with him about staying up so late, as it cannot be good for\nhim; but I never ventured to repeat the experiment. You know how stern\nand cold he can be--at least you may remember what I told you about\nhim; and when he is polite in this mood he is dreadful. When he is\nangry I can bear it much better; but when he is slow and deliberate,\nand the side of his mouth lifts up to show the sharp teeth, I think I\nfeel--well, I don't know how! Last night I got up softly and stole to\nthe door, for I really feared to disturb him. There was not any noise\nof moving, and no kind of cry at all; but there was a queer kind of\ndragging sound, and a slow, heavy breathing. Oh! it was dreadful,\nwaiting there in the dark and the silence, and fearing--fearing I did\nnot know what!\n\n\"At last I took my courage a deux mains, and turning the handle as\nsoftly as I could, I opened the door a tiny bit. It was quite dark\nwithin; I could just see the outline of the windows. But in the\ndarkness the sound of breathing, becoming more distinct, was appalling.\nAs I listened, this continued; but there was no other sound. I pushed\nthe door open all at once. I was afraid to open it slowly; I felt as\nif there might be some dreadful thing behind it ready to pounce out on\nme! Then I switched on the electric light, and stepped into the room.\nI looked first at the bed. The sheets were all crumpled up, so that I\nknew Father had been in bed; but there was a great dark red patch in\nthe centre of the bed, and spreading to the edge of it, that made my\nheart stand still. As I was gazing at it the sound of the breathing\ncame across the room, and my eyes followed to it. There was Father on\nhis right side with the other arm under him, just as if his dead body\nhad been thrown there all in a heap. The track of blood went across\nthe room up to the bed, and there was a pool all around him which\nlooked terribly red and glittering as I bent over to examine him. The\nplace where he lay was right in front of the big safe. He was in his\npyjamas. The left sleeve was torn, showing his bare arm, and stretched\nout toward the safe. It looked--oh! so terrible, patched all with\nblood, and with the flesh torn or cut all around a gold chain bangle on\nhis wrist. I did not know he wore such a thing, and it seemed to give\nme a new shock of surprise.\"\n\nShe paused a moment; and as I wished to relieve her by a moment's\ndivergence of thought, I said:\n\n\"Oh, that need not surprise you. You will see the most unlikely men\nwearing bangles. I have seen a judge condemn a man to death, and the\nwrist of the hand he held up had a gold bangle.\" She did not seem to\nheed much the words or the idea; the pause, however, relieved her\nsomewhat, and she went on in a steadier voice:\n\n\"I did not lose a moment in summoning aid, for I feared he might bleed\nto death. I rang the bell, and then went out and called for help as\nloudly as I could. In what must have been a very short time--though it\nseemed an incredibly long one to me--some of the servants came running\nup; and then others, till the room seemed full of staring eyes, and\ndishevelled hair, and night clothes of all sorts.\n\n\"We lifted Father on a sofa; and the housekeeper, Mrs. Grant, who\nseemed to have her wits about her more than any of us, began to look\nwhere the flow of blood came from. In a few seconds it became apparent\nthat it came from the arm which was bare. There was a deep wound--not\nclean-cut as with a knife, but like a jagged rent or tear--close to the\nwrist, which seemed to have cut into the vein. Mrs. Grant tied a\nhandkerchief round the cut, and screwed it up tight with a silver\npaper-cutter; and the flow of blood seemed to be checked at once. By\nthis time I had come to my senses--or such of them as remained; and I\nsent off one man for the doctor and another for the police. When they\nhad gone, I felt that, except for the servants, I was all alone in the\nhouse, and that I knew nothing--of my Father or anything else; and a\ngreat longing came to me to have someone with me who could help me.\nThen I thought of you and your kind offer in the boat under the\nwillow-tree; and, without waiting to think, I told the men to get a\ncarriage ready at once, and I scribbled a note and sent it on to you.\"\n\nShe paused. I did not like to say just then anything of how I felt. I\nlooked at her; I think she understood, for her eyes were raised to mine\nfor a moment and then fell, leaving her cheeks as red as peony roses.\nWith a manifest effort she went on with her story:\n\n\"The Doctor was with us in an incredibly short time. The groom had met\nhim letting himself into his house with his latchkey, and he came here\nrunning. He made a proper tourniquet for poor Father's arm, and then\nwent home to get some appliances. I dare say he will be back almost\nimmediately. Then a policeman came, and sent a message to the station;\nand very soon the Superintendent was here. Then you came.\"\n\nThere was a long pause, and I ventured to take her hand for an instant.\nWithout a word more we opened the door, and joined the Superintendent\nin the hall. He hurried up to us, saying as he came:\n\n\"I have been examining everything myself, and have sent off a message\nto Scotland Yard. You see, Mr. Ross, there seemed so much that was odd\nabout the case that I thought we had better have the best man of the\nCriminal Investigation Department that we could get. So I sent a note\nasking to have Sergeant Daw sent at once. You remember him, sir, in\nthat American poisoning case at Hoxton.\"\n\n\"Oh yes,\" I said, \"I remember him well; in that and other cases, for I\nhave benefited several times by his skill and acumen. He has a mind\nthat works as truly as any that I know. When I have been for the\ndefence, and believed my man was innocent, I was glad to have him\nagainst us!\"\n\n\"That is high praise, sir!\" said the Superintendent gratified: \"I am\nglad you approve of my choice; that I did well in sending for him.\"\n\nI answered heartily:\n\n\"Could not be better. I do not doubt that between you we shall get at\nthe facts--and what lies behind them!\"\n\nWe ascended to Mr. Trelawny's room, where we found everything exactly\nas his daughter had described.\n\nThere came a ring at the house bell, and a minute later a man was shown\ninto the room. A young man with aquiline features, keen grey eyes, and\na forehead that stood out square and broad as that of a thinker. In\nhis hand he had a black bag which he at once opened. Miss Trelawny\nintroduced us: \"Doctor Winchester, Mr. Ross, Superintendent Dolan.\"\nWe bowed mutually, and he, without a moment's delay, began his work.\nWe all waited, and eagerly watched him as he proceeded to dress the\nwound. As he went on he turned now and again to call the\nSuperintendent's attention to some point about the wound, the latter\nproceeding to enter the fact at once in his notebook.\n\n\"See! several parallel cuts or scratches beginning on the left side of\nthe wrist and in some places endangering the radial artery.\n\n\"These small wounds here, deep and jagged, seem as if made with a blunt\ninstrument. This in particular would seem as if made with some kind of\nsharp wedge; the flesh round it seems torn as if with lateral pressure.\"\n\nTurning to Miss Trelawny he said presently:\n\n\"Do you think we might remove this bangle? It is not absolutely\nnecessary, as it will fall lower on the wrist where it can hang\nloosely; but it might add to the patient's comfort later on.\" The poor\ngirl flushed deeply as she answered in a low voice:\n\n\"I do not know. I--I have only recently come to live with my Father;\nand I know so little of his life or his ideas that I fear I can hardly\njudge in such a matter. The Doctor, after a keen glance at her, said\nin a very kindly way:\n\n\"Forgive me! I did not know. But in any case you need not be\ndistressed. It is not required at present to move it. Were it so I\nshould do so at once on my own responsibility. If it be necessary\nlater on, we can easily remove it with a file. Your Father doubtless\nhas some object in keeping it as it is. See! there is a tiny key\nattached to it....\" As he was speaking he stopped and bent lower,\ntaking from my hand the candle which I held and lowering it till its\nlight fell on the bangle. Then motioning me to hold the candle in the\nsame position, he took from his pocket a magnifying-glass which he\nadjusted. When he had made a careful examination he stood up and\nhanded the magnifying-glass to Dolan, saying as he did so:\n\n\"You had better examine it yourself. That is no ordinary bangle. The\ngold is wrought over triple steel links; see where it is worn away. It\nis manifestly not meant to be removed lightly; and it would need more\nthan an ordinary file to do it.\"\n\nThe Superintendent bent his great body; but not getting close enough\nthat way knelt down by the sofa as the Doctor had done. He examined\nthe bangle minutely, turning it slowly round so that no particle of it\nescaped observation. Then he stood up and handed the magnifying-glass\nto me. \"When you have examined it yourself,\" he said, \"let the lady\nlook at it if she will,\" and he commenced to write at length in his\nnotebook.\n\nI made a simple alteration in his suggestion. I held out the glass\ntoward Miss Trelawny, saying:\n\n\"Had you not better examine it first?\" She drew back, slightly raising\nher hand in disclaimer, as she said impulsively:\n\n\"Oh no! Father would doubtless have shown it to me had he wished me to\nsee it. I would not like to without his consent.\" Then she added,\ndoubtless fearing lest her delicacy of view should give offence to the\nrest of us:\n\n\"Of course it is right that you should see it. You have to examine and\nconsider everything; and indeed--indeed I am grateful to you...\"\n\nShe turned away; I could see that she was crying quietly. It was\nevident to me that even in the midst of her trouble and anxiety there\nwas a chagrin that she knew so little of her father; and that her\nignorance had to be shown at such a time and amongst so many strangers.\nThat they were all men did not make the shame more easy to bear, though\nthere was a certain relief in it. Trying to interpret her feelings I\ncould not but think that she must have been glad that no woman's\neyes--of understanding greater than man's--were upon her in that hour.\n\nWhen I stood up from my examination, which verified to me that of the\nDoctor, the latter resumed his place beside the couch and went on with\nhis ministrations. Superintendent Dolan said to me in a whisper:\n\n\"I think we are fortunate in our doctor!\" I nodded, and was about to\nadd something in praise of his acumen, when there came a low tapping at\nthe door.\n\n\n\n\nChapter II\n\nStrange Instructions\n\n\nSuperintendent Dolan went quietly to the door; by a sort of natural\nunderstanding he had taken possession of affairs in the room. The rest\nof us waited. He opened the door a little way; and then with a gesture\nof manifest relief threw it wide, and a young man stepped in. A young\nman clean-shaven, tall and slight; with an eagle face and bright, quick\neyes that seemed to take in everything around him at a glance. As he\ncame in, the Superintendent held out his hand; the two men shook hands\nwarmly.\n\n\"I came at once, sir, the moment I got your message. I am glad I still\nhave your confidence.\"\n\n\"That you'll always have,\" said the Superintendent heartily. \"I have\nnot forgotten our old Bow Street days, and I never shall!\" Then,\nwithout a word of preliminary, he began to tell everything he knew up\nto the moment of the newcomer's entry. Sergeant Daw asked a few\nquestions--a very few--when it was necessary for his understanding of\ncircumstances or the relative positions of persons; but as a rule\nDolan, who knew his work thoroughly, forestalled every query, and\nexplained all necessary matters as he went on. Sergeant Daw threw\noccasionally swift glances round him; now at one of us; now at the room\nor some part of it; now at the wounded man lying senseless on the sofa.\n\nWhen the Superintendent had finished, the Sergeant turned to me and\nsaid:\n\n\"Perhaps you remember me, sir. I was with you in that Hoxton case.\"\n\n\"I remember you very well,\" I said as I held out my hand. The\nSuperintendent spoke again:\n\n\"You understand, Sergeant Daw, that you are put in full charge of this\ncase.\"\n\n\"Under you I hope, sir,\" he interrupted. The other shook his head and\nsmiled as he said:\n\n\"It seems to me that this is a case that will take all a man's time and\nhis brains. I have other work to do; but I shall be more than\ninterested, and if I can help in any possible way I shall be glad to do\nso!\"\n\n\"All right, sir,\" said the other, accepting his responsibility with a\nsort of modified salute; straightway he began his investigation.\n\nFirst he came over to the Doctor and, having learned his name and\naddress, asked him to write a full report which he could use, and which\nhe could refer to headquarters if necessary. Doctor Winchester bowed\ngravely as he promised. Then the Sergeant approached me and said sotto\nvoce:\n\n\"I like the look of your doctor. I think we can work together!\"\nTurning to Miss Trelawny he asked:\n\n\"Please let me know what you can of your Father; his ways of life, his\nhistory--in fact of anything of whatsoever kind which interests him, or\nin which he may be concerned.\" I was about to interrupt to tell him\nwhat she had already said of her ignorance in all matters of her father\nand his ways, but her warning hand was raised to me pointedly and she\nspoke herself.\n\n\"Alas! I know little or nothing. Superintendent Dolan and Mr. Ross\nknow already all I can say.\"\n\n\"Well, ma'am, we must be content to do what we can,\" said the officer\ngenially. \"I'll begin by making a minute examination. You say that you\nwere outside the door when you heard the noise?\"\n\n\"I was in my room when I heard the queer sound--indeed it must have\nbeen the early part of whatever it was which woke me. I came out of my\nroom at once. Father's door was shut, and I could see the whole landing\nand the upper slopes of the staircase. No one could have left by the\ndoor unknown to me, if that is what you mean!\"\n\n\"That is just what I do mean, miss. If every one who knows anything\nwill tell me as well as that, we shall soon get to the bottom of this.\"\n\nHe then went over to the bed, looked at it carefully, and asked:\n\n\"Has the bed been touched?\"\n\n\"Not to my knowledge,\" said Miss Trelawny, \"but I shall ask Mrs.\nGrant--the housekeeper,\" she added as she rang the bell. Mrs. Grant\nanswered it in person. \"Come in,\" said Miss Trelawny. \"These gentlemen\nwant to know, Mrs. Grant, if the bed has been touched.\"\n\n\"Not by me, ma'am.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Miss Trelawny, turning to Sergeant Daw, \"it cannot have\nbeen touched by any one. Either Mrs. Grant or I myself was here all\nthe time, and I do not think any of the servants who came when I gave\nthe alarm were near the bed at all. You see, Father lay here just\nunder the great safe, and every one crowded round him. We sent them\nall away in a very short time.\" Daw, with a motion of his hand, asked\nus all to stay at the other side of the room whilst with a\nmagnifying-glass he examined the bed, taking care as he moved each fold\nof the bed-clothes to replace it in exact position. Then he examined\nwith his magnifying-glass the floor beside it, taking especial pains\nwhere the blood had trickled over the side of the bed, which was of\nheavy red wood handsomely carved. Inch by inch, down on his knees,\ncarefully avoiding any touch with the stains on the floor, he followed\nthe blood-marks over to the spot, close under the great safe, where the\nbody had lain. All around and about this spot he went for a radius of\nsome yards; but seemingly did not meet with anything to arrest special\nattention. Then he examined the front of the safe; round the lock, and\nalong the bottom and top of the double doors, more especially at the\nplaces of their touching in front.\n\nNext he went to the windows, which were fastened down with the hasps.\n\n\"Were the shutters closed?\" he asked Miss Trelawny in a casual way as\nthough he expected the negative answer, which came.\n\nAll this time Doctor Winchester was attending to his patient; now\ndressing the wounds in the wrist or making minute examination all over\nthe head and throat, and over the heart. More than once he put his\nnose to the mouth of the senseless man and sniffed. Each time he did\nso he finished up by unconsciously looking round the room, as though in\nsearch of something.\n\nThen we heard the deep strong voice of the Detective:\n\n\"So far as I can see, the object was to bring that key to the lock of\nthe safe. There seems to be some secret in the mechanism that I am\nunable to guess at, though I served a year in Chubb's before I joined\nthe police. It is a combination lock of seven letters; but there seems\nto be a way of locking even the combination. It is one of Chatwood's;\nI shall call at their place and find out something about it.\" Then\nturning to the Doctor, as though his own work were for the present\ndone, he said:\n\n\"Have you anything you can tell me at once, Doctor, which will not\ninterfere with your full report? If there is any doubt I can wait, but\nthe sooner I know something definite the better.\" Doctor Winchester\nanswered at once:\n\n\"For my own part I see no reason in waiting. I shall make a full\nreport of course. But in the meantime I shall tell you all I\nknow--which is after all not very much, and all I think--which is less\ndefinite. There is no wound on the head which could account for the\nstate of stupor in which the patient continues. I must, therefore,\ntake it that either he has been drugged or is under some hypnotic\ninfluence. So far as I can judge, he has not been drugged--at least by\nmeans of any drug of whose qualities I am aware. Of course, there is\nordinarily in this room so much of a mummy smell that it is difficult\nto be certain about anything having a delicate aroma. I dare say that\nyou have noticed the peculiar Egyptians scents, bitumen, nard, aromatic\ngums and spices, and so forth. It is quite possible that somewhere in\nthis room, amongst the curios and hidden by stronger scents, is some\nsubstance or liquid which may have the effect we see. It is possible\nthat the patient has taken some drug, and that he may in some sleeping\nphase have injured himself. I do not think this is likely; and\ncircumstances, other than those which I have myself been investigating,\nmay prove that this surmise is not correct. But in the meantime it is\npossible; and must, till it be disproved, be kept within our purview.\"\nHere Sergeant Daw interrupted:\n\n\"That may be, but if so, we should be able to find the instrument with\nwhich the wrist was injured. There would be marks of blood somewhere.\"\n\n\"Exactly so!\" said the Doctor, fixing his glasses as though preparing\nfor an argument. \"But if it be that the patient has used some strange\ndrug, it may be one that does not take effect at once. As we are as\nyet ignorant of its potentialities--if, indeed, the whole surmise is\ncorrect at all--we must be prepared at all points.\"\n\nHere Miss Trelawny joined in the conversation:\n\n\"That would be quite right, so far as the action of the drug was\nconcerned; but according to the second part of your surmise the wound\nmay have been self-inflicted, and this after the drug had taken effect.\"\n\n\"True!\" said the Detective and the Doctor simultaneously. She went on:\n\n\"As however, Doctor, your guess does not exhaust the possibilities, we\nmust bear in mind that some other variant of the same root-idea may be\ncorrect. I take it, therefore, that our first search, to be made on\nthis assumption, must be for the weapon with which the injury was done\nto my Father's wrist.\"\n\n\"Perhaps he put the weapon in the safe before he became quite\nunconscious,\" said I, giving voice foolishly to a half-formed thought.\n\n\"That could not be,\" said the Doctor quickly. \"At least I think it\ncould hardly be,\" he added cautiously, with a brief bow to me. \"You\nsee, the left hand is covered with blood; but there is no blood mark\nwhatever on the safe.\"\n\n\"Quite right!\" I said, and there was a long pause.\n\nThe first to break the silence was the Doctor.\n\n\"We shall want a nurse here as soon as possible; and I know the very\none to suit. I shall go at once to get her if I can. I must ask that\ntill I return some of you will remain constantly with the patient. It\nmay be necessary to remove him to another room later on; but in the\nmeantime he is best left here. Miss Trelawny, may I take it that\neither you or Mrs. Grant will remain here--not merely in the room, but\nclose to the patient and watchful of him--till I return?\"\n\nShe bowed in reply, and took a seat beside the sofa. The Doctor gave\nher some directions as to what she should do in case her father should\nbecome conscious before his return.\n\nThe next to move was Superintendent Dolan, who came close to Sergeant\nDaw as he said:\n\n\"I had better return now to the station--unless, of course, you should\nwish me to remain for a while.\"\n\nHe answered, \"Is Johnny Wright still in your division?\"\n\n\"Yes! Would you like him to be with you?\" The other nodded reply.\n\"Then I will send him on to you as soon as can be arranged. He shall\nthen stay with you as long as you wish. I will tell him that he is to\ntake his instructions entirely from you.\"\n\nThe Sergeant accompanied him to the door, saying as he went:\n\n\"Thank you, sir; you are always thoughtful for men who are working with\nyou. It is a pleasure to me to be with you again. I shall go back to\nScotland Yard and report to my chief. Then I shall call at Chatwood's;\nand I shall return here as soon as possible. I suppose I may take it,\nmiss, that I may put up here for a day or two, if required. It may be\nsome help, or possibly some comfort to you, if I am about, until we\nunravel this mystery.\"\n\n\"I shall be very grateful to you.\" He looked keenly at her for a few\nseconds before he spoke again.\n\n\"Before I go have I permission to look about your Father's table and\ndesk? There might be something which would give us a clue--or a lead\nat all events.\" Her answer was so unequivocal as almost to surprise\nhim.\n\n\"You have the fullest possible permission to do anything which may help\nus in this dreadful trouble--to discover what it is that is wrong with\nmy Father, or which may shield him in the future!\"\n\nHe began at once a systematic search of the dressing-table, and after\nthat of the writing-table in the room. In one of the drawers he found\na letter sealed; this he brought at once across the room and handed to\nMiss Trelawny.\n\n\"A letter--directed to me--and in my Father's hand!\" she said as she\neagerly opened it. I watched her face as she began to read; but seeing\nat once that Sergeant Daw kept his keen eyes on her face, unflinchingly\nwatching every flitting expression, I kept my eyes henceforth fixed on\nhis. When Miss Trelawny had read her letter through, I had in my mind\na conviction, which, however, I kept locked in my own heart. Amongst\nthe suspicions in the mind of the Detective was one, rather perhaps\npotential than definite, of Miss Trelawny herself.\n\nFor several minutes Miss Trelawny held the letter in her hand with her\neyes downcast, thinking. Then she read it carefully again; this time\nthe varying expressions were intensified, and I thought I could easily\nfollow them. When she had finished the second reading, she paused\nagain. Then, though with some reluctance, she handed the letter to the\nDetective. He read it eagerly but with unchanging face; read it a\nsecond time, and then handed it back with a bow. She paused a little\nagain, and then handed it to me. As she did so she raised her eyes to\nmine for a single moment appealingly; a swift blush spread over her\npale cheeks and forehead.\n\nWith mingled feelings I took it, but, all said, I was glad. She did\nnot show any perturbation in giving the letter to the Detective--she\nmight not have shown any to anyone else. But to me... I feared to\nfollow the thought further; but read on, conscious that the eyes of\nboth Miss Trelawny and the Detective were fixed on me.\n\n\n\"MY DEAR DAUGHTER, I want you to take this letter as an\ninstruction--absolute and imperative, and admitting of no deviation\nwhatever--in case anything untoward or unexpected by you or by others\nshould happen to me. If I should be suddenly and mysteriously stricken\ndown--either by sickness, accident or attack--you must follow these\ndirections implicitly. If I am not already in my bedroom when you are\nmade cognisant of my state, I am to be brought there as quickly as\npossible. Even should I be dead, my body is to be brought there.\nThenceforth, until I am either conscious and able to give instructions\non my own account, or buried, I am never to be left alone--not for a\nsingle instant. From nightfall to sunrise at least two persons must\nremain in the room. It will be well that a trained nurse be in the\nroom from time to time, and will note any symptoms, either permanent or\nchanging, which may strike her. My solicitors, Marvin & Jewkes, of 27B\nLincoln's Inn, have full instructions in case of my death; and Mr.\nMarvin has himself undertaken to see personally my wishes carried out.\nI should advise you, my dear Daughter, seeing that you have no relative\nto apply to, to get some friend whom you can trust to either remain\nwithin the house where instant communication can be made, or to come\nnightly to aid in the watching, or to be within call. Such friend may\nbe either male or female; but, whichever it may be, there should be\nadded one other watcher or attendant at hand of the opposite sex.\nUnderstand, that it is of the very essence of my wish that there should\nbe, awake and exercising themselves to my purposes, both masculine and\nfeminine intelligences. Once more, my dear Margaret, let me impress on\nyou the need for observation and just reasoning to conclusions,\nhowsoever strange. If I am taken ill or injured, this will be no\nordinary occasion; and I wish to warn you, so that your guarding may be\ncomplete.\n\n\"Nothing in my room--I speak of the curios--must be removed or\ndisplaced in any way, or for any cause whatever. I have a special\nreason and a special purpose in the placing of each; so that any moving\nof them would thwart my plans.\n\n\"Should you want money or counsel in anything, Mr. Marvin will carry\nout your wishes; to the which he has my full instructions.\"\n\n \"ABEL TRELAWNY.\"\n\n\nI read the letter a second time before speaking, for I feared to betray\nmyself. The choice of a friend might be a momentous occasion for me.\nI had already ground for hope, that she had asked me to help her in the\nfirst throe of her trouble; but love makes its own doubtings, and I\nfeared. My thoughts seemed to whirl with lightning rapidity, and in a\nfew seconds a whole process of reasoning became formulated. I must not\nvolunteer to be the friend that the father advised his daughter to have\nto aid her in her vigil; and yet that one glance had a lesson which I\nmust not ignore. Also, did not she, when she wanted help, send to\nme--to me a stranger, except for one meeting at a dance and one brief\nafternoon of companionship on the river? Would it not humiliate her to\nmake her ask me twice? Humiliate her! No! that pain I could at all\nevents save her; it is not humiliation to refuse. So, as I handed her\nback the letter, I said:\n\n\"I know you will forgive me, Miss Trelawny, if I presume too much; but\nif you will permit me to aid in the watching I shall be proud. Though\nthe occasion is a sad one, I shall be so far happy to be allowed the\nprivilege.\"\n\nDespite her manifest and painful effort at self-control, the red tide\nswept her face and neck. Even her eyes seemed suffused, and in stern\ncontrast with her pale cheeks when the tide had rolled back. She\nanswered in a low voice:\n\n\"I shall be very grateful for your help!\" Then in an afterthought she\nadded:\n\n\"But you must not let me be selfish in my need! I know you have many\nduties to engage you; and though I shall value your help highly--most\nhighly--it would not be fair to monopolise your time.\"\n\n\"As to that,\" I answered at once, \"my time is yours. I can for today\neasily arrange my work so that I can come here in the afternoon and\nstay till morning. After that, if the occasion still demands it, I can\nso arrange my work that I shall have more time still at my disposal.\"\n\nShe was much moved. I could see the tears gather in her eyes, and she\nturned away her head. The Detective spoke:\n\n\"I am glad you will be here, Mr. Ross. I shall be in the house myself,\nas Miss Trelawny will allow me, if my people in Scotland Yard will\npermit. That letter seems to put a different complexion on everything;\nthough the mystery remains greater than ever. If you can wait here an\nhour or two I shall go to headquarters, and then to the safe-makers.\nAfter that I shall return; and you can go away easier in your mind, for\nI shall be here.\"\n\nWhen he had gone, we two, Miss Trelawny and I, remained in silence. At\nlast she raised her eyes and looked at me for a moment; after that I\nwould not have exchanged places with a king. For a while she busied\nherself round the extemporised bedside of her father. Then, asking me\nto be sure not to take my eyes off him till she returned, she hurried\nout.\n\nIn a few minutes she came back with Mrs. Grant and two maids and a\ncouple of men, who bore the entire frame and furniture of a light iron\nbed. This they proceeded to put together and to make. When the work\nwas completed, and the servants had withdrawn, she said to me:\n\n\"It will be well to be all ready when the Doctor returns. He will\nsurely want to have Father put to bed; and a proper bed will be better\nfor him than the sofa.\" She then got a chair close beside her father,\nand sat down watching him.\n\nI went about the room, taking accurate note of all I saw. And truly\nthere were enough things in the room to evoke the curiosity of any\nman--even though the attendant circumstances were less strange. The\nwhole place, excepting those articles of furniture necessary to a\nwell-furnished bedroom, was filled with magnificent curios, chiefly\nEgyptian. As the room was of immense size there was opportunity for the\nplacing of a large number of them, even if, as with these, they were of\nhuge proportions.\n\nWhilst I was still investigating the room there came the sound of\nwheels on the gravel outside the house. There was a ring at the hall\ndoor, and a few minutes later, after a preliminary tap at the door and\nan answering \"Come in!\" Doctor Winchester entered, followed by a young\nwoman in the dark dress of a nurse.\n\n\"I have been fortunate!\" he said as he came in. \"I found her at once\nand free. Miss Trelawny, this is Nurse Kennedy!\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter III\n\nThe Watchers\n\n\nI was struck by the way the two young women looked at each other. I\nsuppose I have been so much in the habit of weighing up in my own mind\nthe personality of witnesses and of forming judgment by their\nunconscious action and mode of bearing themselves, that the habit\nextends to my life outside as well as within the court-house. At this\nmoment of my life anything that interested Miss Trelawny interested me;\nand as she had been struck by the newcomer I instinctively weighed her\nup also. By comparison of the two I seemed somehow to gain a new\nknowledge of Miss Trelawny. Certainly, the two women made a good\ncontrast. Miss Trelawny was of fine figure; dark, straight-featured.\nShe had marvellous eyes; great, wide-open, and as black and soft as\nvelvet, with a mysterious depth. To look in them was like gazing at a\nblack mirror such as Doctor Dee used in his wizard rites. I heard an\nold gentleman at the picnic, a great oriental traveller, describe the\neffect of her eyes \"as looking at night at the great distant lamps of a\nmosque through the open door.\" The eyebrows were typical. Finely\narched and rich in long curling hair, they seemed like the proper\narchitectural environment of the deep, splendid eyes. Her hair was\nblack also, but was as fine as silk. Generally black hair is a type of\nanimal strength and seems as if some strong expression of the forces of\na strong nature; but in this case there could be no such thought.\nThere were refinement and high breeding; and though there was no\nsuggestion of weakness, any sense of power there was, was rather\nspiritual than animal. The whole harmony of her being seemed complete.\nCarriage, figure, hair, eyes; the mobile, full mouth, whose scarlet\nlips and white teeth seemed to light up the lower part of the face--as\nthe eyes did the upper; the wide sweep of the jaw from chin to ear; the\nlong, fine fingers; the hand which seemed to move from the wrist as\nthough it had a sentience of its own. All these perfections went to\nmake up a personality that dominated either by its grace, its\nsweetness, its beauty, or its charm.\n\nNurse Kennedy, on the other hand, was rather under than over a woman's\naverage height. She was firm and thickset, with full limbs and broad,\nstrong, capable hands. Her colour was in the general effect that of an\nautumn leaf. The yellow-brown hair was thick and long, and the\ngolden-brown eyes sparkled from the freckled, sunburnt skin. Her rosy\ncheeks gave a general idea of rich brown. The red lips and white teeth\ndid not alter the colour scheme, but only emphasized it. She had a\nsnub nose--there was no possible doubt about it; but like such noses in\ngeneral it showed a nature generous, untiring, and full of good-nature.\nHer broad white forehead, which even the freckles had spared, was full\nof forceful thought and reason.\n\nDoctor Winchester had on their journey from the hospital, coached her\nin the necessary particulars, and without a word she took charge of the\npatient and set to work. Having examined the new-made bed and shaken\nthe pillows, she spoke to the Doctor, who gave instructions; presently\nwe all four, stepping together, lifted the unconscious man from the\nsofa.\n\nEarly in the afternoon, when Sergeant Daw had returned, I called at my\nrooms in Jermyn Street, and sent out such clothes, books and papers as\nI should be likely to want within a few days. Then I went on to keep\nmy legal engagements.\n\nThe Court sat late that day as an important case was ending; it was\nstriking six as I drove in at the gate of the Kensington Palace Road.\nI found myself installed in a large room close to the sick chamber.\n\nThat night we were not yet regularly organised for watching, so that\nthe early part of the evening showed an unevenly balanced guard. Nurse\nKennedy, who had been on duty all day, was lying down, as she had\narranged to come on again by twelve o'clock. Doctor Winchester, who\nwas dining in the house, remained in the room until dinner was\nannounced; and went back at once when it was over. During dinner Mrs.\nGrant remained in the room, and with her Sergeant Daw, who wished to\ncomplete a minute examination which he had undertaken of everything in\nthe room and near it. At nine o'clock Miss Trelawny and I went in to\nrelieve the Doctor. She had lain down for a few hours in the afternoon\nso as to be refreshed for her work at night. She told me that she had\ndetermined that for this night at least she would sit up and watch. I\ndid not try to dissuade her, for I knew that her mind was made up.\nThen and there I made up my mind that I would watch with her--unless,\nof course, I should see that she really did not wish it. I said\nnothing of my intentions for the present. We came in on tiptoe, so\nsilently that the Doctor, who was bending over the bed, did not hear\nus, and seemed a little startled when suddenly looking up he saw our\neyes upon him. I felt that the mystery of the whole thing was getting\non his nerves, as it had already got on the nerves of some others of\nus. He was, I fancied, a little annoyed with himself for having been\nso startled, and at once began to talk in a hurried manner as though to\nget over our idea of his embarrassment:\n\n\"I am really and absolutely at my wits' end to find any fit cause for\nthis stupor. I have made again as accurate an examination as I know\nhow, and I am satisfied that there is no injury to the brain, that is,\nno external injury. Indeed, all his vital organs seem unimpaired. I\nhave given him, as you know, food several times and it has manifestly\ndone him good. His breathing is strong and regular, and his pulse is\nslower and stronger than it was this morning. I cannot find evidence\nof any known drug, and his unconsciousness does not resemble any of the\nmany cases of hypnotic sleep which I saw in the Charcot Hospital in\nParis. And as to these wounds\"--he laid his finger gently on the\nbandaged wrist which lay outside the coverlet as he spoke, \"I do not\nknow what to make of them. They might have been made by a\ncarding-machine; but that supposition is untenable. It is within the\nbounds of possibility that they might have been made by a wild animal\nif it had taken care to sharpen its claws. That too is, I take it,\nimpossible. By the way, have you any strange pets here in the house;\nanything of an exceptional kind, such as a tiger-cat or anything out of\nthe common?\" Miss Trelawny smiled a sad smile which made my heart ache,\nas she made answer:\n\n\"Oh no! Father does not like animals about the house, unless they are\ndead and mummied.\" This was said with a touch of bitterness--or\njealousy, I could hardly tell which. \"Even my poor kitten was only\nallowed in the house on sufferance; and though he is the dearest and\nbest-conducted cat in the world, he is now on a sort of parole, and is\nnot allowed into this room.\"\n\nAs she was speaking a faint rattling of the door handle was heard.\nInstantly Miss Trelawny's face brightened. She sprang up and went over\nto the door, saying as she went:\n\n\"There he is! That is my Silvio. He stands on his hind legs and\nrattles the door handle when he wants to come into a room.\" She opened\nthe door, speaking to the cat as though he were a baby: \"Did him want\nhis movver? Come then; but he must stay with her!\" She lifted the\ncat, and came back with him in her arms. He was certainly a\nmagnificent animal. A chinchilla grey Persian with long silky hair; a\nreally lordly animal with a haughty bearing despite his gentleness; and\nwith great paws which spread out as he placed them on the ground.\nWhilst she was fondling him, he suddenly gave a wriggle like an eel and\nslipped out of her arms. He ran across the room and stood opposite a\nlow table on which stood the mummy of an animal, and began to mew and\nsnarl. Miss Trelawny was after him in an instant and lifted him in her\narms, kicking and struggling and wriggling to get away; but not biting\nor scratching, for evidently he loved his beautiful mistress. He\nceased to make a noise the moment he was in her arms; in a whisper she\nadmonished him:\n\n\"O you naughty Silvio! You have broken your parole that mother gave\nfor you. Now, say goodnight to the gentlemen, and come away to\nmother's room!\" As she was speaking she held out the cat's paw to me\nto shake. As I did so I could not but admire its size and beauty.\n\"Why,\" said I, \"his paw seems like a little boxing-glove full of\nclaws.\" She smiled:\n\n\"So it ought to. Don't you notice that my Silvio has seven toes, see!\"\nshe opened the paw; and surely enough there were seven separate claws,\neach of them sheathed in a delicate, fine, shell-like case. As I\ngently stroked the foot the claws emerged and one of them\naccidentally--there was no anger now and the cat was purring--stuck\ninto my hand. Instinctively I said as I drew back:\n\n\"Why, his claws are like razors!\"\n\nDoctor Winchester had come close to us and was bending over looking at\nthe cat's claws; as I spoke he said in a quick, sharp way:\n\n\"Eh!\" I could hear the quick intake of his breath. Whilst I was\nstroking the now quiescent cat, the Doctor went to the table and tore\noff a piece of blotting-paper from the writing-pad and came back. He\nlaid the paper on his palm and, with a simple \"pardon me!\" to Miss\nTrelawny, placed the cat's paw on it and pressed it down with his other\nhand. The haughty cat seemed to resent somewhat the familiarity, and\ntried to draw its foot away. This was plainly what the Doctor wanted,\nfor in the act the cat opened the sheaths of its claws and and made\nseveral reefs in the soft paper. Then Miss Trelawny took her pet away.\nShe returned in a couple of minutes; as she came in she said:\n\n\"It is most odd about that mummy! When Silvio came into the room\nfirst--indeed I took him in as a kitten to show to Father--he went on\njust the same way. He jumped up on the table, and tried to scratch and\nbite the mummy. That was what made Father so angry, and brought the\ndecree of banishment on poor Silvio. Only his parole, given through\nme, kept him in the house.\"\n\nWhilst she had been gone, Doctor Winchester had taken the bandage from\nher father's wrist. The wound was now quite clear, as the separate\ncuts showed out in fierce red lines. The Doctor folded the\nblotting-paper across the line of punctures made by the cat's claws,\nand held it down close to the wound. As he did so, he looked up\ntriumphantly and beckoned us over to him.\n\nThe cuts in the paper corresponded with the wounds in the wrist! No\nexplanation was needed, as he said:\n\n\"It would have been better if master Silvio had not broken his parole!\"\n\nWe were all silent for a little while. Suddenly Miss Trelawny said:\n\n\"But Silvio was not in here last night!\"\n\n\"Are you sure? Could you prove that if necessary?\" She hesitated\nbefore replying:\n\n\"I am certain of it; but I fear it would be difficult to prove. Silvio\nsleeps in a basket in my room. I certainly put him to bed last night;\nI remember distinctly laying his little blanket over him, and tucking\nhim in. This morning I took him out of the basket myself. I certainly\nnever noticed him in here; though, of course, that would not mean much,\nfor I was too concerned about poor father, and too much occupied with\nhim, to notice even Silvio.\"\n\nThe Doctor shook his head as he said with a certain sadness:\n\n\"Well, at any rate it is no use trying to prove anything now. Any cat\nin the world would have cleaned blood-marks--did any exist--from his\npaws in a hundredth part of the time that has elapsed.\"\n\nAgain we were all silent; and again the silence was broken by Miss\nTrelawny:\n\n\"But now that I think of it, it could not have been poor Silvio that\ninjured Father. My door was shut when I first heard the sound; and\nFather's was shut when I listened at it. When I went in, the injury\nhad been done; so that it must have been before Silvio could possibly\nhave got in.\" This reasoning commended itself, especially to me as a\nbarrister, for it was proof to satisfy a jury. It gave me a distinct\npleasure to have Silvio acquitted of the crime--possibly because he was\nMiss Trelawny's cat and was loved by her. Happy cat! Silvio's\nmistress was manifestly pleased as I said:\n\n\"Verdict, 'not guilty!'\" Doctor Winchester after a pause observed:\n\n\"My apologies to master Silvio on this occasion; but I am still puzzled\nto know why he is so keen against that mummy. Is he the same toward\nthe other mummies in the house? There are, I suppose, a lot of them.\nI saw three in the hall as I came in.\"\n\n\"There are lots of them,\" she answered. \"I sometimes don't know\nwhether I am in a private house or the British Museum. But Silvio\nnever concerns himself about any of them except that particular one. I\nsuppose it must be because it is of an animal, not a man or a woman.\"\n\n\"Perhaps it is of a cat!\" said the Doctor as he started up and went\nacross the room to look at the mummy more closely. \"Yes,\" he went on,\n\"it is the mummy of a cat; and a very fine one, too. If it hadn't been\na special favourite of some very special person it would never have\nreceived so much honour. See! A painted case and obsidian eyes--just\nlike a human mummy. It is an extraordinary thing, that knowledge of\nkind to kind. Here is a dead cat--that is all; it is perhaps four or\nfive thousand years old--and another cat of another breed, in what is\npractically another world, is ready to fly at it, just as it would if\nit were not dead. I should like to experiment a bit about that cat if\nyou don't mind, Miss Trelawny.\" She hesitated before replying:\n\n\"Of course, do anything you may think necessary or wise; but I hope it\nwill not be anything to hurt or worry my poor Silvio.\" The Doctor\nsmiled as he answered:\n\n\"Oh, Silvio would be all right: it is the other one that my sympathies\nwould be reserved for.\"\n\n\"How do you mean?\"\n\n\"Master Silvio will do the attacking; the other one will do the\nsuffering.\"\n\n\"Suffering?\" There was a note of pain in her voice. The Doctor smiled\nmore broadly:\n\n\"Oh, please make your mind easy as to that. The other won't suffer as\nwe understand it; except perhaps in his structure and outfit.\"\n\n\"What on earth do you mean?\"\n\n\"Simply this, my dear young lady, that the antagonist will be a mummy\ncat like this one. There are, I take it, plenty of them to be had in\nMuseum Street. I shall get one and place it here instead of that\none--you won't think that a temporary exchange will violate your\nFather's instructions, I hope. We shall then find out, to begin with,\nwhether Silvio objects to all mummy cats, or only to this one in\nparticular.\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" she said doubtfully. \"Father's instructions seem very\nuncompromising.\" Then after a pause she went on: \"But of course under\nthe circumstances anything that is to be ultimately for his good must\nbe done. I suppose there can't be anything very particular about the\nmummy of a cat.\"\n\nDoctor Winchester said nothing. He sat rigid, with so grave a look on\nhis face that his extra gravity passed on to me; and in its\nenlightening perturbation I began to realise more than I had yet done\nthe strangeness of the case in which I was now so deeply concerned.\nWhen once this thought had begun there was no end to it. Indeed it\ngrew, and blossomed, and reproduced itself in a thousand different\nways. The room and all in it gave grounds for strange thoughts. There\nwere so many ancient relics that unconsciously one was taken back to\nstrange lands and strange times. There were so many mummies or mummy\nobjects, round which there seemed to cling for ever the penetrating\nodours of bitumen, and spices and gums--\"Nard and Circassia's balmy\nsmells\"--that one was unable to forget the past. Of course, there was\nbut little light in the room, and that carefully shaded; so that there\nwas no glare anywhere. None of that direct light which can manifest\nitself as a power or an entity, and so make for companionship. The\nroom was a large one, and lofty in proportion to its size. In its\nvastness was place for a multitude of things not often found in a\nbedchamber. In far corners of the room were shadows of uncanny shape.\nMore than once as I thought, the multitudinous presence of the dead and\nthe past took such hold on me that I caught myself looking round\nfearfully as though some strange personality or influence was present.\nEven the manifest presence of Doctor Winchester and Miss Trelawny could\nnot altogether comfort or satisfy me at such moments. It was with a\ndistinct sense of relief that I saw a new personality in the room in\nthe shape of Nurse Kennedy. There was no doubt that that business-like,\nself-reliant, capable young woman added an element of security to such\nwild imaginings as my own. She had a quality of common sense that\nseemed to pervade everything around her, as though it were some kind of\nemanation. Up to that moment I had been building fancies around the\nsick man; so that finally all about him, including myself, had become\ninvolved in them, or enmeshed, or saturated, or... But now that she had\ncome, he relapsed into his proper perspective as a patient; the room\nwas a sick-room, and the shadows lost their fearsome quality. The only\nthing which it could not altogether abrogate was the strange Egyptian\nsmell. You may put a mummy in a glass case and hermetically seal it so\nthat no corroding air can get within; but all the same it will exhale\nits odour. One might think that four or five thousand years would\nexhaust the olfactory qualities of anything; but experience teaches us\nthat these smells remain, and that their secrets are unknown to us.\nToday they are as much mysteries as they were when the embalmers put\nthe body in the bath of natron...\n\n\nAll at once I sat up. I had become lost in an absorbing reverie. The\nEgyptian smell had seemed to get on my nerves--on my memory--on my very\nwill.\n\nAt that moment I had a thought which was like an inspiration. If I was\ninfluenced in such a manner by the smell, might it not be that the sick\nman, who lived half his life or more in the atmosphere, had gradually\nand by slow but sure process taken into his system something which had\npermeated him to such degree that it had a new power derived from\nquantity--or strength--or...\n\nI was becoming lost again in a reverie. This would not do. I must\ntake such precaution that I could remain awake, or free from such\nentrancing thought. I had had but half a night's sleep last night; and\nthis night I must remain awake. Without stating my intention, for I\nfeared that I might add to the trouble and uneasiness of Miss Trelawny,\nI went downstairs and out of the house. I soon found a chemist's shop,\nand came away with a respirator. When I got back, it was ten o'clock;\nthe Doctor was going for the night. The Nurse came with him to the\ndoor of the sick-room, taking her last instructions. Miss Trelawny sat\nstill beside the bed. Sergeant Daw, who had entered as the Doctor went\nout, was some little distance off.\n\nWhen Nurse Kennedy joined us, we arranged that she should sit up till\ntwo o'clock, when Miss Trelawny would relieve her. Thus, in accordance\nwith Mr. Trelawny's instructions, there would always be a man and a\nwoman in the room; and each one of us would overlap, so that at no time\nwould a new set of watchers come on duty without some one to tell of\nwhat--if anything--had occurred. I lay down on a sofa in my own room,\nhaving arranged that one of the servants should call me a little before\ntwelve. In a few moments I was asleep.\n\nWhen I was waked, it took me several seconds to get back my thoughts so\nas to recognise my own identity and surroundings. The short sleep had,\nhowever, done me good, and I could look on things around me in a more\npractical light than I had been able to do earlier in the evening. I\nbathed my face, and thus refreshed went into the sick-room. I moved\nvery softly. The Nurse was sitting by the bed, quiet and alert; the\nDetective sat in an arm-chair across the room in deep shadow. He did\nnot move when I crossed, until I got close to him, when he said in a\ndull whisper:\n\n\"It is all right; I have not been asleep!\" An unnecessary thing to\nsay, I thought--it always is, unless it be untrue in spirit. When I\ntold him that his watch was over; that he might go to bed till I should\ncall him at six o'clock, he seemed relieved and went with alacrity. At\nthe door he turned and, coming back to me, said in a whisper:\n\n\"I sleep lightly and I shall have my pistols with me. I won't feel so\nheavy-headed when I get out of this mummy smell.\"\n\nHe too, then, had shared my experience of drowsiness!\n\nI asked the Nurse if she wanted anything. I noticed that she had a\nvinaigrette in her lap. Doubtless she, too, had felt some of the\ninfluence which had so affected me. She said that she had all she\nrequired, but that if she should want anything she would at once let me\nknow. I wished to keep her from noticing my respirator, so I went to\nthe chair in the shadow where her back was toward me. Here I quietly\nput it on, and made myself comfortable.\n\nFor what seemed a long time, I sat and thought and thought. It was a\nwild medley of thoughts, as might have been expected from the\nexperiences of the previous day and night. Again I found myself\nthinking of the Egyptian smell; and I remember that I felt a delicious\nsatisfaction that I did not experience it as I had done. The\nrespirator was doing its work.\n\nIt must have been that the passing of this disturbing thought made for\nrepose of mind, which is the corollary of bodily rest, for, though I\nreally cannot remember being asleep or waking from it, I saw a\nvision--I dreamed a dream, I scarcely know which.\n\nI was still in the room, seated in the chair. I had on my respirator\nand knew that I breathed freely. The Nurse sat in her chair with her\nback toward me. She sat quite still. The sick man lay as still as the\ndead. It was rather like the picture of a scene than the reality; all\nwere still and silent; and the stillness and silence were continuous.\nOutside, in the distance I could hear the sounds of a city, the\noccasional roll of wheels, the shout of a reveller, the far-away echo\nof whistles and the rumbling of trains. The light was very, very low;\nthe reflection of it under the green-shaded lamp was a dim relief to\nthe darkness, rather than light. The green silk fringe of the lamp had\nmerely the colour of an emerald seen in the moonlight. The room, for\nall its darkness, was full of shadows. It seemed in my whirling\nthoughts as though all the real things had become shadows--shadows\nwhich moved, for they passed the dim outline of the high windows.\nShadows which had sentience. I even thought there was sound, a faint\nsound as of the mew of a cat--the rustle of drapery and a metallic\nclink as of metal faintly touching metal. I sat as one entranced. At\nlast I felt, as in nightmare, that this was sleep, and that in the\npassing of its portals all my will had gone.\n\nAll at once my senses were full awake. A shriek rang in my ears. The\nroom was filled suddenly with a blaze of light. There was the sound of\npistol shots--one, two; and a haze of white smoke in the room. When my\nwaking eyes regained their power, I could have shrieked with horror\nmyself at what I saw before me.\n\n\n\n\nChapter IV\n\nThe Second Attempt\n\n\nThe sight which met my eyes had the horror of a dream within a dream,\nwith the certainty of reality added. The room was as I had seen it\nlast; except that the shadowy look had gone in the glare of the many\nlights, and every article in it stood stark and solidly real.\n\nBy the empty bed sat Nurse Kennedy, as my eyes had last seen her,\nsitting bolt upright in the arm-chair beside the bed. She had placed a\npillow behind her, so that her back might be erect; but her neck was\nfixed as that of one in a cataleptic trance. She was, to all intents\nand purposes, turned into stone. There was no special expression on\nher face--no fear, no horror; nothing such as might be expected of one\nin such a condition. Her open eyes showed neither wonder nor interest.\nShe was simply a negative existence, warm, breathing, placid; but\nabsolutely unconscious of the world around her. The bedclothes were\ndisarranged, as though the patient had been drawn from under them\nwithout throwing them back. The corner of the upper sheet hung upon\nthe floor; close by it lay one of the bandages with which the Doctor\nhad dressed the wounded wrist. Another and another lay further along\nthe floor, as though forming a clue to where the sick man now lay.\nThis was almost exactly where he had been found on the previous night,\nunder the great safe. Again, the left arm lay toward the safe. But\nthere had been a new outrage, an attempt had been made to sever the arm\nclose to the bangle which held the tiny key. A heavy \"kukri\"\nknife--one of the leaf-shaped knives which the Gurkhas and others of\nthe hill tribes of India use with such effect--had been taken from its\nplace on the wall, and with it the attempt had been made. It was\nmanifest that just at the moment of striking, the blow had been\narrested, for only the point of the knife and not the edge of the blade\nhad struck the flesh. As it was, the outer side of the arm had been\ncut to the bone and the blood was pouring out. In addition, the former\nwound in front of the arm had been cut or torn about terribly, one of\nthe cuts seemed to jet out blood as if with each pulsation of the\nheart. By the side of her father knelt Miss Trelawny, her white\nnightdress stained with the blood in which she knelt. In the middle of\nthe room Sergeant Daw, in his shirt and trousers and stocking feet, was\nputting fresh cartridges into his revolver in a dazed mechanical kind\nof way. His eyes were red and heavy, and he seemed only half awake,\nand less than half conscious of what was going on around him. Several\nservants, bearing lights of various kinds, were clustered round the\ndoorway.\n\nAs I rose from my chair and came forward, Miss Trelawny raised her eyes\ntoward me. When she saw me she shrieked and started to her feet,\npointing towards me. Never shall I forget the strange picture she\nmade, with her white drapery all smeared with blood which, as she rose\nfrom the pool, ran in streaks toward her bare feet. I believe that I\nhad only been asleep; that whatever influence had worked on Mr.\nTrelawny and Nurse Kennedy--and in less degree on Sergeant Daw--had not\ntouched me. The respirator had been of some service, though it had not\nkept off the tragedy whose dire evidences were before me. I can\nunderstand now--I could understand even then--the fright, added to that\nwhich had gone before, which my appearance must have evoked. I had\nstill on the respirator, which covered mouth and nose; my hair had been\ntossed in my sleep. Coming suddenly forward, thus enwrapped and\ndishevelled, in that horrified crowd, I must have had, in the strange\nmixture of lights, an extraordinary and terrifying appearance. It was\nwell that I recognised all this in time to avert another catastrophe;\nfor the half-dazed, mechanically-acting Detective put in the cartridges\nand had raised his revolver to shoot at me when I succeeded in\nwrenching off the respirator and shouting to him to hold his hand. In\nthis also he acted mechanically; the red, half-awake eyes had not in\nthem even then the intention of conscious action. The danger, however,\nwas averted. The relief of the situation, strangely enough, came in a\nsimple fashion. Mrs. Grant, seeing that her young mistress had on only\nher nightdress, had gone to fetch a dressing-gown, which she now threw\nover her. This simple act brought us all back to the region of fact.\nWith a long breath, one and all seemed to devote themselves to the most\npressing matter before us, that of staunching the flow of blood from\nthe arm of the wounded man. Even as the thought of action came, I\nrejoiced; for the bleeding was very proof that Mr. Trelawny still lived.\n\nLast night's lesson was not thrown away. More than one of those\npresent knew now what to do in such an emergency, and within a few\nseconds willing hands were at work on a tourniquet. A man was at once\ndespatched for the doctor, and several of the servants disappeared to\nmake themselves respectable. We lifted Mr. Trelawny on to the sofa\nwhere he had lain yesterday; and, having done what we could for him,\nturned our attention to the Nurse. In all the turmoil she had not\nstirred; she sat there as before, erect and rigid, breathing softly and\nnaturally and with a placid smile. As it was manifestly of no use to\nattempt anything with her till the doctor had come, we began to think\nof the general situation.\n\nMrs. Grant had by this time taken her mistress away and changed her\nclothes; for she was back presently in a dressing-gown and slippers,\nand with the traces of blood removed from her hands. She was now much\ncalmer, though she trembled sadly; and her face was ghastly white.\nWhen she had looked at her father's wrist, I holding the tourniquet,\nshe turned her eyes round the room, resting them now and again on each\none of us present in turn, but seeming to find no comfort. It was so\napparent to me that she did not know where to begin or whom to trust\nthat, to reassure her, I said:\n\n\"I am all right now; I was only asleep.\" Her voice had a gulp in it as\nshe said in a low voice:\n\n\"Asleep! You! and my Father in danger! I thought you were on the\nwatch!\" I felt the sting of justice in the reproach; but I really\nwanted to help her, so I answered:\n\n\"Only asleep. It is bad enough, I know; but there is something more\nthan an \"only\" round us here. Had it not been that I took a definite\nprecaution I might have been like the Nurse there.\" She turned her\neyes swiftly on the weird figure, sitting grimly upright like a painted\nstatue; and then her face softened. With the action of habitual\ncourtesy she said:\n\n\"Forgive me! I did not mean to be rude. But I am in such distress and\nfear that I hardly know what I am saying. Oh, it is dreadful! I fear\nfor fresh trouble and horror and mystery every moment.\" This cut me to\nthe very heart, and out of the heart's fulness I spoke:\n\n\"Don't give me a thought! I don't deserve it. I was on guard, and yet\nI slept. All that I can say is that I didn't mean to, and I tried to\navoid it; but it was over me before I knew it. Anyhow, it is done now;\nand can't be undone. Probably some day we may understand it all; but\nnow let us try to get at some idea of what has happened. Tell me what\nyou remember!\" The effort to recollect seemed to stimulate her; she\nbecame calmer as she spoke:\n\n\"I was asleep, and woke suddenly with the same horrible feeling on me\nthat Father was in great and immediate danger. I jumped up and ran,\njust as I was, into his room. It was nearly pitch dark, but as I\nopened the door there was light enough to see Father's nightdress as he\nlay on the floor under the safe, just as on that first awful night.\nThen I think I must have gone mad for a moment.\" She stopped and\nshuddered. My eyes lit on Sergeant Daw, still fiddling in an aimless\nway with the revolver. Mindful of my work with the tourniquet, I said\ncalmly:\n\n\"Now tell us, Sergeant Daw, what did you fire at?\" The policeman\nseemed to pull himself together with the habit of obedience. Looking\naround at the servants remaining in the room, he said with that air of\nimportance which, I take it, is the regulation attitude of an official\nof the law before strangers:\n\n\"Don't you think, sir, that we can allow the servants to go away? We\ncan then better go into the matter.\" I nodded approval; the servants\ntook the hint and withdrew, though unwillingly, the last one closing\nthe door behind him. Then the Detective went on:\n\n\"I think I had better tell you my impressions, sir, rather than recount\nmy actions. That is, so far as I remember them.\" There was a mortified\ndeference now in his manner, which probably arose from his\nconsciousness of the awkward position in which he found himself. \"I\nwent to sleep half-dressed--as I am now, with a revolver under my\npillow. It was the last thing I remember thinking of. I do not know\nhow long I slept. I had turned off the electric light, and it was\nquite dark. I thought I heard a scream; but I can't be sure, for I\nfelt thick-headed as a man does when he is called too soon after an\nextra long stretch of work. Not that such was the case this time.\nAnyhow my thoughts flew to the pistol. I took it out, and ran on to\nthe landing. Then I heard a sort of scream, or rather a call for help,\nand ran into this room. The room was dark, for the lamp beside the\nNurse was out, and the only light was that from the landing, coming\nthrough the open door. Miss Trelawny was kneeling on the floor beside\nher father, and was screaming. I thought I saw something move between\nme and the window; so, without thinking, and being half dazed and only\nhalf awake, I shot at it. It moved a little more to the right between\nthe windows, and I shot again. Then you came up out of the big chair\nwith all that muffling on your face. It seemed to me, being as I say\nhalf dazed and half awake--I know, sir, you will take this into\naccount--as if it had been you, being in the same direction as the\nthing I had fired at. And so I was about to fire again when you pulled\noff the wrap.\" Here I asked him--I was cross-examining now and felt at\nhome:\n\n\"You say you thought I was the thing you fired at. What thing?\" The\nman scratched his head, but made no reply.\n\n\"Come, sir,\" I said, \"what thing; what was it like?\" The answer came\nin a low voice:\n\n\"I don't know, sir. I thought there was something; but what it was, or\nwhat it was like, I haven't the faintest notion. I suppose it was\nbecause I had been thinking of the pistol before I went to sleep, and\nbecause when I came in here I was half dazed and only half awake--which\nI hope you will in future, sir, always remember.\" He clung to that\nformula of excuse as though it were his sheet-anchor. I did not want\nto antagonise the man; on the contrary I wanted to have him with us.\nBesides, I had on me at that time myself the shadow of my own default;\nso I said as kindly as I knew how:\n\n\"Quite right! Sergeant. Your impulse was correct; though of course in\nthe half-somnolent condition in which you were, and perhaps partly\naffected by the same influence--whatever it may be--which made me sleep\nand which has put the Nurse in that cataleptic trance, it could not be\nexpected that you would paused to weigh matters. But now, whilst the\nmatter is fresh, let me see exactly where you stood and where I sat.\nWe shall be able to trace the course of your bullets.\" The prospect of\naction and the exercise of his habitual skill seemed to brace him at\nonce; he seemed a different man as he set about his work. I asked Mrs.\nGrant to hold the tourniquet, and went and stood where he had stood and\nlooked where, in the darkness, he had pointed. I could not but notice\nthe mechanical exactness of his mind, as when he showed me where he had\nstood, or drew, as a matter of course, the revolver from his pistol\npocket, and pointed with it. The chair from which I had risen still\nstood in its place. Then I asked him to point with his hand only, as I\nwished to move in the track of his shot.\n\nJust behind my chair, and a little back of it, stood a high buhl\ncabinet. The glass door was shattered. I asked:\n\n\"Was this the direction of your first shot or your second?\" The answer\ncame promptly.\n\n\"The second; the first was over there!\"\n\nHe turned a little to the left, more toward the wall where the great\nsafe stood, and pointed. I followed the direction of his hand and came\nto the low table whereon rested, amongst other curios, the mummy of the\ncat which had raised Silvio's ire. I got a candle and easily found the\nmark of the bullet. It had broken a little glass vase and a tazza of\nblack basalt, exquisitely engraved with hieroglyphics, the graven lines\nbeing filled with some faint green cement and the whole thing being\npolished to an equal surface. The bullet, flattened against the wall,\nlay on the table.\n\nI then went to the broken cabinet. It was evidently a receptacle for\nvaluable curios; for in it were some great scarabs of gold, agate,\ngreen jasper, amethyst, lapis lazuli, opal, granite, and blue-green\nchina. None of these things happily were touched. The bullet had gone\nthrough the back of the cabinet; but no other damage, save the\nshattering of the glass, had been done. I could not but notice the\nstrange arrangement of the curios on the shelf of the cabinet. All the\nscarabs, rings, amulets, &c. were arranged in an uneven oval round an\nexquisitely-carved golden miniature figure of a hawk-headed God crowned\nwith a disk and plumes. I did not wait to look further at present, for\nmy attention was demanded by more pressing things; but I determined to\nmake a more minute examination when I should have time. It was evident\nthat some of the strange Egyptian smell clung to these old curios;\nthrough the broken glass came an added whiff of spice and gum and\nbitumen, almost stronger than those I had already noticed as coming\nfrom others in the room.\n\nAll this had really taken but a few minutes. I was surprised when my\neye met, through the chinks between the dark window blinds and the\nwindow cases, the brighter light of the coming dawn. When I went back\nto the sofa and took the tourniquet from Mrs. Grant, she went over and\npulled up the blinds.\n\nIt would be hard to imagine anything more ghastly than the appearance\nof the room with the faint grey light of early morning coming in upon\nit. As the windows faced north, any light that came was a fixed grey\nlight without any of the rosy possibility of dawn which comes in the\neastern quarter of heaven. The electric lights seemed dull and yet\nglaring; and every shadow was of a hard intensity. There was nothing\nof morning freshness; nothing of the softness of night. All was hard\nand cold and inexpressibly dreary. The face of the senseless man on\nthe sofa seemed of a ghastly yellow; and the Nurse's face had taken a\nsuggestion of green from the shade of the lamp near her. Only Miss\nTrelawny's face looked white; and it was of a pallor which made my\nheart ache. It looked as if nothing on God's earth could ever again\nbring back to it the colour of life and happiness.\n\nIt was a relief to us all when Doctor Winchester came in, breathless\nwith running. He only asked one question:\n\n\"Can anyone tell me anything of how this wound was gotten?\" On seeing\nthe headshake which went round us under his glance, he said no more,\nbut applied himself to his surgical work. For an instant he looked up\nat the Nurse sitting so still; but then bent himself to his task, a\ngrave frown contracting his brows. It was not till the arteries were\ntied and the wounds completely dressed that he spoke again, except, of\ncourse, when he had asked for anything to be handed to him or to be\ndone for him. When Mr. Trelawny's wounds had been thoroughly cared\nfor, he said to Miss Trelawny:\n\n\"What about Nurse Kennedy?\" She answered at once:\n\n\"I really do not know. I found her when I came into the room at\nhalf-past two o'clock, sitting exactly as she does now. We have not\nmoved her, or changed her position. She has not wakened since. Even\nSergeant Daw's pistol-shots did not disturb her.\"\n\n\"Pistol-shots? Have you then discovered any cause for this new\noutrage?\" The rest were silent, so I answered:\n\n\"We have discovered nothing. I was in the room watching with the\nNurse. Earlier in the evening I fancied that the mummy smells were\nmaking me drowsy, so I went out and got a respirator. I had it on when\nI came on duty; but it did not keep me from going to sleep. I awoke to\nsee the room full of people; that is, Miss Trelawny and Sergeant Daw,\nbeing only half awake and still stupefied by the same scent or\ninfluence which had affected us, fancied that he saw something moving\nthrough the shadowy darkness of the room, and fired twice. When I rose\nout of my chair, with my face swathed in the respirator, he took me for\nthe cause of the trouble. Naturally enough, he was about to fire\nagain, when I was fortunately in time to manifest my identity. Mr.\nTrelawny was lying beside the safe, just as he was found last night;\nand was bleeding profusely from the new wound in his wrist. We lifted\nhim on the sofa, and made a tourniquet. That is, literally and\nabsolutely, all that any of us know as yet. We have not touched the\nknife, which you see lies close by the pool of blood. Look!\" I said,\ngoing over and lifting it. \"The point is red with the blood which has\ndried.\"\n\nDoctor Winchester stood quite still a few minutes before speaking:\n\n\"Then the doings of this night are quite as mysterious as those of last\nnight?\"\n\n\"Quite!\" I answered. He said nothing in reply, but turning to Miss\nTrelawny said:\n\n\"We had better take Nurse Kennedy into another room. I suppose there\nis nothing to prevent it?\"\n\n\"Nothing! Please, Mrs. Grant, see that Nurse Kennedy's room is ready;\nand ask two of the men to come and carry her in.\" Mrs. Grant went out\nimmediately; and in a few minutes came back saying:\n\n\"The room is quite ready; and the men are here.\" By her direction two\nfootmen came into the room and, lifting up the rigid body of Nurse\nKennedy under the supervision of the Doctor, carried her out of the\nroom. Miss Trelawny remained with me in the sick chamber, and Mrs.\nGrant went with the Doctor into the Nurse's room.\n\nWhen we were alone Miss Trelawny came over to me, and taking both my\nhands in hers, said:\n\n\"I hope you won't remember what I said. I did not mean it, and I was\ndistraught.\" I did not make reply; but I held her hands and kissed\nthem. There are different ways of kissing a lady's hands. This way\nwas intended as homage and respect; and it was accepted as such in the\nhigh-bred, dignified way which marked Miss Trelawny's bearing and every\nmovement. I went over to the sofa and looked down at the senseless\nman. The dawn had come much nearer in the last few minutes, and there\nwas something of the clearness of day in the light. As I looked at the\nstern, cold, set face, now as white as a marble monument in the pale\ngrey light, I could not but feel that there was some deep mystery\nbeyond all that had happened within the last twenty-six hours. Those\nbeetling brows screened some massive purpose; that high, broad forehead\nheld some finished train of reasoning, which the broad chin and massive\njaw would help to carry into effect. As I looked and wondered, there\nbegan to steal over me again that phase of wandering thought which had\nlast night heralded the approach of sleep. I resisted it, and held\nmyself sternly to the present. This was easier to do when Miss\nTrelawny came close to me, and, leaning her forehead against my\nshoulder, began to cry silently. Then all the manhood in me woke, and\nto present purpose. It was of little use trying to speak; words were\ninadequate to thought. But we understood each other; she did not draw\naway when I put arm protectingly over her shoulder as I used to do with\nmy little sister long ago when in her childish trouble she would come\nto her big brother to be comforted. That very act or attitude of\nprotection made me more resolute in my purpose, and seemed to clear my\nbrain of idle, dreamy wandering in thought. With an instinct of\ngreater protection, however, I took away my arm as I heard the Doctor's\nfootstep outside the door.\n\nWhen Doctor Winchester came in he looked intently at the patient before\nspeaking. His brows were set, and his mouth was a thin, hard line.\nPresently he said:\n\n\"There is much in common between the sleep of your Father and Nurse\nKennedy. Whatever influence has brought it about has probably worked\nthe same way in both cases. In Kennedy's case the coma is less marked.\nI cannot but feel, however, that with her we may be able to do more and\nmore quickly than with this patient, as our hands are not tied. I have\nplaced her in a draught; and already she shows some signs, though very\nfaint ones, of ordinary unconsciousness. The rigidity of her limbs is\nless, and her skin seems more sensitive--or perhaps I should say less\ninsensitive--to pain.\"\n\n\"How is it, then,\" I asked, \"that Mr. Trelawny is still in this state\nof insensibility; and yet, so far as we know, his body has not had such\nrigidity at all?\"\n\n\"That I cannot answer. The problem is one which we may solve in a few\nhours; or it may need a few days. But it will be a useful lesson in\ndiagnosis to us all; and perhaps to many and many others after us, who\nknows!\" he added, with the genuine fire of an enthusiast.\n\nAs the morning wore on, he flitted perpetually between the two rooms,\nwatching anxiously over both patients. He made Mrs. Grant remain with\nthe Nurse, but either Miss Trelawny or I, generally both of us,\nremained with the wounded man. We each managed, however, to get bathed\nand dressed; the Doctor and Mrs. Grant remained with Mr. Trelawny\nwhilst we had breakfast.\n\nSergeant Daw went off to report at Scotland Yard the progress of the\nnight; and then to the local station to arrange for the coming of his\ncomrade, Wright, as fixed with Superintendent Dolan. When he returned\nI could not but think that he had been hauled over the coals for\nshooting in a sick-room; or perhaps for shooting at all without certain\nand proper cause. His remark to me enlightened me in the matter:\n\n\"A good character is worth something, sir, in spite of what some of\nthem say. See! I've still got leave to carry my revolver.\"\n\nThat day was a long and anxious one. Toward nightfall Nurse Kennedy so\nfar improved that the rigidity of her limbs entirely disappeared. She\nstill breathed quietly and regularly; but the fixed expression of her\nface, though it was a calm enough expression, gave place to fallen\neyelids and the negative look of sleep. Doctor Winchester had, towards\nevening, brought two more nurses, one of whom was to remain with Nurse\nKennedy and the other to share in the watching with Miss Trelawny, who\nhad insisted on remaining up herself. She had, in order to prepare for\nthe duty, slept for several hours in the afternoon. We had all taken\ncounsel together, and had arranged thus for the watching in Mr.\nTrelawny's room. Mrs. Grant was to remain beside the patient till\ntwelve, when Miss Trelawny would relieve her. The new nurse was to sit\nin Miss Trelawny's room, and to visit the sick chamber each quarter of\nan hour. The Doctor would remain till twelve; when I was to relieve\nhim. One or other of the detectives was to remain within hail of the\nroom all night; and to pay periodical visits to see that all was well.\nThus, the watchers would be watched; and the possibility of such events\nas last night, when the watchers were both overcome, would be avoided.\n\nWhen the sun set, a strange and grave anxiety fell on all of us; and in\nour separate ways we prepared for the vigil. Doctor Winchester had\nevidently been thinking of my respirator, for he told me he would go\nout and get one. Indeed, he took to the idea so kindly that I\npersuaded Miss Trelawny also to have one which she could put on when\nher time for watching came.\n\nAnd so the night drew on.\n\n\n\n\nChapter V\n\nMore Strange Instructions\n\n\nWhen I came from my room at half-past eleven o'clock I found all well\nin the sick-room. The new nurse, prim, neat, and watchful, sat in the\nchair by the bedside where Nurse Kennedy had sat last night. A little\nway off, between the bed and the safe, sat Dr. Winchester alert and\nwakeful, but looking strange and almost comic with the respirator over\nmouth and nose. As I stood in the doorway looking at them I heard a\nslight sound; turning round I saw the new detective, who nodded, held\nup the finger of silence and withdrew quietly. Hitherto no one of the\nwatchers was overcome by sleep.\n\nI took a chair outside the door. As yet there was no need for me to\nrisk coming again under the subtle influence of last night. Naturally\nmy thoughts went revolving round the main incidents of the last day and\nnight, and I found myself arriving at strange conclusions, doubts,\nconjectures; but I did not lose myself, as on last night, in trains of\nthought. The sense of the present was ever with me, and I really felt\nas should a sentry on guard. Thinking is not a slow process; and when\nit is earnest the time can pass quickly. It seemed a very short time\nindeed till the door, usually left ajar, was pulled open and Dr.\nWinchester emerged, taking off his respirator as he came. His act,\nwhen he had it off, was demonstrative of his keenness. He turned up\nthe outside of the wrap and smelled it carefully.\n\n\"I am going now,\" he said. \"I shall come early in the morning; unless,\nof course, I am sent for before. But all seems well tonight.\"\n\nThe next to appear was Sergeant Daw, who went quietly into the room and\ntook the seat vacated by the Doctor. I still remained outside; but\nevery few minutes looked into the room. This was rather a form than a\nmatter of utility, for the room was so dark that coming even from the\ndimly-lighted corridor it was hard to distinguish anything.\n\nA little before twelve o'clock Miss Trelawny came from her room.\nBefore coming to her father's she went into that occupied by Nurse\nKennedy. After a couple of minutes she came out, looking, I thought, a\ntrifle more cheerful. She had her respirator in her hand, but before\nputting it on, asked me if anything special had occurred since she had\ngone to lie down. I answered in a whisper--there was no loud talking\nin the house tonight--that all was safe, was well. She then put on her\nrespirator, and I mine; and we entered the room. The Detective and the\nNurse rose up, and we took their places. Sergeant Daw was the last to\ngo out; he closed the door behind him as we had arranged.\n\nFor a while I sat quiet, my heart beating. The place was grimly dark.\nThe only light was a faint one from the top of the lamp which threw a\nwhite circle on the high ceiling, except the emerald sheen of the shade\nas the light took its under edges. Even the light only seemed to\nemphasize the blackness of the shadows. These presently began to seem,\nas on last night, to have a sentience of their own. I did not myself\nfeel in the least sleepy; and each time I went softly over to look at\nthe patient, which I did about every ten minutes, I could see that Miss\nTrelawny was keenly alert. Every quarter of an hour one or other of\nthe policemen looked in through the partly opened door. Each time both\nMiss Trelawny and I said through our mufflers, \"all right,\" and the\ndoor was closed again.\n\nAs the time wore on, the silence and the darkness seemed to increase.\nThe circle of light on the ceiling was still there, but it seemed less\nbrilliant than at first. The green edging of the lamp-shade became\nlike Maori greenstone rather than emerald. The sounds of the night\nwithout the house, and the starlight spreading pale lines along the\nedges of the window-cases, made the pall of black within more solemn\nand more mysterious.\n\nWe heard the clock in the corridor chiming the quarters with its silver\nbell till two o'clock; and then a strange feeling came over me. I\ncould see from Miss Trelawny's movement as she looked round, that she\nalso had some new sensation. The new detective had just looked in; we\ntwo were alone with the unconscious patient for another quarter of an\nhour.\n\nMy heart began to beat wildly. There was a sense of fear over me. Not\nfor myself; my fear was impersonal. It seemed as though some new\nperson had entered the room, and that a strong intelligence was awake\nclose to me. Something brushed against my leg. I put my hand down\nhastily and touched the furry coat of Silvio. With a very faint\nfar-away sound of a snarl he turned and scratched at me. I felt blood\non my hand. I rose gently and came over to the bedside. Miss\nTrelawny, too, had stood up and was looking behind her, as though there\nwas something close to her. Her eyes were wild, and her breast rose and\nfell as though she were fighting for air. When I touched her she did\nnot seem to feel me; she worked her hands in front of her, as though\nshe was fending off something.\n\nThere was not an instant to lose. I seized her in my arms and rushed\nover to the door, threw it open, and strode into the passage, calling\nloudly:\n\n\"Help! Help!\"\n\nIn an instant the two Detectives, Mrs. Grant, and the Nurse appeared on\nthe scene. Close on their heels came several of the servants, both men\nand women. Immediately Mrs. Grant came near enough, I placed Miss\nTrelawny in her arms, and rushed back into the room, turning up the\nelectric light as soon as I could lay my hand on it. Sergeant Daw and\nthe Nurse followed me.\n\nWe were just in time. Close under the great safe, where on the two\nsuccessive nights he had been found, lay Mr. Trelawny with his left\narm, bare save for the bandages, stretched out. Close by his side was\na leaf-shaped Egyptian knife which had lain amongst the curios on the\nshelf of the broken cabinet. Its point was stuck in the parquet floor,\nwhence had been removed the blood-stained rug.\n\nBut there was no sign of disturbance anywhere; nor any sign of any one\nor anything unusual. The Policemen and I searched the room accurately,\nwhilst the Nurse and two of the servants lifted the wounded man back to\nbed; but no sign or clue could we get. Very soon Miss Trelawny\nreturned to the room. She was pale but collected. When she came close\nto me she said in a low voice:\n\n\"I felt myself fainting. I did not know why; but I was afraid!\"\n\nThe only other shock I had was when Miss Trelawny cried out to me, as I\nplaced my hand on the bed to lean over and look carefully at her father:\n\n\"You are wounded. Look! look! your hand is bloody. There is blood on\nthe sheets!\" I had, in the excitement, quite forgotten Silvio's\nscratch. As I looked at it, the recollection came back to me; but\nbefore I could say a word Miss Trelawny had caught hold of my hand and\nlifted it up. When she saw the parallel lines of the cuts she cried out\nagain:\n\n\"It is the same wound as Father's!\" Then she laid my hand down gently\nbut quickly, and said to me and to Sergeant Daw:\n\n\"Come to my room! Silvio is there in his basket.\" We followed her,\nand found Silvio sitting in his basket awake. He was licking his paws.\nThe Detective said:\n\n\"He is there sure enough; but why licking his paws?\"\n\nMargaret--Miss Trelawny--gave a moan as she bent over and took one of\nthe forepaws in her hand; but the cat seemed to resent it and snarled.\nAt that Mrs. Grant came into the room. When she saw that we were\nlooking at the cat she said:\n\n\"The Nurse tells me that Silvio was asleep on Nurse Kennedy's bed ever\nsince you went to your Father's room until a while ago. He came there\njust after you had gone to master's room. Nurse says that Nurse\nKennedy is moaning and muttering in her sleep as though she had a\nnightmare. I think we should send for Dr. Winchester.\"\n\n\"Do so at once, please!\" said Miss Trelawny; and we went back to the\nroom.\n\nFor a while Miss Trelawny stood looking at her father, with her brows\nwrinkled. Then, turning to me, as though her mind were made up, she\nsaid:\n\n\"Don't you think we should have a consultation on Father? Of course I\nhave every confidence in Doctor Winchester; he seems an immensely\nclever young man. But he is a young man; and there must be men who\nhave devoted themselves to this branch of science. Such a man would\nhave more knowledge and more experience; and his knowledge and\nexperience might help to throw light on poor Father's case. As it is,\nDoctor Winchester seems to be quite in the dark. Oh! I don't know what\nto do. It is all so terrible!\" Here she broke down a little and cried;\nand I tried to comfort her.\n\nDoctor Winchester arrived quickly. His first thought was for his\npatient; but when he found him without further harm, he visited Nurse\nKennedy. When he saw her, a hopeful look came into his eyes. Taking a\ntowel, he dipped a corner of it in cold water and flicked on the face.\nThe skin coloured, and she stirred slightly. He said to the new\nnurse--Sister Doris he called her:\n\n\"She is all right. She will wake in a few hours at latest. She may be\ndizzy and distraught at first, or perhaps hysterical. If so, you know\nhow to treat her.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\" answered Sister Doris demurely; and we went back to Mr.\nTrelawny's room. As soon as we had entered, Mrs. Grant and the Nurse\nwent out so that only Doctor Winchester, Miss Trelawny, and myself\nremained in the room. When the door had been closed Doctor Winchester\nasked me as to what had occurred. I told him fully, giving exactly\nevery detail so far as I could remember. Throughout my narrative,\nwhich did not take long, however, he kept asking me questions as to who\nhad been present and the order in which each one had come into the\nroom. He asked other things, but nothing of any importance; these were\nall that took my attention, or remained in my memory. When our\nconversation was finished, he said in a very decided way indeed, to\nMiss Trelawny:\n\n\"I think, Miss Trelawny, that we had better have a consultation on this\ncase.\" She answered at once, seemingly a little to his surprise:\n\n\"I am glad you have mentioned it. I quite agree. Who would you\nsuggest?\"\n\n\"Have you any choice yourself?\" he asked. \"Any one to whom your Father\nis known? Has he ever consulted any one?\"\n\n\"Not to my knowledge. But I hope you will choose whoever you think\nwould be best. My dear Father should have all the help that can be\nhad; and I shall be deeply obliged by your choosing. Who is the best\nman in London--anywhere else--in such a case?\"\n\n\"There are several good men; but they are scattered all over the world.\nSomehow, the brain specialist is born, not made; though a lot of hard\nwork goes to the completing of him and fitting him for his work. He\ncomes from no country. The most daring investigator up to the present\nis Chiuni, the Japanese; but he is rather a surgical experimentalist\nthan a practitioner. Then there is Zammerfest of Uppsala, and Fenelon\nof the University of Paris, and Morfessi of Naples. These, of course,\nare in addition to our own men, Morrison of Aberdeen and Richardson of\nBirmingham. But before them all I would put Frere of King's College.\nOf all that I have named he best unites theory and practice. He has no\nhobbies--that have been discovered at all events; and his experience is\nimmense. It is the regret of all of us who admire him that the nerve\nso firm and the hand so dexterous must yield to time. For my own part\nI would rather have Frere than any one living.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Miss Trelawny decisively, \"let us have Doctor Frere--by\nthe way, is he 'Doctor' or 'Mister'?--as early as we can get him in the\nmorning!\"\n\nA weight seemed removed from him, and he spoke with greater ease and\ngeniality than he had yet shown:\n\n\"He is Sir James Frere. I shall go to him myself as early as it is\npossibly to see him, and shall ask him to come here at once.\" Then\nturning to me he said:\n\n\"You had better let me dress your hand.\"\n\n\"It is nothing,\" I said.\n\n\"Nevertheless it should be seen to. A scratch from any animal might\nturn out dangerous; there is nothing like being safe.\" I submitted;\nforthwith he began to dress my hand. He examined with a\nmagnifying-glass the several parallel wounds, and compared them with\nthe slip of blotting-paper, marked with Silvio's claws, which he took\nfrom his pocket-book. He put back the paper, simply remarking:\n\n\"It's a pity that Silvio slips in--and out--just when he shouldn't.\"\n\nThe morning wore slowly on. By ten o'clock Nurse Kennedy had so far\nrecovered that she was able to sit up and talk intelligibly. But she\nwas still hazy in her thoughts; and could not remember anything that\nhad happened on the previous night, after her taking her place by the\nsick-bed. As yet she seemed neither to know nor care what had happened.\n\nIt was nearly eleven o'clock when Doctor Winchester returned with Sir\nJames Frere. Somehow I felt my heart sink when from the landing I saw\nthem in the hall below; I knew that Miss Trelawny was to have the pain\nof telling yet another stranger of her ignorance of her father's life.\n\nSir James Frere was a man who commanded attention followed by respect.\nHe knew so thoroughly what he wanted himself, that he placed at once on\none side all wishes and ideas of less definite persons. The mere flash\nof his piercing eyes, or the set of his resolute mouth, or the lowering\nof his great eyebrows, seemed to compel immediate and willing obedience\nto his wishes. Somehow, when we had all been introduced and he was\nwell amongst us, all sense of mystery seemed to melt away. It was with\na hopeful spirit that I saw him pass into the sick-room with Doctor\nWinchester.\n\nThey remained in the room a long time; once they sent for the Nurse,\nthe new one, Sister Doris, but she did not remain long. Again they\nboth went into Nurse Kennedy's room. He sent out the nurse attendant\non her. Doctor Winchester told me afterward that Nurse Kennedy, though\nshe was ignorant of later matters, gave full and satisfactory answers\nto all Doctor Frere's questions relating to her patient up to the time\nshe became unconscious. Then they went to the study, where they\nremained so long, and their voices raised in heated discussion seemed\nin such determined opposition, that I began to feel uneasy. As for\nMiss Trelawny, she was almost in a state of collapse from nervousness\nbefore they joined us. Poor girl! she had had a sadly anxious time of\nit, and her nervous strength had almost broken down.\n\nThey came out at last, Sir James first, his grave face looking as\nunenlightening as that of the sphinx. Doctor Winchester followed him\nclosely; his face was pale, but with that kind of pallor which looked\nlike a reaction. It gave me the idea that it had been red not long\nbefore. Sir James asked that Miss Trelawny would come into the study.\nHe suggested that I should come also. When we had entered, Sir James\nturned to me and said:\n\n\"I understand from Doctor Winchester that you are a friend of Miss\nTrelawny, and that you have already considerable knowledge of this\ncase. Perhaps it will be well that you should be with us. I know you\nalready as a keen lawyer, Mr. Ross, though I never had the pleasure of\nmeeting you. As Doctor Winchester tells me that there are some strange\nmatters outside this case which seem to puzzle him--and others--and in\nwhich he thinks you may yet be specially interested, it might be as\nwell that you should know every phase of the case. For myself I do not\ntake much account of mysteries--except those of science; and as there\nseems to be some idea of an attempt at assassination or robbery, all I\ncan say is that if assassins were at work they ought to take some\nelementary lessons in anatomy before their next job, for they seem\nthoroughly ignorant. If robbery were their purpose, they seem to have\nworked with marvellous inefficiency. That, however, is not my\nbusiness.\" Here he took a big pinch of snuff, and turning to to Miss\nTrelawny, went on: \"Now as to the patient. Leaving out the cause of his\nillness, all we can say at present is that he appears to be suffering\nfrom a marked attack of catalepsy. At present nothing can be done,\nexcept to sustain his strength. The treatment of my friend Doctor\nWinchester is mainly such as I approve of; and I am confident that\nshould any slight change arise he will be able to deal with it\nsatisfactorily. It is an interesting case--most interesting; and\nshould any new or abnormal development arise I shall be happy to come\nat any time. There is just one thing to which I wish to call your\nattention; and I put it to you, Miss Trelawny, directly, since it is\nyour responsibility. Doctor Winchester informs me that you are not\nyourself free in the matter, but are bound by an instruction given by\nyour Father in case just such a condition of things should arise. I\nwould strongly advise that the patient be removed to another room; or,\nas an alternative, that those mummies and all such things should be\nremoved from his chamber. Why, it's enough to put any man into an\nabnormal condition, to have such an assemblage of horrors round him,\nand to breathe the atmosphere which they exhale. You have evidence\nalready of how such mephitic odour may act. That nurse--Kennedy, I\nthink you said, Doctor--isn't yet out of her state of catalepsy; and\nyou, Mr. Ross, have, I am told, experienced something of the same\neffects. I know this\"--here his eyebrows came down more than ever, and\nhis mouth hardened--\"if I were in charge here I should insist on the\npatient having a different atmosphere; or I would throw up the case.\nDoctor Winchester already knows that I can only be again consulted on\nthis condition being fulfilled. But I trust that you will see your\nway, as a good daughter to my mind should, to looking to your Father's\nhealth and sanity rather than to any whim of his--whether supported or\nnot by a foregoing fear, or by any number of \"penny dreadful\"\nmysteries. The day has hardly come yet, I am glad to say, when the\nBritish Museum and St. Thomas's Hospital have exchanged their normal\nfunctions. Good-day, Miss Trelawny. I earnestly hope that I may soon\nsee your Father restored. Remember, that should you fulfil the\nelementary condition which I have laid down, I am at your service day\nor night. Good-morning, Mr. Ross. I hope you will be able to report\nto me soon, Doctor Winchester.\"\n\nWhen he had gone we stood silent, till the rumble of his carriage\nwheels died away. The first to speak was Doctor Winchester:\n\n\"I think it well to say that to my mind, speaking purely as a\nphysician, he is quite right. I feel as if I could have assaulted him\nwhen he made it a condition of not giving up the case; but all the same\nhe is right as to treatment. He does not understand that there is\nsomething odd about this special case; and he will not realise the knot\nthat we are all tied up in by Mr. Trelawny's instructions. Of\ncourse--\" He was interrupted by Miss Trelawny:\n\n\"Doctor Winchester, do you, too, wish to give up the case; or are you\nwilling to continue it under the conditions you know?\"\n\n\"Give it up! Less now than ever. Miss Trelawny, I shall never give it\nup, so long as life is left to him or any of us!\" She said nothing,\nbut held out her hand, which he took warmly.\n\n\"Now,\" said she, \"if Sir James Frere is a type of the cult of\nSpecialists, I want no more of them. To start with, he does not seem\nto know any more than you do about my Father's condition; and if he\nwere a hundredth part as much interested in it as you are, he would not\nstand on such punctilio. Of course, I am only too anxious about my\npoor Father; and if I can see a way to meet either of Sir James Frere's\nconditions, I shall do so. I shall ask Mr. Marvin to come here today,\nand advise me as to the limit of Father's wishes. If he thinks I am\nfree to act in any way on my own responsibility, I shall not hesitate\nto do so.\" Then Doctor Winchester took his leave.\n\nMiss Trelawny sat down and wrote a letter to Mr. Marvin, telling him of\nthe state of affairs, and asking him to come and see her and to bring\nwith him any papers which might throw any light on the subject. She\nsent the letter off with a carriage to bring back the solicitor; we\nwaited with what patience we could for his coming.\n\nIt is not a very long journey for oneself from Kensington Palace\nGardens to Lincoln's Inn Fields; but it seemed endlessly long when\nwaiting for someone else to take it. All things, however, are amenable\nto Time; it was less than an hour all told when Mr. Marvin was with us.\n\nHe recognised Miss Trelawny's impatience, and when he had learned\nsufficient of her father's illness, he said to her:\n\n\"Whenever you are ready I can go with you into particulars regarding\nyour Father's wishes.\"\n\n\"Whenever you like,\" she said, with an evident ignorance of his\nmeaning. \"Why not now?\" He looked at me, as to a fellow man of\nbusiness, and stammered out:\n\n\"We are not alone.\"\n\n\"I have brought Mr. Ross here on purpose,\" she answered. \"He knows so\nmuch at present, that I want him to know more.\" The solicitor was a\nlittle disconcerted, a thing which those knowing him only in courts\nwould hardly have believed. He answered, however, with some hesitation:\n\n\"But, my dear young lady--Your Father's wishes!--Confidence between\nfather and child--\"\n\nHere she interrupted him; there was a tinge of red in her pale cheeks\nas she did so:\n\n\"Do you really think that applies to the present circumstances, Mr.\nMarvin? My Father never told me anything of his affairs; and I can\nnow, in this sad extremity, only learn his wishes through a gentleman\nwho is a stranger to me and of whom I never even heard till I got my\nFather's letter, written to be shown to me only in extremity. Mr. Ross\nis a new friend; but he has all my confidence, and I should like him to\nbe present. Unless, of course,\" she added, \"such a thing is forbidden\nby my Father. Oh! forgive me, Mr. Marvin, if I seem rude; but I have\nbeen in such dreadful trouble and anxiety lately, that I have hardly\ncommand of myself.\" She covered her eyes with her hand for a few\nseconds; we two men looked at each other and waited, trying to appear\nunmoved. She went on more firmly; she had recovered herself:\n\n\"Please! please do not think I am ungrateful to you for your kindness\nin coming here and so quickly. I really am grateful; and I have every\nconfidence in your judgment. If you wish, or think it best, we can be\nalone.\" I stood up; but Mr. Marvin made a dissentient gesture. He was\nevidently pleased with her attitude; there was geniality in his voice\nand manner as he spoke:\n\n\"Not at all! Not at all! There is no restriction on your Father's\npart; and on my own I am quite willing. Indeed, all told, it may be\nbetter. From what you have said of Mr. Trelawny's illness, and the\nother--incidental--matters, it will be well in case of any grave\neventuality, that it was understood from the first, that circumstances\nwere ruled by your Father's own imperative instructions. For, please\nunderstand me, his instructions are imperative--most imperative. They\nare so unyielding that he has given me a Power of Attorney, under which\nI have undertaken to act, authorising me to see his written wishes\ncarried out. Please believe me once for all, that he intended fully\neverything mentioned in that letter to you! Whilst he is alive he is\nto remain in his own room; and none of his property is to be removed\nfrom it under any circumstances whatever. He has even given an\ninventory of the articles which are not to be displaced.\"\n\nMiss Trelawny was silent. She looked somewhat distressed; so, thinking\nthat I understood the immediate cause, I asked:\n\n\"May we see the list?\" Miss Trelawny's face at once brightened; but it\nfell again as the lawyer answered promptly--he was evidently prepared\nfor the question:\n\n\"Not unless I am compelled to take action on the Power of Attorney. I\nhave brought that instrument with me. You will recognise, Mr.\nRoss\"--he said this with a sort of business conviction which I had\nnoticed in his professional work, as he handed me the deed--\"how\nstrongly it is worded, and how the grantor made his wishes apparent in\nsuch a way as to leave no loophole. It is his own wording, except for\ncertain legal formalities; and I assure you I have seldom seen a more\niron-clad document. Even I myself have no power to make the slightest\nrelaxation of the instructions, without committing a distinct breach of\nfaith. And that, I need not tell you, is impossible.\" He evidently\nadded the last words in order to prevent an appeal to his personal\nconsideration. He did not like the seeming harshness of his words,\nhowever, for he added:\n\n\"I do hope, Miss Trelawny, that you understand that I am\nwilling--frankly and unequivocally willing--to do anything I can,\nwithin the limits of my power, to relieve your distress. But your\nFather had, in all his doings, some purpose of his own which he did not\ndisclose to me. So far as I can see, there is not a word of his\ninstructions that he had not thought over fully. Whatever idea he had\nin his mind was the idea of a lifetime; he had studied it in every\npossible phase, and was prepared to guard it at every point.\n\n\"Now I fear I have distressed you, and I am truly sorry for it; for I\nsee you have much--too much--to bear already. But I have no\nalternative. If you want to consult me at any time about anything, I\npromise you I will come without a moment's delay, at any hour of the\nday or night. There is my private address,\" he scribbled in his\npocket-book as he spoke, \"and under it the address of my club, where I\nam generally to be found in the evening.\" He tore out the paper and\nhanded it to her. She thanked him. He shook hands with her and with\nme and withdrew.\n\nAs soon as the hall door was shut on him, Mrs. Grant tapped at the door\nand came in. There was such a look of distress in her face that Miss\nTrelawny stood up, deadly white, and asked her:\n\n\"What is it, Mrs. Grant? What is it? Any new trouble?\"\n\n\"I grieve to say, miss, that the servants, all but two, have given\nnotice and want to leave the house today. They have talked the matter\nover among themselves; the butler has spoken for the rest. He says as\nhow they are willing to forego their wages, and even to pay their legal\nobligations instead of notice; but that go today they must.\"\n\n\"What reason do they give?\"\n\n\"None, miss. They say as how they're sorry, but that they've nothing\nto say. I asked Jane, the upper housemaid, miss, who is not with the\nrest but stops on; and she tells me confidential that they've got some\nnotion in their silly heads that the house is haunted!\"\n\nWe ought to have laughed, but we didn't. I could not look in Miss\nTrelawny's face and laugh. The pain and horror there showed no sudden\nparoxysm of fear; there was a fixed idea of which this was a\nconfirmation. For myself, it seemed as if my brain had found a voice.\nBut the voice was not complete; there was some other thought, darker\nand deeper, which lay behind it, whose voice had not sounded as yet.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VI\n\nSuspicions\n\n\nThe first to get full self-command was Miss Trelawny. There was a\nhaughty dignity in her bearing as she said:\n\n\"Very well, Mrs. Grant; let them go! Pay them up to today, and a\nmonth's wages. They have hitherto been very good servants; and the\noccasion of their leaving is not an ordinary one. We must not expect\nmuch faithfulness from any one who is beset with fears. Those who\nremain are to have in future double wages; and please send these to me\npresently when I send word.\" Mrs. Grant bristled with smothered\nindignation; all the housekeeper in her was outraged by such generous\ntreatment of servants who had combined to give notice:\n\n\"They don't deserve it, miss; them to go on so, after the way they have\nbeen treated here. Never in my life have I seen servants so well\ntreated or anyone so good to them and gracious to them as you have\nbeen. They might be in the household of a King for treatment. And now,\njust as there is trouble, to go and act like this. It's abominable,\nthat's what it is!\"\n\nMiss Trelawny was very gentle with her, and smothered her ruffled\ndignity; so that presently she went away with, in her manner, a lesser\nmeasure of hostility to the undeserving. In quite a different frame of\nmind she returned presently to ask if her mistress would like her to\nengage a full staff of other servants, or at any rate try to do so.\n\"For you know, ma'am,\" she went on, \"when once a scare has been\nestablished in the servants' hall, it's wellnigh impossible to get rid\nof it. Servants may come; but they go away just as quick. There's no\nholding them. They simply won't stay; or even if they work out their\nmonth's notice, they lead you that life that you wish every hour of the\nday that you hadn't kept them. The women are bad enough, the huzzies;\nbut the men are worse!\" There was neither anxiety nor indignation in\nMiss Trelawny's voice or manner as she said:\n\n\"I think, Mrs. Grant, we had better try to do with those we have.\nWhilst my dear Father is ill we shall not be having any company, so\nthat there will be only three now in the house to attend to. If those\nservants who are willing to stay are not enough, I should only get\nsufficient to help them to do the work. It will not, I should think,\nbe difficult to get a few maids; perhaps some that you know already.\nAnd please bear in mind, that those whom you get, and who are suitable\nand will stay, are henceforth to have the same wages as those who are\nremaining. Of course, Mrs. Grant, you well enough understand that\nthough I do not group you in any way with the servants, the rule of\ndouble salary applies to you too.\" As she spoke she extended her long,\nfine-shaped hand, which the other took and then, raising it to her\nlips, kissed it impressively with the freedom of an elder woman to a\nyounger. I could not but admire the generosity of her treatment of her\nservants. In my mind I endorsed Mrs. Grant's sotto voce remark as she\nleft the room:\n\n\"No wonder the house is like a King's house, when the mistress is a\nPrincess!\"\n\n\"A Princess!\" That was it. The idea seemed to satisfy my mind, and to\nbring back in a wave of light the first moment when she swept across my\nvision at the ball in Belgrave Square. A queenly figure! tall and\nslim, bending, swaying, undulating as the lily or the lotos. Clad in a\nflowing gown of some filmy black material shot with gold. For ornament\nin her hair she wore an old Egyptian jewel, a tiny crystal disk, set\nbetween rising plumes carved in lapis lazuli. On her wrist was a broad\nbangle or bracelet of antique work, in the shape of a pair of spreading\nwings wrought in gold, with the feathers made of coloured gems. For\nall her gracious bearing toward me, when our hostess introduced me, I\nwas then afraid of her. It was only when later, at the picnic on the\nriver, I had come to realise her sweet and gentle, that my awe changed\nto something else.\n\nFor a while she sat, making some notes or memoranda. Then putting them\naway, she sent for the faithful servants. I thought that she had\nbetter have this interview alone, and so left her. When I came back\nthere were traces of tears in her eyes.\n\nThe next phase in which I had a part was even more disturbing, and\ninfinitely more painful. Late in the afternoon Sergeant Daw came into\nthe study where I was sitting. After closing the door carefully and\nlooking all round the room to make certain that we were alone, he came\nclose to me.\n\n\"What is it?\" I asked him. \"I see you wish to speak to me privately.\"\n\n\"Quite so, sir! May I speak in absolute confidence?\"\n\n\"Of course you may. In anything that is for the good of Miss\nTrelawny--and of course Mr. Trelawny--you may be perfectly frank. I\ntake it that we both want to serve them to the best of our powers.\" He\nhesitated before replying:\n\n\"Of course you know that I have my duty to do; and I think you know me\nwell enough to know that I will do it. I am a policeman--a detective;\nand it is my duty to find out the facts of any case I am put on,\nwithout fear or favour to anyone. I would rather speak to you alone,\nin confidence if I may, without reference to any duty of anyone to\nanyone, except mine to Scotland Yard.\"\n\n\"Of course! of course!\" I answered mechanically, my heart sinking, I\ndid not know why. \"Be quite frank with me. I assure you of my\nconfidence.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir. I take it that what I say is not to pass beyond\nyou--not to anyone. Not to Miss Trelawny herself, or even to Mr.\nTrelawny when he becomes well again.\"\n\n\"Certainly, if you make it a condition!\" I said a little more stiffly.\nThe man recognised the change in my voice or manner, and said\napologetically:\n\n\"Excuse me, sir, but I am going outside my duty in speaking to you at\nall on the subject. I know you, however, of old; and I feel that I can\ntrust you. Not your word, sir, that is all right; but your discretion!\"\n\nI bowed. \"Go on!\" I said. He began at once:\n\n\"I have gone over this case, sir, till my brain begins to reel; but I\ncan't find any ordinary solution of it. At the time of each attempt no\none has seemingly come into the house; and certainly no one has got\nout. What does it strike you is the inference?\"\n\n\"That the somebody--or the something--was in the house already,\" I\nanswered, smiling in spite of myself.\n\n\"That's just what I think,\" he said, with a manifest sigh of relief.\n\"Very well! Who can be that someone?\"\n\n\"'Someone, or something,' was what I said,\" I answered.\n\n\"Let us make it 'someone,' Mr. Ross! That cat, though he might have\nscratched or bit, never pulled the old gentleman out of bed, and tried\nto get the bangle with the key off his arm. Such things are all very\nwell in books where your amateur detectives, who know everything before\nit's done, can fit them into theories; but in Scotland Yard, where the\nmen aren't all idiots either, we generally find that when crime is\ndone, or attempted, it's people, not things, that are at the bottom of\nit.\"\n\n\"Then make it 'people' by all means, Sergeant.\"\n\n\"We were speaking of 'someone,' sir.\"\n\n\"Quite right. Someone, be it!\"\n\n\"Did it ever strike you, sir, that on each of the three separate\noccasions where outrage was effected, or attempted, there was one\nperson who was the first to be present and to give the alarm?\"\n\n\"Let me see! Miss Trelawny, I believe, gave the alarm on the first\noccasion. I was present myself, if fast asleep, on the second; and so\nwas Nurse Kennedy. When I woke there were several people in the room;\nyou were one of them. I understand that on that occasion also Miss\nTrelawny was before you. At the last attempt I was Miss Trelawny\nfainted. I carried her out and went back. In returning, I was first;\nand I think you were close behind me.\"\n\nSergeant Daw thought for a moment before replying:\n\n\"She was present, or first, in the room on all the occasions; there was\nonly damage done in the first and second!\"\n\nThe inference was one which I, as a lawyer, could not mistake. I\nthought the best thing to do was to meet it half-way. I have always\nfound that the best way to encounter an inference is to cause it to be\nturned into a statement.\n\n\"You mean,\" I said, \"that as on the only occasions when actual harm was\ndone, Miss Trelawny's being the first to discover it is a proof that\nshe did it; or was in some way connected with the attempt, as well as\nthe discovery?\"\n\n\"I didn't venture to put it as clear as that; but that is where the\ndoubt which I had leads.\" Sergeant Daw was a man of courage; he\nevidently did not shrink from any conclusion of his reasoning on facts.\n\nWe were both silent for a while. Fears began crowding in on my own\nmind. Not doubts of Miss Trelawny, or of any act of hers; but fears\nlest such acts should be misunderstood. There was evidently a mystery\nsomewhere; and if no solution to it could be found, the doubt would be\ncast on someone. In such cases the guesses of the majority are bound\nto follow the line of least resistance; and if it could be proved that\nany personal gain to anyone could follow Mr. Trelawny's death, should\nsuch ensue, it might prove a difficult task for anyone to prove\ninnocence in the face of suspicious facts. I found myself\ninstinctively taking that deferential course which, until the plan of\nbattle of the prosecution is unfolded, is so safe an attitude for the\ndefence. It would never do for me, at this stage, to combat any\ntheories which a detective might form. I could best help Miss Trelawny\nby listening and understanding. When the time should come for the\ndissipation and obliteration of the theories, I should be quite willing\nto use all my militant ardour, and all the weapons at my command.\n\n\"You will of course do your duty, I know,\" I said, \"and without fear.\nWhat course do you intend to take?\"\n\n\"I don't know as yet, sir. You see, up to now it isn't with me even a\nsuspicion. If any one else told me that that sweet young lady had a\nhand in such a matter, I would think him a fool; but I am bound to\nfollow my own conclusions. I know well that just as unlikely persons\nhave been proved guilty, when a whole court--all except the prosecution\nwho knew the facts, and the judge who had taught his mind to\nwait--would have sworn to innocence. I wouldn't, for all the world,\nwrong such a young lady; more especial when she has such a cruel weight\nto bear. And you will be sure that I won't say a word that'll prompt\nanyone else to make such a charge. That's why I speak to you in\nconfidence, man to man. You are skilled in proofs; that is your\nprofession. Mine only gets so far as suspicions, and what we call our\nown proofs--which are nothing but ex parte evidence after all. You\nknow Miss Trelawny better than I do; and though I watch round the\nsick-room, and go where I like about the house and in and out of it, I\nhaven't the same opportunities as you have of knowing the lady and what\nher life is, or her means are; or of anything else which might give me\na clue to her actions. If I were to try to find out from her, it would\nat once arouse her suspicions. Then, if she were guilty, all\npossibility of ultimate proof would go; for she would easily find a way\nto baffle discovery. But if she be innocent, as I hope she is, it\nwould be doing a cruel wrong to accuse her. I have thought the matter\nover according to my lights before I spoke to you; and if I have taken\na liberty, sir, I am truly sorry.\"\n\n\"No liberty in the world, Daw,\" I said warmly, for the man's courage\nand honesty and consideration compelled respect. \"I am glad you have\nspoken to me so frankly. We both want to find out the truth; and there\nis so much about this case that is strange--so strange as to go beyond\nall experiences--that to aim at truth is our only chance of making\nanything clear in the long-run--no matter what our views are, or what\nobject we wish to achieve ultimately!\" The Sergeant looked pleased as\nhe went on:\n\n\"I thought, therefore, that if you had it once in your mind that\nsomebody else held to such a possibility, you would by degrees get\nproof; or at any rate such ideas as would convince yourself, either for\nor against it. Then we would come to some conclusion; or at any rate\nwe should so exhaust all other possibilities that the most likely one\nwould remain as the nearest thing to proof, or strong suspicion, that\nwe could get. After that we should have to--\"\n\nJust at this moment the door opened and Miss Trelawny entered the room.\nThe moment she saw us she drew back quickly, saying:\n\n\"Oh, I beg pardon! I did not know you were here, and engaged.\" By the\ntime I had stood up, she was about to go back.\n\n\"Do come in,\" I said; \"Sergeant Daw and I were only talking matters\nover.\"\n\nWhilst she was hesitating, Mrs. Grant appeared, saying as she entered\nthe room: \"Doctor Winchester is come, miss, and is asking for you.\"\n\nI obeyed Miss Trelawny's look; together we left the room.\n\nWhen the Doctor had made his examination, he told us that there was\nseemingly no change. He added that nevertheless he would like to stay\nin the house that night is he might. Miss Trelawny looked glad, and\nsent word to Mrs. Grant to get a room ready for him. Later in the day,\nwhen he and I happened to be alone together, he said suddenly:\n\n\"I have arranged to stay here tonight because I want to have a talk\nwith you. And as I wish it to be quite private, I thought the least\nsuspicious way would be to have a cigar together late in the evening\nwhen Miss Trelawny is watching her father.\" We still kept to our\narrangement that either the sick man's daughter or I should be on watch\nall night. We were to share the duty at the early hours of the\nmorning. I was anxious about this, for I knew from our conversation\nthat the Detective would watch in secret himself, and would be\nparticularly alert about that time.\n\nThe day passed uneventfully. Miss Trelawny slept in the afternoon; and\nafter dinner went to relieve the Nurse. Mrs. Grant remained with her,\nSergeant Daw being on duty in the corridor. Doctor Winchester and I\ntook our coffee in the library. When we had lit our cigars he said\nquietly:\n\n\"Now that we are alone I want to have a confidential talk. We are\n'tiled,' of course; for the present at all events?\"\n\n\"Quite so!\" I said, my heart sinking as I thought of my conversation\nwith Sergeant Daw in the morning, and of the disturbing and harrowing\nfears which it had left in my mind. He went on:\n\n\"This case is enough to try the sanity of all of us concerned in it.\nThe more I think of it, the madder I seem to get; and the two lines,\neach continually strengthened, seem to pull harder in opposite\ndirections.\"\n\n\"What two lines?\" He looked at me keenly for a moment before replying.\nDoctor Winchester's look at such moments was apt to be disconcerting.\nIt would have been so to me had I had a personal part, other than my\ninterest in Miss Trelawny, in the matter. As it was, however, I stood\nit unruffled. I was now an attorney in the case; an amicus curiae in\none sense, in another retained for the defence. The mere thought that\nin this clever man's mind were two lines, equally strong and opposite,\nwas in itself so consoling as to neutralise my anxiety as to a new\nattack. As he began to speak, the Doctor's face wore an inscrutable\nsmile; this, however, gave place to a stern gravity as he proceeded:\n\n\"Two lines: Fact and--Fancy! In the first there is this whole thing;\nattacks, attempts at robbery and murder; stupefyings; organised\ncatalepsy which points to either criminal hypnotism and thought\nsuggestion, or some simple form of poisoning unclassified yet in our\ntoxicology. In the other there is some influence at work which is not\nclassified in any book that I know--outside the pages of romance. I\nnever felt in my life so strongly the truth of Hamlet's words:\n\n 'There are more things in Heaven and earth...\n Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'\n\n\"Let us take the 'Fact' side first. Here we have a man in his home;\namidst his own household; plenty of servants of different classes in\nthe house, which forbids the possibility of an organised attempt made\nfrom the servants\" hall. He is wealthy, learned, clever. From his\nphysiognomy there is no doubting that he is a man of iron will and\ndetermined purpose. His daughter--his only child, I take it, a young\ngirl bright and clever--is sleeping in the very next room to his.\nThere is seemingly no possible reason for expecting any attack or\ndisturbance of any kind; and no reasonable opportunity for any outsider\nto effect it. And yet we have an attack made; a brutal and remorseless\nattack, made in the middle of the night. Discovery is made quickly;\nmade with that rapidity which in criminal cases generally is found to\nbe not accidental, but of premeditated intent. The attacker, or\nattackers, are manifestly disturbed before the completion of their\nwork, whatever their ultimate intent may have been. And yet there is\nno possible sign of their escape; no clue, no disturbance of anything;\nno open door or window; no sound. Nothing whatever to show who had\ndone the deed, or even that a deed has been done; except the victim,\nand his surroundings incidental to the deed!\n\n\"The next night a similar attempt is made, though the house is full of\nwakeful people; and though there are on watch in the room and around it\na detective officer, a trained nurse, an earnest friend, and the man's\nown daughter. The nurse is thrown into a catalepsy, and the watching\nfriend--though protected by a respirator--into a deep sleep. Even the\ndetective is so far overcome with some phase of stupor that he fires\noff his pistol in the sick-room, and can't even tell what he thought he\nwas firing at. That respirator of yours is the only thing that seems\nto have a bearing on the 'fact' side of the affair. That you did not\nlose your head as the others did--the effect in such case being in\nproportion to the amount of time each remained in the room--points to\nthe probability that the stupefying medium was not hypnotic, whatever\nelse it may have been. But again, there is a fact which is\ncontradictory. Miss Trelawny, who was in the room more than any of\nyou--for she was in and out all the time and did her share of permanent\nwatching also--did not seem to be affected at all. This would show\nthat the influence, whatever it is, does not affect generally--unless,\nof course, it was that she was in some way inured to it. If it should\nturn out that it be some strange exhalation from some of those Egyptian\ncurios, that might account for it; only, we are then face to face with\nthe fact that Mr. Trelawny, who was most of all in the room--who, in\nfact, lived more than half his life in it--was affected worst of all.\nWhat kind of influence could it be which would account for all these\ndifferent and contradictory effects? No! the more I think of this form\nof the dilemma, the more I am bewildered! Why, even if it were that\nthe attack, the physical attack, on Mr. Trelawny had been made by some\none residing in the house and not within the sphere of suspicion, the\noddness of the stupefyings would still remain a mystery. It is not\neasy to put anyone into a catalepsy. Indeed, so far as is known yet in\nscience, there is no way to achieve such an object at will. The crux\nof the whole matter is Miss Trelawny, who seems to be subject to none\nof the influences, or possibly of the variants of the same influence at\nwork. Through all she goes unscathed, except for that one slight\nsemi-faint. It is most strange!\"\n\nI listened with a sinking heart; for, though his manner was not\nilluminative of distrust, his argument was disturbing. Although it was\nnot so direct as the suspicion of the Detective, it seemed to single\nout Miss Trelawny as different from all others concerned; and in a\nmystery to be alone is to be suspected, ultimately if not immediately.\nI thought it better not to say anything. In such a case silence is\nindeed golden; and if I said nothing now I might have less to defend,\nor explain, or take back later. I was, therefore, secretly glad that\nhis form of putting his argument did not require any answer from\nme--for the present, at all events. Doctor Winchester did not seem to\nexpect any answer--a fact which, when I recognised it, gave my\npleasure, I hardly knew why. He paused for a while, sitting with his\nchin in his hand, his eyes staring at vacancy, whilst his brows were\nfixed. His cigar was held limp between his fingers; he had apparently\nforgotten it. In an even voice, as though commencing exactly where he\nhad left off, he resumed his argument:\n\n\"The other horn of the dilemma is a different affair altogether; and if\nwe once enter on it we must leave everything in the shape of science\nand experience behind us. I confess that it has its fascinations for\nme; though at every new thought I find myself romancing in a way that\nmakes me pull up suddenly and look facts resolutely in the face. I\nsometimes wonder whether the influence or emanation from the sick-room\nat times affects me as it did the others--the Detective, for instance.\nOf course it may be that if it is anything chemical, any drug, for\nexample, in vaporeal form, its effects may be cumulative. But then,\nwhat could there be that could produce such an effect? The room is, I\nknow, full of mummy smell; and no wonder, with so many relics from the\ntomb, let alone the actual mummy of that animal which Silvio attacked.\nBy the way, I am going to test him tomorrow; I have been on the trace\nof a mummy cat, and am to get possession of it in the morning. When I\nbring it here we shall find out if it be a fact that racial instinct\ncan survive a few thousand years in the grave. However, to get back to\nthe subject in hand. These very mummy smells arise from the presence\nof substances, and combinations of substances, which the Egyptian\npriests, who were the learned men and scientists of their time, found\nby the experience of centuries to be strong enough to arrest the\nnatural forces of decay. There must be powerful agencies at work to\neffect such a purpose; and it is possible that we may have here some\nrare substance or combination whose qualities and powers are not\nunderstood in this later and more prosaic age. I wonder if Mr.\nTrelawny has any knowledge, or even suspicion, of such a kind? I only\nknow this for certain, that a worse atmosphere for a sick chamber could\nnot possibly be imagined; and I admire the courage of Sir James Frere\nin refusing to have anything to do with a case under such conditions.\nThese instructions of Mr. Trelawny to his daughter, and from what you\nhave told me, the care with which he has protected his wishes through\nhis solicitor, show that he suspected something, at any rate. Indeed,\nit would almost seem as if he expected something to happen.... I wonder\nif it would be possible to learn anything about that! Surely his\npapers would show or suggest something.... It is a difficult matter to\ntackle; but it might have to be done. His present condition cannot go\non for ever; and if anything should happen there would have to be an\ninquest. In such case full examination would have to be made into\neverything.... As it stands, the police evidence would show a murderous\nattack more than once repeated. As no clue is apparent, it would be\nnecessary to seek one in a motive.\"\n\nHe was silent. The last words seemed to come in a lower and lower tone\nas he went on. It had the effect of hopelessness. It came to me as a\nconviction that now was my time to find out if he had any definite\nsuspicion; and as if in obedience to some command, I asked:\n\n\"Do you suspect anyone?\" He seemed in a way startled rather than\nsurprised as he turned his eyes on me:\n\n\"Suspect anyone? Any thing, you mean. I certainly suspect that there\nis some influence; but at present my suspicion is held within such\nlimit. Later on, if there be any sufficiently definite conclusion to\nmy reasoning, or my thinking--for there are not proper data for\nreasoning--I may suspect; at present however--\"\n\nHe stopped suddenly and looked at the door. There was a faint sound as\nthe handle turned. My own heart seemed to stand still. There was over\nme some grim, vague apprehension. The interruption in the morning,\nwhen I was talking with the Detective, came back upon me with a rush.\n\nThe door opened, and Miss Trelawny entered the room.\n\nWhen she saw us, she started back; and a deep flush swept her face.\nFor a few seconds she paused; at such a time a few succeeding seconds\nseem to lengthen in geometrical progression. The strain upon me, and,\nas I could easily see, on the Doctor also, relaxed as she spoke:\n\n\"Oh, forgive me, I did not know that you were engaged. I was looking\nfor you, Doctor Winchester, to ask you if I might go to bed tonight\nwith safety, as you will be here. I feel so tired and worn-out that I\nfear I may break down; and tonight I would certainly not be of any\nuse.\" Doctor Winchester answered heartily:\n\n\"Do! Do go to bed by all means, and get a good night's sleep. God\nknows! you want it. I am more than glad you have made the suggestion,\nfor I feared when I saw you tonight that I might have you on my hands a\npatient next.\"\n\nShe gave a sigh of relief, and the tired look seemed to melt from her\nface. Never shall I forget the deep, earnest look in her great,\nbeautiful black eyes as she said to me:\n\n\"You will guard Father tonight, won't you, with Doctor Winchester? I\nam so anxious about him that every second brings new fears. But I am\nreally worn-out; and if I don't get a good sleep, I think I shall go\nmad. I will change my room for tonight. I'm afraid that if I stay so\nclose to Father's room I shall multiply every sound into a new terror.\nBut, of course, you will have me waked if there be any cause. I shall\nbe in the bedroom of the little suite next the boudoir off the hall. I\nhad those rooms when first I came to live with Father, and I had no\ncare then.... It will be easier to rest there; and perhaps for a few\nhours I may forget. I shall be all right in the morning. Good-night!\"\n\nWhen I had closed the door behind her and come back to the little table\nat which we had been sitting, Doctor Winchester said:\n\n\"That poor girl is overwrought to a terrible degree. I am delighted\nthat she is to get a rest. It will be life to her; and in the morning\nshe will be all right. Her nervous system is on the verge of a\nbreakdown. Did you notice how fearfully disturbed she was, and how red\nshe got when she came in and found us talking? An ordinary thing like\nthat, in her own house with her own guests, wouldn't under normal\ncircumstances disturb her!\"\n\nI was about to tell him, as an explanation in her defence, how her\nentrance was a repetition of her finding the Detective and myself alone\ntogether earlier in the day, when I remembered that that conversation\nwas so private that even an allusion to it might be awkward in evoking\ncuriosity. So I remained silent.\n\nWe stood up to go to the sick-room; but as we took our way through the\ndimly-lighted corridor I could not help thinking, again and again, and\nagain--ay, and for many a day after--how strange it was that she had\ninterrupted me on two such occasions when touching on such a theme.\n\nThere was certainly some strange web of accidents, in whose meshes we\nwere all involved.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VII\n\nThe Traveller's Loss\n\n\nThat night everything went well. Knowing that Miss Trelawny herself\nwas not on guard, Doctor Winchester and I doubled our vigilance. The\nNurses and Mrs. Grant kept watch, and the Detectives made their visit\neach quarter of an hour. All night the patient remained in his trance.\nHe looked healthy, and his chest rose and fell with the easy breathing\nof a child. But he never stirred; only for his breathing he might have\nbeen of marble. Doctor Winchester and I wore our respirators, and\nirksome they were on that intolerably hot night. Between midnight and\nthree o'clock I felt anxious, and had once more that creepy feeling to\nwhich these last few nights had accustomed me; but the grey of the\ndawn, stealing round the edges of the blinds, came with inexpressible\nrelief, followed by restfulness, went through the household. During\nthe hot night my ears, strained to every sound, had been almost\npainfully troubled; as though my brain or sensoria were in anxious\ntouch with them. Every breath of the Nurse or the rustle of her dress;\nevery soft pat of slippered feet, as the Policeman went his rounds;\nevery moment of watching life, seemed to be a new impetus to\nguardianship. Something of the same feeling must have been abroad in\nthe house; now and again I could hear upstairs the sound of restless\nfeet, and more than once downstairs the opening of a window. With the\ncoming of the dawn, however, all this ceased, and the whole household\nseemed to rest. Doctor Winchester went home when Sister Doris came to\nrelieve Mrs. Grant. He was, I think, a little disappointed or\nchagrined that nothing of an exceptional nature had happened during his\nlong night vigil.\n\nAt eight o'clock Miss Trelawny joined us, and I was amazed as well as\ndelighted to see how much good her night's sleep had done her. She was\nfairly radiant; just as I had seen her at our first meeting and at the\npicnic. There was even a suggestion of colour in her cheeks, which,\nhowever, looked startlingly white in contrast with her black brows and\nscarlet lips. With her restored strength, there seemed to have come a\ntenderness even exceeding that which she had at first shown to her sick\nfather. I could not but be moved by the loving touches as she fixed\nhis pillows and brushed the hair from his forehead.\n\nI was wearied out myself with my long spell of watching; and now that\nshe was on guard I started off to bed, blinking my tired eyes in the\nfull light and feeling the weariness of a sleepless night on me all at\nonce.\n\nI had a good sleep, and after lunch I was about to start out to walk to\nJermyn Street, when I noticed an importunate man at the hall door. The\nservant in charge was the one called Morris, formerly the \"odd man,\"\nbut since the exodus of the servants promoted to be butler pro tem.\nThe stranger was speaking rather loudly, so that there was no\ndifficulty in understanding his grievance. The servant man was\nrespectful in both words and demeanour; but he stood squarely in front\nof the great double door, so that the other could not enter. The first\nwords which I heard from the visitor sufficiently explained the\nsituation:\n\n\"That's all very well, but I tell you I must see Mr. Trelawny! What is\nthe use of your saying I can't, when I tell you I must. You put me\noff, and off, and off! I came here at nine; you said then that he was\nnot up, and that as he was not well he could not be disturbed. I came\nat twelve; and you told me again he was not up. I asked then to see\nany of his household; you told me that Miss Trelawny was not up. Now I\ncome again at three, and you tell me he is still in bed, and is not\nawake yet. Where is Miss Trelawny? 'She is occupied and must not be\ndisturbed!' Well, she must be disturbed! Or some one must. I am here\nabout Mr. Trelawny's special business; and I have come from a place\nwhere servants always begin by saying No. 'No' isn't good enough for\nme this time! I've had three years of it, waiting outside doors and\ntents when it took longer to get in than it did into the tombs; and\nthen you would think, too, the men inside were as dead as the mummies.\nI've had about enough of it, I tell you. And when I come home, and\nfind the door of the man I've been working for barred, in just the same\nway and with the same old answers, it stirs me up the wrong way. Did\nMr. Trelawny leave orders that he would not see me when I should come?\"\n\nHe paused and excitedly mopped his forehead. The servant answered very\nrespectfully:\n\n\"I am very sorry, sir, if in doing my duty I have given any offence.\nBut I have my orders, and must obey them. If you would like to leave\nany message, I will give it to Miss Trelawny; and if you will leave\nyour address, she can communicate with you if she wishes.\" The answer\ncame in such a way that it was easy to see that the speaker was a\nkind-hearted man, and a just one.\n\n\"My good fellow, I have no fault to find with you personally; and I am\nsorry if I have hurt your feelings. I must be just, even if I am\nangry. But it is enough to anger any man to find himself in the\nposition I am. Time is pressing. There is not an hour--not a\nminute--to lose! And yet here I am, kicking my heels for six hours;\nknowing all the time that your master will be a hundred times angrier\nthan I am, when he hears how the time has been fooled away. He would\nrather be waked out of a thousand sleeps than not see me just at\npresent--and before it is too late. My God! it's simply dreadful,\nafter all I've gone through, to have my work spoiled at the last and be\nfoiled in the very doorway by a stupid flunkey! Is there no one with\nsense in the house; or with authority, even if he hasn't got sense? I\ncould mighty soon convince him that your master must be awakened; even\nif he sleeps like the Seven Sleepers--\"\n\nThere was no mistaking the man's sincerity, or the urgency and\nimportance of his business; from his point of view at any rate. I\nstepped forward.\n\n\"Morris,\" I said, \"you had better tell Miss Trelawny that this\ngentleman wants to see her particularly. If she is busy, ask Mrs.\nGrant to tell her.\"\n\n\"Very good, sir!\" he answered in a tone of relief, and hurried away.\n\nI took the stranger into the little boudoir across the hall. As we\nwent he asked me:\n\n\"Are you the secretary?\"\n\n\"No! I am a friend of Miss Trelawny's. My name is Ross.\"\n\n\"Thank you very much, Mr. Ross, for your kindness!\" he said. \"My name\nis Corbeck. I would give you my card, but they don't use cards where\nI've come from. And if I had had any, I suppose they, too, would have\ngone last night--\"\n\nHe stopped suddenly, as though conscious that he had said too much. We\nboth remained silent; as we waited I took stock of him. A short,\nsturdy man, brown as a coffee-berry; possibly inclined to be fat, but\nnow lean exceedingly. The deep wrinkles in his face and neck were not\nmerely from time and exposure; there were those unmistakable signs\nwhere flesh or fat has fallen away, and the skin has become loose. The\nneck was simply an intricate surface of seams and wrinkles, and\nsun-scarred with the burning of the Desert. The Far East, the Tropic\nSeasons, and the Desert--each can have its colour mark. But all three\nare quite different; and an eye which has once known, can thenceforth\neasily distinguish them. The dusky pallor of one; the fierce red-brown\nof the other; and of the third, the dark, ingrained burning, as though\nit had become a permanent colour. Mr. Corbeck had a big head, massive\nand full; with shaggy, dark red-brown hair, but bald on the temples.\nHis forehead was a fine one, high and broad; with, to use the terms of\nphysiognomy, the frontal sinus boldly marked. The squareness of it\nshowed \"ratiocination\"; and the fulness under the eyes \"language\". He\nhad the short, broad nose that marks energy; the square chin--marked\ndespite a thick, unkempt beard--and massive jaw that showed great\nresolution.\n\n\"No bad man for the Desert!\" I thought as I looked.\n\nMiss Trelawny came very quickly. When Mr. Corbeck saw her, he seemed\nsomewhat surprised. But his annoyance and excitement had not\ndisappeared; quite enough remained to cover up any such secondary and\npurely exoteric feeling as surprise. But as she spoke he never took his\neyes off her; and I made a mental note that I would find some early\nopportunity of investigating the cause of his surprise. She began with\nan apology which quite smoothed down his ruffled feelings:\n\n\"Of course, had my Father been well you would not have been kept\nwaiting. Indeed, had not I been on duty in the sick-room when you\ncalled the first time, I should have seen you at once. Now will you\nkindly tell me what is the matter which so presses?\" He looked at me\nand hesitated. She spoke at once:\n\n\"You may say before Mr. Ross anything which you can tell me. He has my\nfullest confidence, and is helping me in my trouble. I do not think\nyou quite understand how serious my Father's condition is. For three\ndays he has not waked, or given any sign of consciousness; and I am in\nterrible trouble about him. Unhappily I am in great ignorance of my\nFather and his life. I only came to live with him a year ago; and I\nknow nothing whatever of his affairs. I do not even know who you are,\nor in what way your business is associated with him.\" She said this\nwith a little deprecating smile, all conventional and altogether\ngraceful; as though to express in the most genuine way her absurd\nignorance.\n\nHe looked steadily at her for perhaps a quarter of a minute; then he\nspoke, beginning at once as though his mind were made up and his\nconfidence established:\n\n\"My name is Eugene Corbeck. I am a Master of Arts and Doctor of Laws\nand Master of Surgery of Cambridge; Doctor of Letters of Oxford; Doctor\nof Science and Doctor of Languages of London University; Doctor of\nPhilosophy of Berlin; Doctor of Oriental Languages of Paris. I have\nsome other degrees, honorary and otherwise, but I need not trouble you\nwith them. Those I have name will show you that I am sufficiently\nfeathered with diplomas to fly into even a sick-room. Early in\nlife--fortunately for my interests and pleasures, but unfortunately for\nmy pocket--I fell in with Egyptology. I must have been bitten by some\npowerful scarab, for I took it bad. I went out tomb-hunting; and\nmanaged to get a living of a sort, and to learn some things that you\ncan't get out of books. I was in pretty low water when I met your\nFather, who was doing some explorations on his own account; and since\nthen I haven't found that I have many unsatisfied wants. He is a real\npatron of the arts; no mad Egyptologist can ever hope for a better\nchief!\"\n\nHe spoke with feeling; and I was glad to see that Miss Trelawny\ncoloured up with pleasure at the praise of her father. I could not\nhelp noticing, however, that Mr. Corbeck was, in a measure, speaking as\nif against time. I took it that he wished, while speaking, to study\nhis ground; to see how far he would be justified in taking into\nconfidence the two strangers before him. As he went on, I could see\nthat his confidence kept increasing. When I thought of it afterward,\nand remembered what he had said, I realised that the measure of the\ninformation which he gave us marked his growing trust.\n\n\"I have been several times out on expeditions in Egypt for your Father;\nand I have always found it a delight to work for him. Many of his\ntreasures--and he has some rare ones, I tell you-he has procured\nthrough me, either by my exploration or by purchase--or--or--otherwise.\nYour Father, Miss Trelawny, has a rare knowledge. He sometimes makes\nup his mind that he wants to find a particular thing, of whose\nexistence--if it still exists--he has become aware; and he will follow\nit all over the world till he gets it. I've been on just such a chase\nnow.\"\n\nHe stopped suddenly, as suddenly as thought his mouth had been shut by\nthe jerk of a string. We waited; when he went on he spoke with a\ncaution that was new to him, as though he wished to forestall our\nasking any questions:\n\n\"I am not at liberty to mention anything of my mission; where it was\nto, what it was for, or anything at all about it. Such matters are in\nconfidence between Mr. Trelawny and myself; I am pledged to absolute\nsecrecy.\"\n\nHe paused, and an embarrassed look crept over his face. Suddenly he\nsaid:\n\n\"You are sure, Miss Trelawny, your Father is not well enough to see me\ntoday?\"\n\nA look of wonderment was on her face in turn. But it cleared at\nonce;--she stood up, saying in a tone in which dignity and graciousness\nwere blended:\n\n\"Come and see for yourself!\" She moved toward her father's room; he\nfollowed, and I brought up the rear.\n\nMr. Corbeck entered the sick-room as though he knew it. There is an\nunconscious attitude or bearing to persons in new surroundings which\nthere is no mistaking. Even in his anxiety to see his powerful friend,\nhe glanced for a moment round the room, as at a familiar place. Then\nall his attention became fixed on the bed. I watched him narrowly, for\nsomehow I felt that on this man depended much of our enlightenment\nregarding the strange matter in which we were involved.\n\nIt was not that I doubted him. The man was of transparent honesty; it\nwas this very quality which we had to dread. He was of that\ncourageous, fixed trueness to his undertaking, that if he should deem\nit his duty to guard a secret he would do it to the last. The case\nbefore us was, at least, an unusual one; and it would, consequently,\nrequire more liberal recognition of bounds of the duty of secrecy than\nwould hold under ordinary conditions. To us, ignorance was\nhelplessness. If we could learn anything of the past we might at least\nform some idea of the conditions antecedent to the attack; and might,\nso, achieve some means of helping the patient to recovery. There were\ncurios which might be removed.... My thoughts were beginning to whirl\nonce again; I pulled myself up sharply and watched. There was a look\nof infinite pity on the sun-stained, rugged face as he gazed at his\nfriend, lying so helpless. The sternness of Mr. Trelawny's face had not\nrelaxed in sleep; but somehow it made the helplessness more marked. It\nwould not have troubled one to see a weak or an ordinary face under\nsuch conditions; but this purposeful, masterful man, lying before us\nwrapped in impenetrable sleep, had all the pathos of a great ruin. The\nsight was not a new one to us; but I could see that Miss Trelawny, like\nmyself, was moved afresh by it in the presence of the stranger. Mr.\nCorbeck's face grew stern. All the pity died away; and in its stead\ncame a grim, hard look which boded ill for whoever had been the cause\nof this mighty downfall. This look in turn gave place to one of\ndecision; the volcanic energy of the man was working to some definite\npurpose. He glanced around at us; and as his eyes lighted on Nurse\nKennedy his eyebrows went up a trifle. She noted the look, and glanced\ninterrogatively at Miss Trelawny, who flashed back a reply with a\nglance. She went quietly from the room, closing the door behind her.\nMr. Corbeck looked first at me, with a strong man's natural impulse to\nlearn from a man rather than a woman; then at Miss Trelawny, with a\nremembrance of the duty of courtesy, and said:\n\n\"Tell me all about it. How it began and when!\" Miss Trelawny looked\nat me appeallingly; and forthwith I told him all that I knew. He\nseemed to make no motion during the whole time; but insensibly the\nbronze face became steel. When, at the end, I told him of Mr. Marvin's\nvisit and of the Power of Attorney, his look began to brighten. And\nwhen, seeing his interest in the matter, I went more into detail as to\nits terms, he spoke:\n\n\"Good! Now I know where my duty lies!\"\n\nWith a sinking heart I heard him. Such a phrase, coming at such a\ntime, seemed to close the door to my hopes of enlightenment.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" I asked, feeling that my question was a feeble one.\n\nHis answer emphasized my fears:\n\n\"Trelawny knows what he is doing. He had some definite purpose in all\nthat he did; and we must not thwart him. He evidently expected\nsomething to happen, and guarded himself at all points.\"\n\n\"Not at all points!\" I said impulsively. \"There must have been a weak\nspot somewhere, or he wouldn't be lying here like that!\" Somehow his\nimpassiveness surprised me. I had expected that he would find a valid\nargument in my phrase; but it did not move him, at least not in the way\nI thought. Something like a smile flickered over his swarthy face as\nhe answered me:\n\n\"This is not the end! Trelawny did not guard himself to no purpose.\nDoubtless, he expected this too; or at any rate the possibility of it.\"\n\n\"Do you know what he expected, or from what source?\" The questioner\nwas Miss Trelawny.\n\nThe answer came at once: \"No! I know nothing of either. I can\nguess...\" He stopped suddenly.\n\n\"Guess what?\" The suppressed excitement in the girl's voice was akin\nto anguish. The steely look came over the swarthy face again; but there\nwas tenderness and courtesy in both voice and manner as he replied:\n\n\"Believe me, I would do anything I honestly could to relieve you\nanxiety. But in this I have a higher duty.\"\n\n\"What duty?\"\n\n\"Silence!\" As he spoke the word, the strong mouth closed like a steel\ntrap.\n\nWe all remained silent for a few minutes. In the intensity of our\nthinking, the silence became a positive thing; the small sounds of life\nwithin and without the house seemed intrusive. The first to break it\nwas Miss Trelawny. I had seen an idea--a hope--flash in her eyes; but\nshe steadied herself before speaking:\n\n\"What was the urgent subject on which you wanted to see me, knowing\nthat my Father was--not available?\" The pause showed her mastery of\nher thoughts.\n\nThe instantaneous change in Mr. Corbeck was almost ludicrous. His\nstart of surprise, coming close upon his iron-clad impassiveness, was\nlike a pantomimic change. But all idea of comedy was swept away by the\ntragic earnestness with which he remembered his original purpose.\n\n\"My God!\" he said, as he raised his hand from the chair back on which\nit rested, and beat it down with a violence which would in itself have\narrested attention. His brows corrugated as he went on: \"I quite\nforgot! What a loss! Now of all times! Just at the moment of\nsuccess! He lying there helpless, and my tongue tied! Not able to\nraise hand or foot in my ignorance of his wishes!\"\n\n\"What is it? Oh, do tell us! I am so anxious about my dear Father!\nIs it any new trouble? I hope not! oh, I hope not! I have had such\nanxiety and trouble already! It alarms me afresh to hear you speak so!\nWon't you tell me something to allay this terrible anxiety and\nuncertainty?\"\n\nHe drew his sturdy form up to his full height as he said:\n\n\"Alas! I cannot, may not, tell you anything. It is his secret.\" He\npointed to the bed. \"And yet--and yet I came here for his advice, his\ncounsel, his assistance. And he lies there helpless.... And time is\nflying by us! It may soon be too late!\"\n\n\"What is it? what is it?\" broke in Miss Trelawny in a sort of passion\nof anxiety, her face drawn with pain. \"Oh, speak! Say something!\nThis anxiety, and horror, and mystery are killing me!\" Mr. Corbeck\ncalmed himself by a great effort.\n\n\"I may not tell you details; but I have had a great loss. My mission,\nin which I have spent three years, was successful. I discovered all\nthat I sought--and more; and brought them home with me safely.\nTreasures, priceless in themselves, but doubly precious to him by whose\nwishes and instructions I sought them. I arrived in London only last\nnight, and when I woke this morning my precious charge was stolen.\nStolen in some mysterious way. Not a soul in London knew that I was\narriving. No one but myself knew what was in the shabby portmanteau\nthat I carried. My room had but one door, and that I locked and\nbolted. The room was high in the house, five stories up, so that no\nentrance could have been obtained by the window. Indeed, I had closed\nthe window myself and shut the hasp, for I wished to be secure in every\nway. This morning the hasp was untouched.... And yet my portmanteau\nwas empty. The lamps were gone! ... There! it is out. I went to Egypt\nto search for a set of antique lamps which Mr. Trelawny wished to\ntrace. With incredible labour, and through many dangers, I followed\nthem. I brought them safe home.... And now!\" He turned away much\nmoved. Even his iron nature was breaking down under the sense of loss.\n\nMiss Trelawny stepped over and laid her hand on his arm. I looked at\nher in amazement. All the passion and pain which had so moved her\nseemed to have taken the form of resolution. Her form was erect, her\neyes blazed; energy was manifest in every nerve and fibre of her being.\nEven her voice was full of nervous power as she spoke. It was apparent\nthat she was a marvellously strong woman, and that her strength could\nanswer when called upon.\n\n\"We must act at once! My Father's wishes must be carried out if it is\npossible to us. Mr. Ross, you are a lawyer. We have actually in the\nhouse a man whom you consider one of the best detectives in London.\nSurely we can do something. We can begin at once!\" Mr. Corbeck took\nnew life from her enthusiasm.\n\n\"Good! You are your Father's daughter!\" was all he said. But his\nadmiration for her energy was manifested by the impulsive way in which\nhe took her hand. I moved over to the door. I was going to bring\nSergeant Daw; and from her look of approval, I knew that Margaret--Miss\nTrelawny--understood. I was at the door when Mr. Corbeck called me\nback.\n\n\"One moment,\" he said, \"before we bring a stranger on the scene. It\nmust be borne in mind that he is not to know what you know now, that\nthe lamps were the objects of a prolonged and difficult and dangerous\nsearch. All I can tell him, all that he must know from any source, is\nthat some of my property has been stolen. I must describe some of the\nlamps, especially one, for it is of gold; and my fear is lest the\nthief, ignorant of its historic worth, may, in order to cover up his\ncrime, have it melted. I would willingly pay ten, twenty, a hundred, a\nthousand times its intrinsic value rather than have it destroyed. I\nshall tell him only what is necessary. So, please, let me answer any\nquestions he may ask; unless, of course, I ask you or refer to either\nof you for the answer.\" We both nodded acquiescence. Then a thought\nstruck me and I said:\n\n\"By the way, if it be necessary to keep this matter quiet it will be\nbetter to have it if possible a private job for the Detective. If once\na thing gets to Scotland Yard it is out of our power to keep it quiet,\nand further secrecy may be impossible. I shall sound Sergeant Daw\nbefore he comes up. If I say nothing, it will mean that he accepts the\ntask and will deal with it privately.\" Mr. Corbeck answered at once:\n\n\"Secrecy is everything. The one thing I dread is that the lamps, or\nsome of them, may be destroyed at once.\" To my intense astonishment\nMiss Trelawny spoke out at once, but quietly, in a decided voice:\n\n\"They will not be destroyed; nor any of them!\" Mr. Corbeck actually\nsmiled in amazement.\n\n\"How on earth do you know?\" he asked. Her answer was still more\nincomprehensible:\n\n\"I don't know how I know it; but know it I do. I feel it all through\nme; as though it were a conviction which has been with me all my life!\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter VIII\n\nThe Finding of the Lamps\n\n\nSergeant Daw at first made some demur; but finally agreed to advise\nprivately on a matter which might be suggested to him. He added that I\nwas to remember that he only undertook to advise; for if action were\nrequired he might have to refer the matter to headquarters. With this\nunderstanding I left him in the study, and brought Miss Trelawny and\nMr. Corbeck to him. Nurse Kennedy resumed her place at the bedside\nbefore we left the room.\n\nI could not but admire the cautious, cool-headed precision with which\nthe traveller stated his case. He did not seem to conceal anything,\nand yet he gave the least possible description of the objects missing.\nHe did not enlarge on the mystery of the case; he seemed to look on it\nas an ordinary hotel theft. Knowing, as I did, that his one object was\nto recover the articles before their identity could be obliterated, I\ncould see the rare intellectual skill with which he gave the necessary\nmatter and held back all else, though without seeming to do so.\n\"Truly,\" thought I, \"this man has learned the lesson of the Eastern\nbazaars; and with Western intellect has improved upon his masters!\" He\nquite conveyed his idea to the Detective, who, after thinking the\nmatter over for a few moments, said:\n\n\"Pot or scale? that is the question.\"\n\n\"What does that mean?\" asked the other, keenly alert.\n\n\"An old thieves phrase from Birmingham. I thought that in these days\nof slang everyone knew that. In old times at Brum, which had a lot of\nsmall metal industries, the gold- and silver-smiths used to buy metal\nfrom almost anyone who came along. And as metal in small quantities\ncould generally be had cheap when they didn't ask where it came from,\nit got to be a custom to ask only one thing--whether the customer\nwanted the goods melted, in which case the buyer made the price, and\nthe melting-pot was always on the fire. If it was to be preserved in\nits present state at the buyer's option, it went into the scale and\nfetched standard price for old metal.\n\n\"There is a good deal of such work done still, and in other places than\nBrum. When we're looking for stolen watches we often come across the\nworks, and it's not possible to identify wheels and springs out of a\nheap; but it's not often that we come across cases that are wanted.\nNow, in the present instance much will depend on whether the thief is a\ngood man--that's what they call a man who knows his work. A\nfirst-class crook will know whether a thing is of more value than\nmerely the metal in it; and in such case he would put it with someone\nwho could place it later on--in America or France, perhaps. By the\nway, do you think anyone but yourself could identify your lamps?\"\n\n\"No one but myself!\"\n\n\"Are there others like them?\"\n\n\"Not that I know of,\" answered Mr. Corbeck; \"though there may be others\nthat resemble them in many particulars.\" The Detective paused before\nasking again: \"Would any other skilled person--at the British Museum,\nfor instance, or a dealer, or a collector like Mr. Trelawny, know the\nvalue--the artistic value--of the lamps?\"\n\n\"Certainly! Anyone with a head on his shoulders would see at a glance\nthat the things were valuable.\"\n\nThe Detective's face brightened. \"Then there is a chance. If your\ndoor was locked and the window shut, the goods were not stolen by the\nchance of a chambermaid or a boots coming along. Whoever did the job\nwent after it special; and he ain't going to part with his swag without\nhis price. This must be a case of notice to the pawnbrokers. There's\none good thing about it, anyhow, that the hue and cry needn't be given.\nWe needn't tell Scotland Yard unless you like; we can work the thing\nprivately. If you wish to keep the thing dark, as you told me at the\nfirst, that is our chance.\" Mr. Corbeck, after a pause, said quietly:\n\n\"I suppose you couldn't hazard a suggestion as to how the robbery was\neffected?\" The Policeman smiled the smile of knowledge and experience.\n\n\"In a very simple way, I have no doubt, sir. That is how all these\nmysterious crimes turn out in the long-run. The criminal knows his\nwork and all the tricks of it; and he is always on the watch for\nchances. Moreover, he knows by experience what these chances are likely\nto be, and how they usually come. The other person is only careful; he\ndoesn't know all the tricks and pits that may be made for him, and by\nsome little oversight or other he falls into the trap. When we know\nall about this case, you will wonder that you did not see the method of\nit all along!\" This seemed to annoy Mr. Corbeck a little; there was\ndecided heat in his manner as he answered:\n\n\"Look here, my good friend, there is not anything simple about this\ncase--except that the things were taken. The window was closed; the\nfireplace was bricked up. There is only one door to the room, and that\nI locked and bolted. There is no transom; I have heard all about hotel\nrobberies through the transom. I never left my room in the night. I\nlooked at the things before going to bed; and I went to look at them\nagain when I woke up. If you can rig up any kind of simple robbery out\nof these facts you are a clever man. That's all I say; clever enough\nto go right away and get my things back.\" Miss Trelawny laid her hand\nupon his arm in a soothing way, and said quietly:\n\n\"Do not distress yourself unnecessarily. I am sure they will turn up.\"\nSergeant Daw turned to her so quickly that I could not help remembering\nvividly his suspicions of her, already formed, as he said:\n\n\"May I ask, miss, on what you base that opinion?\"\n\nI dreaded to hear her answer, given to ears already awake to suspicion;\nbut it came to me as a new pain or shock all the same:\n\n\"I cannot tell you how I know. But I am sure of it!\" The Detective\nlooked at her for some seconds in silence, and then threw a quick\nglance at me.\n\nPresently he had a little more conversation with Mr. Corbeck as to his\nown movements, the details of the hotel and the room, and the means of\nidentifying the goods. Then he went away to commence his inquiries,\nMr. Corbeck impressing on him the necessity for secrecy lest the thief\nshould get wind of his danger and destroy the lamps. Mr. Corbeck\npromised, when going away to attend to various matters of his own\nbusiness, to return early in the evening, and to stay in the house.\n\nAll that day Miss Trelawny was in better spirits and looked in better\nstrength than she had yet been, despite the new shock and annoyance of\nthe theft which must ultimately bring so much disappointment to her\nfather.\n\nWe spent most of the day looking over the curio treasures of Mr.\nTrelawny. From what I had heard from Mr. Corbeck I began to have some\nidea of the vastness of his enterprise in the world of Egyptian\nresearch; and with this light everything around me began to have a new\ninterest. As I went on, the interest grew; any lingering doubts which\nI might have had changed to wonder and admiration. The house seemed to\nbe a veritable storehouse of marvels of antique art. In addition to\nthe curios, big and little, in Mr. Trelawny's own room--from the great\nsarcophagi down to the scarabs of all kinds in the cabinets--the great\nhall, the staircase landings, the study, and even the boudoir were full\nof antique pieces which would have made a collector's mouth water.\n\nMiss Trelawny from the first came with me, and looked with growing\ninterest at everything. After having examined some cabinets of\nexquisite amulets she said to me in quite a naive way:\n\n\"You will hardly believe that I have of late seldom even looked at any\nof these things. It is only since Father has been ill that I seem to\nhave even any curiosity about them. But now, they grow and grow on me\nto quite an absorbing degree. I wonder if it is that the collector's\nblood which I have in my veins is beginning to manifest itself. If so,\nthe strange thing is that I have not felt the call of it before. Of\ncourse I know most of the big things, and have examined them more or\nless; but really, in a sort of way I have always taken them for\ngranted, as though they had always been there. I have noticed the same\nthing now and again with family pictures, and the way they are taken\nfor granted by the family. If you will let me examine them with you it\nwill be delightful!\"\n\nIt was a joy to me to hear her talk in such a way; and her last\nsuggestion quite thrilled me. Together we went round the various rooms\nand passages, examining and admiring the magnificent curios. There was\nsuch a bewildering amount and variety of objects that we could only\nglance at most of them; but as we went along we arranged that we should\ntake them seriatim, day by day, and examine them more closely. In the\nhall was a sort of big frame of floriated steel work which Margaret\nsaid her father used for lifting the heavy stone lids of the\nsarcophagi. It was not heavy and could be moved about easily enough.\nBy aid of this we raised the covers in turn and looked at the endless\nseries of hieroglyphic pictures cut in most of them. In spite of her\nprofession of ignorance Margaret knew a good deal about them; her year\nof life with her father had had unconsciously its daily and hourly\nlesson. She was a remarkably clever and acute-minded girl, and with a\nprodigious memory; so that her store of knowledge, gathered\nunthinkingly bit by bit, had grown to proportions that many a scholar\nmight have envied.\n\nAnd yet it was all so naive and unconscious; so girlish and simple.\nShe was so fresh in her views and ideas, and had so little thought of\nself, that in her companionship I forgot for the time all the troubles\nand mysteries which enmeshed the house; and I felt like a boy again....\n\nThe most interesting of the sarcophagi were undoubtedly the three in\nMr. Trelawny's room. Of these, two were of dark stone, one of porphyry\nand the other of a sort of ironstone. These were wrought with some\nhieroglyphs. But the third was strikingly different. It was of some\nyellow-brown substance of the dominating colour effect of Mexican onyx,\nwhich it resembled in many ways, excepting that the natural pattern of\nits convolutions was less marked. Here and there were patches almost\ntransparent--certainly translucent. The whole chest, cover and all,\nwas wrought with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of minute hieroglyphics,\nseemingly in an endless series. Back, front, sides, edges, bottom, all\nhad their quota of the dainty pictures, the deep blue of their\ncolouring showing up fresh and sharply edge in the yellow stone. It\nwas very long, nearly nine feet; and perhaps a yard wide. The sides\nundulated, so that there was no hard line. Even the corners took such\nexcellent curves that they pleased the eye. \"Truly,\" I said, \"this\nmust have been made for a giant!\"\n\n\"Or for a giantess!\" said Margaret.\n\nThis sarcophagus stood near to one of the windows. It was in one\nrespect different from all the other sarcophagi in the place. All the\nothers in the house, of whatever material--granite, porphyry,\nironstone, basalt, slate, or wood--were quite simple in form within.\nSome of them were plain of interior surface; others were engraved, in\nwhole or part, with hieroglyphics. But each and all of them had no\nprotuberances or uneven surface anywhere. They might have been used\nfor baths; indeed, they resembled in many ways Roman baths of stone or\nmarble which I had seen. Inside this, however, was a raised space,\noutlined like a human figure. I asked Margaret if she could explain it\nin any way. For answer she said:\n\n\"Father never wished to speak about this. It attracted my attention\nfrom the first; but when I asked him about it he said: 'I shall tell\nyou all about it some day, little girl--if I live! But not yet! The\nstory is not yet told, as I hope to tell it to you! Some day, perhaps\nsoon, I shall know all; and then we shall go over it together. And a\nmighty interesting story you will find it--from first to last!' Once\nafterward I said, rather lightly I am afraid: 'Is that story of the\nsarcophagus told yet, Father?' He shook his head, and looked at me\ngravely as he said: 'Not yet, little girl; but it will be--if I\nlive--if I live!' His repeating that phrase about his living rather\nfrightened me; I never ventured to ask him again.\"\n\nSomehow this thrilled me. I could not exactly say how or why; but it\nseemed like a gleam of light at last. There are, I think, moments when\nthe mind accepts something as true; though it can account for neither\nthe course of the thought, nor, if there be more than one thought, the\nconnection between them. Hitherto we had been in such outer darkness\nregarding Mr. Trelawny, and the strange visitation which had fallen on\nhim, that anything which afforded a clue, even of the faintest and most\nshadowy kind, had at the outset the enlightening satisfaction of a\ncertainty. Here were two lights of our puzzle. The first that Mr.\nTrelawny associated with this particular curio a doubt of his own\nliving. The second that he had some purpose or expectation with regard\nto it, which he would not disclose, even to his daughter, till\ncomplete. Again it was to be borne in mind that this sarcophagus\ndiffered internally from all the others. What meant that odd raised\nplace? I said nothing to Miss Trelawny, for I feared lest I should\neither frighten her or buoy her up with future hopes; but I made up my\nmind that I would take an early opportunity for further investigation.\n\nClose beside the sarcophagus was a low table of green stone with red\nveins in it, like bloodstone. The feet were fashioned like the paws of\na jackal, and round each leg was twined a full-throated snake wrought\nexquisitely in pure gold. On it rested a strange and very beautiful\ncoffer or casket of stone of a peculiar shape. It was something like a\nsmall coffin, except that the longer sides, instead of being cut off\nsquare like the upper or level part were continued to a point. Thus it\nwas an irregular septahedron, there being two planes on each of the two\nsides, one end and a top and bottom. The stone, of one piece of which\nit was wrought, was such as I had never seen before. At the base it\nwas of a full green, the colour of emerald without, of course, its\ngleam. It was not by any means dull, however, either in colour or\nsubstance, and was of infinite hardness and fineness of texture. The\nsurface was almost that of a jewel. The colour grew lighter as it\nrose, with gradation so fine as to be imperceptible, changing to a fine\nyellow almost of the colour of \"mandarin\" china. It was quite unlike\nanything I had ever seen, and did not resemble any stone or gem that I\nknew. I took it to be some unique mother-stone, or matrix of some gem.\nIt was wrought all over, except in a few spots, with fine\nhieroglyphics, exquisitely done and coloured with the same blue-green\ncement or pigment that appeared on the sarcophagus. In length it was\nabout two feet and a half; in breadth about half this, and was nearly a\nfoot high. The vacant spaces were irregularly distributed about the\ntop running to the pointed end. These places seemed less opaque than\nthe rest of the stone. I tried to lift up the lid so that I might see\nif they were translucent; but it was securely fixed. It fitted so\nexactly that the whole coffer seemed like a single piece of stone\nmysteriously hollowed from within. On the sides and edges were some\nodd-looking protuberances wrought just as finely as any other portion\nof the coffer which had been sculptured by manifest design in the\ncutting of the stone. They had queer-shaped holes or hollows,\ndifferent in each; and, like the rest, were covered with the\nhieroglyphic figures, cut finely and filled in with the same blue-green\ncement.\n\nOn the other side of the great sarcophagus stood another small table of\nalabaster, exquisitely chased with symbolic figures of gods and the\nsigns of the zodiac. On this table stood a case of about a foot square\ncomposed of slabs of rock crystal set in a skeleton of bands of red\ngold, beautifully engraved with hieroglyphics, and coloured with a blue\ngreen, very much the tint of the figures on the sarcophagus and the\ncoffer. The whole work was quite modern.\n\nBut if the case was modern what it held was not. Within, on a cushion\nof cloth of gold as fine as silk, and with the peculiar softness of old\ngold, rested a mummy hand, so perfect that it startled one to see it.\nA woman's hand, fine and long, with slim tapering fingers and nearly as\nperfect as when it was given to the embalmer thousands of years before.\nIn the embalming it had lost nothing of its beautiful shape; even the\nwrist seemed to maintain its pliability as the gentle curve lay on the\ncushion. The skin was of a rich creamy or old ivory colour; a dusky\nfair skin which suggested heat, but heat in shadow. The great\npeculiarity of it, as a hand, was that it had in all seven fingers,\nthere being two middle and two index fingers. The upper end of the\nwrist was jagged, as though it had been broken off, and was stained\nwith a red-brown stain. On the cushion near the hand was a small\nscarab, exquisitely wrought of emerald.\n\n\"That is another of Father's mysteries. When I asked him about it he\nsaid that it was perhaps the most valuable thing he had, except one.\nWhen I asked him what that one was, he refused to tell me, and forbade\nme to ask him anything concerning it. 'I will tell you,' he said, 'all\nabout it, too, in good time--if I live!'\"\n\n\"If I live!\" the phrase again. These three things grouped together,\nthe Sarcophagus, the Coffer, and the Hand, seemed to make a trilogy of\nmystery indeed!\n\nAt this time Miss Trelawny was sent for on some domestic matter. I\nlooked at the other curios in the room; but they did not seem to have\nanything like the same charm for me, now that she was away. Later on\nin the day I was sent for to the boudoir where she was consulting with\nMrs. Grant as to the lodgment of Mr. Corbeck. They were in doubt as to\nwhether he should have a room close to Mr. Trelawny's or quite away\nfrom it, and had thought it well to ask my advice on the subject. I\ncame to the conclusion that he had better not be too near; for the\nfirst at all events, he could easily be moved closer if necessary.\nWhen Mrs. Grant had gone, I asked Miss Trelawny how it came that the\nfurniture of this room, the boudoir in which we were, was so different\nfrom the other rooms of the house.\n\n\"Father's forethought!\" she answered. \"When I first came, he thought,\nand rightly enough, that I might get frightened with so many records of\ndeath and the tomb everywhere. So he had this room and the little\nsuite off it--that door opens into the sitting-room--where I slept last\nnight, furnished with pretty things. You see, they are all beautiful.\nThat cabinet belonged to the great Napoleon.\"\n\n\"There is nothing Egyptian in these rooms at all then?\" I asked, rather\nto show interest in what she had said than anything else, for the\nfurnishing of the room was apparent. \"What a lovely cabinet! May I\nlook at it?\"\n\n\"Of course! with the greatest pleasure!\" she answered, with a smile.\n\"Its finishing, within and without, Father says, is absolutely\ncomplete.\" I stepped over and looked at it closely. It was made of\ntulip wood, inlaid in patterns; and was mounted in ormolu. I pulled\nopen one of the drawers, a deep one where I could see the work to great\nadvantage. As I pulled it, something rattled inside as though rolling;\nthere was a tinkle as of metal on metal.\n\n\"Hullo!\" I said. \"There is something in here. Perhaps I had better\nnot open it.\"\n\n\"There is nothing that I know of,\" she answered. \"Some of the\nhousemaids may have used it to put something by for the time and\nforgotten it. Open it by all means!\"\n\nI pulled open the drawer; as I did so, both Miss Trelawny and I started\nback in amazement.\n\nThere before our eyes lay a number of ancient Egyptian lamps, of\nvarious sizes and of strangely varied shapes.\n\nWe leaned over them and looked closely. My own heart was beating like\na trip-hammer; and I could see by the heaving of Margaret's bosom that\nshe was strangely excited.\n\nWhilst we looked, afraid to touch and almost afraid to think, there was\na ring at the front door; immediately afterwards Mr. Corbeck, followed\nby Sergeant Daw, came into the hall. The door of the boudoir was open,\nand when they saw us Mr. Corbeck came running in, followed more slowly\nby the Detective. There was a sort of chastened joy in his face and\nmanner as he said impulsively:\n\n\"Rejoice with me, my dear Miss Trelawny, my luggage has come and all my\nthings are intact!\" Then his face fell as he added, \"Except the lamps.\nThe lamps that were worth all the rest a thousand times....\" He\nstopped, struck by the strange pallor of her face. Then his eyes,\nfollowing her look and mine, lit on the cluster of lamps in the drawer.\nHe gave a sort of cry of surprise and joy as he bent over and touched\nthem:\n\n\"My lamps! My lamps! Then they are safe--safe--safe! ... But how, in\nthe name of God--of all the Gods--did they come here?\"\n\nWe all stood silent. The Detective made a deep sound of in-taking\nbreath. I looked at him, and as he caught my glance he turned his eyes\non Miss Trelawny whose back was toward him.\n\nThere was in them the same look of suspicion which had been there when\nhe had spoken to me of her being the first to find her father on the\noccasions of the attacks.\n\n\n\n\nChapter IX\n\nThe Need of Knowledge\n\n\nMr. Corbeck seemed to go almost off his head at the recovery of the\nlamps. He took them up one by one and looked them all over tenderly,\nas though they were things that he loved. In his delight and\nexcitement he breathed so hard that it seemed almost like a cat\npurring. Sergeant Daw said quietly, his voice breaking the silence\nlike a discord in a melody:\n\n\"Are you quite sure those lamps are the ones you had, and that were\nstolen?\"\n\nHis answer was in an indignant tone: \"Sure! Of course I'm sure.\nThere isn't another set of lamps like these in the world!\"\n\n\"So far as you know!\" The Detective's words were smooth enough, but\nhis manner was so exasperating that I was sure he had some motive in\nit; so I waited in silence. He went on:\n\n\"Of course there may be some in the British Museum; or Mr. Trelawny may\nhave had these already. There's nothing new under the sun, you know,\nMr. Corbeck; not even in Egypt. These may be the originals, and yours\nmay have been the copies. Are there any points by which you can\nidentify these as yours?\"\n\nMr. Corbeck was really angry by this time. He forgot his reserve; and\nin his indignation poured forth a torrent of almost incoherent, but\nenlightening, broken sentences:\n\n\"Identify! Copies of them! British Museum! Rot! Perhaps they keep a\nset in Scotland Yard for teaching idiot policemen Egyptology! Do I\nknow them? When I have carried them about my body, in the desert, for\nthree months; and lay awake night after night to watch them! When I\nhave looked them over with a magnifying-glass, hour after hour, till my\neyes ached; till every tiny blotch, and chip, and dinge became as\nfamiliar to me as his chart to a captain; as familiar as they doubtless\nhave been all the time to every thick-headed area-prowler within the\nbounds of mortality. See here, young man, look at these!\" He ranged\nthe lamps in a row on the top of the cabinet. \"Did you ever see a set\nof lamps of these shapes--of any one of these shapes? Look at these\ndominant figures on them! Did you ever see so complete a set--even in\nScotland Yard; even in Bow Street? Look! one on each, the seven forms\nof Hathor. Look at that figure of the Ka of a Princess of the Two\nEgypts, standing between Ra and Osiris in the Boat of the Dead, with\nthe Eye of Sleep, supported on legs, bending before her; and Harmochis\nrising in the north. Will you find that in the British Museum--or Bow\nStreet? Or perhaps your studies in the Gizeh Museum, or the\nFitzwilliam, or Paris, or Leyden, or Berlin, have shown you that the\nepisode is common in hieroglyphics; and that this is only a copy.\nPerhaps you can tell me what that figure of Ptah-Seker-Ausar holding\nthe Tet wrapped in the Sceptre of Papyrus means? Did you ever see it\nbefore; even in the British Museum, or Gizeh, or Scotland Yard?\"\n\nHe broke off suddenly; and then went on in quite a different way:\n\n\"Look here! it seems to me that the thick-headed idiot is myself! I\nbeg your pardon, old fellow, for my rudeness. I quite lost my temper\nat the suggestion that I do not know these lamps. You don't mind, do\nyou?\" The Detective answered heartily:\n\n\"Lord, sir, not I. I like to see folks angry when I am dealing with\nthem, whether they are on my side or the other. It is when people are\nangry that you learn the truth from them. I keep cool; that is my\ntrade! Do you know, you have told me more about those lamps in the\npast two minutes than when you filled me up with details of how to\nidentify them.\"\n\nMr. Corbeck grunted; he was not pleased at having given himself away.\nAll at once he turned to me and said in his natural way:\n\n\"Now tell me how you got them back?\" I was so surprised that I said\nwithout thinking:\n\n\"We didn't get them back!\" The traveller laughed openly.\n\n\"What on earth do you mean?\" he asked. \"You didn't get them back!\nWhy, there they are before your eyes! We found you looking at them\nwhen we came in.\" By this time I had recovered my surprise and had my\nwits about me.\n\n\"Why, that's just it,\" I said. \"We had only come across them, by\naccident, that very moment!\"\n\nMr. Corbeck drew back and looked hard at Miss Trelawny and myself;\nturning his eyes from one to the other as he asked:\n\n\"Do you mean to tell me that no one brought them here; that you found\nthem in that drawer? That, so to speak, no one at all brought them\nback?\"\n\n\"I suppose someone must have brought them here; they couldn't have come\nof their own accord. But who it was, or when, or how, neither of us\nknows. We shall have to make inquiry, and see if any of the servants\nknow anything of it.\"\n\nWe all stood silent for several seconds. It seemed a long time. The\nfirst to speak was the Detective, who said in an unconscious way:\n\n\"Well, I'm damned! I beg your pardon, miss!\" Then his mouth shut like\na steel trap.\n\nWe called up the servants, one by one, and asked them if they knew\nanything of some articles placed in a drawer in the boudoir; but none\nof them could throw any light on the circumstance. We did not tell\nthem what the articles were; or let them see them.\n\nMr. Corbeck packed the lamps in cotton wool, and placed them in a tin\nbox. This, I may mention incidentally, was then brought up to the\ndetectives' room, where one of the men stood guard over them with a\nrevolver the whole night. Next day we got a small safe into the house,\nand placed them in it. There were two different keys. One of them I\nkept myself; the other I placed in my drawer in the Safe Deposit vault.\nWe were all determined that the lamps should not be lost again.\n\nAbout an hour after we had found the lamps, Doctor Winchester arrived.\nHe had a large parcel with him, which, when unwrapped, proved to be the\nmummy of a cat. With Miss Trelawny's permission he placed this in the\nboudoir; and Silvio was brought close to it. To the surprise of us\nall, however, except perhaps Doctor Winchester, he did not manifest the\nleast annoyance; he took no notice of it whatever. He stood on the\ntable close beside it, purring loudly. Then, following out his plan,\nthe Doctor brought him into Mr. Trelawny's room, we all following.\nDoctor Winchester was excited; Miss Trelawny anxious. I was more than\ninterested myself, for I began to have a glimmering of the Doctor's\nidea. The Detective was calmly and coldly superior; but Mr. Corbeck,\nwho was an enthusiast, was full of eager curiosity.\n\nThe moment Doctor Winchester got into the room, Silvio began to mew and\nwriggle; and jumping out of his arms, ran over to the cat mummy and\nbegan to scratch angrily at it. Miss Trelawny had some difficulty in\ntaking him away; but so soon as he was out of the room he became quiet.\nWhen she came back there was a clamour of comments:\n\n\"I thought so!\" from the Doctor.\n\n\"What can it mean?\" from Miss Trelawny.\n\n\"That's a very strange thing!\" from Mr. Corbeck.\n\n\"Odd! but it doesn't prove anything!\" from the Detective.\n\n\"I suspend my judgment!\" from myself, thinking it advisable to say\nsomething.\n\nThen by common consent we dropped the theme--for the present.\n\nIn my room that evening I was making some notes of what had happened,\nwhen there came a low tap on the door. In obedience to my summons\nSergeant Daw came in, carefully closing the door behind him.\n\n\"Well, Sergeant,\" said I, \"sit down. What is it?\"\n\n\"I wanted to speak to you, sir, about those lamps.\" I nodded and\nwaited: he went on: \"You know that that room where they were found\nopens directly into the room where Miss Trelawny slept last night?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"During the night a window somewhere in that part of the house was\nopened, and shut again. I heard it, and took a look round; but I could\nsee no sign of anything.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know that!\" I said; \"I heard a window moved myself.\"\n\n\"Does nothing strike you as strange about it, sir?\"\n\n\"Strange!\" I said; \"Strange! why it's all the most bewildering,\nmaddening thing I have ever encountered. It is all so strange that one\nseems to wonder, and simply waits for what will happen next. But what\ndo you mean by strange?\"\n\nThe Detective paused, as if choosing his words to begin; and then said\ndeliberately:\n\n\"You see, I am not one who believes in magic and such things. I am for\nfacts all the time; and I always find in the long-run that there is a\nreason and a cause for everything. This new gentleman says these\nthings were stolen out of his room in the hotel. The lamps, I take it\nfrom some things he has said, really belong to Mr. Trelawny. His\ndaughter, the lady of the house, having left the room she usually\noccupies, sleeps that night on the ground floor. A window is heard to\nopen and shut during the night. When we, who have been during the day\ntrying to find a clue to the robbery, come to the house, we find the\nstolen goods in a room close to where she slept, and opening out of it!\"\n\nHe stopped. I felt that same sense of pain and apprehension, which I\nhad experienced when he had spoken to me before, creeping, or rather\nrushing, over me again. I had to face the matter out, however. My\nrelations with her, and the feeling toward her which I now knew full\nwell meant a very deep love and devotion, demanded so much. I said as\ncalmly as I could, for I knew the keen eyes of the skilful investigator\nwere on me:\n\n\"And the inference?\"\n\nHe answered with the cool audacity of conviction:\n\n\"The inference to me is that there was no robbery at all. The goods\nwere taken by someone to this house, where they were received through a\nwindow on the ground floor. They were placed in the cabinet, ready to\nbe discovered when the proper time should come!\"\n\nSomehow I felt relieved; the assumption was too monstrous. I did not\nwant, however, my relief to be apparent, so I answered as gravely as I\ncould:\n\n\"And who do you suppose brought them to the house?\"\n\n\"I keep my mind open as to that. Possibly Mr. Corbeck himself; the\nmatter might be too risky to trust to a third party.\"\n\n\"Then the natural extension of your inference is that Mr. Corbeck is a\nliar and a fraud; and that he is in conspiracy with Miss Trelawny to\ndeceive someone or other about those lamps.\"\n\n\"Those are harsh words, Mr. Ross. They're so plain-spoken that they\nbring a man up standing, and make new doubts for him. But I have to go\nwhere my reason points. It may be that there is another party than\nMiss Trelawny in it. Indeed, if it hadn't been for the other matter\nthat set me thinking and bred doubts of its own about her, I wouldn't\ndream of mixing her up in this. But I'm safe on Corbeck. Whoever else\nis in it, he is! The things couldn't have been taken without his\nconnivance--if what he says is true. If it isn't--well! he is a liar\nanyhow. I would think it a bad job to have him stay in the house with\nso many valuables, only that it will give me and my mate a chance of\nwatching him. We'll keep a pretty good look-out, too, I tell you.\nHe's up in my room now, guarding those lamps; but Johnny Wright is\nthere too. I go on before he comes off; so there won't be much chance\nof another house-breaking. Of course, Mr. Ross, all this, too, is\nbetween you and me.\"\n\n\"Quite so! You may depend on my silence!\" I said; and he went away to\nkeep a close eye on the Egyptologist.\n\nIt seemed as though all my painful experiences were to go in pairs, and\nthat the sequence of the previous day was to be repeated; for before\nlong I had another private visit from Doctor Winchester who had now\npaid his nightly visit to his patient and was on his way home. He took\nthe seat which I proffered and began at once:\n\n\"This is a strange affair altogether. Miss Trelawny has just been\ntelling me about the stolen lamps, and of the finding of them in the\nNapoleon cabinet. It would seem to be another complication of the\nmystery; and yet, do you know, it is a relief to me. I have exhausted\nall human and natural possibilities of the case, and am beginning to\nfall back on superhuman and supernatural possibilities. Here are such\nstrange things that, if I am not going mad, I think we must have a\nsolution before long. I wonder if I might ask some questions and some\nhelp from Mr. Corbeck, without making further complications and\nembarrassing us. He seems to know an amazing amount regarding Egypt\nand all relating to it. Perhaps he wouldn't mind translating a little\nbit of hieroglyphic. It is child's play to him. What do you think?\"\n\nWhen I had thought the matter over a few seconds I spoke. We wanted\nall the help we could get. For myself, I had perfect confidence in\nboth men; and any comparing notes, or mutual assistance, might bring\ngood results. Such could hardly bring evil.\n\n\"By all means I should ask him. He seems an extraordinarily learned\nman in Egyptology; and he seems to me a good fellow as well as an\nenthusiast. By the way, it will be necessary to be a little guarded as\nto whom you speak regarding any information which he may give you.\"\n\n\"Of course!\" he answered. \"Indeed I should not dream of saying\nanything to anybody, excepting yourself. We have to remember that when\nMr. Trelawny recovers he may not like to think that we have been\nchattering unduly over his affairs.\"\n\n\"Look here!\" I said, \"why not stay for a while: and I shall ask him to\ncome and have a pipe with us. We can then talk over things.\"\n\nHe acquiesced: so I went to the room where Mr. Corbeck was, and\nbrought him back with me. I thought the detectives were pleased at his\ngoing. On the way to my room he said:\n\n\"I don't half like leaving those things there, with only those men to\nguard them. They're a deal sight too precious to be left to the police!\"\n\nFrom which it would appear that suspicion was not confined to Sergeant\nDaw.\n\nMr. Corbeck and Doctor Winchester, after a quick glance at each other,\nbecame at once on most friendly terms. The traveller professed his\nwillingness to be of any assistance which he could, provided, he added,\nthat it was anything about which he was free to speak. This was not\nvery promising; but Doctor Winchester began at once:\n\n\"I want you, if you will, to translate some hieroglyphic for me.\"\n\n\"Certainly, with the greatest pleasure, so far as I can. For I may\ntell you that hieroglyphic writing is not quite mastered yet; though we\nare getting at it! We are getting at it! What is the inscription?\"\n\n\"There are two,\" he answered. \"One of them I shall bring here.\"\n\nHe went out, and returned in a minute with the mummy cat which he had\nthat evening introduced to Silvio. The scholar took it; and, after a\nshort examination, said:\n\n\"There is nothing especial in this. It is an appeal to Bast, the Lady\nof Bubastis, to give her good bread and milk in the Elysian Fields.\nThere may be more inside; and if you will care to unroll it, I will do\nmy best. I do not think, however, that there is anything special.\nFrom the method of wrapping I should say it is from the Delta; and of a\nlate period, when such mummy work was common and cheap. What is the\nother inscription you wish me to see?\"\n\n\"The inscription on the mummy cat in Mr. Trelawny's room.\"\n\nMr. Corbeck's face fell. \"No!\" he said, \"I cannot do that! I am, for\nthe present at all events, practically bound to secrecy regarding any\nof the things in Mr. Trelawny's room.\"\n\nDoctor Winchester's comment and my own were made at the same moment. I\nsaid only the one word \"Checkmate!\" from which I think he may have\ngathered that I guessed more of his idea and purpose than perhaps I had\nintentionally conveyed to him. He murmured:\n\n\"Practically bound to secrecy?\"\n\nMr. Corbeck at once took up the challenge conveyed:\n\n\"Do not misunderstand me! I am not bound by any definite pledge of\nsecrecy; but I am bound in honour to respect Mr. Trelawny's confidence,\ngiven to me, I may tell you, in a very large measure. Regarding many\nof the objects in his room he has a definite purpose in view; and it\nwould not be either right or becoming for me, his trusted friend and\nconfidant, to forestall that purpose. Mr. Trelawny, you may know--or\nrather you do not know or you would not have so construed my remark--is\na scholar, a very great scholar. He has worked for years toward a\ncertain end. For this he has spared no labour, no expense, no personal\ndanger or self-denial. He is on the line of a result which will place\nhim amongst the foremost discoverers or investigators of his age. And\nnow, just at the time when any hour might bring him success, he is\nstricken down!\"\n\nHe stopped, seemingly overcome with emotion. After a time he recovered\nhimself and went on:\n\n\"Again, do not misunderstand me as to another point. I have said that\nMr. Trelawny has made much confidence with me; but I do not mean to\nlead you to believe that I know all his plans, or his aims or objects.\nI know the period which he has been studying; and the definite\nhistorical individual whose life he has been investigating, and whose\nrecords he has been following up one by one with infinite patience.\nBut beyond this I know nothing. That he has some aim or object in the\ncompletion of this knowledge I am convinced. What it is I may guess;\nbut I must say nothing. Please to remember, gentlemen, that I have\nvoluntarily accepted the position of recipient of a partial confidence.\nI have respected that; and I must ask any of my friends to do the same.\"\n\nHe spoke with great dignity; and he grew, moment by moment, in the\nrespect and esteem of both Doctor Winchester and myself. We understood\nthat he had not done speaking; so we waited in silence till he\ncontinued:\n\n\"I have spoken this much, although I know well that even such a hint as\neither of you might gather from my words might jeopardise the success\nof his work. But I am convinced that you both wish to help him--and\nhis daughter,\" he said this looking me fairly between the eyes, \"to the\nbest of your power, honestly and unselfishly. He is so stricken down,\nand the manner of it is so mysterious that I cannot but think that it\nis in some way a result of his own work. That he calculated on some\nset-back is manifest to us all. God knows! I am willing to do what I\ncan, and to use any knowledge I have in his behalf. I arrived in\nEngland full of exultation at the thought that I had fulfilled the\nmission with which he had trusted me. I had got what he said were the\nlast objects of his search; and I felt assured that he would now be\nable to begin the experiment of which he had often hinted to me. It is\ntoo dreadful that at just such a time such a calamity should have\nfallen on him. Doctor Winchester, you are a physician; and, if your\nface does not belie you, you are a clever and a bold one. Is there no\nway which you can devise to wake this man from his unnatural stupor?\"\n\nThere was a pause; then the answer came slowly and deliberately:\n\n\"There is no ordinary remedy that I know of. There might possibly be\nsome extraordinary one. But there would be no use in trying to find\nit, except on one condition.\"\n\n\"And that?\"\n\n\"Knowledge! I am completely ignorant of Egyptian matters, language,\nwriting, history, secrets, medicines, poisons, occult powers--all that\ngo to make up the mystery of that mysterious land. This disease, or\ncondition, or whatever it may be called, from which Mr. Trelawny is\nsuffering, is in some way connected with Egypt. I have had a suspicion\nof this from the first; and later it grew into a certainty, though\nwithout proof. What you have said tonight confirms my conjecture, and\nmakes me believe that a proof is to be had. I do not think that you\nquite know all that has gone on in this house since the night of the\nattack--of the finding of Mr. Trelawny's body. Now I propose that we\nconfide in you. If Mr. Ross agrees, I shall ask him to tell you. He is\nmore skilled than I am in putting facts before other people. He can\nspeak by his brief; and in this case he has the best of all briefs, the\nexperience of his own eyes and ears, and the evidence that he has\nhimself taken on the spot from participators in, or spectators of, what\nhas happened. When you know all, you will, I hope, be in a position to\njudge as to whether you can best help Mr. Trelawny, and further his\nsecret wishes, by your silence or your speech.\"\n\nI nodded approval. Mr. Corbeck jumped up, and in his impulsive way\nheld out a hand to each.\n\n\"Done!\" he said. \"I acknowledge the honour of your confidence; and on\nmy part I pledge myself that if I find my duty to Mr. Trelawny's wishes\nwill, in his own interest, allow my lips to open on his affairs, I\nshall speak so freely as I may.\"\n\nAccordingly I began, and told him, as exactly as I could, everything\nthat had happened from the moment of my waking at the knocking on the\ndoor in Jermyn Street. The only reservations I made were as to my own\nfeeling toward Miss Trelawny and the matters of small import to the\nmain subject which followed it; and my conversations with Sergeant Daw,\nwhich were in themselves private, and which would have demanded\ndiscretionary silence in any case. As I spoke, Mr. Corbeck followed\nwith breathless interest. Sometimes he would stand up and pace about\nthe room in uncontrollable excitement; and then recover himself\nsuddenly, and sit down again. Sometimes he would be about to speak,\nbut would, with an effort, restrain himself. I think the narration\nhelped me to make up my own mind; for even as I talked, things seemed\nto appear in a clearer light. Things big and little, in relation of\ntheir importance to the case, fell into proper perspective. The story\nup to date became coherent, except as to its cause, which seemed a\ngreater mystery than ever. This is the merit of entire, or collected,\nnarrative. Isolated facts, doubts, suspicions, conjectures, give way\nto a homogeneity which is convincing.\n\nThat Mr. Corbeck was convinced was evident. He did not go through any\nprocess of explanation or limitation, but spoke right out at once to\nthe point, and fearlessly like a man:\n\n\"That settles me! There is in activity some Force that needs special\ncare. If we all go on working in the dark we shall get in one\nanother's way, and by hampering each other, undo the good that any or\neach of us, working in different directions, might do. It seems to me\nthat the first thing we have to accomplish is to get Mr. Trelawny waked\nout of that unnatural sleep. That he can be waked is apparent from the\nway the Nurse has recovered; though what additional harm may have been\ndone to him in the time he has been lying in that room I suppose no one\ncan tell. We must chance that, however. He has lain there, and\nwhatever the effect might be, it is there now; and we have, and shall\nhave, to deal with it as a fact. A day more or less won't hurt in the\nlong-run. It is late now; and we shall probably have tomorrow a task\nbefore us that will require our energies afresh. You, Doctor, will\nwant to get to your sleep; for I suppose you have other work as well as\nthis to do tomorrow. As for you, Mr. Ross, I understand that you are\nto have a spell of watching in the sick-room tonight. I shall get you\na book which will help to pass the time for you. I shall go and look\nfor it in the library. I know where it was when I was here last; and I\ndon't suppose Mr. Trelawny has used it since. He knew long ago all\nthat was in it which was or might be of interest to him. But it will\nbe necessary, or at least helpful, to understand other things which I\nshall tell you later. You will be able to tell Doctor Winchester all\nthat would aid him. For I take it that our work will branch out pretty\nsoon. We shall each have our own end to hold up; and it will take each\nof us all our time and understanding to get through his own tasks. It\nwill not be necessary for you to read the whole book. All that will\ninterest you--with regard to our matter I mean of course, for the whole\nbook is interesting as a record of travel in a country then quite\nunknown--is the preface, and two or three chapters which I shall mark\nfor you.\"\n\nHe shook hands warmly with Doctor Winchester who had stood up to go.\n\nWhilst he was away I sat lonely, thinking. As I thought, the world\naround me seemed to be illimitably great. The only little spot in\nwhich I was interested seemed like a tiny speck in the midst of a\nwilderness. Without and around it were darkness and unknown danger,\npressing in from every side. And the central figure in our little\noasis was one of sweetness and beauty. A figure one could love; could\nwork for; could die for...!\n\nMr. Corbeck came back in a very short time with the book; he had found\nit at once in the spot where he had seen it three years before. Having\nplaced in it several slips of paper, marking the places where I was to\nread, he put it into my hands, saying:\n\n\"That is what started Mr. Trelawny; what started me when I read it; and\nwhich will, I have no doubt, be to you an interesting beginning to a\nspecial study--whatever the end may be. If, indeed, any of us here may\never see the end.\"\n\nAt the door he paused and said:\n\n\"I want to take back one thing. That Detective is a good fellow. What\nyou have told me of him puts him in a new light. The best proof of it\nis that I can go quietly to sleep tonight, and leave the lamps in his\ncare!\"\n\nWhen he had gone I took the book with me, put on my respirator, and\nwent to my spell of duty in the sick-room!\n\n\n\n\nChapter X\n\nThe Valley of the Sorcerer\n\n\nI placed the book on the little table on which the shaded lamp rested\nand moved the screen to one side. Thus I could have the light on my\nbook; and by looking up, see the bed, and the Nurse, and the door. I\ncannot say that the conditions were enjoyable, or calculated to allow\nof that absorption in the subject which is advisable for effective\nstudy. However, I composed myself to the work as well as I could. The\nbook was one which, on the very face of it, required special attention.\nIt was a folio in Dutch, printed in Amsterdam in 1650. Some one had\nmade a literal translation, writing generally the English word under\nthe Dutch, so that the grammatical differences between the two tongues\nmade even the reading of the translation a difficult matter. One had\nto dodge backward and forward among the words. This was in addition to\nthe difficulty of deciphering a strange handwriting of two hundred\nyears ago. I found, however, that after a short time I got into the\nhabit of following in conventional English the Dutch construction; and,\nas I became more familiar with the writing, my task became easier.\n\nAt first the circumstances of the room, and the fear lest Miss Trelawny\nshould return unexpectedly and find me reading the book, disturbed me\nsomewhat. For we had arranged amongst us, before Doctor Winchester had\ngone home, that she was not to be brought into the range of the coming\ninvestigation. We considered that there might be some shock to a\nwoman's mind in matters of apparent mystery; and further, that she,\nbeing Mr. Trelawny's daughter, might be placed in a difficult position\nwith him afterward if she took part in, or even had a personal\nknowledge of, the disregarding of his expressed wishes. But when I\nremembered that she did not come on nursing duty till two o'clock, the\nfear of interruption passed away. I had still nearly three house\nbefore me. Nurse Kennedy sat in her chair by the bedside, patient and\nalert. A clock ticked on the landing; other clocks in the house\nticked; the life of the city without manifested itself in the distant\nhum, now and again swelling into a roar as a breeze floating westward\ntook the concourse of sounds with it. But still the dominant idea was\nof silence. The light on my book, and the soothing fringe of green\nsilk round the shade intensified, whenever I looked up, the gloom of\nthe sick-room. With every line I read, this seemed to grow deeper and\ndeeper; so that when my eyes came back to the page the light seemed to\ndazzle me. I stuck to my work, however, and presently began to get\nsufficiently into the subject to become interested in it.\n\nThe book was by one Nicholas van Huyn of Hoorn. In the preface he told\nhow, attracted by the work of John Greaves of Merton College,\nPyramidographia, he himself visited Egypt, where he became so\ninterested in its wonders that he devoted some years of his life to\nvisiting strange places, and exploring the ruins of many temples and\ntombs. He had come across many variants of the story of the building\nof the Pyramids as told by the Arabian historian, Ibn Abd Alhokin, some\nof which he set down. These I did not stop to read, but went on to the\nmarked pages.\n\nAs soon as I began to read these, however, there grew on me some sense\nof a disturbing influence. Once or twice I looked to see if the Nurse\nhad moved, for there was a feeling as though some one were near me.\nNurse Kennedy sat in her place, as steady and alert as ever; and I came\nback to my book again.\n\nThe narrative went on to tell how, after passing for several days\nthrough the mountains to the east of Aswan, the explorer came to a\ncertain place. Here I give his own words, simply putting the\ntranslation into modern English:\n\n\"Toward evening we came to the entrance of a narrow, deep valley,\nrunning east and west. I wished to proceed through this; for the sun,\nnow nearly down on the horizon, showed a wide opening beyond the\nnarrowing of the cliffs. But the fellaheen absolutely refused to enter\nthe valley at such a time, alleging that they might be caught by the\nnight before they could emerge from the other end. At first they would\ngive no reason for their fear. They had hitherto gone anywhere I\nwished, and at any time, without demur. On being pressed, however,\nthey said that the place was the Valley of the Sorcerer, where none\nmight come in the night. On being asked to tell of the Sorcerer, they\nrefused, saying that there was no name, and that they knew nothing. On\nthe next morning, however, when the sun was up and shining down the\nvalley, their fears had somewhat passed away. Then they told me that a\ngreat Sorcerer in ancient days--'millions of millions of years' was the\nterm they used--a King or a Queen, they could not say which, was buried\nthere. They could not give the name, persisting to the last that there\nwas no name; and that anyone who should name it would waste away in\nlife so that at death nothing of him would remain to be raised again in\nthe Other World. In passing through the valley they kept together in a\ncluster, hurrying on in front of me. None dared to remain behind. They\ngave, as their reason for so proceeding, that the arms of the Sorcerer\nwere long, and that it was dangerous to be the last. The which was of\nlittle comfort to me who of this necessity took that honourable post.\nIn the narrowest part of the valley, on the south side, was a great\ncliff of rock, rising sheer, of smooth and even surface. Hereon were\ngraven certain cabalistic signs, and many figures of men and animals,\nfishes, reptiles and birds; suns and stars; and many quaint symbols.\nSome of these latter were disjointed limbs and features, such as arms\nand legs, fingers, eyes, noses, ears, and lips. Mysterious symbols\nwhich will puzzle the Recording Angel to interpret at the Judgment Day.\nThe cliff faced exactly north. There was something about it so\nstrange, and so different from the other carved rocks which I had\nvisited, that I called a halt and spent the day in examining the rock\nfront as well as I could with my telescope. The Egyptians of my\ncompany were terribly afraid, and used every kind of persuasion to\ninduce me to pass on. I stayed till late in the afternoon, by which\ntime I had failed to make out aright the entry of any tomb, for I\nsuspected that such was the purpose of the sculpture of the rock. By\nthis time the men were rebellious; and I had to leave the valley if I\ndid not wish my whole retinue to desert. But I secretly made up my\nmind to discover the tomb, and explore it. To this end I went further\ninto the mountains, where I met with an Arab Sheik who was willing to\ntake service with me. The Arabs were not bound by the same\nsuperstitious fears as the Egyptians; Sheik Abu Some and his following\nwere willing to take a part in the explorations.\n\n\"When I returned to the valley with these Bedouins, I made effort to\nclimb the face of the rock, but failed, it being of one impenetrable\nsmoothness. The stone, generally flat and smooth by nature, had been\nchiselled to completeness. That there had been projecting steps was\nmanifest, for there remained, untouched by the wondrous climate of that\nstrange land, the marks of saw and chisel and mallet where the steps\nhad been cut or broken away.\n\n\"Being thus baffled of winning the tomb from below, and being\nunprovided with ladders to scale, I found a way by much circuitous\njourneying to the top of the cliff. Thence I caused myself to be\nlowered by ropes, till I had investigated that portion of the rock face\nwherein I expected to find the opening. I found that there was an\nentrance, closed however by a great stone slab. This was cut in the\nrock more than a hundred feet up, being two-thirds the height of the\ncliff. The hieroglyphic and cabalistic symbols cut in the rock were so\nmanaged as to disguise it. The cutting was deep, and was continued\nthrough the rock and the portals of the doorway, and through the great\nslab which formed the door itself. This was fixed in place with such\nincredible exactness that no stone chisel or cutting implement which I\nhad with me could find a lodgment in the interstices. I used much\nforce, however; and by many heavy strokes won a way into the tomb, for\nsuch I found it to be. The stone door having fallen into the entrance\nI passed over it into the tomb, noting as I went a long iron chain\nwhich hung coiled on a bracket close to the doorway.\n\n\"The tomb I found to be complete, after the manner of the finest\nEgyptian tombs, with chamber and shaft leading down to the corridor,\nending in the Mummy Pit. It had the table of pictures, which seems\nsome kind of record--whose meaning is now for ever lost--graven in a\nwondrous colour on a wondrous stone.\n\n\"All the walls of the chamber and the passage were carved with strange\nwritings in the uncanny form mentioned. The huge stone coffin or\nsarcophagus in the deep pit was marvellously graven throughout with\nsigns. The Arab chief and two others who ventured into the tomb with\nme, and who were evidently used to such grim explorations, managed to\ntake the cover from the sarcophagus without breaking it. At which they\nwondered; for such good fortune, they said, did not usually attend such\nefforts. Indeed they seemed not over careful; and did handle the\nvarious furniture of the tomb with such little concern that, only for\nits great strength and thickness, even the coffin itself might have\nbeen injured. Which gave me much concern, for it was very beautifully\nwrought of rare stone, such as I had no knowledge of. Much I grieved\nthat it were not possible to carry it away. But time and desert\njourneyings forbade such; I could only take with me such small matters\nas could be carried on the person.\n\n\"Within the sarcophagus was a body, manifestly of a woman, swathed with\nmany wrappings of linen, as is usual with all mummies. From certain\nembroiderings thereon, I gathered that she was of high rank. Across\nthe breast was one hand, unwrapped. In the mummies which I had seen,\nthe arms and hands are within the wrappings, and certain adornments of\nwood, shaped and painted to resemble arms and hands, lie outside the\nenwrapped body.\n\n\"But this hand was strange to see, for it was the real hand of her who\nlay enwrapped there; the arm projecting from the cerements being of\nflesh, seemingly made as like marble in the process of embalming. Arm\nand hand were of dusky white, being of the hue of ivory that hath lain\nlong in air. The skin and the nails were complete and whole, as though\nthe body had been placed for burial over night. I touched the hand and\nmoved it, the arm being something flexible as a live arm; though stiff\nwith long disuse, as are the arms of those faqueers which I have seen\nin the Indees. There was, too, an added wonder that on this ancient\nhand were no less than seven fingers, the same all being fine and long,\nand of great beauty. Sooth to say, it made me shudder and my flesh\ncreep to touch that hand that had lain there undisturbed for so many\nthousands of years, and yet was like unto living flesh. Underneath the\nhand, as though guarded by it, lay a huge jewel of ruby; a great stone\nof wondrous bigness, for the ruby is in the main a small jewel. This\none was of wondrous colour, being as of fine blood whereon the light\nshineth. But its wonder lay not in its size or colour, though these\nwere, as I have said, of priceless rarity; but in that the light of it\nshone from seven stars, each of seven points, as clearly as though the\nstars were in reality there imprisoned. When that the hand was lifted,\nthe sight of that wondrous stone lying there struck me with a shock\nalmost to momentary paralysis. I stood gazing on it, as did those with\nme, as though it were that faded head of the Gorgon Medusa with the\nsnakes in her hair, whose sight struck into stone those who beheld. So\nstrong was the feeling that I wanted to hurry away from the place. So,\ntoo, those with me; therefore, taking this rare jewel, together with\ncertain amulets of strangeness and richness being wrought of\njewel-stones, I made haste to depart. I would have remained longer,\nand made further research in the wrappings of the mummy, but that I\nfeared so to do. For it came to me all at once that I was in a desert\nplace, with strange men who were with me because they were not\nover-scrupulous. That we were in a lone cavern of the dead, an hundred\nfeet above the ground, where none could find me were ill done to me,\nnor would any ever seek. But in secret I determined that I would come\nagain, though with more secure following. Moreover, was I tempted to\nseek further, as in examining the wrappings I saw many things of\nstrange import in that wondrous tomb; including a casket of eccentric\nshape made of some strange stone, which methought might have contained\nother jewels, inasmuch as it had secure lodgment in the great\nsarcophagus itself. There was in the tomb also another coffer which,\nthough of rare proportion and adornment, was more simply shaped. It\nwas of ironstone of great thickness; but the cover was lightly cemented\ndown with what seemed gum and Paris plaster, as though to insure that\nno air could penetrate. The Arabs with me so insisted in its opening,\nthinking that from its thickness much treasure was stored therein, that\nI consented thereto. But their hope was a false one, as it proved.\nWithin, closely packed, stood four jars finely wrought and carved with\nvarious adornments. Of these one was the head of a man, another of a\ndog, another of a jackal, and another of a hawk. I had before known\nthat such burial urns as these were used to contain the entrails and\nother organs of the mummied dead; but on opening these, for the\nfastening of wax, though complete, was thin, and yielded easily, we\nfound that they held but oil. The Bedouins, spilling most of the oil\nin the process, groped with their hands in the jars lest treasure\nshould have been there concealed. But their searching was of no avail;\nno treasure was there. I was warned of my danger by seeing in the eyes\nof the Arabs certain covetous glances. Whereon, in order to hasten\ntheir departure, I wrought upon those fears of superstition which even\nin these callous men were apparent. The chief of the Bedouins ascended\nfrom the Pit to give the signal to those above to raise us; and I, not\ncaring to remain with the men whom I mistrusted, followed him\nimmediately. The others did not come at once; from which I feared that\nthey were rifling the tomb afresh on their own account. I refrained to\nspeak of it, however, lest worse should befall. At last they came.\nOne of them, who ascended first, in landing at the top of the cliff\nlost his foothold and fell below. He was instantly killed. The other\nfollowed, but in safety. The chief came next, and I came last. Before\ncoming away I pulled into its place again, as well as I could, the slab\nof stone that covered the entrance to the tomb. I wished, if possible,\nto preserve it for my own examination should I come again.\n\n\"When we all stood on the hill above the cliff, the burning sun that\nwas bright and full of glory was good to see after the darkness and\nstrange mystery of the tomb. Even was I glad that the poor Arab who\nfell down the cliff and lay dead below, lay in the sunlight and not in\nthat gloomy cavern. I would fain have gone with my companions to seek\nhim and give him sepulture of some kind; but the Sheik made light of\nit, and sent two of his men to see to it whilst we went on our way.\n\n\"That night as we camped, one of the men only returned, saying that a\nlion of the desert had killed his companion after that they had buried\nthe dead man in a deep sand without the valley, and had covered the\nspot where he lay with many great rocks, so that jackals or other\npreying beasts might not dig him up again as is their wont.\n\n\"Later, in the light of the fire round which the men sat or lay, I saw\nhim exhibit to his fellows something white which they seemed to regard\nwith special awe and reverence. So I drew near silently, and saw that\nit was none other than the white hand of the mummy which had lain\nprotecting the Jewel in the great sarcophagus. I heard the Bedouin tell\nhow he had found it on the body of him who had fallen from the cliff.\nThere was no mistaking it, for there were the seven fingers which I had\nnoted before. This man must have wrenched it off the dead body whilst\nhis chief and I were otherwise engaged; and from the awe of the others\nI doubted not that he had hoped to use it as an Amulet, or charm.\nWhereas if powers it had, they were not for him who had taken it from\nthe dead; since his death followed hard upon his theft. Already his\nAmulet had had an awesome baptism; for the wrist of the dead hand was\nstained with red as though it had been dipped in recent blood.\n\n\"That night I was in certain fear lest there should be some violence\ndone to me; for if the poor dead hand was so valued as a charm, what\nmust be the worth in such wise of the rare Jewel which it had guarded.\nThough only the chief knew of it, my doubt was perhaps even greater;\nfor he could so order matters as to have me at his mercy when he would.\nI guarded myself, therefore, with wakefulness so well as I could,\ndetermined that at my earliest opportunity I should leave this party,\nand complete my journeying home, first to the Nile bank, and then down\nits course to Alexandria; with other guides who knew not what strange\nmatters I had with me.\n\n\"At last there came over me a disposition of sleep, so potent that I\nfelt it would be resistless. Fearing attack, or that being searched in\nmy sleep the Bedouin might find the Star Jewel which he had seen me\nplace with others in my dress, I took it out unobserved and held it in\nmy hand. It seemed to give back the light of the flickering fire and\nthe light of the stars--for there was no moon--with equal fidelity; and\nI could note that on its reverse it was graven deeply with certain\nsigns such as I had seen in the tomb. As I sank into the\nunconsciousness of sleep, the graven Star Jewel was hidden in the\nhollow of my clenched hand.\n\n\"I waked out of sleep with the light of the morning sun on my face. I\nsat up and looked around me. The fire was out, and the camp was\ndesolate; save for one figure which lay prone close to me. It was that\nof the Arab chief, who lay on his back, dead. His face was almost\nblack; and his eyes were open, and staring horribly up at the sky, as\nthough he saw there some dreadful vision. He had evidently been\nstrangled; for on looking, I found on his throat the red marks where\nfingers had pressed. There seemed so many of these marks that I\ncounted them. There were seven; and all parallel, except the thumb\nmark, as though made with one hand. This thrilled me as I thought of\nthe mummy hand with the seven fingers.\n\n\"Even there, in the open desert, it seemed as if there could be\nenchantments!\n\n\"In my surprise, as I bent over him, I opened my right hand, which up\nto now I had held shut with the feeling, instinctive even in sleep, of\nkeeping safe that which it held. As I did so, the Star Jewel held\nthere fell out and struck the dead man on the mouth. Mirabile dictu\nthere came forth at once from the dead mouth a great gush of blood, in\nwhich the red jewel was for the moment lost. I turned the dead man\nover to look for it, and found that he lay with his right hand bent\nunder him as though he had fallen on it; and in it he held a great\nknife, keen of point and edge, such as Arabs carry at the belt. It may\nhave been that he was about to murder me when vengeance came on him,\nwhether from man or God, or the Gods of Old, I know not. Suffice it,\nthat when I found my Ruby Jewel, which shone up as a living star from\nthe mess of blood wherein it lay, I paused not, but fled from the\nplace. I journeyed on alone through the hot desert, till, by God's\ngrace, I came upon an Arab tribe camping by a well, who gave me salt.\nWith them I rested till they had set me on my way.\n\n\"I know not what became of the mummy hand, or of those who had it.\nWhat strife, or suspicion, or disaster, or greed went with it I know\nnot; but some such cause there must have been, since those who had it\nfled with it. It doubtless is used as a charm of potence by some\ndesert tribe.\n\n\"At the earliest opportunity I made examination of the Star Ruby, as I\nwished to try to understand what was graven on it. The symbols--whose\nmeaning, however, I could not understand--were as follows...\"\n\nTwice, whilst I had been reading this engrossing narrative, I had\nthought that I had seen across the page streaks of shade, which the\nweirdness of the subject had made to seem like the shadow of a hand.\nOn the first of these occasions I found that the illusion came from the\nfringe of green silk around the lamp; but on the second I had looked\nup, and my eyes had lit on the mummy hand across the room on which the\nstarlight was falling under the edge of the blind. It was of little\nwonder that I had connected it with such a narrative; for if my eyes\ntold me truly, here, in this room with me, was the very hand of which\nthe traveller Van Huyn had written. I looked over at the bed; and it\ncomforted me to think that the Nurse still sat there, calm and wakeful.\nAt such a time, with such surrounds, during such a narrative, it was\nwell to have assurance of the presence of some living person.\n\nI sat looking at the book on the table before me; and so many strange\nthoughts crowded on me that my mind began to whirl. It was almost as\nif the light on the white fingers in front of me was beginning to have\nsome hypnotic effect. All at once, all thoughts seemed to stop; and\nfor an instant the world and time stood still.\n\nThere lay a real hand across the book! What was there to so overcome\nme, as was the case? I knew the hand that I saw on the book--and loved\nit. Margaret Trelawny's hand was a joy to me to see--to touch; and yet\nat that moment, coming after other marvellous things, it had a\nstrangely moving effect on me. It was but momentary, however, and had\npassed even before her voice had reached me.\n\n\"What disturbs you? What are you staring at the book for? I thought\nfor an instant that you must have been overcome again!\" I jumped up.\n\n\"I was reading,\" I said, \"an old book from the library.\" As I spoke I\nclosed it and put it under my arm. \"I shall now put it back, as I\nunderstand that your Father wishes all things, especially books, kept\nin their proper places.\" My words were intentionally misleading; for I\ndid not wish her to know what I was reading, and thought it best not to\nwake her curiosity by leaving the book about. I went away, but not to\nthe library; I left the book in my room where I could get it when I had\nhad my sleep in the day. When I returned Nurse Kennedy was ready to go\nto bed; so Miss Trelawny watched with me in the room. I did not want\nany book whilst she was present. We sat close together and talked in a\nwhisper whilst the moments flew by. It was with surprise that I noted\nthe edge of the curtains changing from grey to yellow light. What we\ntalked of had nothing to do with the sick man, except in so far that\nall which concerned his daughter must ultimately concern him. But it\nhad nothing to say to Egypt, or mummies, or the dead, or caves, or\nBedouin chiefs. I could well take note in the growing light that\nMargaret's hand had not seven fingers, but five; for it lay in mine.\n\nWhen Doctor Winchester arrived in the morning and had made his visit to\nhis patient, he came to see me as I sat in the dining-room having a\nlittle meal--breakfast or supper, I hardly knew which it was--before I\nwent to lie down. Mr. Corbeck came in at the same time; and we resumed\nout conversation where we had left it the night before. I told Mr.\nCorbeck that I had read the chapter about the finding of the tomb, and\nthat I thought Doctor Winchester should read it, too. The latter said\nthat, if he might, he would take it with him; he had that morning to\nmake a railway journey to Ipswich, and would read it on the train. He\nsaid he would bring it back with him when he came again in the evening.\nI went up to my room to bring it down; but I could not find it\nanywhere. I had a distinct recollection of having left it on the little\ntable beside my bed, when I had come up after Miss Trelawny's going on\nduty into the sick-room. It was very strange; for the book was not of\na kind that any of the servants would be likely to take. I had to come\nback and explain to the others that I could not find it.\n\nWhen Doctor Winchester had gone, Mr. Corbeck, who seemed to know the\nDutchman's work by heart, talked the whole matter over with me. I told\nhim that I was interrupted by a change of nurses, just as I had come to\nthe description of the ring. He smiled as he said:\n\n\"So far as that is concerned, you need not be disappointed. Not in Van\nHuyn's time, nor for nearly two centuries later, could the meaning of\nthat engraving have been understood. It was only when the work was\ntaken up and followed by Young and Champollion, by Birch and Lepsius\nand Rosellini and Salvolini, by Mariette Bey and by Wallis Budge and\nFlinders Petrie and the other scholars of their times that great\nresults ensued, and that the true meaning of hieroglyphic was known.\n\n\"Later, I shall explain to you, if Mr. Trelawny does not explain it\nhimself, or if he does not forbid me to, what it means in that\nparticular place. I think it will be better for you to know what\nfollowed Van Huyn's narrative; for with the description of the stone,\nand the account of his bringing it to Holland at the termination of his\ntravels, the episode ends. Ends so far as his book is concerned. The\nchief thing about the book is that it sets others thinking--and acting.\nAmongst them were Mr. Trelawny and myself. Mr. Trelawny is a good\nlinguist of the Orient, but he does not know Northern tongues. As for\nme I have a faculty for learning languages; and when I was pursuing my\nstudies in Leyden I learned Dutch so that I might more easily make\nreferences in the library there. Thus it was, that at the very time\nwhen Mr. Trelawny, who, in making his great collection of works on\nEgypt, had, through a booksellers' catalogue, acquired this volume with\nthe manuscript translation, was studying it, I was reading another\ncopy, in original Dutch, in Leyden. We were both struck by the\ndescription of the lonely tomb in the rock; cut so high up as to be\ninaccessible to ordinary seekers: with all means of reaching it\ncarefully obliterated; and yet with such an elaborate ornamentation of\nthe smoothed surface of the cliff as Van Huyn has described. It also\nstruck us both as an odd thing--for in the years between Van Huyn's\ntime and our own the general knowledge of Egyptian curios and records\nhas increased marvellously--that in the case of such a tomb, made in\nsuch a place, and which must have cost an immense sum of money, there\nwas no seeming record or effigy to point out who lay within. Moreover,\nthe very name of the place, 'the Valley of the Sorcerer', had, in a\nprosaic age, attractions of its own. When we met, which we did through\nhis seeking the assistance of other Egyptologists in his work, we\ntalked over this as we did over many other things; and we determined to\nmake search for the mysterious valley. Whilst we were waiting to start\non the travel, for many things were required which Mr. Trelawny\nundertook to see to himself, I went to Holland to try if I could by any\ntraces verify Van Huyn's narrative. I went straight to Hoorn, and set\npatiently to work to find the house of the traveller and his\ndescendants, if any. I need not trouble you with details of my\nseeking--and finding. Hoorn is a place that has not changed much since\nVan Huyn's time, except that it has lost the place which it held\namongst commercial cities. Its externals are such as they had been\nthen; in such a sleepy old place a century or two does not count for\nmuch. I found the house, and discovered that none of the descendants\nwere alive. I searched records; but only to one end--death and\nextinction. Then I set me to work to find what had become of his\ntreasures; for that such a traveller must have had great treasures was\napparent. I traced a good many to museums in Leyden, Utrecht, and\nAmsterdam; and some few to the private houses of rich collectors. At\nlast, in the shop of an old watchmaker and jeweller at Hoorn, I found\nwhat he considered his chiefest treasure; a great ruby, carven like a\nscarab, with seven stars, and engraven with hieroglyphics. The old man\ndid not know hieroglyphic character, and in his old-world, sleepy life,\nthe philological discoveries of recent years had not reached him. He\ndid not know anything of Van Huyn, except that such a person had been,\nand that his name was, during two centuries, venerated in the town as a\ngreat traveller. He valued the jewel as only a rare stone, spoiled in\npart by the cutting; and though he was at first loth to part with such\nan unique gem, he became amenable ultimately to commercial reason. I\nhad a full purse, since I bought for Mr. Trelawny, who is, as I suppose\nyou know, immensely wealthy. I was shortly on my way back to London,\nwith the Star Ruby safe in my pocket-book; and in my heart a joy and\nexultation which knew no bounds.\n\n\"For here we were with proof of Van Huyn's wonderful story. The jewel\nwas put in security in Mr. Trelawny's great safe; and we started out on\nour journey of exploration in full hope.\n\n\"Mr. Trelawny was, at the last, loth to leave his young wife whom he\ndearly loved; but she, who loved him equally, knew his longing to\nprosecute the search. So keeping to herself, as all good women do, all\nher anxieties--which in her case were special--she bade him follow out\nhis bent.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XI\n\nA Queen's Tomb\n\n\n\"Mr. Trelawny's hope was at least as great as my own. He is not so\nvolatile a man as I am, prone to ups and downs of hope and despair; but\nhe has a fixed purpose which crystallises hope into belief. At times I\nhad feared that there might have been two such stones, or that the\nadventures of Van Huyn were traveller's fictions, based on some\nordinary acquisition of the curio in Alexandria or Cairo, or London or\nAmsterdam. But Mr. Trelawny never faltered in his belief. We had many\nthings to distract our minds from belief or disbelief. This was soon\nafter Arabi Pasha, and Egypt was so safe place for travellers,\nespecially if they were English. But Mr. Trelawny is a fearless man;\nand I almost come to think at times that I am not a coward myself. We\ngot together a band of Arabs whom one or other of us had known in\nformer trips to the desert, and whom we could trust; that is, we did\nnot distrust them as much as others. We were numerous enough to\nprotect ourselves from chance marauding bands, and we took with us\nlarge impedimenta. We had secured the consent and passive co-operation\nof the officials still friendly to Britain; in the acquiring of which\nconsent I need hardly say that Mr. Trelawny's riches were of chief\nimportance. We found our way in dhahabiyehs to Aswan; whence, having\ngot some Arabs from the Sheik and having given our usual backsheesh, we\nset out on our journey through the desert.\n\n\"Well, after much wandering and trying every winding in the\ninterminable jumble of hills, we came at last at nightfall on just such\na valley as Van Huyn had described. A valley with high, steep cliffs;\nnarrowing in the centre, and widening out to the eastern and western\nends. At daylight we were opposite the cliff and could easily note the\nopening high up in the rock, and the hieroglyphic figures which were\nevidently intended originally to conceal it.\n\n\"But the signs which had baffled Van Huyn and those of his time--and\nlater, were no secrets to us. The host of scholars who have given\ntheir brains and their lives to this work, had wrested open the\nmysterious prison-house of Egyptian language. On the hewn face of the\nrocky cliff we, who had learned the secrets, could read what the Theban\npriesthood had had there inscribed nearly fifty centuries before.\n\n\"For that the external inscription was the work of the priesthood--and\na hostile priesthood at that--there could be no living doubt. The\ninscription on the rock, written in hieroglyphic, ran thus:\n\n\"'Hither the Gods come not at any summons. The \"Nameless One\" has\ninsulted them and is for ever alone. Go not nigh, lest their vengeance\nwither you away!'\n\n\"The warning must have been a terribly potent one at the time it was\nwritten and for thousands of years afterwards; even when the language\nin which it was given had become a dead mystery to the people of the\nland. The tradition of such a terror lasts longer than its cause. Even\nin the symbols used there was an added significance of alliteration.\n'For ever' is given in the hieroglyphics as 'millions of years'. This\nsymbol was repeated nine times, in three groups of three; and after\neach group a symbol of the Upper World, the Under World, and the Sky.\nSo that for this Lonely One there could be, through the vengeance of\nall the Gods, resurrection in neither the World of Sunlight, in the\nWorld of the Dead, or for the soul in the region of the Gods.\n\n\"Neither Mr. Trelawny nor I dared to tell any of our people what the\nwriting meant. For though they did not believe in the religion whence\nthe curse came, or in the Gods whose vengeance was threatened, yet they\nwere so superstitious that they would probably, had they known of it,\nhave thrown up the whole task and run away.\n\n\"Their ignorance, however, and our discretion preserved us. We made an\nencampment close at hand, but behind a jutting rock a little further\nalong the valley, so that they might not have the inscription always\nbefore them. For even that traditional name of the place: 'The Valley\nof the Sorcerer', had a fear for them; and for us through them. With\nthe timber which we had brought, we made a ladder up the face of the\nrock. We hung a pulley on a beam fixed to project from the top of the\ncliff. We found the great slab of rock, which formed the door, placed\nclumsily in its place and secured by a few stones. Its own weight kept\nit in safe position. In order to enter, we had to push it in; and we\npassed over it. We found the great coil of chain which Van Huyn had\ndescribed fastened into the rock. There were, however, abundant\nevidences amid the wreckage of the great stone door, which had revolved\non iron hinges at top and bottom, that ample provision had been\noriginally made for closing and fastening it from within.\n\n\"Mr. Trelawny and I went alone into the tomb. We had brought plenty of\nlights with us; and we fixed them as we went along. We wished to get a\ncomplete survey at first, and then make examination of all in detail.\nAs we went on, we were filled with ever-increasing wonder and delight.\nThe tomb was one of the most magnificent and beautiful which either of\nus had ever seen. From the elaborate nature of the sculpture and\npainting, and the perfection of the workmanship, it was evident that\nthe tomb was prepared during the lifetime of her for whose\nresting-place it was intended. The drawing of the hieroglyphic\npictures was fine, and the colouring superb; and in that high cavern,\nfar away from even the damp of the Nile-flood, all was as fresh as when\nthe artists had laid down their palettes. There was one thing which we\ncould not avoid seeing. That although the cutting on the outside rock\nwas the work of the priesthood, the smoothing of the cliff face was\nprobably a part of the tomb-builder's original design. The symbolism\nof the painting and cutting within all gave the same idea. The outer\ncavern, partly natural and partly hewn, was regarded architecturally as\nonly an ante-chamber. At the end of it, so that it would face the east,\nwas a pillared portico, hewn out of the solid rock. The pillars were\nmassive and were seven-sided, a thing which we had not come across in\nany other tomb. Sculptured on the architrave was the Boat of the Moon,\ncontaining Hathor, cow-headed and bearing the disk and plumes, and the\ndog-headed Hapi, the God of the North. It was steered by Harpocrates\ntowards the north, represented by the Pole Star surrounded by Draco and\nUrsa Major. In the latter the stars that form what we call the 'Plough'\nwere cut larger than any of the other stars; and were filled with gold\nso that, in the light of torches, they seemed to flame with a special\nsignificance. Passing within the portico, we found two of the\narchitectural features of a rock tomb, the Chamber, or Chapel, and the\nPit, all complete as Van Huyn had noticed, though in his day the names\ngiven to these parts by the Egyptians of old were unknown.\n\n\"The Stele, or record, which had its place low down on the western\nwall, was so remarkable that we examined it minutely, even before going\non our way to find the mummy which was the object of our search. This\nStele was a great slab of lapis lazuli, cut all over with hieroglyphic\nfigures of small size and of much beauty. The cutting was filled in\nwith some cement of exceeding fineness, and of the colour of pure\nvermilion. The inscription began:\n\n\"'Tera, Queen of the Egypts, daughter of Antef, Monarch of the North\nand the South.' 'Daughter of the Sun,' 'Queen of the Diadems'.\n\n\"It then set out, in full record, the history of her life and reign.\n\n\"The signs of sovereignty were given with a truly feminine profusion of\nadornment. The united Crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt were, in\nespecial, cut with exquisite precision. It was new to us both to find\nthe Hejet and the Desher--the White and the Red crowns of Upper and\nLower Egypt--on the Stele of a queen; for it was a rule, without\nexception in the records, that in ancient Egypt either crown was worn\nonly by a king; though they are to be found on goddesses. Later on we\nfound an explanation, of which I shall say more presently.\n\n\"Such an inscription was in itself a matter so startling as to arrest\nattention from anyone anywhere at any time; but you can have no\nconception of the effect which it had upon us. Though our eyes were\nnot the first which had seen it, they were the first which could see it\nwith understanding since first the slab of rock was fixed in the cliff\nopening nearly five thousand years before. To us was given to read\nthis message from the dead. This message of one who had warred against\nthe Gods of Old, and claimed to have controlled them at a time when the\nhierarchy professed to be the only means of exciting their fears or\ngaining their good will.\n\n\"The walls of the upper chamber of the Pit and the sarcophagus Chamber\nwere profusely inscribed; all the inscriptions, except that on the\nStele, being coloured with bluish-green pigment. The effect when seen\nsideways as the eye caught the green facets, was that of an old,\ndiscoloured Indian turquoise.\n\n\"We descended the Pit by the aid of the tackle we had brought with us.\nTrelawny went first. It was a deep pit, more than seventy feet; but it\nhad never been filled up. The passage at the bottom sloped up to the\nsarcophagus Chamber, and was longer than is usually found. It had not\nbeen walled up.\n\n\"Within, we found a great sarcophagus of yellow stone. But that I need\nnot describe; you have seen it in Mr. Trelawny's chamber. The cover of\nit lay on the ground; it had not been cemented, and was just as Van\nHuyn had described it. Needless to say, we were excited as we looked\nwithin. There must, however, be one sense of disappointment. I could\nnot help feeling how different must have been the sight which met the\nDutch traveller's eyes when he looked within and found that white hand\nlying lifelike above the shrouding mummy cloths. It is true that a\npart of the arm was there, white and ivory like.\n\n\"But there was a thrill to us which came not to Van Huyn!\n\n\"The end of the wrist was covered with dried blood! It was as though\nthe body had bled after death! The jagged ends of the broken wrist\nwere rough with the clotted blood; through this the white bone,\nsticking out, looked like the matrix of opal. The blood had streamed\ndown and stained the brown wrappings as with rust. Here, then, was\nfull confirmation of the narrative. With such evidence of the\nnarrator's truth before us, we could not doubt the other matters which\nhe had told, such as the blood on the mummy hand, or marks of the seven\nfingers on the throat of the strangled Sheik.\n\n\"I shall not trouble you with details of all we saw, or how we learned\nall we knew. Part of it was from knowledge common to scholars; part we\nread on the Stele in the tomb, and in the sculptures and hieroglyphic\npaintings on the walls.\n\n\"Queen Tera was of the Eleventh, or Theban Dynasty of Egyptian Kings\nwhich held sway between the twenty-ninth and twenty-fifth centuries\nbefore Christ. She succeeded as the only child of her father, Antef.\nShe must have been a girl of extraordinary character as well as\nability, for she was but a young girl when her father died. Her youth\nand sex encouraged the ambitious priesthood, which had then achieved\nimmense power. By their wealth and numbers and learning they dominated\nall Egypt, more especially the Upper portion. They were then secretly\nready to make an effort for the achievement of their bold and\nlong-considered design, that of transferring the governing power from a\nKingship to a Hierarchy. But King Antef had suspected some such\nmovement, and had taken the precaution of securing to his daughter the\nallegiance of the army. He had also had her taught statecraft, and had\neven made her learned in the lore of the very priests themselves. He\nhad used those of one cult against the other; each being hopeful of\nsome present gain on its own part by the influence of the King, or of\nsome ultimate gain from its own influence over his daughter. Thus, the\nPrincess had been brought up amongst scribes, and was herself no mean\nartist. Many of these things were told on the walls in pictures or in\nhieroglyphic writing of great beauty; and we came to the conclusion\nthat not a few of them had been done by the Princess herself. It was\nnot without cause that she was inscribed on the Stele as 'Protector of\nthe Arts'.\n\n\"But the King had gone to further lengths, and had had his daughter\ntaught magic, by which she had power over Sleep and Will. This was\nreal magic--\"black\" magic; not the magic of the temples, which, I may\nexplain, was of the harmless or \"white\" order, and was intended to\nimpress rather than to effect. She had been an apt pupil; and had gone\nfurther than her teachers. Her power and her resources had given her\ngreat opportunities, of which she had availed herself to the full. She\nhad won secrets from nature in strange ways; and had even gone to the\nlength of going down into the tomb herself, having been swathed and\ncoffined and left as dead for a whole month. The priests had tried to\nmake out that the real Princess Tera had died in the experiment, and\nthat another girl had been substituted; but she had conclusively proved\ntheir error. All this was told in pictures of great merit. It was\nprobably in her time that the impulse was given in the restoring the\nartistic greatness of the Fourth Dynasty which had found its perfection\nin the days of Chufu.\n\n\"In the Chamber of the sarcophagus were pictures and writings to show\nthat she had achieved victory over Sleep. Indeed, there was everywhere\na symbolism, wonderful even in a land and an age of symbolism.\nProminence was given to the fact that she, though a Queen, claimed all\nthe privileges of kingship and masculinity. In one place she was\npictured in man's dress, and wearing the White and Red Crowns. In the\nfollowing picture she was in female dress, but still wearing the Crowns\nof Upper and Lower Egypt, while the discarded male raiment lay at her\nfeet. In every picture where hope, or aim, of resurrection was\nexpressed there was the added symbol of the North; and in many\nplaces--always in representations of important events, past, present,\nor future--was a grouping of the stars of the Plough. She evidently\nregarded this constellation as in some way peculiarly associated with\nherself.\n\n\"Perhaps the most remarkable statement in the records, both on the\nStele and in the mural writings, was that Queen Tera had power to\ncompel the Gods. This, by the way, was not an isolated belief in\nEgyptian history; but was different in its cause. She had engraved on\na ruby, carved like a scarab, and having seven stars of seven points,\nMaster Words to compel all the Gods, both of the Upper and the Under\nWorlds.\n\n\"In the statement it was plainly set forth that the hatred of the\npriests was, she knew, stored up for her, and that they would after her\ndeath try to suppress her name. This was a terrible revenge, I may\ntell you, in Egyptian mythology; for without a name no one can after\ndeath be introduced to the Gods, or have prayers said for him.\nTherefore, she had intended her resurrection to be after a long time\nand in a more northern land, under the constellation whose seven stars\nhad ruled her birth. To this end, her hand was to be in the\nair--'unwrapped'--and in it the Jewel of Seven Stars, so that wherever\nthere was air she might move even as her Ka could move! This, after\nthinking it over, Mr. Trelawny and I agreed meant that her body could\nbecome astral at command, and so move, particle by particle, and become\nwhole again when and where required. Then there was a piece of writing\nin which allusion was made to a chest or casket in which were contained\nall the Gods, and Will, and Sleep, the two latter being personified by\nsymbols. The box was mentioned as with seven sides. It was not much of\na surprise to us when, underneath the feet of the mummy, we found the\nseven-sided casket, which you have also seen in Mr. Trelawny's room.\nOn the underneath part of the wrapping--linen of the left foot was\npainted, in the same vermilion colour as that used in the Stele, the\nhieroglyphic symbol for much water, and underneath the right foot the\nsymbol of the earth. We made out the symbolism to be that her body,\nimmortal and transferable at will, ruled both the land and water, air\nand fire--the latter being exemplified by the light of the Jewel Stone,\nand further by the flint and iron which lay outside the mummy wrappings.\n\n\"As we lifted the casket from the sarcophagus, we noticed on its sides\nthe strange protuberances which you have already seen; but we were\nunable at the time to account for them. There were a few amulets in\nthe sarcophagus, but none of any special worth or significance. We\ntook it that if there were such, they were within the wrappings; or\nmore probably in the strange casket underneath the mummy's feet. This,\nhowever, we could not open. There were signs of there being a cover;\ncertainly the upper portion and the lower were each in one piece. The\nfine line, a little way from the top, appeared to be where the cover\nwas fixed; but it was made with such exquisite fineness and finish that\nthe joining could hardly be seen. Certainly the top could not be moved.\nWe took it, that it was in some way fastened from within. I tell you\nall this in order that you may understand things with which you may be\nin contact later. You must suspend your judgment entirely. Such\nstrange things have happened regarding this mummy and all around it,\nthat there is a necessity for new belief somewhere. It is absolutely\nimpossible to reconcile certain things which have happened with the\nordinary currents of life or knowledge.\n\n\"We stayed around the Valley of the Sorcerer, till we had copied\nroughly all the drawings and writings on the walls, ceiling and floor.\nWe took with us the Stele of lapis lazuli, whose graven record was\ncoloured with vermilion pigment. We took the sarcophagus and the\nmummy; the stone chest with the alabaster jars; the tables of\nbloodstone and alabaster and onyx and carnelian; and the ivory pillow\nwhose arch rested on 'buckles', round each of which was twisted an\nuraeus wrought in gold. We took all the articles which lay in the\nChapel, and the Mummy Pit; the wooden boats with crews and the ushaptiu\nfigures, and the symbolic amulets.\n\n\"When coming away we took down the ladders, and at a distance buried\nthem in the sand under a cliff, which we noted so that if necessary we\nmight find them again. Then with our heavy baggage, we set out on our\nlaborious journey back to the Nile. It was no easy task, I tell you, to\nbring the case with that great sarcophagus over the desert. We had a\nrough cart and sufficient men to draw it; but the progress seemed\nterribly slow, for we were anxious to get our treasures into a place of\nsafety. The night was an anxious time with us, for we feared attack\nfrom some marauding band. But more still we feared some of those with\nus. They were, after all, but predatory, unscrupulous men; and we had\nwith us a considerable bulk of precious things. They, or at least the\ndangerous ones amongst them, did not know why it was so precious; they\ntook it for granted that it was material treasure of some kind that we\ncarried. We had taken the mummy from the sarcophagus, and packed it\nfor safety of travel in a separate case. During the first night two\nattempts were made to steal things from the cart; and two men were\nfound dead in the morning.\n\n\"On the second night there came on a violent storm, one of those\nterrible simooms of the desert which makes one feel his helplessness.\nWe were overwhelmed with drifting sand. Some of our Bedouins had fled\nbefore the storm, hoping to find shelter; the rest of us, wrapped in\nour bournous, endured with what patience we could. In the morning,\nwhen the storm had passed, we recovered from under the piles of sand\nwhat we could of our impedimenta. We found the case in which the mummy\nhad been packed all broken, but the mummy itself could nowhere be\nfound. We searched everywhere around, and dug up the sand which had\npiled around us; but in vain. We did not know what to do, for Trelawny\nhad his heart set on taking home that mummy. We waited a whole day in\nhopes that the Bedouins, who had fled, would return; we had a blind\nhope that they might have in some way removed the mummy from the cart,\nand would restore it. That night, just before dawn, Mr. Trelawny woke\nme up and whispered in my ear:\n\n\"'We must go back to the tomb in the Valley of the Sorcerer. Show no\nhesitation in the morning when I give the orders! If you ask any\nquestions as to where we are going it will create suspicion, and will\ndefeat our purpose.\"\n\n\"'All right!\" I answered. \"But why shall we go there?' His answer\nseemed to thrill through me as though it had struck some chord ready\ntuned within:\n\n\"'We shall find the mummy there! I am sure of it!' Then anticipating\ndoubt or argument he added:\n\n\"'Wait, and you shall see!' and he sank back into his blanket again.\n\n\"The Arabs were surprised when we retraced our steps; and some of them\nwere not satisfied. There was a good deal of friction, and there were\nseveral desertions; so that it was with a diminished following that we\ntook our way eastward again. At first the Sheik did not manifest any\ncuriosity as to our definite destination; but when it became apparent\nthat we were again making for the Valley of the Sorcerer, he too showed\nconcern. This grew as we drew near; till finally at the entrance of\nthe valley he halted and refused to go further. He said he would await\nour return if we chose to go on alone. That he would wait three days;\nbut if by that time we had not returned he would leave. No offer of\nmoney would tempt him to depart from this resolution. The only\nconcession he would make was that he would find the ladders and bring\nthem near the cliff. This he did; and then, with the rest of the\ntroop, he went back to wait at the entrance of the valley.\n\n\"Mr. Trelawny and I took ropes and torches, and again ascended to the\ntomb. It was evident that someone had been there in our absence, for\nthe stone slab which protected the entrance to the tomb was lying flat\ninside, and a rope was dangling from the cliff summit. Within, there\nwas another rope hanging into the shaft of the Mummy Pit. We looked at\neach other; but neither said a word. We fixed our own rope, and as\narranged Trelawny descended first, I following at once. It was not\ntill we stood together at the foot of the shaft that the thought\nflashed across me that we might be in some sort of a trap; that someone\nmight descend the rope from the cliff, and by cutting the rope by which\nwe had lowered ourselves into the Pit, bury us there alive. The\nthought was horrifying; but it was too late to do anything. I remained\nsilent. We both had torches, so that there was ample light as we\npassed through the passage and entered the Chamber where the\nsarcophagus had stood. The first thing noticeable was the emptiness of\nthe place. Despite all its magnificent adornment, the tomb was made a\ndesolation by the absence of the great sarcophagus, to hold which it\nwas hewn in the rock; of the chest with the alabaster jars; of the\ntables which had held the implements and food for the use of the dead,\nand the ushaptiu figures.\n\n\"It was made more infinitely desolate still by the shrouded figure of\nthe mummy of Queen Tera which lay on the floor where the great\nsarcophagus had stood! Beside it lay, in the strange contorted\nattitudes of violent death, three of the Arabs who had deserted from\nour party. Their faces were black, and their hands and necks were\nsmeared with blood which had burst from mouth and nose and eyes.\n\n\"On the throat of each were the marks, now blackening, of a hand of\nseven fingers.\n\n\"Trelawny and I drew close, and clutched each other in awe and fear as\nwe looked.\n\n\"For, most wonderful of all, across the breast of the mummied Queen lay\na hand of seven fingers, ivory white, the wrist only showing a scar\nlike a jagged red line, from which seemed to depend drops of blood.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XII\n\nThe Magic Coffer\n\n\n\"When we recovered our amazement, which seemed to last unduly long, we\ndid not lose any time carrying the mummy through the passage, and\nhoisting it up the Pit shaft. I went first, to receive it at the top.\nAs I looked down, I saw Mr. Trelawny lift the severed hand and put it\nin his breast, manifestly to save it from being injured or lost. We\nleft the dead Arabs where they lay. With our ropes we lowered our\nprecious burden to the ground; and then took it to the entrance of the\nvalley where our escort was to wait. To our astonishment we found them\non the move. When we remonstrated with the Sheik, he answered that he\nhad fulfilled his contract to the letter; he had waited the three days\nas arranged. I thought that he was lying to cover up his base\nintention of deserting us; and I found when we compared notes that\nTrelawny had the same suspicion. It was not till we arrived at Cairo\nthat we found he was correct. It was the 3rd of November 1884 when we\nentered the Mummy Pit for the second time; we had reason to remember\nthe date.\n\n\"We had lost three whole days of our reckoning--out of our\nlives--whilst we had stood wondering in that chamber of the dead. Was\nit strange, then, that we had a superstitious feeling with regard to\nthe dead Queen Tera and all belonging to her? Is it any wonder that it\nrests with us now, with a bewildering sense of some power outside\nourselves or our comprehension? Will it be any wonder if it go down to\nthe grave with us at the appointed time? If, indeed, there be any\ngraves for us who have robbed the dead!\" He was silent for quite a\nminute before he went on:\n\n\"We got to Cairo all right, and from there to Alexandria, where we were\nto take ship by the Messagerie service to Marseilles, and go thence by\nexpress to London. But\n\n 'The best-laid schemes o' mice and men Gang aft agley.'\n\nAt Alexandria, Trelawny found waiting a cable stating that Mrs.\nTrelawny had died in giving birth to a daughter.\n\n\"Her stricken husband hurried off at once by the Orient Express; and I\nhad to bring the treasure alone to the desolate house. I got to London\nall safe; there seemed to be some special good fortune to our journey.\nWhen I got to this house, the funeral had long been over. The child\nhad been put out to nurse, and Mr. Trelawny had so far recovered from\nthe shock of his loss that he had set himself to take up again the\nbroken threads of his life and his work. That he had had a shock, and\na bad one, was apparent. The sudden grey in his black hair was proof\nenough in itself; but in addition, the strong cast of his features had\nbecome set and stern. Since he received that cable in the shipping\noffice at Alexandria I have never seen a happy smile on his face.\n\n\"Work is the best thing in such a case; and to his work he devoted\nhimself heart and soul. The strange tragedy of his loss and gain--for\nthe child was born after the mother's death--took place during the time\nthat we stood in that trance in the Mummy Pit of Queen Tera. It seemed\nto have become in some way associated with his Egyptian studies, and\nmore especially with the mysteries connected with the Queen. He told\nme very little about his daughter; but that two forces struggled in his\nmind regarding her was apparent. I could see that he loved, almost\nidolised her. Yet he could never forget that her birth had cost her\nmother's life. Also, there was something whose existence seemed to\nwring his father's heart, though he would never tell me what it was.\nAgain, he once said in a moment of relaxation of his purpose of silence:\n\n\"'She is unlike her mother; but in both feature and colour she has a\nmarvellous resemblance to the pictures of Queen Tera.'\n\n\"He said that he had sent her away to people who would care for her as\nhe could not; and that till she became a woman she should have all the\nsimple pleasures that a young girl might have, and that were best for\nher. I would often have talked with him about her; but he would never\nsay much. Once he said to me: 'There are reasons why I should not\nspeak more than is necessary. Some day you will know--and understand!'\nI respected his reticence; and beyond asking after her on my return\nafter a journey, I have never spoken of her again. I had never seen\nher till I did so in your presence.\n\n\"Well, when the treasures which we had--ah!--taken from the tomb had\nbeen brought here, Mr. Trelawny arranged their disposition himself.\nThe mummy, all except the severed hand, he placed in the great\nironstone sarcophagus in the hall. This was wrought for the Theban\nHigh Priest Uni, and is, as you may have remarked, all inscribed with\nwonderful invocations to the old Gods of Egypt. The rest of the things\nfrom the tomb he disposed about his own room, as you have seen.\nAmongst them he placed, for special reasons of his own, the mummy hand.\nI think he regards this as the most sacred of his possessions, with\nperhaps one exception. That is the carven ruby which he calls the\n'Jewel of Seven Stars', which he keeps in that great safe which is\nlocked and guarded by various devices, as you know.\n\n\"I dare say you find this tedious; but I have had to explain it, so\nthat you should understand all up to the present. It was a long time\nafter my return with the mummy of Queen Tera when Mr. Trelawny\nre-opened the subject with me. He had been several times to Egypt,\nsometimes with me and sometimes alone; and I had been several trips, on\nmy own account or for him. But in all that time, nearly sixteen years,\nhe never mentioned the subject, unless when some pressing occasion\nsuggested, if it did not necessitate, a reference.\n\n\"One morning early he sent for me in a hurry; I was then studying in\nthe British Museum, and had rooms in Hart Street. When I came, he was\nall on fire with excitement. I had not seen him in such a glow since\nbefore the news of his wife's death. He took me at once into his room.\nThe window blinds were down and the shutters closed; not a ray of\ndaylight came in. The ordinary lights in the room were not lit, but\nthere were a lot of powerful electric lamps, fifty candle-power at\nleast, arranged on one side of the room. The little bloodstone table\non which the heptagonal coffer stands was drawn to the centre of the\nroom. The coffer looked exquisite in the glare of light which shone on\nit. It actually seemed to glow as if lit in some way from within.\n\n\"'What do you think of it?' he asked.\n\n\"'It is like a jewel,' I answered. 'You may well call it the\n'sorcerer's Magic Coffer', if it often looks like that. It almost\nseems to be alive.'\n\n\"'Do you know why it seems so?'\n\n\"'From the glare of the light, I suppose?'\n\n\"'Light of course,' he answered, 'but it is rather the disposition of\nlight.' As he spoke he turned up the ordinary lights of the room and\nswitched off the special ones. The effect on the stone box was\nsurprising; in a second it lost all its glowing effect. It was still a\nvery beautiful stone, as always; but it was stone and no more.\n\n\"'Do you notice anything about the arrangement of the lamps?' he asked.\n\n\"'No!'\n\n\"'They were in the shape of the stars in the Plough, as the stars are\nin the ruby!' The statement came to me with a certain sense of\nconviction. I do not know why, except that there had been so many\nmysterious associations with the mummy and all belonging to it that any\nnew one seemed enlightening. I listened as Trelawny went on to explain:\n\n\"'For sixteen years I have never ceased to think of that adventure, or\nto try to find a clue to the mysteries which came before us; but never\nuntil last night did I seem to find a solution. I think I must have\ndreamed of it, for I woke all on fire about it. I jumped out of bed\nwith a determination of doing something, before I quite knew what it\nwas that I wished to do. Then, all at once, the purpose was clear\nbefore me. There were allusions in the writing on the walls of the tomb\nto the seven stars of the Great Bear that go to make up the Plough; and\nthe North was again and again emphasized. The same symbols were\nrepeated with regard to the \"Magic Box\", as we called it. We had\nalready noticed those peculiar translucent spaces in the stone of the\nbox. You remember the hieroglyphic writing had told that the jewel\ncame from the heart of an aerolite, and that the coffer was cut from it\nalso. It might be, I thought, that the light of the seven stars,\nshining in the right direction, might have some effect on the box, or\nsomething within it. I raised the blind and looked out. The Plough was\nhigh in the heavens, and both its stars and the Pole Star were straight\nopposite the window. I pulled the table with the coffer out into the\nlight, and shifted it until the translucent patches were in the\ndirection of the stars. Instantly the box began to glow, as you saw it\nunder the lamps, though but slightly. I waited and waited; but the sky\nclouded over, and the light died away. So I got wires and lamps--you\nknow how often I use them in experiments--and tried the effect of\nelectric light. It took me some time to get the lamps properly placed,\nso that they would correspond to the parts of the stone, but the moment\nI got them right the whole thing began to glow as you have seen it.\n\n\"'I could get no further, however. There was evidently something\nwanting. All at once it came to me that if light could have some\neffect there should be in the tomb some means of producing light, for\nthere could not be starlight in the Mummy Pit in the cavern. Then the\nwhole thing seemed to become clear. On the bloodstone table, which has\na hollow carved in its top, into which the bottom of the coffer fits, I\nlaid the Magic Coffer; and I at once saw that the odd protuberances so\ncarefully wrought in the substance of the stone corresponded in a way\nto the stars in the constellation. These, then, were to hold lights.\n\n\"'Eureka!' I cried. 'All we want now is the lamps.'\" I tried placing\nthe electric lights on, or close to, the protuberances. But the glow\nnever came to the stone. So the conviction grew on me that there were\nspecial lamps made for the purpose. If we could find them, a step on\nthe road to solving the mystery should be gained.\n\n\"'But what about the lamps?' I asked. 'Where are they? When are we to\ndiscover them? How are we to know them if we do find them? What--\"\n\n\"He stopped me at once:\n\n\"'One thing at a time!' he said quietly. 'Your first question contains\nall the rest. Where are these lamps? I shall tell you: In the tomb!'\n\n\"'In the tomb!' I repeated in surprise. 'Why you and I searched the\nplace ourselves from end to end; and there was not a sign of a lamp.\nNot a sign of anything remaining when we came away the first time; or\non the second, except the bodies of the Arabs.'\n\n\"Whilst I was speaking, he had uncoiled some large sheets of paper\nwhich he had brought in his hand from his own room. These he spread\nout on the great table, keeping their edges down with books and\nweights. I knew them at a glance; they were the careful copies which\nhe had made of our first transcripts from the writing in the tomb.\nWhen he had all ready, he turned to me and said slowly:\n\n\"'Do you remember wondering, when we examined the tomb, at the lack of\none thing which is usually found in such a tomb?'\n\n\"'Yes! There was no serdab.'\n\n\"The serdab, I may perhaps explain,\" said Mr. Corbeck to me, \"is a sort\nof niche built or hewn in the wall of a tomb. Those which have as yet\nbeen examined bear no inscriptions, and contain only effigies of the\ndead for whom the tomb was made.\" Then he went on with his narrative:\n\n\"Trelawny, when he saw that I had caught his meaning, went on speaking\nwith something of his old enthusiasm:\n\n\"'I have come to the conclusion that there must be a serdab--a secret\none. We were dull not to have thought of it before. We might have\nknown that the maker of such a tomb--a woman, who had shown in other\nways such a sense of beauty and completeness, and who had finished\nevery detail with a feminine richness of elaboration--would not have\nneglected such an architectural feature. Even if it had not its own\nspecial significance in ritual, she would have had it as an adornment.\nOthers had had it, and she liked her own work to be complete. Depend\nupon it, there was--there is--a serdab; and that in it, when it is\ndiscovered, we shall find the lamps. Of course, had we known then what\nwe now know or at all events surmise, that there were lamps, we might\nhave suspected some hidden spot, some cachet. I am going to ask you to\ngo out to Egypt again; to seek the tomb; to find the serdab; and to\nbring back the lamps!'\"\n\n\"'And if I find there is no serdab; or if discovering it I find no\nlamps in it, what then?' He smiled grimly with that saturnine smile of\nhis, so rarely seen for years past, as he spoke slowly:\n\n\"'Then you will have to hustle till you find them!'\n\n\"'Good!' I said. He pointed to one of the sheets.\n\n\"'Here are the transcripts from the Chapel at the south and the east.\nI have been looking over the writings again; and I find that in seven\nplaces round this corner are the symbols of the constellation which we\ncall the Plough, which Queen Tera held to rule her birth and her\ndestiny. I have examined them carefully, and I notice that they are\nall representations of the grouping of the stars, as the constellation\nappears in different parts of the heavens. They are all astronomically\ncorrect; and as in the real sky the Pointers indicate the Pole Star, so\nthese all point to one spot in the wall where usually the serdab is to\nbe found!'\n\n\"'Bravo!' I shouted, for such a piece of reasoning demanded applause.\nHe seemed pleased as he went on:\n\n\"'When you are in the tomb, examine this spot. There is probably some\nspring or mechanical contrivance for opening the receptacle. What it\nmay be, there is no use guessing. You will know what best to do, when\nyou are on the spot.'\n\n\"I started the next week for Egypt; and never rested till I stood again\nin the tomb. I had found some of our old following; and was fairly\nwell provided with help. The country was now in a condition very\ndifferent to that in which it had been sixteen years before; there was\nno need for troops or armed men.\n\n\"I climbed the rock face alone. There was no difficulty, for in that\nfine climate the woodwork of the ladder was still dependable. It was\neasy to see that in the years that had elapsed there had been other\nvisitors to the tomb; and my heart sank within me when I thought that\nsome of them might by chance have come across the secret place. It\nwould be a bitter discovery indeed to find that they had forestalled\nme; and that my journey had been in vain.\n\n\"The bitterness was realised when I lit my torches, and passed between\nthe seven-sided columns to the Chapel of the tomb.\n\n\"There, in the very spot where I had expected to find it, was the\nopening of a serdab. And the serdab was empty.\n\n\"But the Chapel was not empty; for the dried-up body of a man in Arab\ndress lay close under the opening, as though he had been stricken down.\nI examined all round the walls to see if Trelawny's surmise was\ncorrect; and I found that in all the positions of the stars as given,\nthe Pointers of the Plough indicated a spot to the left hand, or south\nside, of the opening of the serdab, where was a single star in gold.\n\n\"I pressed this, and it gave way. The stone which had marked the front\nof the serdab, and which lay back against the wall within, moved\nslightly. On further examining the other side of the opening, I found\na similar spot, indicated by other representations of the\nconstellation; but this was itself a figure of the seven stars, and\neach was wrought in burnished gold. I pressed each star in turn; but\nwithout result. Then it struck me that if the opening spring was on\nthe left, this on the right might have been intended for the\nsimultaneous pressure of all the stars by one hand of seven fingers.\nBy using both my hands, I managed to effect this.\n\n\"With a loud click, a metal figure seemed to dart from close to the\nopening of the serdab; the stone slowly swung back to its place, and\nshut with a click. The glimpse which I had of the descending figure\nappalled me for the moment. It was like that grim guardian which,\naccording to the Arabian historian Ibn Abd Alhokin, the builder of the\nPyramids, King Saurid Ibn Salhouk placed in the Western Pyramid to\ndefend its treasure: 'A marble figure, upright, with lance in hand;\nwith on his head a serpent wreathed. When any approached, the serpent\nwould bite him on one side, and twining about his throat and killing\nhim, would return again to his place.'\n\n\"I knew well that such a figure was not wrought to pleasantry; and that\nto brave it was no child's play. The dead Arab at my feet was proof of\nwhat could be done! So I examined again along the wall; and found here\nand there chippings as if someone had been tapping with a heavy hammer.\nThis then had been what happened: The grave-robber, more expert at his\nwork than we had been, and suspecting the presence of a hidden serdab,\nhad made essay to find it. He had struck the spring by chance; had\nreleased the avenging 'Treasurer', as the Arabian writer designated\nhim. The issue spoke for itself. I got a piece of wood, and, standing\nat a safe distance, pressed with the end of it upon the star.\n\n\"Instantly the stone flew back. The hidden figure within darted\nforward and thrust out its lance. Then it rose up and disappeared. I\nthought I might now safely press on the seven stars; and did so. Again\nthe stone rolled back; and the 'Treasurer' flashed by to his hidden\nlair.\n\n\"I repeated both experiments several times; with always the same\nresult. I should have liked to examine the mechanism of that figure of\nsuch malignant mobility; but it was not possible without such tools as\ncould not easily be had. It might be necessary to cut into a whole\nsection of the rock. Some day I hope to go back, properly equipped,\nand attempt it.\n\n\"Perhaps you do not know that the entrance to a serdab is almost always\nvery narrow; sometimes a hand can hardly be inserted. Two things I\nlearned from this serdab. The first was that the lamps, if lamps at\nall there had been, could not have been of large size; and secondly,\nthat they would be in some way associated with Hathor, whose symbol,\nthe hawk in a square with the right top corner forming a smaller\nsquare, was cut in relief on the wall within, and coloured the bright\nvermilion which we had found on the Stele. Hathor is the goddess who\nin Egyptian mythology answers to Venus of the Greeks, in as far as she\nis the presiding deity of beauty and pleasure. In the Egyptian\nmythology, however, each God has many forms; and in some aspects Hathor\nhas to do with the idea of resurrection. There are seven forms or\nvariants of the Goddess; why should not these correspond in some way to\nthe seven lamps! That there had been such lamps, I was convinced. The\nfirst grave-robber had met his death; the second had found the contents\nof the serdab. The first attempt had been made years since; the state\nof the body proved this. I had no clue to the second attempt. It\nmight have been long ago; or it might have been recently. If, however,\nothers had been to the tomb, it was probable that the lamps had been\ntaken long ago. Well! all the more difficult would be my search; for\nundertaken it must be!\n\n\"That was nearly three years ago; and for all that time I have been\nlike the man in the Arabian Nights, seeking old lamps, not for new, but\nfor cash. I dared not say what I was looking for, or attempt to give\nany description; for such would have defeated my purpose. But I had in\nmy own mind at the start a vague idea of what I must find. In process\nof time this grew more and more clear; till at last I almost overshot\nmy mark by searching for something which might have been wrong.\n\n\"The disappointments I suffered, and the wild-goose chases I made,\nwould fill a volume; but I persevered. At last, not two months ago, I\nwas shown by an old dealer in Mossul one lamp such as I had looked for.\nI had been tracing it for nearly a year, always suffering\ndisappointment, but always buoyed up to further endeavour by a growing\nhope that I was on the track.\n\n\"I do not know how I restrained myself when I realised that, at last, I\nwas at least close to success. I was skilled, however, in the finesse\nof Eastern trade; and the Jew-Arab-Portugee trader met his match. I\nwanted to see all his stock before buying; and one by one he produced,\namongst masses of rubbish, seven different lamps. Each of them had a\ndistinguishing mark; and each and all was some form of the symbol of\nHathor. I think I shook the imperturbability of my swarthy friend by\nthe magnitude of my purchases; for in order to prevent him guessing\nwhat form of goods I sought, I nearly cleared out his shop. At the end\nhe nearly wept, and said I had ruined him; for now he had nothing to\nsell. He would have torn his hair had he known what price I should\nultimately have given for some of his stock, that perhaps he valued\nleast.\n\n\"I parted with most of my merchandise at normal price as I hurried\nhome. I did not dare to give it away, or even lose it, lest I should\nincur suspicion. My burden was far too precious to be risked by any\nfoolishness now. I got on as fast as it is possible to travel in such\ncountries; and arrived in London with only the lamps and certain\nportable curios and papyri which I had picked up on my travels.\n\n\"Now, Mr. Ross, you know all I know; and I leave it to your discretion\nhow much, if any of it, you will tell Miss Trelawny.\"\n\nAs he finished a clear young voice said behind us:\n\n\"What about Miss Trelawny? She is here!\"\n\nWe turned, startled; and looked at each other inquiringly. Miss\nTrelawny stood in the doorway. We did not know how long she had been\npresent, or how much she had heard.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XIII\n\nAwaking From the Trance\n\n\nThe first unexpected words may always startle a hearer; but when the\nshock is over, the listener's reason has asserted itself, and he can\njudge of the manner, as well as of the matter, of speech. Thus it was\non this occasion. With intelligence now alert, I could not doubt of\nthe simple sincerity of Margaret's next question.\n\n\"What have you two men been talking about all this time, Mr. Ross? I\nsuppose, Mr. Corbeck has been telling you all his adventures in finding\nthe lamps. I hope you will tell me too, some day, Mr. Corbeck; but\nthat must not be till my poor Father is better. He would like, I am\nsure, to tell me all about these things himself; or to be present when\nI heard them.\" She glanced sharply from one to the other. \"Oh, that\nwas what you were saying as I came in? All right! I shall wait; but I\nhope it won't be long. The continuance of Father's condition is, I\nfeel, breaking me down. A little while ago I felt that my nerves were\ngiving out; so I determined to go out for a walk in the Park. I am\nsure it will do me good. I want you, if you will, Mr. Ross, to be with\nFather whilst I am away. I shall feel secure then.\"\n\nI rose with alacrity, rejoicing that the poor girl was going out, even\nfor half an hour. She was looking terribly wearied and haggard; and the\nsight of her pale cheeks made my heart ache. I went to the sick-room;\nand sat down in my usual place. Mrs. Grant was then on duty; we had\nnot found it necessary to have more than one person in the room during\nthe day. When I came in, she took occasion to go about some household\nduty. The blinds were up, but the north aspect of the room softened the\nhot glare of the sunlight without.\n\nI sat for a long time thinking over all that Mr. Corbeck had told me;\nand weaving its wonders into the tissue of strange things which had\ncome to pass since I had entered the house. At times I was inclined to\ndoubt; to doubt everything and every one; to doubt even the evidences\nof my own five senses. The warnings of the skilled detective kept\ncoming back to my mind. He had put down Mr. Corbeck as a clever liar,\nand a confederate of Miss Trelawny. Of Margaret! That settled it!\nFace to face with such a proposition as that, doubt vanished. Each\ntime when her image, her name, the merest thought of her, came before\nmy mind, each event stood out stark as a living fact. My life upon her\nfaith!\n\nI was recalled from my reverie, which was fast becoming a dream of\nlove, in a startling manner. A voice came from the bed; a deep,\nstrong, masterful voice. The first note of it called up like a clarion\nmy eyes and my ears. The sick man was awake and speaking!\n\n\"Who are you? What are you doing here?\"\n\nWhatever ideas any of us had ever formed of his waking, I am quite sure\nthat none of us expected to see him start up all awake and full master\nof himself. I was so surprised that I answered almost mechanically:\n\n\"Ross is my name. I have been watching by you!\" He looked surprised\nfor an instant, and then I could see that his habit of judging for\nhimself came into play.\n\n\"Watching by me! How do you mean? Why watching by me?\" His eye had\nnow lit on his heavily bandaged wrist. He went on in a different tone;\nless aggressive, more genial, as of one accepting facts:\n\n\"Are you a doctor?\" I felt myself almost smiling as I answered; the\nrelief from the long pressure of anxiety regarding his life was\nbeginning to tell:\n\n\"No, sir!\"\n\n\"Then why are you here? If you are not a doctor, what are you?\" His\ntone was again more dictatorial. Thought is quick; the whole train of\nreasoning on which my answer must be based flooded through my brain\nbefore the words could leave my lips. Margaret! I must think of\nMargaret! This was her father, who as yet knew nothing of me; even of\nmy very existence. He would be naturally curious, if not anxious, to\nknow why I amongst men had been chosen as his daughter's friend on the\noccasion of his illness. Fathers are naturally a little jealous in\nsuch matters as a daughter's choice, and in the undeclared state of my\nlove for Margaret I must do nothing which could ultimately embarrass\nher.\n\n\"I am a Barrister. It is not, however, in that capacity I am here; but\nsimply as a friend of your daughter. It was probably her knowledge of\nmy being a lawyer which first determined her to ask me to come when she\nthought you had been murdered. Afterwards she was good enough to\nconsider me to be a friend, and to allow me to remain in accordance\nwith your expressed wish that someone should remain to watch.\"\n\nMr. Trelawny was manifestly a man of quick thought, and of few words.\nHe gazed at me keenly as I spoke, and his piercing eyes seemed to read\nmy thought. To my relief he said no more on the subject just then,\nseeming to accept my words in simple faith. There was evidently in his\nown mind some cause for the acceptance deeper than my own knowledge.\nHis eyes flashed, and there was an unconscious movement of the\nmouth--it could hardly be called a twitch--which betokened\nsatisfaction. He was following out some train of reasoning in his own\nmind. Suddenly he said:\n\n\"She thought I had been murdered! Was that last night?\"\n\n\"No! four days ago.\" He seemed surprised. Whilst he had been speaking\nthe first time he had sat up in bed; now he made a movement as though\nhe would jump out. With an effort, however, he restrained himself;\nleaning back on his pillows he said quietly:\n\n\"Tell me all about it! All you know! Every detail! Omit nothing!\nBut stay; first lock the door! I want to know, before I see anyone,\nexactly how things stand.\"\n\nSomehow his last words made my heart leap. \"Anyone!\" He evidently\naccepted me, then, as an exception. In my present state of feeling for\nhis daughter, this was a comforting thought. I felt exultant as I went\nover to the door and softly turned the key. When I came back I found\nhim sitting up again. He said:\n\n\"Go on!\"\n\nAccordingly, I told him every detail, even of the slightest which I\ncould remember, of what had happened from the moment of my arrival at\nthe house. Of course I said nothing of my feeling towards Margaret,\nand spoke only concerning those things already within his own\nknowledge. With regard to Corbeck, I simply said that he had brought\nback some lamps of which he had been in quest. Then I proceeded to\ntell him fully of their loss, and of their re-discovery in the house.\n\nHe listened with a self-control which, under the circumstances, was to\nme little less than marvellous. It was impassiveness, for at times his\neyes would flash or blaze, and the strong fingers of his uninjured hand\nwould grip the sheet, pulling it into far-extending wrinkles. This was\nmost noticeable when I told him of the return of Corbeck, and the\nfinding of the lamps in the boudoir. At times he spoke, but only a few\nwords, and as if unconsciously in emotional comment. The mysterious\nparts, those which had most puzzled us, seemed to have no special\ninterest for him; he seemed to know them already. The utmost concern\nhe showed was when I told him of Daw's shooting. His muttered comment:\n\"stupid ass!\" together with a quick glance across the room at the\ninjured cabinet, marked the measure of his disgust. As I told him of\nhis daughter's harrowing anxiety for him, of her unending care and\ndevotion, of the tender love which she had shown, he seemed much moved.\nThere was a sort of veiled surprise in his unconscious whisper:\n\n\"Margaret! Margaret!\"\n\nWhen I had finished my narration, bringing matters up to the moment\nwhen Miss Trelawny had gone out for her walk--I thought of her as \"Miss\nTrelawny', not as 'Margaret' now, in the presence of her father--he\nremained silent for quite a long time. It was probably two or three\nminutes; but it seemed interminable. All at once he turned and said to\nme briskly:\n\n\"Now tell me all about yourself!\" This was something of a floorer; I\nfelt myself grow red-hot. Mr. Trelawny's eyes were upon me; they were\nnow calm and inquiring, but never ceasing in their soul-searching\nscrutiny. There was just a suspicion of a smile on the mouth which,\nthough it added to my embarrassment, gave me a certain measure of\nrelief. I was, however, face to face with difficulty; and the habit of\nmy life stood me in good stead. I looked him straight in the eyes as I\nspoke:\n\n\"My name, as I told you, is Ross, Malcolm Ross. I am by profession a\nBarrister. I was made a Q. C. in the last year of the Queen's reign.\nI have been fairly successful in my work.\" To my relief he said:\n\n\"Yes, I know. I have always heard well of you! Where and when did you\nmeet Margaret?\"\n\n\"First at the Hay's in Belgrave Square, ten days ago. Then at a picnic\nup the river with Lady Strathconnell. We went from Windsor to Cookham.\nMar--Miss Trelawny was in my boat. I scull a little, and I had my own\nboat at Windsor. We had a good deal of conversation--naturally.\"\n\n\"Naturally!\" there was just a suspicion of something sardonic in the\ntone of acquiescence; but there was no other intimation of his feeling.\nI began to think that as I was in the presence of a strong man, I\nshould show something of my own strength. My friends, and sometimes my\nopponents, say that I am a strong man. In my present circumstances,\nnot to be absolutely truthful would be to be weak. So I stood up to\nthe difficulty before me; always bearing in mind, however, that my\nwords might affect Margaret's happiness through her love for her\nfather. I went on:\n\n\"In conversation at a place and time and amid surroundings so pleasing,\nand in a solitude inviting to confidence, I got a glimpse of her inner\nlife. Such a glimpse as a man of my years and experience may get from\na young girl!\" The father's face grew graver as I went on; but he said\nnothing. I was committed now to a definite line of speech, and went on\nwith such mastery of my mind as I could exercise. The occasion might\nbe fraught with serious consequences to me too.\n\n\"I could not but see that there was over her spirit a sense of\nloneliness which was habitual to her. I thought I understood it; I am\nmyself an only child. I ventured to encourage her to speak to me\nfreely; and was happy enough to succeed. A sort of confidence became\nestablished between us.\" There was something in the father's face\nwhich made me add hurriedly:\n\n\"Nothing was said by her, sir, as you can well imagine, which was not\nright and proper. She only told me in the impulsive way of one longing\nto give voice to thoughts long carefully concealed, of her yearning to\nbe closer to the father whom she loved; more en rapport with him; more\nin his confidence; closer within the circle of his sympathies. Oh,\nbelieve me, sir, that it was all good! All that a father's heart could\nhope or wish for! It was all loyal! That she spoke it to me was\nperhaps because I was almost a stranger with whom there was no previous\nbarrier to confidence.\"\n\nHere I paused. It was hard to go on; and I feared lest I might, in my\nzeal, do Margaret a disservice. The relief of the strain came from her\nfather.\n\n\"And you?\"\n\n\"Sir, Miss Trelawny is very sweet and beautiful! She is young; and her\nmind is like crystal! Her sympathy is a joy! I am not an old man, and\nmy affections were not engaged. They never had been till then. I hope\nI may say as much, even to a father!\" My eyes involuntarily dropped.\nWhen I raised them again Mr. Trelawny was still gazing at me keenly.\nAll the kindliness of his nature seemed to wreath itself in a smile as\nhe held out his hand and said:\n\n\"Malcolm Ross, I have always heard of you as a fearless and honourable\ngentleman. I am glad my girl has such a friend! Go on!\"\n\nMy heart leaped. The first step to the winning of Margaret's father\nwas gained. I dare say I was somewhat more effusive in my words and my\nmanner as I went on. I certainly felt that way.\n\n\"One thing we gain as we grow older: to use our age judiciously! I\nhave had much experience. I have fought for it and worked for it all\nmy life; and I felt that I was justified in using it. I ventured to\nask Miss Trelawny to count on me as a friend; to let me serve her\nshould occasion arise. She promised me that she would. I had little\nidea that my chance of serving her should come so soon or in such a\nway; but that very night you were stricken down. In her desolation and\nanxiety she sent for me!\" I paused. He continued to look at me as I\nwent on:\n\n\"When your letter of instructions was found, I offered my services.\nThey were accepted, as you know.\"\n\n\"And these days, how did they pass for you?\" The question startled me.\nThere was in it something of Margaret's own voice and manner; something\nso greatly resembling her lighter moments that it brought out all the\nmasculinity in me. I felt more sure of my ground now as I said:\n\n\"These days, sir, despite all their harrowing anxiety, despite all the\npain they held for the girl whom I grew to love more and more with each\npassing hour, have been the happiest of my life!\" He kept silence for\na long time; so long that, as I waited for him to speak, with my heart\nbeating, I began to wonder if my frankness had been too effusive. At\nlast he said:\n\n\"I suppose it is hard to say so much vicariously. Her poor mother\nshould have heard you; it would have made her heart glad!\" Then a\nshadow swept across his face; and he went on more hurriedly.\n\n\"But are you quite sure of all this?\"\n\n\"I know my own heart, sir; or, at least, I think I do!\"\n\n\"No! no!\" he answered, \"I don't mean you. That is all right! But you\nspoke of my girl's affection for me ... and yet...! And yet she has\nbeen living here, in my house, a whole year... Still, she spoke to you\nof her loneliness--her desolation. I never--it grieves me to say it,\nbut it is true--I never saw sign of such affection towards myself in\nall the year!...\" His voice trembled away into sad, reminiscent\nintrospection.\n\n\"Then, sir,\" I said, \"I have been privileged to see more in a few days\nthan you in her whole lifetime!\" My words seemed to call him up from\nhimself; and I thought that it was with pleasure as well as surprise\nthat he said:\n\n\"I had no idea of it. I thought that she was indifferent to me. That\nwhat seemed like the neglect of her youth was revenging itself on me.\nThat she was cold of heart.... It is a joy unspeakable to me that her\nmother's daughter loves me too!\" Unconsciously he sank back upon his\npillow, lost in memories of the past.\n\nHow he must have loved her mother! It was the love of her mother's\nchild, rather than the love of his own daughter, that appealed to him.\nMy heart went out to him in a great wave of sympathy and kindliness. I\nbegan to understand. To understand the passion of these two great,\nsilent, reserved natures, that successfully concealed the burning\nhunger for the other's love! It did not surprise me when presently he\nmurmured to himself:\n\n\"Margaret, my child! Tender, and thoughtful, and strong, and true, and\nbrave! Like her dear mother! like her dear mother!\"\n\nAnd then to the very depths of my heart I rejoiced that I had spoken so\nfrankly.\n\nPresently Mr. Trelawny said:\n\n\"Four days! The sixteenth! Then this is the twentieth of July?\" I\nnodded affirmation; he went on:\n\n\"So I have been lying in a trance for four days. It is not the first\ntime. I was in a trance once under strange conditions for three days;\nand never even suspected it till I was told of the lapse of time. I\nshall tell you all about it some day, if you care to hear.\"\n\nThat made me thrill with pleasure. That he, Margaret's father, would\nso take me into his confidence made it possible.... The business-like,\nevery-day alertness of his voice as he spoke next quite recalled me:\n\n\"I had better get up now. When Margaret comes in, tell her yourself\nthat I am all right. It will avoid any shock! And will you tell\nCorbeck that I would like to see him as soon as I can. I want to see\nthose lamps, and hear all about them!\"\n\nHis attitude towards me filled me with delight. There was a possible\nfather-in-law aspect that would have raised me from a death-bed. I was\nhurrying away to carry out his wishes; when, however, my hand was on\nthe key of the door, his voice recalled me:\n\n\"Mr. Ross!\"\n\nI did not like to hear him say \"Mr.\" After he knew of my friendship\nwith his daughter he had called me Malcolm Ross; and this obvious\nreturn to formality not only pained, but filled me with apprehension.\nIt must be something about Margaret. I thought of her as \"Margaret\"\nand not as \"Miss Trelawny\", now that there was danger of losing her. I\nknow now what I felt then: that I was determined to fight for her\nrather than lose her. I came back, unconsciously holding myself erect.\nMr. Trelawny, the keen observer of men, seemed to read my thought; his\nface, which was set in a new anxiety, relaxed as he said:\n\n\"Sit down a minute; it is better that we speak now than later. We are\nboth men, and men of the world. All this about my daughter is very new\nto me, and very sudden; and I want to know exactly how and where I\nstand. Mind, I am making no objection; but as a father I have duties\nwhich are grave, and may prove to be painful. I--I\"--he seemed\nslightly at a loss how to begin, and this gave me hope--\"I suppose I am\nto take it, from what you have said to me of your feelings towards my\ngirl, that it is in your mind to be a suitor for her hand, later on?\"\nI answered at once:\n\n\"Absolutely! Firm and fixed; it was my intention the evening after I\nhad been with her on the river, to seek you, of course after a proper\nand respectful interval, and to ask you if I might approach her on the\nsubject. Events forced me into closer relationship more quickly than I\nhad to hope would be possible; but that first purpose has remained\nfresh in my heart, and has grown in intensity, and multiplied itself\nwith every hour which has passed since then.\" His face seemed to\nsoften as he looked at me; the memory of his own youth was coming back\nto him instinctively. After a pause he said:\n\n\"I suppose I may take it, too, Malcolm Ross\"--the return to the\nfamiliarity of address swept through me with a glorious thrill--\"that\nas yet you have not made any protestation to my daughter?\"\n\n\"Not in words, sir.\" The arriere pensee of my phrase struck me, not by\nits own humour, but through the grave, kindly smile on the father's\nface. There was a pleasant sarcasm in his comment:\n\n\"Not in words! That is dangerous! She might have doubted words, or\neven disbelieved them.\"\n\nI felt myself blushing to the roots of my hair as I went on:\n\n\"The duty of delicacy in her defenceless position; my respect for her\nfather--I did not know you then, sir, as yourself, but only as her\nfather--restrained me. But even had not these barriers existed, I\nshould not have dared in the presence of such grief and anxiety to have\ndeclared myself. Mr. Trelawny, I assure you on my word of honour that\nyour daughter and I are as yet, on her part, but friends and nothing\nmore!\" Once again he held out his hands, and we clasped each other\nwarmly. Then he said heartily:\n\n\"I am satisfied, Malcolm Ross. Of course, I take it that until I have\nseen her and have given you permission, you will not make any\ndeclaration to my daughter--in words,\" he added, with an indulgent\nsmile. But his face became stern again as he went on:\n\n\"Time presses; and I have to think of some matters so urgent and so\nstrange that I dare not lose an hour. Otherwise I should not have been\nprepared to enter, at so short a notice and to so new a friend, on the\nsubject of my daughter's settlement in life, and of her future\nhappiness.\" There was a dignity and a certain proudness in his manner\nwhich impressed me much.\n\n\"I shall respect your wishes, sir!\" I said as I went back and opened\nthe door. I heard him lock it behind me.\n\nWhen I told Mr. Corbeck that Mr. Trelawny had quite recovered, he began\nto dance about like a wild man. But he suddenly stopped, and asked me\nto be careful not to draw any inferences, at all events at first, when\nin the future speaking of the finding of the lamps, or of the first\nvisits to the tomb. This was in case Mr. Trelawny should speak to me\non the subject; \"as, of course, he will,\" he added, with a sidelong\nlook at me which meant knowledge of the affairs of my heart. I agreed\nto this, feeling that it was quite right. I did not quite understand\nwhy; but I knew that Mr. Trelawny was a peculiar man. In no case could\none make a mistake by being reticent. Reticence is a quality which a\nstrong man always respects.\n\nThe manner in which the others of the house took the news of the\nrecovery varied much. Mrs. Grant wept with emotion; then she hurried\noff to see if she could do anything personally, and to set the house in\norder for \"Master\", as she always called him. The Nurse's face fell:\nshe was deprived of an interesting case. But the disappointment was\nonly momentary; and she rejoiced that the trouble was over. She was\nready to come to the patient the moment she should be wanted; but in\nthe meantime she occupied herself in packing her portmanteau.\n\nI took Sergeant Daw into the study, so that we should be alone when I\ntold him the news. It surprised even his iron self-control when I told\nhim the method of the waking. I was myself surprised in turn by his\nfirst words:\n\n\"And how did he explain the first attack? He was unconscious when the\nsecond was made.\"\n\nUp to that moment the nature of the attack, which was the cause of my\ncoming to the house, had never even crossed my mind, except when I had\nsimply narrated the various occurrences in sequence to Mr. Trelawny.\nThe Detective did not seem to think much of my answer:\n\n\"Do you know, it never occurred to me to ask him!\" The professional\ninstinct was strong in the man, and seemed to supersede everything else.\n\n\"That is why so few cases are ever followed out,\" he said, \"unless our\npeople are in them. Your amateur detective neer hunts down to the\ndeath. As for ordinary people, the moment things begin to mend, and\nthe strain of suspense is off them, they drop the matter in hand. It\nis like sea-sickness,\" he added philosophically after a pause; \"the\nmoment you touch the shore you never give it a thought, but run off to\nthe buffet to feed! Well, Mr. Ross, I'm glad the case is over; for\nover it is, so far as I am concerned. I suppose that Mr. Trelawny\nknows his own business; and that now he is well again, he will take it\nup himself. Perhaps, however, he will not do anything. As he seemed to\nexpect something to happen, but did not ask for protection from the\npolice in any way, I take it that he don't want them to interfere with\nan eye to punishment. We'll be told officially, I suppose, that it was\nan accident, or sleep-walking, or something of the kind, to satisfy the\nconscience of our Record Department; and that will be the end. As for\nme, I tell you frankly, sir, that it will be the saving of me. I\nverily believe I was beginning to get dotty over it all. There were\ntoo many mysteries, that aren't in my line, for me to be really\nsatisfied as to either facts or the causes of them. Now I'll be able\nto wash my hands of it, and get back to clean, wholesome, criminal\nwork. Of course, sir, I'll be glad to know if you ever do light on a\ncause of any kind. And I'll be grateful if you can ever tell me how\nthe man was dragged out of bed when the cat bit him, and who used the\nknife the second time. For master Silvio could never have done it by\nhimself. But there! I keep thinking of it still. I must look out and\nkeep a check on myself, or I shall think of it when I have to keep my\nmind on other things!\"\n\nWhen Margaret returned from her walk, I met her in the hall. She was\nstill pale and sad; somehow, I had expected to see her radiant after\nher walk. The moment she saw me her eyes brightened, and she looked at\nme keenly.\n\n\"You have some good news for me?\" she said. \"Is Father better?\"\n\n\"He is! Why did you think so?\"\n\n\"I saw it in your face. I must go to him at once.\" She was hurrying\naway when I stopped her.\n\n\"He said he would send for you the moment he was dressed.\"\n\n\"He said he would send for me!\" she repeated in amazement. \"Then he is\nawake again, and conscious? I had no idea he was so well as that! O\nMalcolm!\"\n\nShe sat down on the nearest chair and began to cry. I felt overcome\nmyself. The sight of her joy and emotion, the mention of my own name\nin such a way and at such a time, the rush of glorious possibilities\nall coming together, quite unmanned me. She saw my emotion, and seemed\nto understand. She put out her hand. I held it hard, and kissed it.\nSuch moments as these, the opportunities of lovers, are gifts of the\ngods! Up to this instant, though I knew I loved her, and though I\nbelieved she returned my affection, I had had only hope. Now, however,\nthe self-surrender manifest in her willingness to let me squeeze her\nhand, the ardour of her pressure in return, and the glorious flush of\nlove in her beautiful, deep, dark eyes as she lifted them to mine, were\nall the eloquences which the most impatient or exacting lover could\nexpect or demand.\n\nNo word was spoken; none was needed. Even had I not been pledged to\nverbal silence, words would have been poor and dull to express what we\nfelt. Hand in hand, like two little children, we went up the staircase\nand waited on the landing, till the summons from Mr. Trelawny should\ncome.\n\nI whispered in her ear--it was nicer than speaking aloud and at a\ngreater distance--how her father had awakened, and what he had said;\nand all that had passed between us, except when she herself had been\nthe subject of conversation.\n\nPresently a bell rang from the room. Margaret slipped from me, and\nlooked back with warning finger on lip. She went over to her father's\ndoor and knocked softly.\n\n\"Come in!\" said the strong voice.\n\n\"It is I, Father!\" The voice was tremulous with love and hope.\n\nThere was a quick step inside the room; the door was hurriedly thrown\nopen, and in an instant Margaret, who had sprung forward, was clasped\nin her father's arms. There was little speech; only a few broken\nphrases.\n\n\"Father! Dear, dear Father!\"\n\n\"My child! Margaret! My dear, dear child!\"\n\n\"O Father, Father! At last! At last!\"\n\nHere the father and daughter went into the room together, and the door\nclosed.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XIV\n\nThe Birth-Mark\n\n\nDuring my waiting for the summons to Mr. Trelawny's room, which I knew\nwould come, the time was long and lonely. After the first few moments\nof emotional happiness at Margaret's joy, I somehow felt apart and\nalone; and for a little time the selfishness of a lover possessed me.\nBut it was not for long. Margaret's happiness was all to me; and in\nthe conscious sense of it I lost my baser self. Margaret's last words\nas the door closed on them gave the key to the whole situation, as it\nhad been and as it was. These two proud, strong people, though father\nand daughter, had only come to know each other when the girl was grown\nup. Margaret's nature was of that kind which matures early.\n\nThe pride and strength of each, and the reticence which was their\ncorollary, made a barrier at the beginning. Each had respected the\nother's reticence too much thereafter; and the misunderstanding grew to\nhabit. And so these two loving hearts, each of which yearned for\nsympathy from the other, were kept apart. But now all was well, and in\nmy heart of hearts I rejoiced that at last Margaret was happy. Whilst\nI was still musing on the subject, and dreaming dreams of a personal\nnature, the door was opened, and Mr. Trelawny beckoned to me.\n\n\"Come in, Mr. Ross!\" he said cordially, but with a certain formality\nwhich I dreaded. I entered the room, and he closed the door again. He\nheld out his hand, and I put mine in it. He did not let it go, but\nstill held it as he drew me over toward his daughter. Margaret looked\nfrom me to him, and back again; and her eyes fell. When I was close to\nher, Mr. Trelawny let go my hand, and, looking his daughter straight in\nthe face, said:\n\n\"If things are as I fancy, we shall not have any secrets between us.\nMalcolm Ross knows so much of my affairs already, that I take it he\nmust either let matters stop where they are and go away in silence, or\nelse he must know more. Margaret! are you willing to let Mr. Ross see\nyour wrist?\"\n\nShe threw one swift look of appeal in his eyes; but even as she did so\nshe seemed to make up her mind. Without a word she raised her right\nhand, so that the bracelet of spreading wings which covered the wrist\nfell back, leaving the flesh bare. Then an icy chill shot through me.\n\nOn her wrist was a thin red jagged line, from which seemed to hang red\nstains like drops of blood!\n\nShe stood there, a veritable figure of patient pride.\n\nOh! but she looked proud! Through all her sweetness, all her dignity,\nall her high-souled negation of self which I had known, and which never\nseemed more marked than now--through all the fire that seemed to shine\nfrom the dark depths of her eyes into my very soul, pride shone\nconspicuously. The pride that has faith; the pride that is born of\nconscious purity; the pride of a veritable queen of Old Time, when to\nbe royal was to be the first and greatest and bravest in all high\nthings. As we stood thus for some seconds, the deep, grave voice of her\nfather seemed to sound a challenge in my ears:\n\n\"What do you say now?\"\n\nMy answer was not in words. I caught Margaret's right hand in mine as\nit fell, and, holding it tight, whilst with the other I pushed back the\ngolden cincture, stooped and kissed the wrist. As I looked up at her,\nbut never letting go her hand, there was a look of joy on her face such\nas I dream of when I think of heaven. Then I faced her father.\n\n\"You have my answer, sir!\" His strong face looked gravely sweet. He\nonly said one word as he laid his hand on our clasped ones, whilst he\nbent over and kissed his daughter:\n\n\"Good!\"\n\nWe were interrupted by a knock at the door. In answer to an impatient\n\"Come in!\" from Mr. Trelawny, Mr. Corbeck entered. When he saw us\ngrouped he would have drawn back; but in an instant Mr. Trelawny had\nsprung forth and dragged him forward. As he shook him by both hands,\nhe seemed a transformed man. All the enthusiasm of his youth, of which\nMr. Corbeck had told us, seemed to have come back to him in an instant.\n\n\"So you have got the lamps!\" he almost shouted. \"My reasoning was\nright after all. Come to the library, where we will be alone, and tell\nme all about it! And while he does it, Ross,\" said he, turning to me,\n\"do you, like a good fellow, get the key from the safe deposit, so that\nI may have a look at the lamps!\"\n\nThen the three of them, the daughter lovingly holding her father's arm,\nwent into the library, whilst I hurried off to Chancery Lane.\n\nWhen I returned with the key, I found them still engaged in the\nnarrative; but Doctor Winchester, who had arrived soon after I left,\nwas with them. Mr. Trelawny, on hearing from Margaret of his great\nattention and kindness, and how he had, under much pressure to the\ncontrary, steadfastly obeyed his written wishes, had asked him to\nremain and listen. \"It will interest you, perhaps,\" he said, \"to learn\nthe end of the story!\"\n\nWe all had an early dinner together. We sat after it a good while, and\nthen Mr. Trelawny said:\n\n\"Now, I think we had all better separate and go quietly to bed early.\nWe may have much to talk about tomorrow; and tonight I want to think.\"\n\nDoctor Winchester went away, taking, with a courteous forethought, Mr.\nCorbeck with him, and leaving me behind. When the others had gone Mr.\nTrelawny said:\n\n\"I think it will be well if you, too, will go home for tonight. I want\nto be quite alone with my daughter; there are many things I wish to\nspeak of to her, and to her alone. Perhaps, even tomorrow, I will be\nable to tell you also of them; but in the meantime there will be less\ndistraction to us both if we are alone in the house.\" I quite\nunderstood and sympathised with his feelings; but the experiences of\nthe last few days were strong on me, and with some hesitation I said:\n\n\"But may it not be dangerous? If you knew as we do--\" To my surprise\nMargaret interrupted me:\n\n\"There will be no danger, Malcolm. I shall be with Father!\" As she\nspoke she clung to him in a protective way. I said no more, but stood\nup to go at once. Mr. Trelawny said heartily:\n\n\"Come as early as you please, Ross. Come to breakfast. After it, you\nand I will want to have a word together.\" He went out of the room\nquietly, leaving us together. I clasped and kissed Margaret's hands,\nwhich she held out to me, and then drew her close to me, and our lips\nmet for the first time.\n\nI did not sleep much that night. Happiness on the one side of my bed\nand Anxiety on the other kept sleep away. But if I had anxious care, I\nhad also happiness which had not equal in my life--or ever can have.\nThe night went by so quickly that the dawn seemed to rush on me, not\nstealing as is its wont.\n\nBefore nine o'clock I was at Kensington. All anxiety seemed to float\naway like a cloud as I met Margaret, and saw that already the pallor of\nher face had given to the rich bloom which I knew. She told me that\nher father had slept well, and that he would be with us soon.\n\n\"I do believe,\" she whispered, \"that my dear and thoughtful Father has\nkept back on purpose, so that I might meet you first, and alone!\"\n\nAfter breakfast Mr. Trelawny took us into the study, saying as he\npassed in:\n\n\"I have asked Margaret to come too.\" When we were seated, he said\ngravely:\n\n\"I told you last night that we might have something to say to each\nother. I dare say that you may have thought that it was about Margaret\nand yourself. Isn't that so?\"\n\n\"I thought so.\"\n\n\"Well, my boy, that is all right. Margaret and I have been talking,\nand I know her wishes.\" He held out his hand. When I wrung it, and\nhad kissed Margaret, who drew her chair close to mine, so that we could\nhold hands as we listened, he went on, but with a certain\nhesitation--it could hardly be called nervousness--which was new to me.\n\n\"You know a good deal of my hunt after this mummy and her belongings;\nand I dare say you have guessed a good deal of my theories. But these\nat any rate I shall explain later, concisely and categorically, if it\nbe necessary. What I want to consult you about now is this: Margaret\nand I disagree on one point. I am about to make an experiment; the\nexperiment which is to crown all that I have devoted twenty years of\nresearch, and danger, and labour to prepare for. Through it we may\nlearn things that have been hidden from the eyes and the knowledge of\nmen for centuries; for scores of centuries. I do not want my daughter\nto be present; for I cannot blind myself to the fact that there may be\ndanger in it--great danger, and of an unknown kind. I have, however,\nalready faced very great dangers, and of an unknown kind; and so has\nthat brave scholar who has helped me in the work. As to myself, I am\nwilling to run any risk. For science, and history, and philosophy may\nbenefit; and we may turn one old page of a wisdom unknown in this\nprosaic age. But for my daughter to run such a risk I am loth. Her\nyoung bright life is too precious to throw lightly away; now especially\nwhen she is on the very threshold of new happiness. I do not wish to\nsee her life given, as her dear mother's was--\"\n\nHe broke down for a moment, and covered his eyes with his hands. In an\ninstant Margaret was beside him, clasping him close, and kissing him,\nand comforting him with loving words. Then, standing erect, with one\nhand on his head, she said:\n\n\"Father! mother did not bid you stay beside her, even when you wanted\nto go on that journey of unknown danger to Egypt; though that country\nwas then upset from end to end with war and the dangers that follow\nwar. You have told me how she left you free to go as you wished; though\nthat she thought of danger for you and and feared it for you, is proved\nby this!\" She held up her wrist with the scar that seemed to run\nblood. \"Now, mother's daughter does as mother would have done herself!\"\nThen she turned to me:\n\n\"Malcolm, you know I love you! But love is trust; and you must trust\nme in danger as well as in joy. You and I must stand beside Father in\nthis unknown peril. Together we shall come through it; or together we\nshall fail; together we shall die. That is my wish; my first wish to my\nhusband that is to be! Do you not think that, as a daughter, I am\nright? Tell my Father what you think!\"\n\nShe looked like a Queen stooping to plead. My love for her grew and\ngrew. I stood up beside her; and took her hand and said:\n\n\"Mr. Trelawny! in this Margaret and I are one!\"\n\nHe took both our hands and held them hard. Presently he said with deep\nemotion:\n\n\"It is as her mother would have done!\"\n\nMr. Corbeck and Doctor Winchester came exactly at the time appointed,\nand joined us in the library. Despite my great happiness I felt our\nmeeting to be a very solemn function. For I could never forget the\nstrange things that had been; and the idea of the strange things which\nmight be, was with me like a cloud, pressing down on us all. From the\ngravity of my companions I gathered that each of them also was ruled by\nsome such dominating thought.\n\nInstinctively we gathered our chairs into a circle round Mr. Trelawny,\nwho had taken the great armchair near the window. Margaret sat by him\non his right, and I was next to her. Mr. Corbeck was on his left, with\nDoctor Winchester on the other side. After a few seconds of silence Mr.\nTrelawny said to Mr. Corbeck:\n\n\"You have told Doctor Winchester all up to the present, as we arranged?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he answered; so Mr. Trelawny said:\n\n\"And I have told Margaret, so we all know!\" Then, turning to the\nDoctor, he asked:\n\n\"And am I to take it that you, knowing all as we know it who have\nfollowed the matter for years, wish to share in the experiment which we\nhope to make?\" His answer was direct and uncompromising:\n\n\"Certainly! Why, when this matter was fresh to me, I offered to go on\nwith it to the end. Now that it is of such strange interest, I would\nnot miss it for anything which you could name. Be quite easy in your\nmind, Mr. Trelawny. I am a scientist and an investigator of phenomena.\nI have no one belonging to me or dependent on me. I am quite alone,\nand free to do what I like with my own--including my life!\" Mr.\nTrelawny bowed gravely, and turning to Mr. Corbeck said:\n\n\"I have known your ideas for many years past, old friend; so I need ask\nyou nothing. As to Margaret and Malcolm Ross, they have already told me\ntheir wishes in no uncertain way.\" He paused a few seconds, as though\nto put his thoughts or his words in order; then he began to explain his\nviews and intentions. He spoke very carefully, seeming always to bear\nin mind that some of us who listened were ignorant of the very root and\nnature of some things touched upon, and explaining them to us as he\nwent on:\n\n\"The experiment which is before us is to try whether or no there is any\nforce, any reality, in the old Magic. There could not possibly be more\nfavourable conditions for the test; and it is my own desire to do all\nthat is possible to make the original design effective. That there is\nsome such existing power I firmly believe. It might not be possible to\ncreate, or arrange, or organise such a power in our own time; but I\ntake it that if in Old Time such a power existed, it may have some\nexceptional survival. After all, the Bible is not a myth; and we read\nthere that the sun stood still at a man's command, and that an ass--not\na human one--spoke. And if the Witch at Endor could call up to Saul\nthe spirit of Samuel, why may not there have been others with equal\npowers; and why may not one among them survive? Indeed, we are told in\nthe Book of Samuel that the Witch of Endor was only one of many, and\nher being consulted by Saul was a matter of chance. He only sought one\namong the many whom he had driven out of Israel; 'all those that had\nFamiliar Spirits, and the Wizards.' This Egyptian Queen, Tera, who\nreigned nearly two thousand years before Saul, had a Familiar, and was\na Wizard too. See how the priests of her time, and those after it\ntried to wipe out her name from the face of the earth, and put a curse\nover the very door of her tomb so that none might ever discover the\nlost name. Ay, and they succeeded so well that even Manetho, the\nhistorian of the Egyptian Kings, writing in the tenth century before\nChrist, with all the lore of the priesthood for forty centuries behind\nhim, and with possibility of access to every existing record, could not\neven find her name. Did it strike any of you, in thinking of the late\nevents, who or what her Familiar was?\" There was an interruption, for\nDoctor Winchester struck one hand loudly on the other as he ejaculated:\n\n\"The cat! The mummy cat! I knew it!\" Mr. Trelawny smiled over at him.\n\n\"You are right! There is every indication that the Familiar of the\nWizard Queen was that cat which was mummied when she was, and was not\nonly placed in her tomb, but was laid in the sarcophagus with her.\nThat was what bit into my wrist, what cut me with sharp claws.\" He\npaused. Margaret's comment was a purely girlish one:\n\n\"Then my poor Silvio is acquitted! I am glad!\" Her father stroked her\nhair and went on:\n\n\"This woman seems to have had an extraordinary foresight. Foresight\nfar, far beyond her age and the philosophy of her time. She seems to\nhave seen through the weakness of her own religion, and even prepared\nfor emergence into a different world. All her aspirations were for the\nNorth, the point of the compass whence blew the cool invigorating\nbreezes that make life a joy. From the first, her eyes seem to have\nbeen attracted to the seven stars of the Plough from the fact, as\nrecorded in the hieroglyphics in her tomb, that at her birth a great\naerolite fell, from whose heart was finally extracted that Jewel of\nSeven Stars which she regarded as the talisman of her life. It seems\nto have so far ruled her destiny that all her thought and care circled\nround it. The Magic Coffer, so wondrously wrought with seven sides, we\nlearn from the same source, came from the aerolite. Seven was to her a\nmagic number; and no wonder. With seven fingers on one hand, and seven\ntoes on one foot. With a talisman of a rare ruby with seven stars in\nthe same position as in that constellation which ruled her birth, each\nstar of the seven having seven points--in itself a geological\nwonder--it would have been odd if she had not been attracted by it.\nAgain, she was born, we learn in the Stele of her tomb, in the seventh\nmonth of the year--the month beginning with the Inundation of the Nile.\nOf which month the presiding Goddess was Hathor, the Goddess of her own\nhouse, of the Antefs of the Theban line--the Goddess who in various\nforms symbolises beauty, and pleasure, and resurrection. Again, in\nthis seventh month--which, by later Egyptian astronomy began on October\n28th, and ran to the 27th of our November--on the seventh day the\nPointer of the Plough just rises above the horizon of the sky at Thebes.\n\n\"In a marvellously strange way, therefore, are grouped into this\nwoman's life these various things. The number seven; the Pole Star,\nwith the constellation of seven stars; the God of the month, Hathor,\nwho was her own particular God, the God of her family, the Antefs of\nthe Theban Dynasty, whose Kings' symbol it was, and whose seven forms\nruled love and the delights of life and resurrection. If ever there\nwas ground for magic; for the power of symbolism carried into mystic\nuse; for a belief in finites spirits in an age which knew not the\nLiving God, it is here.\n\n\"Remember, too, that this woman was skilled in all the science of her\ntime. Her wise and cautious father took care of that, knowing that by\nher own wisdom she must ultimately combat the intrigues of the\nHierarchy. Bear in mind that in old Egypt the science of Astronomy\nbegan and was developed to an extraordinary height; and that Astrology\nfollowed Astronomy in its progress. And it is possible that in the\nlater developments of science with regard to light rays, we may yet\nfind that Astrology is on a scientific basis. Our next wave of\nscientific thought may deal with this. I shall have something special\nto call your minds to on this point presently. Bear in mind also that\nthe Egyptians knew sciences, of which today, despite all our\nadvantages, we are profoundly ignorant. Acoustics, for instance, an\nexact science with the builders of the temples of Karnak, of Luxor, of\nthe Pyramids, is today a mystery to Bell, and Kelvin, and Edison, and\nMarconi. Again, these old miracle-workers probably understood some\npractical way of using other forces, and amongst them the forces of\nlight that at present we do not dream of. But of this matter I shall\nspeak later. That Magic Coffer of Queen Tera is probably a magic box\nin more ways than one. It may--possibly it does--contain forces that\nwe wot not of. We cannot open it; it must be closed from within. How\nthen was it closed? It is a coffer of solid stone, of amazing\nhardness, more like a jewel than an ordinary marble, with a lid equally\nsolid; and yet all is so finely wrought that the finest tool made today\ncannot be inserted under the flange. How was it wrought to such\nperfection? How was the stone so chosen that those translucent patches\nmatch the relations of the seven stars of the constellation? How is\nit, or from what cause, that when the starlight shines on it, it glows\nfrom within--that when I fix the lamps in similar form the glow grows\ngreater still; and yet the box is irresponsive to ordinary light\nhowever great? I tell you that that box hides some great mystery of\nscience. We shall find that the light will open it in some way:\neither by striking on some substance, sensitive in a peculiar way to\nits effect, or in releasing some greater power. I only trust that in\nour ignorance we may not so bungle things as to do harm to its\nmechanism; and so deprive the knowledge of our time of a lesson handed\ndown, as by a miracle, through nearly five thousand years.\n\n\"In another way, too, there may be hidden in that box secrets which,\nfor good or ill, may enlighten the world. We know from their records,\nand inferentially also, that the Egyptians studied the properties of\nherbs and minerals for magic purposes--white magic as well as black.\nWe know that some of the wizards of old could induce from sleep dreams\nof any given kind. That this purpose was mainly effected by hypnotism,\nwhich was another art or science of Old Nile, I have little doubt. But\nstill, they must have had a mastery of drugs that is far beyond\nanything we know. With our own pharmacopoeia we can, to a certain\nextent, induce dreams. We may even differentiate between good and\nbad--dreams of pleasure, or disturbing and harrowing dreams. But these\nold practitioners seemed to have been able to command at will any form\nor colour of dreaming; could work round any given subject or thought in\nalmost any was required. In that coffer, which you have seen, may rest\na very armoury of dreams. Indeed, some of the forces that lie within\nit may have been already used in my household.\" Again there was an\ninterruption from Doctor Winchester.\n\n\"But if in your case some of these imprisoned forces were used, what\nset them free at the opportune time, or how? Besides, you and Mr.\nCorbeck were once before put into a trance for three whole days, when\nyou were in the Queen's tomb for the second time. And then, as I\ngathered from Mr. Corbeck's story, the coffer was not back in the tomb,\nthough the mummy was. Surely in both these cases there must have been\nsome active intelligence awake, and with some other power to wield.\"\nMr. Trelawny's answer was equally to the point:\n\n\"There was some active intelligence awake. I am convinced of it. And\nit wielded a power which it never lacks. I believe that on both those\noccasions hypnotism was the power wielded.\"\n\n\"And wherein is that power contained? What view do you hold on the\nsubject?\" Doctor Winchester's voice vibrated with the intensity of his\nexcitement as he leaned forward, breathing hard, and with eyes staring.\nMr. Trelawny said solemnly:\n\n\"In the mummy of the Queen Tera! I was coming to that presently.\nPerhaps we had better wait till I clear the ground a little. What I\nhold is, that the preparation of that box was made for a special\noccasion; as indeed were all the preparations of the tomb and all\nbelonging to it. Queen Tera did not trouble herself to guard against\nsnakes and scorpions, in that rocky tomb cut in the sheer cliff face a\nhundred feet above the level of the valley, and fifty down from the\nsummit. Her precautions were against the disturbances of human hands;\nagainst the jealousy and hatred of the priests, who, had they known of\nher real aims, would have tried to baffle them. From her point of\nview, she made all ready for the time of resurrection, whenever that\nmight be. I gather from the symbolic pictures in the tomb that she so\nfar differed from the belief of her time that she looked for a\nresurrection in the flesh. It was doubtless this that intensified the\nhatred of the priesthood, and gave them an acceptable cause for\nobliterating the very existence, present and future, of one who had\noutrage their theories and blasphemed their gods. All that she might\nrequire, either in the accomplishment of the resurrection or after it,\nwere contained in that almost hermetically sealed suite of chambers in\nthe rock. In the great sarcophagus, which as you know is of a size\nquite unusual even for kings, was the mummy of her Familiar, the cat,\nwhich from its great size I take to be a sort of tiger-cat. In the\ntomb, also in a strong receptacle, were the canopic jars usually\ncontaining those internal organs which are separately embalmed, but\nwhich in this case had no such contents. So that, I take it, there was\nin her case a departure in embalming; and that the organs were restored\nto the body, each in its proper place--if, indeed, they had ever been\nremoved. If this surmise be true, we shall find that the brain of the\nQueen either was never extracted in the usual way, or, if so taken out,\nthat it was duly replaced, instead of being enclosed within the mummy\nwrappings. Finally, in the sarcophagus there was the Magic Coffer on\nwhich her feet rested. Mark you also, the care taken in the\npreservance of her power to control the elements. According to her\nbelief, the open hand outside the wrappings controlled the Air, and the\nstrange Jewel Stone with the shining stars controlled Fire. The\nsymbolism inscribed on the soles of her feet gave sway over Land and\nWater. About the Star Stone I shall tell you later; but whilst we are\nspeaking of the sarcophagus, mark how she guarded her secret in case of\ngrave-wrecking or intrusion. None could open her Magic Coffer without\nthe lamps, for we know now that ordinary light will not be effective.\nThe great lid of the sarcophagus was not sealed down as usual, because\nshe wished to control the air. But she hid the lamps, which in\nstructure belong to the Magic Coffer, in a place where none could find\nthem, except by following the secret guidance which she had prepared\nfor only the eyes of wisdom. And even here she had guarded against\nchance discovery, by preparing a bolt of death for the unwary\ndiscoverer. To do this she had applied the lesson of the tradition of\nthe avenging guard of the treasures of the pyramid, built by her great\npredecessor of the Fourth Dynasty of the throne of Egypt.\n\n\"You have noted, I suppose, how there were, in the case of her tomb,\ncertain deviations from the usual rules. For instance, the shaft of\nthe Mummy Pit, which is usually filled up solid with stones and\nrubbish, was left open. Why was this? I take it that she had made\narrangements for leaving the tomb when, after her resurrection, she\nshould be a new woman, with a different personality, and less inured to\nthe hardships that in her first existence she had suffered. So far as\nwe can judge of her intent, all things needful for her exit into the\nworld had been thought of, even to the iron chain, described by Van\nHuyn, close to the door in the rock, by which she might be able to\nlower herself to the ground. That she expected a long period to elapse\nwas shown in the choice of material. An ordinary rope would be\nrendered weaker or unsafe in process of time, but she imagined, and\nrightly, that the iron would endure.\n\n\"What her intentions were when once she trod the open earth afresh we\ndo not know, and we never shall, unless her own dead lips can soften\nand speak.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XV\n\nThe Purpose of Queen Tera\n\n\n\"Now, as to the Star Jewel! This she manifestly regarded as the\ngreatest of her treasures. On it she had engraven words which none of\nher time dared to speak.\n\n\"In the old Egyptian belief it was held that there were words, which,\nif used properly--for the method of speaking them was as important as\nthe words themselves--could command the Lords of the Upper and the\nLower Worlds. The 'hekau', or word of power, was all-important in\ncertain ritual. On the Jewel of Seven Stars, which, as you know, is\ncarved into the image of a scarab, are graven in hieroglyphic two such\nhekau, one above, the other underneath. But you will understand better\nwhen you see it! Wait here! Do not stir!\"\n\nAs he spoke, he rose and left the room. A great fear for him came over\nme; but I was in some strange way relieved when I looked at Margaret.\nWhenever there had been any possibility of danger to her father, she\nhad shown great fear for him; now she was calm and placid. I said\nnothing, but waited.\n\nIn two or three minutes, Mr. Trelawny returned. He held in his hand a\nlittle golden box. This, as he resumed his seat, he placed before him\non the table. We all leaned forward as he opened it.\n\nOn a lining of white satin lay a wondrous ruby of immense size, almost\nas big as the top joint of Margaret's little finger. It was carven--it\ncould not possibly have been its natural shape, but jewels do not show\nthe working of the tool--into the shape of a scarab, with its wings\nfolded, and its legs and feelers pressed back to its sides. Shining\nthrough its wondrous \"pigeon's blood\" colour were seven different\nstars, each of seven points, in such position that they reproduced\nexactly the figure of the Plough. There could be no possible mistake\nas to this in the mind of anyone who had ever noted the constellation.\nOn it were some hieroglyphic figures, cut with the most exquisite\nprecision, as I could see when it came to my turn to use the\nmagnifying-glass, which Mr. Trelawny took from his pocket and handed to\nus.\n\nWhen we all had seen it fully, Mr. Trelawny turned it over so that it\nrested on its back in a cavity made to hold it in the upper half of the\nbox. The reverse was no less wonderful than the upper, being carved to\nresemble the under side of the beetle. It, too, had some hieroglyphic\nfigures cut on it. Mr. Trelawny resumed his lecture as we all sat with\nour heads close to this wonderful jewel:\n\n\"As you see, there are two words, one on the top, the other underneath.\nThe symbols on the top represent a single word, composed of one\nsyllable prolonged, with its determinatives. You know, all of you, I\nsuppose, that the Egyptian language was phonetic, and that the\nhieroglyphic symbol represented the sound. The first symbol here, the\nhoe, means 'mer', and the two pointed ellipses the prolongation of the\nfinal r: mer-r-r. The sitting figure with the hand to its face is what\nwe call the 'determinative' of 'thought'; and the roll of papyrus that\nof 'abstraction'. Thus we get the word 'mer', love, in its abstract,\ngeneral, and fullest sense. This is the hekau which can command the\nUpper World.\"\n\nMargaret's face was a glory as she said in a deep, low, ringing tone:\n\n\"Oh, but it is true. How the old wonder-workers guessed at almighty\nTruth!\" Then a hot blush swept her face, and her eyes fell. Her\nfather smiled at her lovingly as he resumed:\n\n\"The symbolisation of the word on the reverse is simpler, though the\nmeaning is more abstruse. The first symbol means 'men', 'abiding', and\nthe second, 'ab', 'the heart'. So that we get 'abiding of heart', or\nin our own language 'patience'. And this is the hekau to control the\nLower World!\"\n\nHe closed the box, and motioning us to remain as we were, he went back\nto his room to replace the Jewel in the safe. When he had returned and\nresumed his seat, he went on:\n\n\"That Jewel, with its mystic words, and which Queen Tera held under her\nhand in the sarcophagus, was to be an important factor--probably the\nmost important--in the working out of the act of her resurrection.\nFrom the first I seemed by a sort of instinct to realise this. I kept\nthe Jewel within my great safe, whence none could extract it; not even\nQueen Tera herself with her astral body.\"\n\n\"Her 'astral body'? What is that, Father? What does that mean?\" There\nwas a keenness in Margaret's voice as she asked the question which\nsurprised me a little; but Trelawny smiled a sort of indulgent parental\nsmile, which came through his grim solemnity like sunshine through a\nrifted cloud, as he spoke:\n\n\"The astral body, which is a part of Buddhist belief, long subsequent\nto the time I speak of, and which is an accepted fact of modern\nmysticism, had its rise in Ancient Egypt; at least, so far as we know.\nIt is that the gifted individual can at will, quick as thought itself,\ntransfer his body whithersoever he chooses, by the dissolution and\nreincarnation of particles. In the ancient belief there were several\nparts of a human being. You may as well know them; so that you will\nunderstand matters relative to them or dependent on them as they occur.\n\n\"First there is the 'Ka', or 'Double', which, as Doctor Budge explains,\nmay be defined as 'an abstract individuality of personality' which was\nimbued with all the characteristic attributes of the individual it\nrepresented, and possessed an absolutely independent existence. It was\nfree to move from place to place on earth at will; and it could enter\ninto heaven and hold converse with the gods. Then there was the 'Ba',\nor 'soul', which dwelt in the 'Ka', and had the power of becoming\ncorporeal or incorporeal at will; 'it had both substance and form....\nIt had power to leave the tomb.... It could revisit the body in the\ntomb ... and could reincarnate it and hold converse with it.' Again\nthere was the 'Khu', the 'spiritual intelligence', or spirit. It took\nthe form of 'a shining, luminous, intangible shape of the body.'...\nThen, again, there was the 'Sekhem', or 'power' of a man, his strength\nor vital force personified. These were the 'Khaibit', or 'shadow', the\n'Ren', or 'name', the 'Khat', or 'physical body', and 'Ab', the\n'heart', in which life was seated, went to the full making up of a man.\n\n\"Thus you will see, that if this division of functions, spiritual and\nbodily, ethereal and corporeal, ideal and actual, be accepted as exact,\nthere are all the possibilities and capabilities of corporeal\ntransference, guided always by an unimprisonable will or intelligence.\"\nAs he paused I murmured the lines from Shelley's \"Prometheus Unbound\":\n\n \"'The Magnus Zoroaster...\n Met his own image walking in the garden.'\"\n\nMr. Trelawny was not displeased. \"Quite so!\" he said, in his quiet\nway. \"Shelley had a better conception of ancient beliefs than any of\nour poets.\" With a voice changed again he resumed his lecture, for so\nit was to some of us:\n\n\"There is another belief of the ancient Egyptian which you must bear in\nmind; that regarding the ushaptiu figures of Osiris, which were placed\nwith the dead to its work in the Under World. The enlargement of this\nidea came to a belief that it was possible to transmit, by magical\nformulae, the soul and qualities of any living creature to a figure\nmade in its image. This would give a terrible extension of power to\none who held the gift of magic.\n\n\"It is from a union of these various beliefs, and their natural\ncorollaries, that I have come to the conclusion that Queen Tera\nexpected to be able to effect her own resurrection, when, and where,\nand how, she would. That she may have held before her a definite time\nfor making her effort is not only possible but likely. I shall not\nstop now to explain it, but shall enter upon the subject later on.\nWith a soul with the Gods, a spirit which could wander the earth at\nwill, and a power of corporeal transference, or an astral body, there\nneed be no bounds or limits to her ambition. The belief is forced upon\nus that for these forty or fifty centuries she lay dormant in her\ntomb--waiting. Waiting with that 'patience' which could rule the Gods\nof the Under World, for that 'love' which could command those of the\nUpper World. What she may have dreamt we know not; but her dream must\nhave been broken when the Dutch explorer entered her sculptured cavern,\nand his follower violated the sacred privacy of her tomb by his rude\noutrage in the theft of her hand.\n\n\"That theft, with all that followed, proved to us one thing, however:\nthat each part of her body, though separated from the rest, can be a\ncentral point or rallying place for the items or particles of her\nastral body. That hand in my room could ensure her instantaneous\npresence in the flesh, and its equally rapid dissolution.\n\n\"Now comes the crown of my argument. The purpose of the attack on me\nwas to get the safe open, so that the sacred Jewel of Seven Stars could\nbe extracted. That immense door of the safe could not keep out her\nastral body, which, or any part of it, could gather itself as well\nwithin as without the safe. And I doubt not that in the darkness of\nthe night that mummied hand sought often the Talisman Jewel, and drew\nnew inspiration from its touch. But despite all its power, the astral\nbody could not remove the Jewel through the chinks of the safe. The\nRuby is not astral; and it could only be moved in the ordinary way by\nthe opening of the doors. To this end, the Queen used her astral body\nand the fierce force of her Familiar, to bring to the keyhole of the\nsafe the master key which debarred her wish. For years I have\nsuspected, nay, have believed as much; and I, too, guarded myself\nagainst powers of the Nether World. I, too, waited in patience till I\nshould have gathered together all the factors required for the opening\nof the Magic Coffer and the resurrection of the mummied Queen!\" He\npaused, and his daughter's voice came out sweet and clear, and full of\nintense feeling:\n\n\"Father, in the Egyptian belief, was the power of resurrection of a\nmummied body a general one, or was it limited? That is: could it\nachieve resurrection many times in the course of ages; or only once,\nand that one final?\"\n\n\"There was but one resurrection,\" he answered. \"There were some who\nbelieved that this was to be a definite resurrection of the body into\nthe real world. But in the common belief, the Spirit found joy in the\nElysian Fields, where there was plenty of food and no fear of famine.\nWhere there was moisture and deep-rooted reeds, and all the joys that\nare to be expected by the people of an arid land and burning clime.\"\n\nThen Margaret spoke with an earnestness which showed the conviction of\nher inmost soul:\n\n\"To me, then, it is given to understand what was the dream of this\ngreat and far-thinking and high-souled lady of old; the dream that held\nher soul in patient waiting for its realisation through the passing of\nall those tens of centuries. The dream of a love that might be; a love\nthat she felt she might, even under new conditions, herself evoke. The\nlove that is the dream of every woman's life; of the Old and of the\nNew; Pagan or Christian; under whatever sun; in whatever rank or\ncalling; however may have been the joy or pain of her life in other\nways. Oh! I know it! I know it! I am a woman, and I know a woman's\nheart. What were the lack of food or the plenitude of it; what were\nfeast or famine to this woman, born in a palace, with the shadow of the\nCrown of the Two Egypts on her brows! What were reedy morasses or the\ntinkle of running water to her whose barges could sweep the great Nile\nfrom the mountains to the sea. What were petty joys and absence of\npetty fears to her, the raising of whose hand could hurl armies, or\ndraw to the water-stairs of her palaces the commerce of the world! At\nwhose word rose temples filled with all the artistic beauty of the\nTimes of Old which it was her aim and pleasure to restore! Under whose\nguidance the solid rock yawned into the sepulchre that she designed!\n\n\"Surely, surely, such a one had nobler dreams! I can feel them in my\nheart; I can see them with my sleeping eyes!\"\n\nAs she spoke she seemed to be inspired; and her eyes had a far-away\nlook as though they saw something beyond mortal sight. And then the\ndeep eyes filled up with unshed tears of great emotion. The very soul\nof the woman seemed to speak in her voice; whilst we who listened sat\nentranced.\n\n\"I can see her in her loneliness and in the silence of her mighty\npride, dreaming her own dream of things far different from those around\nher. Of some other land, far, far away under the canopy of the silent\nnight, lit by the cool, beautiful light of the stars. A land under\nthat Northern star, whence blew the sweet winds that cooled the\nfeverish desert air. A land of wholesome greenery, far, far away.\nWhere were no scheming and malignant priesthood; whose ideas were to\nlead to power through gloomy temples and more gloomy caverns of the\ndead, through an endless ritual of death! A land where love was not\nbase, but a divine possession of the soul! Where there might be some\none kindred spirit which could speak to hers through mortal lips like\nher own; whose being could merge with hers in a sweet communion of soul\nto soul, even as their breaths could mingle in the ambient air! I know\nthe feeling, for I have shared it myself. I may speak of it now, since\nthe blessing has come into my own life. I may speak of it since it\nenables me to interpret the feelings, the very longing soul, of that\nsweet and lovely Queen, so different from her surroundings, so high\nabove her time! Whose nature, put into a word, could control the forces\nof the Under World; and the name of whose aspiration, though but graven\non a star-lit jewel, could command all the powers in the Pantheon of\nthe High Gods.\n\n\"And in the realisation of that dream she will surely be content to\nrest!\"\n\nWe men sat silent, as the young girl gave her powerful interpretation\nof the design or purpose of the woman of old. Her every word and tone\ncarried with it the conviction of her own belief. The loftiness of her\nthoughts seemed to uplift us all as we listened. Her noble words,\nflowing in musical cadence and vibrant with internal force, seemed to\nissue from some great instrument of elemental power. Even her tone was\nnew to us all; so that we listened as to some new and strange being\nfrom a new and strange world. Her father's face was full of delight.\nI knew now its cause. I understood the happiness that had come into\nhis life, on his return to the world that he knew, from that prolonged\nsojourn in the world of dreams. To find in his daughter, whose nature\nhe had never till now known, such a wealth of affection, such a\nsplendour of spiritual insight, such a scholarly imagination, such...\nThe rest of his feeling was of hope!\n\nThe two other men were silent unconsciously. One man had had his\ndreaming; for the other, his dreams were to come.\n\nFor myself, I was like one in a trance. Who was this new, radiant\nbeing who had won to existence out of the mist and darkness of our\nfears? Love has divine possibilities for the lover's heart! The wings\nof the soul may expand at any time from the shoulders of the loved one,\nwho then may sweep into angel form. I knew that in my Margaret's\nnature were divine possibilities of many kinds. When under the shade\nof the overhanging willow-tree on the river, I had gazed into the\ndepths of her beautiful eyes, I had thenceforth a strict belief in the\nmanifold beauties and excellences of her nature; but this soaring and\nunderstanding spirit was, indeed, a revelation. My pride, like her\nfather's, was outside myself; my joy and rapture were complete and\nsupreme!\n\nWhen we had all got back to earth again in our various ways, Mr.\nTrelawny, holding his daughter's hand in his, went on with his\ndiscourse:\n\n\"Now, as to the time at which Queen Tera intended her resurrection to\ntake place! We are in contact with some of the higher astronomical\ncalculations in connection with true orientation. As you know, the\nstars shift their relative positions in the heavens; but though the\nreal distances traversed are beyond all ordinary comprehension, the\neffects as we see them are small. Nevertheless, they are susceptible\nof measurement, not by years, indeed, but by centuries. It was by this\nmeans that Sir John Herschel arrived at the date of the building of the\nGreat Pyramid--a date fixed by the time necessary to change the star of\nthe true north from Draconis to the Pole Star, and since then verified\nby later discoveries. From the above there can be no doubt whatever\nthat astronomy was an exact science with the Egyptians at least a\nthousand years before the time of Queen Tera. Now, the stars that go\nto make up a constellation change in process of time their relative\npositions, and the Plough is a notable example. The changes in the\nposition of stars in even forty centuries is so small as to be hardly\nnoticeable by an eye not trained to minute observances, but they can be\nmeasured and verified. Did you, or any of you, notice how exactly the\nstars in the Ruby correspond to the position of the stars in the\nPlough; or how the same holds with regard to the translucent places in\nthe Magic Coffer?\"\n\nWe all assented. He went on:\n\n\"You are quite correct. They correspond exactly. And yet when Queen\nTera was laid in her tomb, neither the stars in the Jewel nor the\ntranslucent places in the Coffer corresponded to the position of the\nstars in the Constellation as they then were!\"\n\nWe looked at each other as he paused: a new light was breaking upon\nus. With a ring of mastery in his voice he went on:\n\n\"Do you not see the meaning of this? Does it not throw a light on the\nintention of the Queen? She, who was guided by augury, and magic, and\nsuperstition, naturally chose a time for her resurrection which seemed\nto have been pointed out by the High Gods themselves, who had sent\ntheir message on a thunderbolt from other worlds. When such a time was\nfixed by supernal wisdom, would it not be the height of human wisdom to\navail itself of it? Thus it is\"--here his voice deepened and trembled\nwith the intensity of his feeling--\"that to us and our time is given\nthe opportunity of this wondrous peep into the old world, such as has\nbeen the privilege of none other of our time; which may never be again.\n\n\"From first to last the cryptic writing and symbolism of that wondrous\ntomb of that wondrous woman is full of guiding light; and the key of\nthe many mysteries lies in that most wondrous Jewel which she held in\nher dead hand over the dead heart, which she hoped and believed would\nbeat again in a newer and nobler world!\n\n\"There are only loose ends now to consider. Margaret has given us the\ntrue inwardness of the feeling of the other Queen!\" He looked at her\nfondly, and stroked her hand as he said it. \"For my own part I\nsincerely hope she is right; for in such case it will be a joy, I am\nsure, to all of us to assist at such a realisation of hope. But we\nmust not go too fast, or believe too much in our present state of\nknowledge. The voice that we hearken for comes out of times strangely\nother than our own; when human life counted for little, and when the\nmorality of the time made little account of the removing of obstacles\nin the way to achievement of desire. We must keep our eyes fixed on\nthe scientific side, and wait for the developments on the psychic side.\n\n\"Now, as to this stone box, which we call the Magic Coffer. As I have\nsaid, I am convinced that it opens only in obedience to some principle\nof light, or the exercise of some of its forces at present unknown to\nus. There is here much ground for conjecture and for experiment; for\nas yet the scientists have not thoroughly differentiated the kinds, and\npowers, and degrees of light. Without analysing various rays we may, I\nthink, take it for granted that there are different qualities and\npowers of light; and this great field of scientific investigation is\nalmost virgin soil. We know as yet so little of natural forces, that\nimagination need set no bounds to its flights in considering the\npossibilities of the future. Within but a few years we have made such\ndiscoveries as two centuries ago would have sent the discoverer's to\nthe flames. The liquefaction of oxygen; the existence of radium, of\nhelium, of polonium, of argon; the different powers of Roentgen and\nCathode and Bequerel rays. And as we may finally prove that there are\ndifferent kinds and qualities of light, so we may find that combustion\nmay have its own powers of differentiation; that there are qualities in\nsome flames non-existent in others. It may be that some of the\nessential conditions of substance are continuous, even in the\ndestruction of their bases. Last night I was thinking of this, and\nreasoning that as there are certain qualities in some oils which are\nnot in others, so there may be certain similar or corresponding\nqualities or powers in the combinations of each. I suppose we have all\nnoticed some time or other that the light of colza oil is not quite the\nsame as that of paraffin, or that the flames of coal gas and whale oil\nare different. They find it so in the light-houses! All at once it\noccurred to me that there might be some special virtue in the oil which\nhad been found in the jars when Queen Tera's tomb was opened. These\nhad not been used to preserve the intestines as usual, so they must\nhave been placed there for some other purpose. I remembered that in\nVan Huyn's narrative he had commented on the way the jars were sealed.\nThis was lightly, though effectually; they could be opened without\nforce. The jars were themselves preserved in a sarcophagus which,\nthough of immense strength and hermetically sealed, could be opened\neasily. Accordingly, I went at once to examine the jars. A little--a\nvery little of the oil still remained, but it had grown thick in the\ntwo and a half centuries in which the jars had been open. Still, it\nwas not rancid; and on examining it I found it was cedar oil, and that\nit still exhaled something of its original aroma. This gave me the idea\nthat it was to be used to fill the lamps. Whoever had placed the oil\nin the jars, and the jars in the sarcophagus, knew that there might be\nshrinkage in process of time, even in vases of alabaster, and fully\nallowed for it; for each of the jars would have filled the lamps half a\ndozen times. With part of the oil remaining I made some experiments,\ntherefore, which may give useful results. You know, Doctor, that cedar\noil, which was much used in the preparation and ceremonials of the\nEgyptian dead, has a certain refractive power which we do not find in\nother oils. For instance, we use it on the lenses of our microscopes\nto give additional clearness of vision. Last night I put some in one\nof the lamps, and placed it near a translucent part of the Magic\nCoffer. The effect was very great; the glow of light within was fuller\nand more intense than I could have imagined, where an electric light\nsimilarly placed had little, if any, effect. I should have tried\nothers of the seven lamps, but that my supply of oil ran out. This,\nhowever, is on the road to rectification. I have sent for more cedar\noil, and expect to have before long an ample supply. Whatever may\nhappen from other causes, our experiment shall not, at all events, fail\nfrom this. We shall see! We shall see!\"\n\nDoctor Winchester had evidently been following the logical process of\nthe other's mind, for his comment was:\n\n\"I do hope that when the light is effective in opening the box, the\nmechanism will not be impaired or destroyed.\"\n\nHis doubt as to this gave anxious thought to some of us.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XVI\n\nThe Cavern\n\n\nIn the evening Mr. Trelawny took again the whole party into the study.\nWhen we were all attention he began to unfold his plans:\n\n\"I have come to the conclusion that for the proper carrying out of what\nwe will call our Great Experiment we must have absolute and complete\nisolation. Isolation not merely for a day or two, but for as long as\nwe may require. Here such a thing would be impossible; the needs and\nhabits of a great city with its ingrained possibilities of\ninterruption, would, or might, quite upset us. Telegrams, registered\nletters, or express messengers would alone be sufficient; but the great\narmy of those who want to get something would make disaster certain.\nIn addition, the occurrences of the last week have drawn police\nattention to this house. Even if special instructions to keep an eye\non it have not been issued from Scotland Yard or the District Station,\nyou may be sure that the individual policeman on his rounds will keep\nit well under observation. Besides, the servants who have discharged\nthemselves will before long begin to talk. They must; for they have,\nfor the sake of their own characters, to give some reason for the\ntermination of a service which has I should say a position in the\nneighbourhood. The servants of the neighbours will begin to talk, and,\nperhaps the neighbours themselves. Then the active and intelligent\nPress will, with its usual zeal for the enlightenment of the public and\nits eye to increase of circulation, get hold of the matter. When the\nreporter is after us we shall not have much chance of privacy. Even if\nwe were to bar ourselves in, we should not be free from interruption,\npossibly from intrusion. Either would ruin our plans, and so we must\ntake measures to effect a retreat, carrying all our impedimenta with\nus. For this I am prepared. For a long time past I have foreseen such\na possibility, and have made preparation for it. Of course, I had no\nforeknowledge of what has happened; but I knew something would, or\nmight, happen. For more than two years past my house in Cornwall has\nbeen made ready to receive all the curios which are preserved here.\nWhen Corbeck went off on his search for the lamps I had the old house\nat Kyllion made ready; it is fitted with electric light all over, and\nall the appliances for manufacture of the light are complete. I had\nperhaps better tell you, for none of you, not even Margaret, knows\nanything of it, that the house is absolutely shut out from public\naccess or even from view. It stands on a little rocky promontory\nbehind a steep hill, and except from the sea cannot be seen. Of old it\nwas fenced in by a high stone wall, for the house which it succeeded\nwas built by an ancestor of mine in the days when a great house far\naway from a centre had to be prepared to defend itself. Here, then, is\na place so well adapted to our needs that it might have been prepared\non purpose. I shall explain it to you when we are all there. This\nwill not be long, for already our movement is in train. I have sent\nword to Marvin to have all preparation for our transport ready. He is\nto have a special train, which is to run at night so as to avoid\nnotice. Also a number of carts and stone-wagons, with sufficient men\nand appliances to take all our packing-cases to Paddington. We shall\nbe away before the Argus-eyed Pressman is on the watch. We shall today\nbegin our packing up; and I dare say that by tomorrow night we shall be\nready. In the outhouses I have all the packing-cases which were used\nfor bringing the things from Egypt, and I am satisfied that as they\nwere sufficient for the journey across the desert and down the Nile to\nAlexandria and thence on to London, they will serve without fail\nbetween here and Kyllion. We four men, with Margaret to hand us such\nthings as we may require, will be able to get the things packed safely;\nand the carrier's men will take them to the trucks.\n\n\"Today the servants go to Kyllion, and Mrs. Grant will make such\narrangements as may be required. She will take a stock of necessaries\nwith her, so that we will not attract local attention by our daily\nneeds; and will keep us supplied with perishable food from London.\nThanks to Margaret's wise and generous treatment of the servants who\ndecided to remain, we have got a staff on which we can depend. They\nhave been already cautioned to secrecy, so that we need not fear gossip\nfrom within. Indeed, as the servants will be in London after their\npreparations at Kyllion are complete, there will not be much subject\nfor gossip, in detail at any rate.\n\n\"As, however, we should commence the immediate work of packing at once,\nwe will leave over the after proceedings till later when we have\nleisure.\"\n\nAccordingly we set about our work. Under Mr. Trelawny's guidance, and\naided by the servants, we took from the outhouses great packing-cases.\nSome of these were of enormous strength, fortified by many thicknesses\nof wood, and by iron bands and rods with screw-ends and nuts. We\nplaced them throughout the house, each close to the object which it was\nto contain. When this preliminary work had been effected, and there\nhad been placed in each room and in the hall great masses of new hay,\ncotton-waste and paper, the servants were sent away. Then we set about\npacking.\n\nNo one, not accustomed to packing, could have the slightest idea of the\namount of the amount of work involved in such a task as that in which\nin we were engaged. For my own part I had had a vague idea that there\nwere a large number of Egyptian objects in Mr. Trelawny's house; but\nuntil I came to deal with them seriatim I had little idea of either\ntheir importance, the size of some of them, or of their endless number.\nFar into the night we worked. At times we used all the strength which\nwe could muster on a single object; again we worked separately, but\nalways under Mr. Trelawny's immediate direction. He himself, assisted\nby Margaret, kept an exact tall of each piece.\n\nIt was only when we sat down, utterly wearied, to a long-delayed supper\nthat we began to realised that a large part of the work was done. Only\na few of the packing-cases, however, were closed; for a vast amount of\nwork still remained. We had finished some of the cases, each of which\nheld only one of the great sarcophagi. The cases which held many\nobjects could not be closed till all had been differentiated and packed.\n\nI slept that night without movement or without dreams; and on our\ncomparing notes in the morning, I found that each of the others had had\nthe same experience.\n\nBy dinner-time next evening the whole work was complete, and all was\nready for the carriers who were to come at midnight. A little before\nthe appointed time we heard the rumble of carts; then we were shortly\ninvaded by an army of workmen, who seemed by sheer force of numbers to\nmove without effort, in an endless procession, all our prepared\npackages. A little over an hour sufficed them, and when the carts had\nrumbled away, we all got ready to follow them to Paddington. Silvio\nwas of course to be taken as one of our party.\n\nBefore leaving we went in a body over the house, which looked desolate\nindeed. As the servants had all gone to Cornwall there had been no\nattempt at tidying-up; every room and passage in which we had worked,\nand all the stairways, were strewn with paper and waste, and marked\nwith dirty feet.\n\nThe last thing which Mr. Trelawny did before coming away was to take\nfrom the great safe the Ruby with the Seven Stars. As he put it safely\ninto his pocket-book, Margaret, who had all at once seemed to grow\ndeadly tired and stood beside her father pale and rigid, suddenly\nbecame all aglow, as though the sight of the Jewel had inspired her.\nShe smiled at her father approvingly as she said:\n\n\"You are right, Father. There will not be any more trouble tonight.\nShe will not wreck your arrangements for any cause. I would stake my\nlife upon it.\"\n\n\"She--or something--wrecked us in the desert when we had come from the\ntomb in the Valley of the Sorcerer!\" was the grim comment of Corbeck,\nwho was standing by. Margaret answered him like a flash:\n\n\"Ah! she was then near her tomb from which for thousands of years her\nbody had not been moved. She must know that things are different now.\"\n\n\"How must she know?\" asked Corbeck keenly.\n\n\"If she has that astral body that Father spoke of, surely she must\nknow! How can she fail to, with an invisible presence and an intellect\nthat can roam abroad even to the stars and the worlds beyond us!\" She\npaused, and her father said solemnly:\n\n\"It is on that supposition that we are proceeding. We must have the\ncourage of our convictions, and act on them--to the last!\"\n\nMargaret took his hand and held it in a dreamy kind of way as we filed\nout of the house. She was holding it still when he locked the hall\ndoor, and when we moved up the road to the gateway, whence we took a\ncab to Paddington.\n\nWhen all the goods were loaded at the station, the whole of the workmen\nwent on to the train; this took also some of the stone-wagons used for\ncarrying the cases with the great sarcophagi. Ordinary carts and\nplenty of horses were to be found at Westerton, which was our station\nfor Kyllion. Mr. Trelawny had ordered a sleeping-carriage for our\nparty; as soon as the train had started we all turned into our cubicles.\n\nThat night I slept sound. There was over me a conviction of security\nwhich was absolute and supreme. Margaret's definite announcement:\n\"There will not be any trouble tonight!\" seemed to carry assurance with\nit. I did not question it; nor did anyone else. It was only\nafterwards that I began to think as to how she was so sure. The train\nwas a slow one, stopping many times and for considerable intervals. As\nMr. Trelawny did not wish to arrive at Westerton before dark, there was\nno need to hurry; and arrangements had been made to feed the workmen at\ncertain places on the journey. We had our own hamper with us in the\nprivate car.\n\nAll that afternoon we talked over the Great Experiment, which seemed to\nhave become a definite entity in our thoughts. Mr. Trelawny became\nmore and more enthusiastic as the time wore on; hope was with him\nbecoming certainty. Doctor Winchester seemed to become imbued with\nsome of his spirit, though at times he would throw out some scientific\nfact which would either make an impasse to the other's line of\nargument, or would come as an arresting shock. Mr. Corbeck, on the\nother hand, seemed slightly antagonistic to the theory. It may have\nbeen that whilst the opinions of the others advanced, his own stood\nstill; but the effect was an attitude which appeared negative, if not\nwholly one of negation.\n\nAs for Margaret, she seemed to be in some way overcome. Either it was\nsome new phase of feeling with her, or else she was taking the issue\nmore seriously than she had yet done. She was generally more or less\ndistraite, as though sunk in a brown study; from this she would recover\nherself with a start. This was usually when there occurred some marked\nepisode in the journey, such as stopping at a station, or when the\nthunderous rumble of crossing a viaduct woke the echoes of the hills or\ncliffs around us. On each such occasion she would plunge into the\nconversation, taking such a part in it as to show that, whatever had\nbeen her abstracted thought, her senses had taken in fully all that had\ngone on around her. Towards myself her manner was strange. Sometimes\nit was marked by a distance, half shy, half haughty, which was new to\nme. At other times there were moments of passion in look and gesture\nwhich almost made me dizzy with delight. Little, however, of a marked\nnature transpired during the journey. There was but one episode which\nhad in it any element of alarm, but as we were all asleep at the time\nit did not disturb us. We only learned it from a communicative guard in\nthe morning. Whilst running between Dawlish and Teignmouth the train\nwas stopped by a warning given by someone who moved a torch to and fro\nright on the very track. The driver had found on pulling up that just\nahead of the train a small landslip had taken place, some of the red\nearth from the high bank having fallen away. It did not however reach\nto the metals; and the driver had resumed his way, none too well\npleased at the delay. To use his own words, the guard thought \"there\nwas too much bally caution on this 'ere line!'\"\n\nWe arrived at Westerton about nine o'clock in the evening. Carts and\nhorses were in waiting, and the work of unloading the train began at\nonce. Our own party did not wait to see the work done, as it was in\nthe hands of competent people. We took the carriage which was in\nwaiting, and through the darkness of the night sped on to Kyllion.\n\nWe were all impressed by the house as it appeared in the bright\nmoonlight. A great grey stone mansion of the Jacobean period; vast and\nspacious, standing high over the sea on the very verge of a high cliff.\nWhen we had swept round the curve of the avenue cut through the rock,\nand come out on the high plateau on which the house stood, the crash\nand murmur of waves breaking against rock far below us came with an\ninvigorating breath of moist sea air. We understood then in an instant\nhow well we were shut out from the world on that rocky shelf above the\nsea.\n\nWithin the house we found all ready. Mrs. Grant and her staff had\nworked well, and all was bright and fresh and clean. We took a brief\nsurvey of the chief rooms and then separated to have a wash and to\nchange our clothes after our long journey of more than four-and-twenty\nhours.\n\nWe had supper in the great dining-room on the south side, the walls of\nwhich actually hung over the sea. The murmur came up muffled, but it\nnever ceased. As the little promontory stood well out into the sea,\nthe northern side of the house was open; and the due north was in no\nway shut out by the great mass of rock, which, reared high above us,\nshut out the rest of the world. Far off across the bay we could see\nthe trembling lights of the castle, and here and there along the shore\nthe faint light of a fisher's window. For the rest the sea was a dark\nblue plain with an occasional flicker of light as the gleam of\nstarlight fell on the slope of a swelling wave.\n\nWhen supper was over we all adjourned to the room which Mr. Trelawny\nhad set aside as his study, his bedroom being close to it. As we\nentered, the first thing I noticed was a great safe, somewhat similar\nto that which stood in his room in London. When we were in the room\nMr. Trelawny went over to the table, and, taking out his pocket-book,\nlaid it on the table. As he did so he pressed down on it with the palm\nof his hand. A strange pallor came over his face. With fingers that\ntrembled he opened the book, saying as he did so:\n\n\"Its bulk does not seem the same; I hope nothing has happened!\"\n\nAll three of us men crowded round close. Margaret alone remained calm;\nshe stood erect and silent, and still as a statue. She had a far-away\nlook in her eyes, as though she did not either know or care what was\ngoing on around her.\n\nWith a despairing gesture Trelawny threw open the pouch of the\npocket-book wherein he had placed the Jewel of Seven Stars. As he sank\ndown on the chair which stood close to him, he said in a hoarse voice:\n\n\"My God! it is gone. Without it the Great Experiment can come to\nnothing!\"\n\nHis words seemed to wake Margaret from her introspective mood. An\nagonised spasm swept her face; but almost on the instant she was calm.\nShe almost smiled as she said:\n\n\"You may have left it in your room, Father. Perhaps it has fallen out\nof the pocket-book whilst you were changing.\" Without a word we all\nhurried into the next room through the open door between the study and\nthe bedroom. And then a sudden calm fell on us like a cloud of fear.\n\nThere! on the table, lay the Jewel of Seven Stars, shining and\nsparkling with lurid light, as though each of the seven points of each\nthe seven stars gleamed through blood!\n\nTimidly we each looked behind us, and then at each other. Margaret was\nnow like the rest of us. She had lost her statuesque calm. All the\nintrospective rigidity had gone from her; and she clasped her hands\ntogether till the knuckles were white.\n\nWithout a word Mr. Trelawny raised the Jewel, and hurried with it into\nthe next room. As quietly as he could he opened the door of the safe\nwith the key fastened to his wrist and placed the Jewel within. When\nthe heavy doors were closed and locked he seemed to breathe more freely.\n\nSomehow this episode, though a disturbing one in many ways, seemed to\nbring us back to our old selves. Since we had left London we had all\nbeen overstrained; and this was a sort of relief. Another step in our\nstrange enterprise had been effected.\n\nThe change back was more marked in Margaret than in any of us. Perhaps\nit was that she was a woman, whilst we were men; perhaps it was that\nshe was younger than the rest; perhaps both reasons were effective,\neach in its own way. At any rate the change was there, and I was\nhappier than I had been through the long journey. All her buoyancy,\nher tenderness, her deep feeling seemed to shine forth once more; now\nand again as her father's eyes rested on her, his face seemed to light\nup.\n\nWhilst we waited for the carts to arrive, Mr. Trelawny took us through\nthe house, pointing out and explaining where the objects which we had\nbrought with us were to be placed. In one respect only did he withhold\nconfidence. The positions of all those things which had connection\nwith the Great Experiment were not indicated. The cases containing them\nwere to be left in the outer hall, for the present.\n\nBy the time we had made the survey, the carts began to arrive; and the\nstir and bustle of the previous night were renewed. Mr. Trelawny stood\nin the hall beside the massive ironbound door, and gave directions as\nto the placing of each of the great packing-cases. Those containing\nmany items were placed in the inner hall where they were to be unpacked.\n\nIn an incredibly short time the whole consignment was delivered; and\nthe men departed with a douceur for each, given through their foreman,\nwhich made them effusive in their thanks. Then we all went to our own\nrooms. There was a strange confidence over us all. I do not think\nthat any one of us had a doubt as the the quiet passing of the\nremainder of the night.\n\nThe faith was justified, for on our re-assembling in the morning we\nfound that all had slept well and peaceably.\n\nDuring that day all the curios, except those required for the Great\nExperiment, were put into the places designed for them. Then it was\narranged that all the servants should go back with Mrs. Grant to London\non the next morning.\n\nWhen they had all gone Mr. Trelawny, having seen the doors locked, took\nus into the study.\n\n\"Now,\" said he when we were seated, \"I have a secret to impart; but,\naccording to an old promise which does not leave me free, I must ask\nyou each to give me a solemn promise not to reveal it. For three\nhundred years at least such a promise has been exacted from everyone to\nwhom it was told, and more than once life and safety were secured\nthrough loyal observance of the promise. Even as it is, I am breaking\nthe letter, if not the spirit of the tradition; for I should only tell\nit to the immediate members of my family.\"\n\nWe all gave the promise required. Then he went on:\n\n\"There is a secret place in this house, a cave, natural originally but\nfinished by labour, underneath this house. I will not undertake to say\nthat it has always been used according to the law. During the Bloody\nAssize more than a few Cornishmen found refuge in it; and later, and\nearlier, it formed, I have no doubt whatever, a useful place for\nstoring contraband goods. 'Tre Pol and Pen', I suppose you know, have\nalways been smugglers; and their relations and friends and neighbours\nhave not held back from the enterprise. For all such reasons a safe\nhiding-place was always considered a valuable possession; and as the\nheads of our House have always insisted on preserving the secret, I am\nin honour bound to it. Later on, if all be well, I shall of course\ntell you, Margaret, and you too, Ross, under the conditions that I am\nbound to make.\"\n\nHe rose up, and we all followed him. Leaving us in the outer hall, he\nwent away alone for a few minutes; and returning, beckoned us to follow\nhim.\n\nIn the inside hall we found a whole section of an outstanding angle\nmoved away, and from the cavity saw a great hole dimly dark, and the\nbeginning of a rough staircase cut in the rock. As it was not pitch\ndark there was manifestly some means of lighting it naturally, so\nwithout pause we followed our host as he descended. After some forty\nor fifty steps cut in a winding passage, we came to a great cave whose\nfurther end tapered away into blackness. It was a huge place, dimly\nlit by a few irregular slits of eccentric shape. Manifestly these were\nfaults in the rock which would readily allow the windows be disguised.\nClose to each of them was a hanging shutter which could be easily swung\nacross by means of a dangling rope. The sound of the ceaseless beat of\nthe waves came up muffled from far below. Mr. Trelawny at once began\nto speak:\n\n\"This is the spot which I have chosen, as the best I know, for the\nscene of our Great Experiment. In a hundred different ways it fulfils\nthe conditions which I am led to believe are primary with regard to\nsuccess. Here, we are, and shall be, as isolated as Queen Tera herself\nwould have been in her rocky tomb in the Valley of the Sorcerer, and\nstill in a rocky cavern. For good or ill we must here stand by our\nchances, and abide by results. If we are successful we shall be able\nto let in on the world of modern science such a flood of light from the\nOld World as will change every condition of thought and experiment and\npractice. If we fail, then even the knowledge of our attempt will die\nwith us. For this, and all else which may come, I believe we are\nprepared!\" He paused. No one spoke, but we all bowed our heads\ngravely in acquiescence. He resumed, but with a certain hesitancy:\n\n\"It is not yet too late! If any of you have a doubt or misgiving, for\nGod's sake speak it now! Whoever it may be, can go hence without let or\nhindrance. The rest of us can go on our way alone!\"\n\nAgain he paused, and looked keenly at us in turn. We looked at each\nother; but no one quailed. For my own part, if I had had any doubt as\nto going on, the look on Margaret's face would have reassured me. It\nwas fearless; it was intense; it was full of a divine calm.\n\nMr. Trelawny took a long breath, and in a more cheerful, as well as in\na more decided tone, went on:\n\n\"As we are all of one mind, the sooner we get the necessary matters in\ntrain the better. Let me tell you that this place, like all the rest\nof the house, can be lit with electricity. We could not join the wires\nto the mains lest our secret should become known, but I have a cable\nhere which we can attach in the hall and complete the circuit!\" As he\nwas speaking, he began to ascend the steps. From close to the entrance\nhe took the end of a cable; this he drew forward and attached to a\nswitch in the wall. Then, turning on a tap, he flooded the whole vault\nand staircase below with light. I could now see from the volume of\nlight streaming up into the hallway that the hole beside the staircase\nwent direct into the cave. Above it was a pulley and a mass of strong\ntackle with multiplying blocks of the Smeaton order. Mr. Trelawny,\nseeing me looking at this, said, correctly interpreting my thoughts:\n\n\"Yes! it is new. I hung it there myself on purpose. I knew we should\nhave to lower great weights; and as I did not wish to take too many\ninto my confidence, I arranged a tackle which I could work alone if\nnecessary.\"\n\nWe set to work at once; and before nightfall had lowered, unhooked, and\nplaced in the positions designated for each by Trelawny, all the great\nsarcophagi and all the curios and other matters which we had taken with\nus.\n\nIt was a strange and weird proceeding, the placing of those wonderful\nmonuments of a bygone age in that green cavern, which represented in\nits cutting and purpose and up-to-date mechanism and electric lights\nboth the old world and the new. But as time went on I grew more and\nmore to recognise the wisdom and correctness of Mr. Trelawny's choice.\nI was much disturbed when Silvio, who had been brought into the cave in\nthe arms of his mistress, and who was lying asleep on my coat which I\nhad taken off, sprang up when the cat mummy had been unpacked, and flew\nat it with the same ferocity which he had previously exhibited. The\nincident showed Margaret in a new phase, and one which gave my heart a\npang. She had been standing quite still at one side of the cave\nleaning on a sarcophagus, in one of those fits of abstraction which had\nof late come upon her; but on hearing the sound, and seeing Silvio's\nviolent onslaught, she seemed to fall into a positive fury of passion.\nHer eyes blazed, and her mouth took a hard, cruel tension which was new\nto me. Instinctively she stepped towards Silvio as if to interfere in\nthe attack. But I too had stepped forward; and as she caught my eye a\nstrange spasm came upon her, and she stopped. Its intensity made me\nhold my breath; and I put up my hand to clear my eyes. When I had done\nthis, she had on the instant recovered her calm, and there was a look\nof brief wonder on her face. With all her old grace and sweetness she\nswept over and lifted Silvio, just as she had done on former occasions,\nand held him in her arms, petting him and treating him as though he\nwere a little child who had erred.\n\nAs I looked a strange fear came over me. The Margaret that I knew\nseemed to be changing; and in my inmost heart I prayed that the\ndisturbing cause might soon come to an end. More than ever I longed at\nthat moment that our terrible Experiment should come to a prosperous\ntermination.\n\nWhen all had been arranged in the room as Mr. Trelawny wished he turned\nto us, one after another, till he had concentrated the intelligence of\nus all upon him. Then he said:\n\n\"All is now ready in this place. We must only await the proper time to\nbegin.\"\n\nWe were silent for a while. Doctor Winchester was the first to speak:\n\n\"What is the proper time? Have you any approximation, even if you are\nnot satisfied as to the exact day?\" He answered at once:\n\n\"After the most anxious thought I have fixed on July 31!\"\n\n\"May I ask why that date?\" He spoke his answer slowly:\n\n\"Queen Tera was ruled in great degree by mysticism, and there are so\nmany evidences that she looked for resurrection that naturally she\nwould choose a period ruled over by a God specialised to such a\npurpose. Now, the fourth month of the season of Inundation was ruled\nby Harmachis, this being the name for 'Ra', the Sun-God, at his rising\nin the morning, and therefore typifying the awakening or arising. This\narising is manifestly to physical life, since it is of the mid-world of\nhuman daily life. Now as this month begins on our 25th July, the\nseventh day would be July 31st, for you may be sure that the mystic\nQueen would not have chosen any day but the seventh or some power of\nseven.\n\n\"I dare say that some of you have wondered why our preparations have\nbeen so deliberately undertaken. This is why! We must be ready in\nevery possible way when the time comes; but there was no use in having\nto wait round for a needless number of days.\"\n\nAnd so we waited only for the 31st of July, the next day but one, when\nthe Great Experiment would be made.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XVII\n\nDoubts and Fears\n\n\nWe learn of great things by little experiences. The history of ages is\nbut an indefinite repetition of the history of hours. The record of a\nsoul is but a multiple of the story of a moment. The Recording Angel\nwrites in the Great Book in no rainbow tints; his pen is dipped in no\ncolours but light and darkness. For the eye of infinite wisdom there\nis no need of shading. All things, all thoughts, all emotions, all\nexperiences, all doubts and hopes and fears, all intentions, all wishes\nseen down to the lower strata of their concrete and multitudinous\nelements, are finally resolved into direct opposites.\n\nDid any human being wish for the epitome of a life wherein were\ngathered and grouped all the experiences that a child of Adam could\nhave, the history, fully and frankly written, of my own mind during the\nnext forty-eight hours would afford him all that could be wanted. And\nthe Recorder could have wrought as usual in sunlight and shadow, which\nmay be taken to represent the final expressions of Heaven and Hell.\nFor in the highest Heaven is Faith; and Doubt hangs over the yawning\nblackness of Hell.\n\nThere were of course times of sunshine in those two days; moments when,\nin the realisation of Margaret's sweetness and her love for me, all\ndoubts were dissipated like morning mist before the sun. But the\nbalance of the time--and an overwhelming balance it was--gloom hung\nover me like a pall. The hour, in whose coming I had acquiesced, was\napproaching so quickly and was already so near that the sense of\nfinality was bearing upon me! The issue was perhaps life or death to\nany of us; but for this we were all prepared. Margaret and I were one\nas to the risk. The question of the moral aspect of the case, which\ninvolved the religious belief in which I had been reared, was not one\nto trouble me; for the issues, and the causes that lay behind them,\nwere not within my power even to comprehend. The doubt of the success\nof the Great Experiment was such a doubt as exists in all enterprises\nwhich have great possibilities. To me, whose life was passed in a\nseries of intellectual struggles, this form of doubt was a stimulus,\nrather than deterrent. What then was it that made for me a trouble,\nwhich became an anguish when my thoughts dwelt long on it?\n\nI was beginning to doubt Margaret!\n\nWhat it was that I doubted I knew not. It was not her love, or her\nhonour, or her truth, or her kindness, or her zeal. What then was it?\n\nIt was herself!\n\nMargaret was changing! At times during the past few days I had hardly\nknown her as the same girl whom I had met at the picnic, and whose\nvigils I had shared in the sick-room of her father. Then, even in her\nmoments of greatest sorrow or fright or anxiety, she was all life and\nthought and keenness. Now she was generally distraite, and at times in\na sort of negative condition as though her mind--her very being--was\nnot present. At such moments she would have full possession of\nobservation and memory. She would know and remember all that was going\non, and had gone on around her; but her coming back to her old self had\nto me something the sensation of a new person coming into the room. Up\nto the time of leaving London I had been content whenever she was\npresent. I had over me that delicious sense of security which comes\nwith the consciousness that love is mutual. But now doubt had taken\nits place. I never knew whether the personality present was my\nMargaret--the old Margaret whom I had loved at the first glance--or the\nother new Margaret, whom I hardly understood, and whose intellectual\naloofness made an impalpable barrier between us. Sometimes she would\nbecome, as it were, awake all at once. At such times, though she would\nsay to me sweet and pleasant things which she had often said before,\nshe would seem most unlike herself. It was almost as if she was\nspeaking parrot-like or at dictation of one who could read words or\nacts, but not thoughts. After one or two experiences of this kind, my\nown doubting began to make a barrier; for I could not speak with the\nease and freedom which were usual to me. And so hour by hour we\ndrifted apart. Were it not for the few odd moments when the old\nMargaret was back with me full of her charm I do not know what would\nhave happened. As it was, each such moment gave me a fresh start and\nkept my love from changing.\n\nI would have given the world for a confidant; but this was impossible.\nHow could I speak a doubt of Margaret to anyone, even her father! How\ncould I speak a doubt to Margaret, when Margaret herself was the theme!\nI could only endure--and hope. And of the two the endurance was the\nlesser pain.\n\nI think that Margaret must have at times felt that there was some cloud\nbetween us, for towards the end of the first day she began to shun me a\nlittle; or perhaps it was that she had become more diffident that usual\nabout me. Hitherto she had sought every opportunity of being with me,\njust as I had tried to be with her; so that now any avoidance, one of\nthe other, made a new pain to us both.\n\nOn this day the household seemed very still. Each one of us was about\nhis own work, or occupied with his own thoughts. We only met at meal\ntimes; and then, though we talked, all seemed more or less preoccupied.\nThere was not in the house even the stir of the routine of service.\nThe precaution of Mr. Trelawny in having three rooms prepared for each\nof us had rendered servants unnecessary. The dining-room was solidly\nprepared with cooked provisions for several days. Towards evening I\nwent out by myself for a stroll. I had looked for Margaret to ask her\nto come with me; but when I found her, she was in one of her apathetic\nmoods, and the charm of her presence seemed lost to me. Angry with\nmyself, but unable to quell my own spirit of discontent, I went out\nalone over the rocky headland.\n\nOn the cliff, with the wide expanse of wonderful sea before me, and no\nsound but the dash of waves below and the harsh screams of the seagulls\nabove, my thoughts ran free. Do what I would, they returned\ncontinuously to one subject, the solving of the doubt that was upon me.\nHere in the solitude, amid the wide circle of Nature's force and\nstrife, my mind began to work truly. Unconsciously I found myself\nasking a question which I would not allow myself to answer. At last\nthe persistence of a mind working truly prevailed; I found myself face\nto face with my doubt. The habit of my life began to assert itself,\nand I analysed the evidence before me.\n\nIt was so startling that I had to force myself into obedience to\nlogical effort. My starting-place was this: Margaret was changed--in\nwhat way, and by what means? Was it her character, or her mind, or her\nnature? for her physical appearance remained the same. I began to\ngroup all that I had ever heard of her, beginning at her birth.\n\nIt was strange at the very first. She had been, according to Corbeck's\nstatement, born of a dead mother during the time that her father and\nhis friend were in a trance in the tomb at Aswan. That trance was\npresumably effected by a woman; a woman mummied, yet preserving as we\nhad every reason to believe from after experience, an astral body\nsubject to a free will and an active intelligence. With that astral\nbody, space ceased to exist. The vast distance between London and\nAswan became as naught; and whatever power of necromancy the Sorceress\nhad might have been exercised over the dead mother, and possibly the\ndead child.\n\nThe dead child! Was it possible that the child was dead and was made\nalive again? Whence then came the animating spirit--the soul? Logic\nwas pointing the way to me now with a vengeance!\n\nIf the Egyptian belief was true for Egyptians, then the \"Ka\" of the\ndead Queen and her \"Khu\" could animate what she might choose. In such\ncase Margaret would not be an individual at all, but simply a phase of\nQueen Tera herself; an astral body obedient to her will!\n\nHere I revolted against logic. Every fibre of my being resented such a\nconclusion. How could I believe that there was no Margaret at all; but\njust an animated image, used by the Double of a woman of forty\ncenturies ago to its own ends...! Somehow, the outlook was brighter to\nme now, despite the new doubts.\n\nAt least I had Margaret!\n\nBack swung the logical pendulum again. The child then was not dead.\nIf so, had the Sorceress had anything to do with her birth at all? It\nwas evident--so I took it again from Corbeck--that there was a strange\nlikeness between Margaret and the pictures of Queen Tera. How could\nthis be? It could not be any birth-mark reproducing what had been in\nthe mother's mind; for Mrs. Trelawny had never seen the pictures. Nay,\neven her father had not seen them till he had found his way into the\ntomb only a few days before her birth. This phase I could not get rid\nof so easily as the last; the fibres of my being remained quiet. There\nremained to me the horror of doubt. And even then, so strange is the\nmind of man, Doubt itself took a concrete image; a vast and\nimpenetrable gloom, through which flickered irregularly and\nspasmodically tiny points of evanescent light, which seemed to quicken\nthe darkness into a positive existence.\n\nThe remaining possibility of relations between Margaret and the mummied\nQueen was, that in some occult way the Sorceress had power to change\nplaces with the other. This view of things could not be so lightly\nthrown aside. There were too many suspicious circumstances to warrant\nthis, now that my attention was fixed on it and my intelligence\nrecognised the possibility. Hereupon there began to come into my mind\nall the strange incomprehensible matters which had whirled through our\nlives in the last few days. At first they all crowded in upon me in a\njumbled mass; but again the habit of mind of my working life prevailed,\nand they took order. I found it now easier to control myself; for\nthere was something to grasp, some work to be done; though it was of a\nsorry kind, for it was or might be antagonistic to Margaret. But\nMargaret was herself at stake! I was thinking of her and fighting for\nher; and yet if I were to work in the dark, I might be even harmful to\nher. My first weapon in her defence was truth. I must know and\nunderstand; I might then be able to act. Certainly, I could not act\nbeneficently without a just conception and recognition of the facts.\nArranged in order these were as follows:\n\nFirstly: the strange likeness of Queen Tera to Margaret who had been\nborn in another country a thousand miles away, where her mother could\nnot possibly have had even a passing knowledge of her appearance.\n\nSecondly: the disappearance of Van Huyn's book when I had read up to\nthe description of the Star Ruby.\n\nThirdly: the finding of the lamps in the boudoir. Tera with her\nastral body could have unlocked the door of Corbeck's room in the\nhotel, and have locked it again after her exit with the lamps. She\ncould in the same way have opened the window, and put the lamps in the\nboudoir. It need not have been that Margaret in her own person should\nhave had any hand in this; but--but it was at least strange.\n\nFourthly: here the suspicions of the Detective and the Doctor came\nback to me with renewed force, and with a larger understanding.\n\nFifthly: there were the occasions on which Margaret foretold with\naccuracy the coming occasions of quietude, as though she had some\nconviction or knowledge of the intentions of the astral-bodied Queen.\n\nSixthly: there was her suggestion of the finding of the Ruby which her\nfather had lost. As I thought now afresh over this episode in the\nlight of suspicion in which her own powers were involved, the only\nconclusion I could come to was--always supposing that the theory of the\nQueen's astral power was correct--that Queen Tera being anxious that\nall should go well in the movement from London to Kyllion had in her\nown way taken the Jewel from Mr. Trelawny's pocket-book, finding it of\nsome use in her supernatural guardianship of the journey. Then in some\nmysterious way she had, through Margaret, made the suggestion of its\nloss and finding.\n\nSeventhly, and lastly, was the strange dual existence which Margaret\nseemed of late to be leading; and which in some way seemed a\nconsequence or corollary of all that had gone before.\n\nThe dual existence! This was indeed the conclusion which overcame all\ndifficulties and reconciled opposites. If indeed Margaret were not in\nall ways a free agent, but could be compelled to speak or act as she\nmight be instructed; or if her whole being could be changed for another\nwithout the possibility of any one noticing the doing of it, then all\nthings were possible. All would depend on the spirit of the\nindividuality by which she could be so compelled. If this\nindividuality were just and kind and clean, all might be well. But if\nnot! ... The thought was too awful for words. I ground my teeth with\nfutile rage, as the ideas of horrible possibilities swept through me.\n\nUp to this morning Margaret's lapses into her new self had been few and\nhardly noticeable, save when once or twice her attitude towards myself\nhad been marked by a bearing strange to me. But today the contrary was\nthe case; and the change presaged badly. It might be that that other\nindividuality was of the lower, not of the better sort! Now that I\nthought of it I had reason to fear. In the history of the mummy, from\nthe time of Van Huyn's breaking into the tomb, the record of deaths\nthat we knew of, presumably effected by her will and agency, was a\nstartling one. The Arab who had stolen the hand from the mummy; and the\none who had taken it from his body. The Arab chief who had tried to\nsteal the Jewel from Van Huyn, and whose throat bore the marks of seven\nfingers. The two men found dead on the first night of Trelawny's taking\naway the sarcophagus; and the three on the return to the tomb. The\nArab who had opened the secret serdab. Nine dead men, one of them\nslain manifestly by the Queen's own hand! And beyond this again the\nseveral savage attacks on Mr. Trelawny in his own room, in which, aided\nby her Familiar, she had tried to open the safe and to extract the\nTalisman jewel. His device of fastening the key to his wrist by a\nsteel bangle, though successful in the end, had wellnigh cost him his\nlife.\n\nIf then the Queen, intent on her resurrection under her own conditions\nhad, so to speak, waded to it through blood, what might she not do were\nher purpose thwarted? What terrible step might she not take to effect\nher wishes? Nay, what were her wishes; what was her ultimate purpose?\nAs yet we had had only Margaret's statement of them, given in all the\nglorious enthusiasm of her lofty soul. In her record there was no\nexpression of love to be sought or found. All we knew for certain was\nthat she had set before her the object of resurrection, and that in it\nthe North which she had manifestly loved was to have a special part.\nBut that the resurrection was to be accomplished in the lonely tomb in\nthe Valley of the Sorcerer was apparent. All preparations had been\ncarefully made for accomplishment from within, and for her ultimate\nexit in her new and living form. The sarcophagus was unlidded. The oil\njars, though hermetically sealed, were to be easily opened by hand; and\nin them provision was made for shrinkage through a vast period of time.\nEven flint and steel were provided for the production of flame. The\nMummy Pit was left open in violation of usage; and beside the stone\ndoor on the cliff side was fixed an imperishable chain by which she\nmight in safety descend to earth. But as to what her after intentions\nwere we had no clue. If it was that she meant to begin life again as a\nhumble individual, there was something so noble in the thought that it\neven warmed my heart to her and turned my wishes to her success.\n\nThe very idea seemed to endorse Margaret's magnificent tribute to her\npurpose, and helped to calm my troubled spirit.\n\nThen and there, with this feeling strong upon me, I determined to warn\nMargaret and her father of dire possibilities; and to await, as well\ncontent as I could in my ignorance, the development of things over\nwhich I had no power.\n\nI returned to the house in a different frame of mind to that in which I\nhad left it; and was enchanted to find Margaret--the old\nMargaret--waiting for me.\n\nAfter dinner, when I was alone for a time with the father and daughter,\nI opened the subject, though with considerable hesitation:\n\n\"Would it not be well to take every possible precaution, in case the\nQueen may not wish what we are doing, with regard to what may occur\nbefore the Experiment; and at or after her waking, if it comes off?\"\nMargaret's answer came back quickly; so quickly that I was convinced\nshe must have had it ready for some one:\n\n\"But she does approve! Surely it cannot be otherwise. Father is\ndoing, with all his brains and all his energy and all his great\ncourage, just exactly what the great Queen had arranged!\"\n\n\"But,\" I answered, \"that can hardly be. All that she arranged was in a\ntomb high up in a rock, in a desert solitude, shut away from the world\nby every conceivable means. She seems to have depended on this\nisolation to insure against accident. Surely, here in another country\nand age, with quite different conditions, she may in her anxiety make\nmistakes and treat any of you--of us--as she did those others in times\ngone past. Nine men that we know of have been slain by her own hand or\nby her instigation. She can be remorseless if she will.\" It did not\nstrike me till afterwards when I was thinking over this conversation,\nhow thoroughly I had accepted the living and conscious condition of\nQueen Tera as a fact. Before I spoke, I had feared I might offend Mr.\nTrelawny; but to my pleasant surprise he smiled quite genially as he\nanswered me:\n\n\"My dear fellow, in a way you are quite right. The Queen did\nundoubtedly intend isolation; and, all told, it would be best that her\nexperiment should be made as she arranged it. But just think, that\nbecame impossible when once the Dutch explorer had broken into her\ntomb. That was not my doing. I am innocent of it, though it was the\ncause of my setting out to rediscover the sepulchre. Mind, I do not\nsay for a moment that I would not have done just the same as Van Huyn.\nI went into the tomb from curiosity; and I took away what I did, being\nfired with the zeal of acquisitiveness which animates the collector.\nBut, remember also, that at this time I did not know of the Queen's\nintention of resurrection; I had no idea of the completeness of her\npreparations. All that came long afterwards. But when it did come, I\nhave done all that I could to carry out her wishes to the full. My\nonly fear is that I may have misinterpreted some of her cryptic\ninstructions, or have omitted or overlooked something. But of this I\nam certain; I have left undone nothing that I can imagine right to be\ndone; and I have done nothing that I know of to clash with Queen Tera's\narrangement. I want her Great Experiment to succeed. To this end I\nhave not spared labour or time or money--or myself. I have endured\nhardship, and braved danger. All my brains; all my knowledge and\nlearning, such as they are; all my endeavours such as they can be, have\nbeen, are, and shall be devoted to this end, till we either win or lose\nthe great stake that we play for.\"\n\n\"The great stake?\" I repeated; \"the resurrection of the woman, and the\nwoman's life? The proof that resurrection can be accomplished; by\nmagical powers; by scientific knowledge; or by use of some force which\nat present the world does not know?\"\n\nThen Mr. Trelawny spoke out the hopes of his heart which up to now he\nhad indicated rather than expressed. Once or twice I had heard Corbeck\nspeak of the fiery energy of his youth; but, save for the noble words\nof Margaret when she had spoken of Queen Tera's hope--which coming from\nhis daughter made possible a belief that her power was in some sense\ndue to heredity--I had seen no marked sign of it. But now his words,\nsweeping before them like a torrent all antagonistic thought, gave me a\nnew idea of the man.\n\n\"'A woman's life!' What is a woman's life in the scale with what we\nhope for! Why, we are risking already a woman's life; the dearest life\nto me in all the world, and that grows more dear with every hour that\npasses. We are risking as well the lives of four men; yours and my\nown, as well as those two others who have been won to our confidence.\n'The proof that resurrection can be accomplished!' That is much. A\nmarvellous thing in this age of science, and the scepticism that\nknowledge makes. But life and resurrection are themselves but items in\nwhat may be won by the accomplishment of this Great Experiment.\nImagine what it will be for the world of thought--the true world of\nhuman progress--the veritable road to the Stars, the itur ad astra of\nthe Ancients--if there can come back to us out of the unknown past one\nwho can yield to us the lore stored in the great Library of Alexandria,\nand lost in its consuming flames. Not only history can be set right,\nand the teachings of science made veritable from their beginnings; but\nwe can be placed on the road to the knowledge of lost arts, lost\nlearning, lost sciences, so that our feet may tread on the indicated\npath to their ultimate and complete restoration. Why, this woman can\ntell us what the world was like before what is called 'the Flood'; can\ngive us the origin of that vast astounding myth; can set the mind back\nto the consideration of things which to us now seem primeval, but which\nwere old stories before the days of the Patriarchs. But this is not\nthe end! No, not even the beginning! If the story of this woman be\nall that we think--which some of us most firmly believe; if her powers\nand the restoration of them prove to be what we expect, why, then we\nmay yet achieve a knowledge beyond what our age has ever known--beyond\nwhat is believed today possible for the children of men. If indeed\nthis resurrection can be accomplished, how can we doubt the old\nknowledge, the old magic, the old belief! And if this be so, we must\ntake it that the 'Ka' of this great and learned Queen has won secrets\nof more than mortal worth from her surroundings amongst the stars. This\nwoman in her life voluntarily went down living to the grave, and came\nback again, as we learn from the records in her tomb; she chose to die\nher mortal death whilst young, so that at her resurrection in another\nage, beyond a trance of countless magnitude, she might emerge from her\ntomb in all the fulness and splendour of her youth and power. Already\nwe have evidence that though her body slept in patience through those\nmany centuries, her intelligence never passed away, that her resolution\nnever flagged, that her will remained supreme; and, most important of\nall, that her memory was unimpaired. Oh, what possibilities are there\nin the coming of such a being into our midst! One whose history began\nbefore the concrete teaching of our Bible; whose experiences were\nantecedent to the formulation of the Gods of Greece; who can link\ntogether the Old and the New, Earth and Heaven, and yield to the known\nworlds of thought and physical existence the mystery of the Unknown--of\nthe Old World in its youth, and of Worlds beyond our ken!\"\n\nHe paused, almost overcome. Margaret had taken his hand when he spoke\nof her being so dear to him, and held it hard. As he spoke she\ncontinued to hold it. But there came over her face that change which I\nhad so often seen of late; that mysterious veiling of her own\npersonality which gave me the subtle sense of separation from her. In\nhis impassioned vehemence her father did not notice; but when he\nstopped she seemed all at once to be herself again. In her glorious\neyes came the added brightness of unshed tears; and with a gesture of\npassionate love and admiration, she stooped and kissed her father's\nhand. Then, turning to me, she too spoke:\n\n\"Malcolm, you have spoken of the deaths that came from the poor Queen;\nor rather that justly came from meddling with her arrangements and\nthwarting her purpose. Do you not think that, in putting it as you have\ndone, you have been unjust? Who would not have done just as she did?\nRemember she was fighting for her life! Ay, and for more than her\nlife! For life, and love, and all the glorious possibilities of that\ndim future in the unknown world of the North which had such enchanting\nhopes for her! Do you not think that she, with all the learning of her\ntime, and with all the great and resistless force of her mighty nature,\nhad hopes of spreading in a wider way the lofty aspirations of her\nsoul! That she hoped to bring to the conquering of unknown worlds, and\nusing to the advantage of her people, all that she had won from sleep\nand death and time; all of which might and could have been frustrated\nby the ruthless hand of an assassin or a thief. Were it you, in such\ncase would you not struggle by all means to achieve the object of your\nlife and hope; whose possibilities grew and grew in the passing of\nthose endless years? Can you think that that active brain was at rest\nduring all those weary centuries, whilst her free soul was flitting\nfrom world to world amongst the boundless regions of the stars? Had\nthese stars in their myriad and varied life no lessons for her; as they\nhave had for us since we followed the glorious path which she and her\npeople marked for us, when they sent their winged imaginations circling\namongst the lamps of the night!\"\n\nHere she paused. She too was overcome, and the welling tears ran down\nher cheeks. I was myself more moved than I can say. This was indeed my\nMargaret; and in the consciousness of her presence my heart leapt. Out\nof my happiness came boldness, and I dared to say now what I had feared\nwould be impossible: something which would call the attention of Mr.\nTrelawny to what I imagined was the dual existence of his daughter. As\nI took Margaret's hand in mine and kissed it, I said to her father:\n\n\"Why, sir! she couldn't speak more eloquently if the very spirit of\nQueen Tera was with her to animate her and suggest thoughts!\"\n\nMr. Trelawny's answer simply overwhelmed me with surprise. It\nmanifested to me that he too had gone through just such a process of\nthought as my own.\n\n\"And what if it was; if it is! I know well that the spirit of her\nmother is within her. If in addition there be the spirit of that great\nand wondrous Queen, then she would be no less dear to me, but doubly\ndear! Do not have fear for her, Malcolm Ross; at least have no more\nfear than you may have for the rest of us!\" Margaret took up the\ntheme, speaking so quickly that her words seemed a continuation of her\nfather's, rather than an interruption of them.\n\n\"Have no special fear for me, Malcolm. Queen Tera knows, and will\noffer us no harm. I know it! I know it, as surely as I am lost in the\ndepth of my own love for you!\"\n\nThere was something in her voice so strange to me that I looked quickly\ninto her eyes. They were bright as ever, but veiled to my seeing the\ninward thought behind them as are the eyes of a caged lion.\n\nThen the two other men came in, and the subject changed.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XVIII\n\nThe Lesson of the \"Ka\"\n\n\nThat night we all went to bed early. The next night would be an\nanxious one, and Mr. Trelawny thought that we should all be fortified\nwith what sleep we could get. The day, too, would be full of work.\nEverything in connection with the Great Experiment would have to be\ngone over, so that at the last we might not fail from any unthought-of\nflaw in our working. We made, of course, arrangements for summoning aid\nin case such should be needed; but I do not think that any of us had\nany real apprehension of danger. Certainly we had no fear of such\ndanger from violence as we had had to guard against in London during\nMr. Trelawny's long trance.\n\nFor my own part I felt a strange sense of relief in the matter. I had\naccepted Mr. Trelawny's reasoning that if the Queen were indeed such as\nwe surmised--such as indeed we now took for granted--there would not be\nany opposition on her part; for we were carrying out her own wishes to\nthe very last. So far I was at ease--far more at ease than earlier in\nthe day I should have thought possible; but there were other sources of\ntrouble which I could not blot out from my mind. Chief amongst them\nwas Margaret's strange condition. If it was indeed that she had in her\nown person a dual existence, what might happen when the two existences\nbecame one? Again, and again, and again I turned this matter over in my\nmind, till I could have shrieked out in nervous anxiety. It was no\nconsolation to me to remember that Margaret was herself satisfied, and\nher father acquiescent. Love is, after all, a selfish thing; and it\nthrows a black shadow on anything between which and the light it\nstands. I seemed to hear the hands go round the dial of the clock; I\nsaw darkness turn to gloom, and gloom to grey, and grey to light\nwithout pause or hindrance to the succession of my miserable feelings.\nAt last, when it was decently possible without the fear of disturbing\nothers, I got up. I crept along the passage to find if all was well\nwith the others; for we had arranged that the door of each of our rooms\nshould be left slightly open so that any sound of disturbance would be\neasily and distinctly heard.\n\nOne and all slept; I could hear the regular breathing of each, and my\nheart rejoiced that this miserable night of anxiety was safely passed.\nAs I knelt in my own room in a burst of thankful prayer, I knew in the\ndepths of my own heart the measure of my fear. I found my way out of\nthe house, and went down to the water by the long stairway cut in the\nrock. A swim in the cool bright sea braced my nerves and made me my\nold self again.\n\nAs I came back to the top of the steps I could see the bright sunlight,\nrising from behind me, turning the rocks across the bay to glittering\ngold. And yet I felt somehow disturbed. It was all too bright; as it\nsometimes is before the coming of a storm. As I paused to watch it, I\nfelt a soft hand on my shoulder; and, turning, found Margaret close to\nme; Margaret as bright and radiant as the morning glory of the sun! It\nwas my own Margaret this time! My old Margaret, without alloy of any\nother; and I felt that, at least, this last and fatal day was well\nbegun.\n\nBut alas! the joy did not last. When we got back to the house from a\nstroll around the cliffs, the same old routine of yesterday was\nresumed: gloom and anxiety, hope, high spirits, deep depression, and\napathetic aloofness.\n\nBut it was to be a day of work; and we all braced ourselves to it with\nan energy which wrought its own salvation.\n\nAfter breakfast we all adjourned to the cave, where Mr. Trelawny went\nover, point by point, the position of each item of our paraphernalia.\nHe explained as he went on why each piece was so placed. He had with\nhim the great rolls of paper with the measured plans and the signs and\ndrawings which he had had made from his own and Corbeck's rough notes.\nAs he had told us, these contained the whole of the hieroglyphics on\nwalls and ceilings and floor of the tomb in the Valley of the Sorcerer.\nEven had not the measurements, made to scale, recorded the position of\neach piece of furniture, we could have eventually placed them by a\nstudy of the cryptic writings and symbols.\n\nMr. Trelawny explained to us certain other things, not laid down on the\nchart. Such as, for instance, that the hollowed part of the table was\nexactly fitted to the bottom of the Magic Coffer, which was therefore\nintended to be placed on it. The respective legs of this table were\nindicated by differently shaped uraei outlined on the floor, the head\nof each being extended in the direction of the similar uraeus twined\nround the leg. Also that the mummy, when laid on the raised portion in\nthe bottom of the sarcophagus, seemingly made to fit the form, would\nlie head to the West and feet to the East, thus receiving the natural\nearth currents. \"If this be intended,\" he said, \"as I presume it is, I\ngather that the force to be used has something to do with magnetism or\nelectricity, or both. It may be, of course, that some other force,\nsuch, for instance, as that emanating from radium, is to be employed.\nI have experimented with the latter, but only in such small quantity as\nI could obtain; but so far as I can ascertain the stone of the Coffer\nis absolutely impervious to its influence. There must be some such\nunsusceptible substances in nature. Radium does not seemingly manifest\nitself when distributed through pitchblende; and there are doubtless\nother such substances in which it can be imprisoned. Possibly these\nmay belong to that class of \"inert\" elements discovered or isolated by\nSir William Ramsay. It is therefore possible that in this Coffer, made\nfrom an aerolite and therefore perhaps containing some element unknown\nin our world, may be imprisoned some mighty power which is to be\nreleased on its opening.\"\n\nThis appeared to be an end of this branch of the subject; but as he\nstill kept the fixed look of one who is engaged in a theme we all\nwaited in silence. After a pause he went on:\n\n\"There is one thing which has up to now, I confess, puzzled me. It may\nnot be of prime importance; but in a matter like this, where all is\nunknown, we must take it that everything is important. I cannot think\nthat in a matter worked out with such extraordinary scrupulosity such a\nthing should be overlooked. As you may see by the ground-plan of the\ntomb the sarcophagus stands near the north wall, with the Magic Coffer\nto the south of it. The space covered by the former is left quite bare\nof symbol or ornamentation of any kind. At the first glance this would\nseem to imply that the drawings had been made after the sarcophagus had\nbeen put into its place. But a more minute examination will show that\nthe symbolisation on the floor is so arranged that a definite effect is\nproduced. See, here the writings run in correct order as though they\nhad jumped across the gap. It is only from certain effects that it\nbecomes clear that there is a meaning of some kind. What that meaning\nmay be is what we want to know. Look at the top and bottom of the\nvacant space, which lies West and East corresponding to the head and\nfoot of the sarcophagus. In both are duplications of the same\nsymbolisation, but so arranged that the parts of each one of them are\nintegral portions of some other writing running crosswise. It is only\nwhen we get a coup d'oeil from either the head or the foot that you\nrecognise that there are symbolisations. See! they are in triplicate\nat the corners and the centre of both top and bottom. In every case\nthere is a sun cut in half by the line of the sarcophagus, as by the\nhorizon. Close behind each of these and faced away from it, as though\nin some way dependent on it, is the vase which in hieroglyphic writing\nsymbolises the heart--'Ab' the Egyptians called it. Beyond each of\nthese again is the figure of a pair of widespread arms turned upwards\nfrom the elbow; this is the determinative of the 'Ka' or 'Double'. But\nits relative position is different at top and bottom. At the head of\nthe sarcophagus the top of the 'Ka' is turned towards the mouth of the\nvase, but at the foot the extended arms point away from it.\n\n\"The symbolisation seems to mean that during the passing of the Sun\nfrom West to East--from sunset to sunrise, or through the Under World,\notherwise night--the Heart, which is material even in the tomb and\ncannot leave it, simply revolves, so that it can always rest on 'Ra'\nthe Sun-God, the origin of all good; but that the Double, which\nrepresents the active principle, goes whither it will, the same by\nnight as by day. If this be correct it is a warning--a caution--a\nreminder that the consciousness of the mummy does not rest but is to be\nreckoned with.\n\n\"Or it may be intended to convey that after the particular night of the\nresurrection, the 'Ka' would leave the heart altogether, thus typifying\nthat in her resurrection the Queen would be restored to a lower and\npurely physical existence. In such case what would become of her\nmemory and the experiences of her wide-wandering soul? The chiefest\nvalue of her resurrection would be lost to the world! This, however,\ndoes not alarm me. It is only guess-work after all, and is\ncontradictory to the intellectual belief of the Egyptian theology, that\nthe 'Ka' is an essential portion of humanity.\" He paused and we all\nwaited. The silence was broken by Doctor Winchester:\n\n\"But would not all this imply that the Queen feared intrusion of her\ntomb?\" Mr. Trelawny smiled as he answered:\n\n\"My dear sir, she was prepared for it. The grave robber is no modern\napplication of endeavour; he was probably known in the Queen's own\ndynasty. Not only was she prepared for intrusion, but, as shown in\nseveral ways, she expected it. The hiding of the lamps in the serdab,\nand the institution of the avenging 'treasurer' shows that there was\ndefence, positive as well as negative. Indeed, from the many\nindications afforded in the clues laid out with the most consummated\nthought, we may almost gather that she entertained it as a possibility\nthat others--like ourselves, for instance--might in all seriousness\nundertake the work which she had made ready for her own hands when the\ntime should have come. This very matter that I have been speaking of\nis an instance. The clue is intended for seeing eyes!\"\n\nAgain we were silent. It was Margaret who spoke:\n\n\"Father, may I have that chart? I should like to study it during the\nday!\"\n\n\"Certainly, my dear!\" answered Mr. Trelawny heartily, as he handed it\nto her. He resumed his instructions in a different tone, a more\nmatter-of-fact one suitable to a practical theme which had no mystery\nabout it:\n\n\"I think you had better all understand the working of the electric\nlight in case any sudden contingency should arise. I dare say you have\nnoticed that we have a complete supply in every part of the house, so\nthat there need not be a dark corner anywhere. This I had specially\narranged. It is worked by a set of turbines moved by the flowing and\nebbing tide, after the manner of the turbines at Niagara. I hope by\nthis means to nullify accident and to have without fail a full supply\nready at any time. Come with me and I will explain the system of\ncircuits, and point out to you the taps and the fuses.\" I could not\nbut notice, as we went with him all over the house, how absolutely\ncomplete the system was, and how he had guarded himself against any\ndisaster that human thought could foresee.\n\nBut out of the very completeness came a fear! In such an enterprise as\nours the bounds of human thought were but narrow. Beyond it lay the\nvast of Divine wisdom, and Divine power!\n\nWhen we came back to the cave, Mr. Trelawny took up another theme:\n\n\"We have now to settle definitely the exact hour at which the Great\nExperiment is to be made. So far as science and mechanism go, if the\npreparations are complete, all hours are the same. But as we have to\ndeal with preparations made by a woman of extraordinarily subtle mind,\nand who had full belief in magic and had a cryptic meaning in\neverything, we should place ourselves in her position before deciding.\nIt is now manifest that the sunset has an important place in the\narrangements. As those suns, cut so mathematically by the edge of the\nsarcophagus, were arranged of full design, we must take our cue from\nthis. Again, we find all along that the number seven has had an\nimportant bearing on every phase of the Queen's thought and reasoning\nand action. The logical result is that the seventh hour after sunset\nwas the time fixed on. This is borne out by the fact that on each of\nthe occasions when action was taken in my house, this was the time\nchosen. As the sun sets tonight in Cornwall at eight, our hour is to\nbe three in the morning!\" He spoke in a matter-of-fact way, though\nwith great gravity; but there was nothing of mystery in his word or\nmanner. Still, we were all impressed to a remarkable degree. I could\nsee this in the other men by the pallor that came on some of their\nfaces, and by the stillness and unquestioning silence with which the\ndecision was received. The only one who remained in any way at ease\nwas Margaret, who had lapsed into one of her moods of abstraction, but\nwho seemed to wake up to a note of gladness. Her father, who was\nwatching her intently, smiled; her mood was to him a direct\nconfirmation of his theory.\n\nFor myself I was almost overcome. The definite fixing of the hour\nseemed like the voice of Doom. When I think of it now, I can realise\nhow a condemned man feels at his sentence, or at the sounding of the\nlast hour he is to hear.\n\nThere could be no going back now! We were in the hands of God!\n\nThe hands of God...! And yet...! What other forces were arrayed? ...\nWhat would become of us all, poor atoms of earthly dust whirled in the\nwind which cometh whence and goeth whither no man may know. It was not\nfor myself... Margaret...!\n\nI was recalled by Mr. Trelawny's firm voice:\n\n\"Now we shall see to the lamps and finish our preparations.\"\nAccordingly we set to work, and under his supervision made ready the\nEgyptian lamps, seeing that they were well filled with the cedar oil,\nand that the wicks were adjusted and in good order. We lighted and\ntested them one by one, and left them ready so that they would light at\nonce and evenly. When this was done we had a general look round; and\nfixed all in readiness for our work at night.\n\nAll this had taken time, and we were I think all surprised when as we\nemerged from the cave we heard the great clock in the hall chime four.\n\nWe had a late lunch, a thing possible without trouble in the present\nstate of our commissariat arrangements. After it, by Mr. Trelawny's\nadvice, we separated; each to prepare in our own way for the strain of\nthe coming night. Margaret looked pale and somewhat overwrought, so I\nadvised her to lie down and try to sleep. She promised that she would.\nThe abstraction which had been upon her fitfully all day lifted for the\ntime; with all her old sweetness and loving delicacy she kissed me\ngood-bye for the present! With the sense of happiness which this gave\nme I went out for a walk on the cliffs. I did not want to think; and I\nhad an instinctive feeling that fresh air and God's sunlight, and the\nmyriad beauties of the works of His hand would be the best preparation\nof fortitude for what was to come.\n\nWhen I got back, all the party were assembling for a late tea. Coming\nfresh from the exhilaration of nature, it struck me as almost comic\nthat we, who were nearing the end of so strange--almost monstrous--an\nundertaking, should be yet bound by the needs and habits of our lives.\n\nAll the men of the party were grave; the time of seclusion, even if it\nhad given them rest, had also given opportunity for thought. Margaret\nwas bright, almost buoyant; but I missed about her something of her\nusual spontaneity. Towards myself there was a shadowy air of reserve,\nwhich brought back something of my suspicion. When tea was over, she\nwent out of the room; but returned in a minute with the roll of drawing\nwhich she had taken with her earlier in the day. Coming close to Mr.\nTrelawny, she said:\n\n\"Father, I have been carefully considering what you said today about\nthe hidden meaning of those suns and hearts and 'Ka's', and I have been\nexamining the drawings again.\"\n\n\"And with what result, my child?\" asked Mr. Trelawny eagerly.\n\n\"There is another reading possible!\"\n\n\"And that?\" His voice was now tremulous with anxiety. Margaret spoke\nwith a strange ring in her voice; a ring that cannot be, unless there\nis the consciousness of truth behind it:\n\n\"It means that at the sunset the 'Ka' is to enter the 'Ab'; and it is\nonly at the sunrise that it will leave it!\"\n\n\"Go on!\" said her father hoarsely.\n\n\"It means that for this night the Queen's Double, which is otherwise\nfree, will remain in her heart, which is mortal and cannot leave its\nprison-place in the mummy-shrouding. It means that when the sun has\ndropped into the sea, Queen Tera will cease to exist as a conscious\npower, till sunrise; unless the Great Experiment can recall her to\nwaking life. It means that there will be nothing whatever for you or\nothers to fear from her in such way as we have all cause to remember.\nWhatever change may come from the working of the Great Experiment,\nthere can come none from the poor, helpless, dead woman who has waited\nall those centuries for this night; who has given up to the coming hour\nall the freedom of eternity, won in the old way, in hope of a new life\nin a new world such as she longed for...!\" She stopped suddenly. As\nshe had gone on speaking there had come with her words a strange\npathetic, almost pleading, tone which touched me to the quick. As she\nstopped, I could see, before she turned away her head, that her eyes\nwere full of tears.\n\nFor once the heart of her father did not respond to her feeling. He\nlooked exultant, but with a grim masterfulness which reminded me of the\nset look of his stern face as he had lain in the trance. He did not\noffer any consolation to his daughter in her sympathetic pain. He only\nsaid:\n\n\"We may test the accuracy of your surmise, and of her feeling, when the\ntime comes!\" Having said so, he went up the stone stairway and into his\nown room. Margaret's face had a troubled look as she gazed after him.\n\nStrangely enough her trouble did not as usual touch me to the quick.\n\nWhen Mr. Trelawny had gone, silence reigned. I do not think that any\nof us wanted to talk. Presently Margaret went to her room, and I went\nout on the terrace over the sea. The fresh air and the beauty of all\nbefore helped to restore the good spirits which I had known earlier in\nthe day. Presently I felt myself actually rejoicing in the belief that\nthe danger which I had feared from the Queen's violence on the coming\nnight was obviated. I believed in Margaret's belief so thoroughly that\nit did not occur to me to dispute her reasoning. In a lofty frame of\nmind, and with less anxiety than I had felt for days, I went to my room\nand lay down on the sofa.\n\nI was awaked by Corbeck calling to me, hurriedly:\n\n\"Come down to the cave as quickly as you can. Mr. Trelawny wants to\nsee us all there at once. Hurry!\"\n\nI jumped up and ran down to the cave. All were there except Margaret,\nwho came immediately after me carrying Silvio in her arms. When the\ncat saw his old enemy he struggled to get down; but Margaret held him\nfast and soothed him. I looked at my watch. It was close to eight.\n\nWhen Margaret was with us her father said directly, with a quiet\ninsistence which was new to me:\n\n\"You believe, Margaret, that Queen Tera has voluntarily undertaken to\ngive up her freedom for this night? To become a mummy and nothing\nmore, till the Experiment has been completed? To be content that she\nshall be powerless under all and any circumstances until after all is\nover and the act of resurrection has been accomplished, or the effort\nhas failed?\" After a pause Margaret answered in a low voice:\n\n\"Yes!\"\n\nIn the pause her whole being, appearance, expression, voice, manner had\nchanged. Even Silvio noticed it, and with a violent effort wriggled\naway from her arms; she did not seem to notice the act. I expected\nthat the cat, when he had achieved his freedom, would have attacked the\nmummy; but on this occasion he did not. He seemed too cowed to\napproach it. He shrunk away, and with a piteous \"miaou\" came over and\nrubbed himself against my ankles. I took him up in my arms, and he\nnestled there content. Mr. Trelawny spoke again:\n\n\"You are sure of what you say! You believe it with all your soul?\"\nMargaret's face had lost the abstracted look; it now seemed illuminated\nwith the devotion of one to whom is given to speak of great things.\nShe answered in a voice which, though quiet, vibrated with conviction:\n\n\"I know it! My knowledge is beyond belief!\" Mr. Trelawny spoke again:\n\n\"Then you are so sure, that were you Queen Tera herself, you would be\nwilling to prove it in any way that I might suggest?\"\n\n\"Yes, any way!\" the answer rang out fearlessly. He spoke again, in a\nvoice in which was no note of doubt:\n\n\"Even in the abandonment of your Familiar to death--to annihilation.\"\n\nShe paused, and I could see that she suffered--suffered horribly.\nThere was in her eyes a hunted look, which no man can, unmoved, see in\nthe eyes of his beloved. I was about to interrupt, when her father's\neyes, glancing round with a fierce determination, met mine. I stood\nsilent, almost spellbound; so also the other men. Something was going\non before us which we did not understand!\n\nWith a few long strides Mr. Trelawny went to the west side of the cave\nand tore back the shutter which obscured the window. The cool air blew\nin, and the sunlight streamed over them both, for Margaret was now by\nhis side. He pointed to where the sun was sinking into the sea in a\nhalo of golden fire, and his face was as set as flint. In a voice\nwhose absolute uncompromising hardness I shall hear in my ears at times\ntill my dying day, he said:\n\n\"Choose! Speak! When the sun has dipped below the sea, it will be too\nlate!\" The glory of the dying sun seemed to light up Margaret's face,\ntill it shone as if lit from within by a noble light, as she answered:\n\n\"Even that!\"\n\nThen stepping over to where the mummy cat stood on the little table,\nshe placed her hand on it. She had now left the sunlight, and the\nshadows looked dark and deep over her. In a clear voice she said:\n\n\"Were I Tera, I would say 'Take all I have! This night is for the Gods\nalone!'\"\n\nAs she spoke the sun dipped, and the cold shadow suddenly fell on us.\nWe all stood still for a while. Silvio jumped from my arms and ran\nover to his mistress, rearing himself up against her dress as if asking\nto be lifted. He took no notice whatever of the mummy now.\n\nMargaret was glorious with all her wonted sweetness as she said sadly:\n\n\"The sun is down, Father! Shall any of us see it again? The night of\nnights is come!\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XIX\n\nThe Great Experiment\n\n\nIf any evidence had been wanted of how absolutely one and all of us had\ncome to believe in the spiritual existence of the Egyptian Queen, it\nwould have been found in the change which in a few minutes had been\neffected in us by the statement of voluntary negation made, we all\nbelieved, through Margaret. Despite the coming of the fearful ordeal,\nthe sense of which it was impossible to forget, we looked and acted as\nthough a great relief had come to us. We had indeed lived in such a\nstate of terrorism during the days when Mr. Trelawny was lying in a\ntrance that the feeling had bitten deeply into us. No one knows till\nhe has experienced it, what it is to be in constant dread of some\nunknown danger which may come at any time and in any form.\n\nThe change was manifested in different ways, according to each nature.\nMargaret was sad. Doctor Winchester was in high spirits, and keenly\nobservant; the process of thought which had served as an antidote to\nfear, being now relieved from this duty, added to his intellectual\nenthusiasm. Mr. Corbeck seemed to be in a retrospective rather than a\nspeculative mood. I was myself rather inclined to be gay; the relief\nfrom certain anxiety regarding Margaret was sufficient for me for the\ntime.\n\nAs to Mr. Trelawny he seemed less changed than any. Perhaps this was\nonly natural, as he had had in his mind the intention for so many years\nof doing that in which we were tonight engaged, that any event\nconnected with it could only seem to him as an episode, a step to the\nend. His was that commanding nature which looks so to the end of an\nundertaking that all else is of secondary importance. Even now, though\nhis terrible sternness relaxed under the relief from the strain, he\nnever flagged nor faltered for a moment in his purpose. He asked us\nmen to come with him; and going to the hall we presently managed to\nlower into the cave an oak table, fairly long and not too wide, which\nstood against the wall in the hall. This we placed under the strong\ncluster of electric lights in the middle of the cave. Margaret looked\non for a while; then all at once her face blanched, and in an agitated\nvoice she said:\n\n\"What are you going to do, Father?\"\n\n\"To unroll the mummy of the cat! Queen Tera will not need her Familiar\ntonight. If she should want him, it might be dangerous to us; so we\nshall make him safe. You are not alarmed, dear?\"\n\n\"Oh no!\" she answered quickly. \"But I was thinking of my Silvio, and\nhow I should feel if he had been the mummy that was to be unswathed!\"\n\nMr. Trelawny got knives and scissors ready, and placed the cat on the\ntable. It was a grim beginning to our work; and it made my heart sink\nwhen I thought of what might happen in that lonely house in the\nmid-gloom of the night. The sense of loneliness and isolation from the\nworld was increased by the moaning of the wind which had now risen\nominously, and by the beating of waves on the rocks below. But we had\ntoo grave a task before us to be swayed by external manifestations:\nthe unrolling of the mummy began.\n\nThere was an incredible number of bandages; and the tearing sound--they\nbeing stuck fast to each other by bitumen and gums and spices--and the\nlittle cloud of red pungent dust that arose, pressed on the senses of\nall of us. As the last wrappings came away, we saw the animal seated\nbefore us. He was all hunkered up; his hair and teeth and claws were\ncomplete. The eyes were closed, but the eyelids had not the fierce\nlook which I expected. The whiskers had been pressed down on the side\nof the face by the bandaging; but when the pressure was taken away they\nstood out, just as they would have done in life. He was a magnificent\ncreature, a tiger-cat of great size. But as we looked at him, our\nfirst glance of admiration changed to one of fear, and a shudder ran\nthrough each one of us; for here was a confirmation of the fears which\nwe had endured.\n\nHis mouth and his claws were smeared with the dry, red stains of recent\nblood!\n\nDoctor Winchester was the first to recover; blood in itself had small\ndisturbing quality for him. He had taken out his magnifying-glass and\nwas examining the stains on the cat's mouth. Mr. Trelawny breathed\nloudly, as though a strain had been taken from him.\n\n\"It is as I expected,\" he said. \"This promises well for what is to\nfollow.\"\n\nBy this time Doctor Winchester was looking at the red stained paws.\n\"As I expected!\" he said. \"He has seven claws, too!\" Opening his\npocket-book, he took out the piece of blotting-paper marked by Silvio's\nclaws, on which was also marked in pencil a diagram of the cuts made on\nMr. Trelawny's wrist. He placed the paper under the mummy cat's paw.\nThe marks fitted exactly.\n\nWhen we had carefully examined the cat, finding, however, nothing\nstrange about it but its wonderful preservation, Mr. Trelawny lifted it\nfrom the table. Margaret started forward, crying out:\n\n\"Take care, Father! Take care! He may injure you!\"\n\n\"Not now, my dear!\" he answered as he moved towards the stairway. Her\nface fell. \"Where are you going?\" she asked in a faint voice.\n\n\"To the kitchen,\" he answered. \"Fire will take away all danger for the\nfuture; even an astral body cannot materialise from ashes!\" He signed\nto us to follow him. Margaret turned away with a sob. I went to her;\nbut she motioned me back and whispered:\n\n\"No, no! Go with the others. Father may want you. Oh! it seems like\nmurder! The poor Queen's pet...!\" The tears were dropping from under\nthe fingers that covered her eyes.\n\nIn the kitchen was a fire of wood ready laid. To this Mr. Trelawny\napplied a match; in a few seconds the kindling had caught and the\nflames leaped. When the fire was solidly ablaze, he threw the body of\nthe cat into it. For a few seconds it lay a dark mass amidst the\nflames, and the room was rank with the smell of burning hair. Then the\ndry body caught fire too. The inflammable substances used in embalming\nbecame new fuel, and the flames roared. A few minutes of fierce\nconflagration; and then we breathed freely. Queen Tera's Familiar was\nno more!\n\nWhen we went back to the cave we found Margaret sitting in the dark.\nShe had switched off the electric light, and only a faint glow of the\nevening light came through the narrow openings. Her father went\nquickly over to her and put his arms round her in a loving protective\nway. She laid her head on his shoulder for a minute and seemed\ncomforted. Presently she called to me:\n\n\"Malcolm, turn up the light!\" I carried out her orders, and could see\nthat, though she had been crying, her eyes were now dry. Her father\nsaw it too and looked glad. He said to us in a grave tone:\n\n\"Now we had better prepare for our great work. It will not do to leave\nanything to the last!\" Margaret must have had a suspicion of what was\ncoming, for it was with a sinking voice that she asked:\n\n\"What are you going to do now?\" Mr. Trelawny too must have had a\nsuspicion of her feelings, for he answered in a low tone:\n\n\"To unroll the mummy of Queen Tera!\" She came close to him and said\npleadingly in a whisper:\n\n\"Father, you are not going to unswathe her! All you men...! And in\nthe glare of light!\"\n\n\"But why not, my dear?\"\n\n\"Just think, Father, a woman! All alone! In such a way! In such a\nplace! Oh! it's cruel, cruel!\" She was manifestly much overcome. Her\ncheeks were flaming red, and her eyes were full of indignant tears.\nHer father saw her distress; and, sympathising with it, began to\ncomfort her. I was moving off; but he signed to me to stay. I took it\nthat after the usual manner of men he wanted help on such an occasion,\nand man-like wished to throw on someone else the task of dealing with a\nwoman in indignant distress. However, he began to appeal first to her\nreason:\n\n\"Not a woman, dear; a mummy! She has been dead nearly five thousand\nyears!\"\n\n\"What does that matter? Sex is not a matter of years! A woman is a\nwoman, if she had been dead five thousand centuries! And you expect\nher to arise out of that long sleep! It could not be real death, if\nshe is to rise out of it! You have led me to believe that she will\ncome alive when the Coffer is opened!\"\n\n\"I did, my dear; and I believe it! But if it isn't death that has been\nthe matter with her all these years, it is something uncommonly like\nit. Then again, just think; it was men who embalmed her. They didn't\nhave women's rights or lady doctors in ancient Egypt, my dear! And\nbesides,\" he went on more freely, seeing that she was accepting his\nargument, if not yielding to it, \"we men are accustomed to such things.\nCorbeck and I have unrolled a hundred mummies; and there were as many\nwomen as men amongst them. Doctor Winchester in his work has had to\ndeal with women as well of men, till custom has made him think nothing\nof sex. Even Ross has in his work as a barrister...\" He stopped\nsuddenly.\n\n\"You were going to help too!\" she said to me, with an indignant look.\n\nI said nothing; I thought silence was best. Mr. Trelawny went on\nhurriedly; I could see that he was glad of interruption, for the part\nof his argument concerning a barrister's work was becoming decidedly\nweak:\n\n\"My child, you will be with us yourself. Would we do anything which\nwould hurt or offend you? Come now! be reasonable! We are not at a\npleasure party. We are all grave men, entering gravely on an\nexperiment which may unfold the wisdom of old times, and enlarge human\nknowledge indefinitely; which may put the minds of men on new tracks of\nthought and research. An experiment,\" as he went on his voice\ndeepened, \"which may be fraught with death to any one of us--to us all!\nWe know from what has been, that there are, or may be, vast and unknown\ndangers ahead of us, of which none in the house today may ever see the\nend. Take it, my child, that we are not acting lightly; but with all\nthe gravity of deeply earnest men! Besides, my dear, whatever feelings\nyou or any of us may have on the subject, it is necessary for the\nsuccess of the experiment to unswathe her. I think that under any\ncircumstances it would be necessary to remove the wrappings before she\nbecame again a live human being instead of a spiritualised corpse with\nan astral body. Were her original intention carried out, and did she\ncome to new life within her mummy wrappings, it might be to exchange a\ncoffin for a grave! She would die the death of the buried alive! But\nnow, when she has voluntarily abandoned for the time her astral power,\nthere can be no doubt on the subject.\"\n\nMargaret's face cleared. \"All right, Father!\" she said as she kissed\nhim. \"But oh! it seems a horrible indignity to a Queen, and a woman.\"\n\nI was moving away to the staircase when she called me:\n\n\"Where are you going?\" I came back and took her hand and stroked it as\nI answered:\n\n\"I shall come back when the unrolling is over!\" She looked at me long,\nand a faint suggestion of a smile came over her face as she said:\n\n\"Perhaps you had better stay, too! It may be useful to you in your\nwork as a barrister!\" She smiled out as she met my eyes: but in an\ninstant she changed. Her face grew grave, and deadly white. In a far\naway voice she said:\n\n\"Father is right! It is a terrible occasion; we need all to be serious\nover it. But all the same--nay, for that very reason you had better\nstay, Malcolm! You may be glad, later on, that you were present\ntonight!\"\n\nMy heart sank down, down, at her words; but I thought it better to say\nnothing. Fear was stalking openly enough amongst us already!\n\nBy this time Mr. Trelawny, assisted by Mr. Corbeck and Doctor\nWinchester, had raised the lid of the ironstone sarcophagus which\ncontained the mummy of the Queen. It was a large one; but it was none\ntoo big. The mummy was both long and broad and high; and was of such\nweight that it was no easy task, even for the four of us, to lift it\nout. Under Mr. Trelawny's direction we laid it out on the table\nprepared for it.\n\nThen, and then only, did the full horror of the whole thing burst upon\nme! There, in the full glare of the light, the whole material and\nsordid side of death seemed staringly real. The outer wrappings, torn\nand loosened by rude touch, and with the colour either darkened by dust\nor worn light by friction, seemed creased as by rough treatment; the\njagged edges of the wrapping-cloths looked fringed; the painting was\npatchy, and the varnish chipped. The coverings were evidently many,\nfor the bulk was great. But through all, showed that unhidable human\nfigure, which seems to look more horrible when partially concealed than\nat any other time. What was before us was Death, and nothing else.\nAll the romance and sentiment of fancy had disappeared. The two elder\nmen, enthusiasts who had often done such work, were not disconcerted;\nand Doctor Winchester seemed to hold himself in a business-like\nattitude, as if before the operating-table. But I felt low-spirited,\nand miserable, and ashamed; and besides I was pained and alarmed by\nMargaret's ghastly pallor.\n\nThen the work began. The unrolling of the mummy cat had prepared me\nsomewhat for it; but this was so much larger, and so infinitely more\nelaborate, that it seemed a different thing. Moreover, in addition to\nthe ever present sense of death and humanity, there was a feeling of\nsomething finer in all this. The cat had been embalmed with coarser\nmaterials; here, all, when once the outer coverings were removed, was\nmore delicately done. It seemed as if only the finest gums and spices\nhad been used in this embalming. But there were the same surroundings,\nthe same attendant red dust and pungent presence of bitumen; there was\nthe same sound of rending which marked the tearing away of the\nbandages. There were an enormous number of these, and their bulk when\nopened was great. As the men unrolled them, I grew more and more\nexcited. I did not take a part in it myself; Margaret had looked at me\ngratefully as I drew back. We clasped hands, and held each other hard.\nAs the unrolling went on, the wrappings became finer, and the smell\nless laden with bitumen, but more pungent. We all, I think, began to\nfeel it as though it caught or touched us in some special way. This,\nhowever, did not interfere with the work; it went on uninterruptedly.\nSome of the inner wrappings bore symbols or pictures. These were done\nsometimes wholly in pale green colour, sometimes in many colours; but\nalways with a prevalence of green. Now and again Mr. Trelawny or Mr.\nCorbeck would point out some special drawing before laying the bandage\non the pile behind them, which kept growing to a monstrous height.\n\nAt last we knew that the wrappings were coming to an end. Already the\nproportions were reduced to those of a normal figure of the manifest\nheight of the Queen, who was more than average height. And as the end\ndrew nearer, so Margaret's pallor grew; and her heart beat more and\nmore wildly, till her breast heaved in a way that frightened me.\n\nJust as her father was taking away the last of the bandages, he\nhappened to look up and caught the pained and anxious look of her pale\nface. He paused, and taking her concern to be as to the outrage on\nmodesty, said in a comforting way:\n\n\"Do not be uneasy, dear! See! there is nothing to harm you. The Queen\nhas on a robe.--Ay, and a royal robe, too!\"\n\nThe wrapping was a wide piece the whole length of the body. It being\nremoved, a profusely full robe of white linen had appeared, covering\nthe body from the throat to the feet.\n\nAnd such linen! We all bent over to look at it.\n\nMargaret lost her concern, in her woman's interest in fine stuff. Then\nthe rest of us looked with admiration; for surely such linen was never\nseen by the eyes of our age. It was as fine as the finest silk. But\nnever was spun or woven silk which lay in such gracious folds,\nconstrict though they were by the close wrappings of the mummy cloth,\nand fixed into hardness by the passing of thousands of years.\n\nRound the neck it was delicately embroidered in pure gold with tiny\nsprays of sycamore; and round the feet, similarly worked, was an\nendless line of lotus plants of unequal height, and with all the\ngraceful abandon of natural growth.\n\nAcross the body, but manifestly not surrounding it, was a girdle of\njewels. A wondrous girdle, which shone and glowed with all the forms\nand phases and colours of the sky!\n\nThe buckle was a great yellow stone, round of outline, deep and curved,\nas if a yielding globe had been pressed down. It shone and glowed, as\nthough a veritable sun lay within; the rays of its light seemed to\nstrike out and illumine all round. Flanking it were two great\nmoonstones of lesser size, whose glowing, beside the glory of the\nsunstone, was like the silvery sheen of moonlight.\n\nAnd then on either side, linked by golden clasps of exquisite shape,\nwas a line of flaming jewels, of which the colours seemed to glow.\nEach of these stones seemed to hold a living star, which twinkled in\nevery phase of changing light.\n\nMargaret raised her hands in ecstasy. She bent over to examine more\nclosely; but suddenly drew back and stood fully erect at her grand\nheight. She seemed to speak with the conviction of absolute knowledge\nas she said:\n\n\"That is no cerement! It was not meant for the clothing of death! It\nis a marriage robe!\"\n\nMr. Trelawny leaned over and touched the linen robe. He lifted a fold\nat the neck, and I knew from the quick intake of his breath that\nsomething had surprised him. He lifted yet a little more; and then he,\ntoo, stood back and pointed, saying:\n\n\"Margaret is right! That dress is not intended to be worn by the dead!\nSee! her figure is not robed in it. It is but laid upon her.\" He\nlifted the zone of jewels and handed it to Margaret. Then with both\nhands he raised the ample robe, and laid it across the arms which she\nextended in a natural impulse. Things of such beauty were too precious\nto be handled with any but the greatest care.\n\nWe all stood awed at the beauty of the figure which, save for the face\ncloth, now lay completely nude before us. Mr. Trelawny bent over, and\nwith hands that trembled slightly, raised this linen cloth which was of\nthe same fineness as the robe. As he stood back and the whole glorious\nbeauty of the Queen was revealed, I felt a rush of shame sweep over me.\nIt was not right that we should be there, gazing with irreverent eyes\non such unclad beauty: it was indecent; it was almost sacrilegious!\nAnd yet the white wonder of that beautiful form was something to dream\nof. It was not like death at all; it was like a statue carven in ivory\nby the hand of a Praxiteles. There was nothing of that horrible\nshrinkage which death seems to effect in a moment. There was none of\nthe wrinkled toughness which seems to be a leading characteristic of\nmost mummies. There was not the shrunken attenuation of a body dried in\nthe sand, as I had seen before in museums. All the pores of the body\nseemed to have been preserved in some wonderful way. The flesh was\nfull and round, as in a living person; and the skin was as smooth as\nsatin. The colour seemed extraordinary. It was like ivory, new ivory;\nexcept where the right arm, with shattered, bloodstained wrist and\nmissing hand had lain bare to exposure in the sarcophagus for so many\ntens of centuries.\n\nWith a womanly impulse; with a mouth that drooped with pity, with eyes\nthat flashed with anger, and cheeks that flamed, Margaret threw over\nthe body the beautiful robe which lay across her arm. Only the face\nwas then to be seen. This was more startling even than the body, for\nit seemed not dead, but alive. The eyelids were closed; but the long,\nblack, curling lashes lay over on the cheeks. The nostrils, set in\ngrave pride, seemed to have the repose which, when it is seen in life,\nis greater than the repose of death. The full, red lips, though the\nmouth was not open, showed the tiniest white line of pearly teeth\nwithin. Her hair, glorious in quantity and glossy black as the raven's\nwing, was piled in great masses over the white forehead, on which a few\ncurling tresses strayed like tendrils. I was amazed at the likeness to\nMargaret, though I had had my mind prepared for this by Mr. Corbeck's\nquotation of her father's statement. This woman--I could not think of\nher as a mummy or a corpse--was the image of Margaret as my eyes had\nfirst lit on her. The likeness was increased by the jewelled ornament\nwhich she wore in her hair, the \"Disk and Plumes\", such as Margaret,\ntoo, had worn. It, too, was a glorious jewel; one noble pearl of\nmoonlight lustre, flanked by carven pieces of moonstone.\n\nMr. Trelawny was overcome as he looked. He quite broke down; and when\nMargaret flew to him and held him close in her arms and comforted him,\nI heard him murmur brokenly:\n\n\"It looks as if you were dead, my child!\"\n\nThere was a long silence. I could hear without the roar of the wind,\nwhich was now risen to a tempest, and the furious dashing of the waves\nfar below. Mr. Trelawny's voice broke the spell:\n\n\"Later on we must try and find out the process of embalming. It is not\nlike any that I know. There does not seem to have been any opening cut\nfor the withdrawing of the viscera and organs, which apparently remain\nintact within the body. Then, again, there is no moisture in the\nflesh; but its place is supplied with something else, as though wax or\nstearine had been conveyed into the veins by some subtle process. I\nwonder could it be possible that at that time they could have used\nparaffin. It might have been, by some process that we know not, pumped\ninto the veins, where it hardened!\"\n\nMargaret, having thrown a white sheet over the Queen's body, asked us\nto bring it to her own room, where we laid it on her bed. Then she\nsent us away, saying:\n\n\"Leave her alone with me. There are still many hours to pass, and I do\nnot like to leave her lying there, all stark in the glare of light.\nThis may be the Bridal she prepared for--the Bridal of Death; and at\nleast she shall wear her pretty robes.\"\n\nWhen presently she brought me back to her room, the dead Queen was\ndressed in the robe of fine linen with the embroidery of gold; and all\nher beautiful jewels were in place. Candles were lit around her, and\nwhite flowers lay upon her breast.\n\nHand in hand we stood looking at her for a while. Then with a sigh,\nMargaret covered her with one of her own snowy sheets. She turned\naway; and after softly closing the door of the room, went back with me\nto the others who had now come into the dining room. Here we all began\nto talk over the things that had been, and that were to be.\n\nNow and again I could feel that one or other of us was forcing\nconversation, as if we were not sure of ourselves. The long wait was\nbeginning to tell on our nerves. It was apparent to me that Mr.\nTrelawny had suffered in that strange trance more than we suspected, or\nthan he cared to show. True, his will and his determination were as\nstrong as ever; but the purely physical side of him had been weakened\nsomewhat. It was indeed only natural that it should be. No man can go\nthrough a period of four days of absolute negation of life without\nbeing weakened by it somehow.\n\nAs the hours crept by, the time passed more and more slowly. The other\nmen seemed to get unconsciously a little drowsy. I wondered if in the\ncase of Mr. Trelawny and Mr. Corbeck, who had already been under the\nhypnotic influence of the Queen, the same dormance was manifesting\nitself. Doctor Winchester had periods of distraction which grew longer\nand more frequent as the time wore on.\n\nAs to Margaret, the suspense told on her exceedingly, as might have\nbeen expected in the case of a woman. She grew paler and paler still;\ntill at last about midnight, I began to be seriously alarmed about her.\nI got her to come into the library with me, and tried to make her lie\ndown on a sofa for a little while. As Mr. Trelawny had decided that\nthe experiment was to be made exactly at the seventh hour after sunset,\nit would be as nearly as possible three o'clock in the morning when the\ngreat trial should be made. Even allowing a whole hour for the final\npreparations, we had still two hours of waiting to go through, and I\npromised faithfully to watch her and to awake her at any time she might\nname. She would not hear of it, however. She thanked me sweetly and\nsmiled at me as she did so; but she assured me that she was not sleepy,\nand that she was quite able to bear up. That it was only the suspense\nand excitement of waiting that made her pale. I agreed perforce; but I\nkept her talking of many things in the library for more than an hour;\nso that at last, when she insisted on going back to her father's room I\nfelt that I had at least done something to help her pass the time.\n\nWe found the three men sitting patiently in silence. With manlike\nfortitude they were content to be still when they felt they had done\nall in their power. And so we waited.\n\nThe striking of two o'clock seemed to freshen us all up. Whatever\nshadows had been settling over us during the long hours preceding\nseemed to lift at once; and we went about our separate duties alert and\nwith alacrity. We looked first to the windows to see that they were\nclosed, and we got ready our respirators to put them on when the time\nshould be close at hand. We had from the first arranged to use them\nfor we did not know whether some noxious fume might not come from the\nmagic coffer when it should be opened. Somehow, it never seemed to\noccur to any of us that there was any doubt as to its opening.\n\nThen, under Margaret's guidance, we carried the mummied body of Queen\nTera from her room into her father's, and laid it on a couch. We put\nthe sheet lightly over it, so that if she should wake she could at once\nslip from under it. The severed hand was placed in its true position\non her breast, and under it the Jewel of Seven Stars which Mr. Trelawny\nhad taken from the great safe. It seemed to flash and blaze as he put\nit in its place.\n\nIt was a strange sight, and a strange experience. The group of grave\nsilent men carried the white still figure, which looked like an ivory\nstatue when through our moving the sheet fell back, away from the\nlighted candles and the white flowers. We placed it on the couch in\nthat other room, where the blaze of the electric lights shone on the\ngreat sarcophagus fixed in the middle of the room ready for the final\nexperiment, the great experiment consequent on the researches during a\nlifetime of these two travelled scholars. Again, the startling\nlikeness between Margaret and the mummy, intensified by her own\nextraordinary pallor, heightened the strangeness of it all. When all\nwas finally fixed three-quarters of an hour had gone, for we were\ndeliberate in all our doings. Margaret beckoned me, and I went out\nwith her to bring in Silvio. He came to her purring. She took him up\nand handed him to me; and then did a thing which moved me strangely and\nbrought home to me keenly the desperate nature of the enterprise on\nwhich we were embarked. One by one, she blew out the candles carefully\nand placed them back in their usual places. When she had finished she\nsaid to me:\n\n\"They are done with now. Whatever comes--life or death--there will be\nno purpose in their using now.\" Then taking Silvio into her arms, and\npressing him close to her bosom where he purred loudly, we went back to\nthe room. I closed the door carefully behind me, feeling as I did so a\nstrange thrill as of finality. There was to be no going back now.\nThen we put on our respirators, and took our places as had been\narranged. I was to stand by the taps of the electric lights beside the\ndoor, ready to turn them off or on as Mr. Trelawny should direct.\nDoctor Winchester was to stand behind the couch so that he should not\nbe between the mummy and the sarcophagus; he was to watch carefully\nwhat should take place with regard to the Queen. Margaret was to be\nbeside him; she held Silvio ready to place him upon the couch or beside\nit when she might think right. Mr. Trelawny and Mr. Corbeck were to\nattend to the lighting of the lamps. When the hands of the clock were\nclose to the hour, they stood ready with their linstocks.\n\nThe striking of the silver bell of the clock seemed to smite on our\nhearts like a knell of doom. One! Two! Three!\n\nBefore the third stroke the wicks of the lamps had caught, and I had\nturned out the electric light. In the dimness of the struggling lamps,\nand after the bright glow of the electric light, the room and all\nwithin it took weird shapes, and all seemed in an instant to change.\nWe waited with our hearts beating. I know mine did, and I fancied I\ncould hear the pulsation of the others.\n\nThe seconds seemed to pass with leaden wings. It were as though all\nthe world were standing still. The figures of the others stood out\ndimly, Margaret's white dress alone showing clearly in the gloom. The\nthick respirators which we all wore added to the strange appearance.\nThe thin light of the lamps showed Mr. Trelawny's square jaw and strong\nmouth and the brown shaven face of Mr. Corbeck. Their eyes seemed to\nglare in the light. Across the room Doctor Winchester's eyes twinkled\nlike stars, and Margaret's blazed like black suns. Silvio's eyes were\nlike emeralds.\n\nWould the lamps never burn up!\n\nIt was only a few seconds in all till they did blaze up. A slow,\nsteady light, growing more and more bright, and changing in colour from\nblue to crystal white. So they stayed for a couple of minutes without\nchange in the coffer; till at last there began to appear all over it a\ndelicate glow. This grew and grew, till it became like a blazing\njewel, and then like a living thing whose essence of life was light.\nWe waited and waited, our hearts seeming to stand still.\n\nAll at once there was a sound like a tiny muffled explosion and the\ncover lifted right up on a level plane a few inches; there was no\nmistaking anything now, for the whole room was full of a blaze of\nlight. Then the cover, staying fast at one side rose slowly up on the\nother, as though yielding to some pressure of balance. The coffer\nstill continued to glow; from it began to steal a faint greenish smoke.\nI could not smell it fully on account of the respirator; but, even\nthrough that, I was conscious of a strange pungent odour. Then this\nsmoke began to grow thicker, and to roll out in volumes of ever\nincreasing density till the whole room began to get obscure. I had a\nterrible desire to rush over to Margaret, whom I saw through the smoke\nstill standing erect behind the couch. Then, as I looked, I saw Doctor\nWinchester sink down. He was not unconscious; for he waved his hand\nback and forward, as though to forbid any one to come to him. At this\ntime the figures of Mr. Trelawny and Mr. Corbeck were becoming\nindistinct in the smoke which rolled round them in thick billowy\nclouds. Finally I lost sight of them altogether. The coffer still\ncontinued to glow; but the lamps began to grow dim. At first I thought\nthat their light was being overpowered by the thick black smoke; but\npresently I saw that they were, one by one, burning out. They must\nhave burned quickly to produce such fierce and vivid flames.\n\nI waited and waited, expecting every instant to hear the command to\nturn up the light; but none came. I waited still, and looked with\nharrowing intensity at the rolling billows of smoke still pouring out\nof the glowing casket, whilst the lamps sank down and went out one by\none.\n\nFinally there was but one lamp alight, and that was dimly blue and\nflickering. The only effective light in the room was from the glowing\ncasket. I kept my eyes fixed toward Margaret; it was for her now that\nall my anxiety was claimed. I could just see her white frock beyond\nthe still white shrouded figure on the couch. Silvio was troubled; his\npiteous mewing was the only sound in the room. Deeper and denser grew\nthe black mist and its pungency began to assail my nostrils as well as\nmy eyes. Now the volume of smoke coming from the coffer seemed to\nlessen, and the smoke itself to be less dense. Across the room I saw\nsomething white move where the couch was. There were several\nmovements. I could just catch the quick glint of white through the\ndense smoke in the fading light; for now the glow of the coffer began\nquickly to subside. I could still hear Silvio, but his mewing came\nfrom close under; a moment later I could feel him piteously crouching\non my foot.\n\nThen the last spark of light disappeared, and through the Egyptian\ndarkness I could see the faint line of white around the window blinds.\nI felt that the time had come to speak; so I pulled off my respirator\nand called out:\n\n\"Shall I turn up the light?\" There was no answer; so before the thick\nsmoke choked me, I called again but more loudly:\n\n\"Mr. Trelawny, shall I turn up the light?\" He did not answer; but from\nacross the room I heard Margaret's voice, sounding as sweet and clear\nas a bell:\n\n\"Yes, Malcolm!\" I turned the tap and the lamps flashed out. But they\nwere only dim points of light in the midst of that murky ball of smoke.\nIn that thick atmosphere there was little possibility of illumination.\nI ran across to Margaret, guided by her white dress, and caught hold of\nher and held her hand. She recognised my anxiety and said at once:\n\n\"I am all right.\"\n\n\"Thank God!\" I said. \"How are the others? Quick, let us open all the\nwindows and get rid of this smoke!\" To my surprise, she answered in a\nsleepy way:\n\n\"They will be all right. They won't get any harm.\" I did not stop to\ninquire how or on what ground she formed such an opinion, but threw up\nthe lower sashes of all the windows, and pulled down the upper. Then I\nthrew open the door.\n\nA few seconds made a perceptible change as the thick, black smoke began\nto roll out of the windows. Then the lights began to grow into\nstrength and I could see the room. All the men were overcome. Beside\nthe couch Doctor Winchester lay on his back as though he had sunk down\nand rolled over; and on the farther side of the sarcophagus, where they\nhad stood, lay Mr. Trelawny and Mr. Corbeck. It was a relief to me to\nsee that, though they were unconscious, all three were breathing\nheavily as though in a stupor. Margaret still stood behind the couch.\nShe seemed at first to be in a partially dazed condition; but every\ninstant appeared to get more command of herself. She stepped forward\nand helped me to raise her father and drag him close to a window.\nTogether we placed the others similarly, and she flew down to the\ndining-room and returned with a decanter of brandy. This we proceeded\nto administer to them all in turn. It was not many minutes after we\nhad opened the windows when all three were struggling back to\nconsciousness. During this time my entire thoughts and efforts had\nbeen concentrated on their restoration; but now that this strain was\noff, I looked round the room to see what had been the effect of the\nexperiment. The thick smoke had nearly cleared away; but the room was\nstill misty and was full of a strange pungent acrid odour.\n\nThe great sarcophagus was just as it had been. The coffer was open,\nand in it, scattered through certain divisions or partitions wrought in\nits own substance, was a scattering of black ashes. Over all,\nsarcophagus, coffer and, indeed, all in the room, was a sort of black\nfilm of greasy soot. I went over to the couch. The white sheet still\nlay over part of it; but it had been thrown back, as might be when one\nis stepping out of bed.\n\nBut there was no sign of Queen Tera! I took Margaret by the hand and\nled her over. She reluctantly left her father to whom she was\nadministering, but she came docilely enough. I whispered to her as I\nheld her hand:\n\n\"What has become of the Queen? Tell me! You were close at hand, and\nmust have seen if anything happened!\" She answered me very softly:\n\n\"There was nothing that I could see. Until the smoke grew too dense I\nkept my eyes on the couch, but there was no change. Then, when all\ngrew so dark that I could not see, I thought I heard a movement close\nto me. It might have been Doctor Winchester who had sunk down overcome;\nbut I could not be sure. I thought that it might be the Queen waking,\nso I put down poor Silvio. I did not see what became of him; but I\nfelt as if he had deserted me when I heard him mewing over by the door.\nI hope he is not offended with me!\" As if in answer, Silvio came\nrunning into the room and reared himself against her dress, pulling it\nas though clamouring to be taken up. She stooped down and took him up\nand began to pet and comfort him.\n\nI went over and examined the couch and all around it most carefully.\nWhen Mr. Trelawny and Mr. Corbeck recovered sufficiently, which they\ndid quickly, though Doctor Winchester took longer to come round, we\nwent over it afresh. But all we could find was a sort of ridge of\nimpalpable dust, which gave out a strange dead odour. On the couch lay\nthe jewel of the disk and plumes which the Queen had worn in her hair,\nand the Star Jewel which had words to command the Gods.\n\nOther than this we never got clue to what had happened. There was just\none thing which confirmed our idea of the physical annihilation of the\nmummy. In the sarcophagus in the hall, where we had placed the mummy\nof the cat, was a small patch of similar dust.\n\n* * * * *\n\nIn the autumn Margaret and I were married. On the occasion she wore\nthe mummy robe and zone and the jewel which Queen Tera had worn in her\nhair. On her breast, set in a ring of gold make like a twisted lotus\nstalk, she wore the strange Jewel of Seven Stars which held words to\ncommand the God of all the worlds. At the marriage the sunlight\nstreaming through the chancel windows fell on it, and it seemed to glow\nlike a living thing.\n\nThe graven words may have been of efficacy; for Margaret holds to them,\nand there is no other life in all the world so happy as my own.\n\nWe often think of the great Queen, and we talk of her freely. Once,\nwhen I said with a sigh that I was sorry she could not have waked into\na new life in a new world, my wife, putting both her hands in mine and\nlooking into my eyes with that far-away eloquent dreamy look which\nsometimes comes into her own, said lovingly:\n\n\"Do not grieve for her! Who knows, but she may have found the joy she\nsought? Love and patience are all that make for happiness in this\nworld; or in the world of the past or of the future; of the living or\nthe dead. She dreamed her dream; and that is all that any of us can\nask!\"\n\n\n\nTHE END"