 There are strange tales of violent death visited upon those who violated the sanctity of King Tut's last resting place. But most curious of all of these, and best authenticated, is the remarkable tale of the naked man of Newbury, the most baffling of all the stories surrounding the opening of King Tut's tomb. It was on the 16th of February, 1923, that the sepulchral tomb of King Tut was opened. And it was just one month and one day later that the strange event occurred at Lord Conovan's ancestral estate near Newbury in Hampshire. On the morning of that day, two of his lordships retainers sat in the sunroom of his palatial home. They were discussing his exploits in far-off Egypt. But it ain't right, Fenton, opening the grave of people what's dead, and them what the little supper for him. Why, I don't... Don't fear. Bending all the tears. Go blind me. He looks like a wild man. And what's he doing running around stock naked? It was quite inconceivable, and yet there he was, a weird, grotesque figure of a man, his hair flying, his face distorted by a maniacal grin, and not a stitch of clothes on his body. In an instant he was gone. A message arrived at the Conovan home, a message that served only to deepen the mystery. He took. Deadly down there in Egypt with some kind of a strange malady. It was bound to happen what was breaking into the grave of a man what's dead. He took to his bed on the 17th of March. Well, now that's strange. That's the same day we first seen the wild man. Reports of the progress of his lordship's illness arrived regularly at Newbury. And meanwhile on the Conovan estate the wild man continued to be seen. There came a day when Fenton, seeing the curious figure wandering across the meadow behind the barns, decided to solve the mystery once and for all. He pursued him to the woods. Oh, like me. Now he's gone into the woods and he waved to me, just like he was saying goodbye. From that moment on there were no further reports of the disreputable and indecent savage who had haunted Lord Conovan's lands in Newbury. He vanished as suddenly as he had come. As for his lordship himself, there was one last message from those who tended him in Cairo. Lord Conovan is dead. He passed away peacefully at three o'clock on the afternoon of the fifth of April. There's something very strange about all this, Mrs. Orkins. The last time I seen the wild man, the last time anybody seen him, it would have been three o'clock in the afternoon in Cairo on the fifth of April. There is no one who was there to say with assurance that a connection exists between the death of Lord Conovan and the naked man of Newbury, nor has anyone offered evidence to prove that either event bears a relation to the opening of the tomb of Tutankhamun, Pharaoh of Egypt. And yet it is difficult to evade certain disturbing and tantalizing conclusions in view of the facts. Facts incredible but true.