 8 The Finding of the Lamps Sergeant Da, at first, made some demure, but finally agreed to advise privately on a matter which might be suggested to him. He added that I was to remember that he only undertook to advise, for if action were required he might have to refer the matter to headquarters. With this understanding I left him in the study and brought Miss Trelawney and Mr. Korbeck to him. Nurse Kennedy resumed her place at the bedside before we left the room. I could not but admire the cautious, cool-headed precision with which the traveller stated his case. He did not seem to conceal anything, and yet he gave the least possible description of the object's missing. He did not enlarge on the mystery of the case. He seemed to look on it as an ordinary hotel theft. Knowing, as I did, that his one object was to recover the articles before their identity could be obliterated, I could see the rare intellectual skill with which he gave the necessary matter and held back all else, though without seeming to do so. Truly, thought I, this man has learned the lesson of the Eastern Bazaars, and with Western intellect has improved upon his masters. He quite conveyed his idea to the detective, who, after thinking the matter over for a few moments, said, Pot or scale? That is the question. What does that mean, asked the other, keenly alert? An old thieves' phrase from Birmingham. I thought that in these days of slang everyone knew that. In old times at Broom, which had a lot of small metal industries, the gold and silversmiths used to buy metal from almost anyone who came along, and as metal in small quantities could generally be had cheap when they didn't ask where it came from, it got to be a custom to ask only one thing, whether the customer wanted the goods melted, in which case the buyer made the price, and the melting pot was always on the fire. If it was to be preserved in its present state at the buyer's option, it went into the scale and fetched standard price for old metal. There is a good deal of such work done still, and in other places than Broom. When we're looking for stolen watches we often come across the works, and it's not possible to identify wheels and springs out of a heap, but it's not often that we come across cases that are wanted. Now, in the present instance, much will depend on whether the thief is a good man. That's what they call a man who knows his work. A first-class crook will know whether a thing is of more value than merely the metal in it, and in such case he would put it with someone who could place it later on, in America or France perhaps. By the way, do you think anyone but yourself could identify your lamps? No one but myself. Are there others like them? Not that I know of," answered Mr. Korbeck, though there may be others that resemble them in many particulars. The detective paused before asking again, would any other skilled person at the British Museum, for instance, or a dealer or a collector like Mr. Trelawney, know the value, the artistic value of the lamps? Certainly, anyone with a head and a shoulders would see at a glance that the things were valuable. The detective's face brightened. Then there is a chance. If your door was locked and the window shut, the goods were not stolen by the chance of a chambermaid or a boot's coming along. Whoever did the job went after it special, and he ain't going to part with his swag without his price. This must be a case of notice to the pawnbrokers. There's one good thing about it anyhow, that the hue and cry needn't be given. We needn't tell Scotland Yard, unless you like, we can work the thing privately. If you wish to keep the thing dark, as you told me at the first, that is our chance. Mr. Korbeck, after a pause, said quietly, I suppose you couldn't hazard a suggestion as to how the robbery was affected? The policeman smiled the smile of knowledge and experience. In a very simple way, I have no doubt, sir, that is how all these mysterious crimes turn out in the long run. The criminal knows his work and all the tricks of it, and he is always on the watch for chances. Moreover, he knows by experience what these chances are likely to be and how they usually come. The other person is only careful. He doesn't know all the tricks and pits that may be made for him, and by some little oversight or other he falls into the trap. When we know all about this case, you will wonder that you did not see the method of it all along. This seemed to annoy Mr. Korbeck a little. There was decided heat in his manner, as he answered, Look here, my good friend, there is not anything simple about this case, except that the things were taken. The window was closed, the fireplace was bricked up, there is only one door to the room, and that I locked and bolted. There is no transom, I have heard all about hotel robberies through the transom. I never left my room in the night. I looked at the things before going to bed, and I went to look at them again when I woke up. If you can rig up any kind of simple robbery out of these facts, you are a clever man. That's all I say. Clever enough to go right away and get my things back. Mr. Filani laid her hand upon his arm in a soothing way, and said quietly, Do not distress yourself unnecessarily. I am sure they will turn up. Sergeant Da turned to her so quickly that I could not help remembering vividly his suspicions of her, already formed, as he said, May I ask, Miss, on what you base that opinion? I dreaded to hear her answer, given to ears already awake to action, but it came to me as a new pain or shock all the same. I cannot tell you how I know, but I am sure of it. The detective looked at her for some seconds in silence, and then threw a quick glance at me. Presently he had a little more conversation with Mr. Korbeck as to his own movements, the details of the hotel in the room, and the means of identifying the goods. Then he went away to commence his inquiries, Mr. Korbeck impressing on him the necessity for secrecy lest the thief should get wind of his danger and destroy the lamps. Mr. Korbeck promised, when going away to attend to various matters of his own business, to return early in the evening and to stay in the house. All that day Mr. Filani was in better spirits and looked in better strength than she had yet been, despite the new shock and annoyance of the theft which must ultimately bring so much disappointment to her father. We spent most of the day looking over the curio treasures of Mr. Trilani. From what I had heard from Mr. Korbeck I began to have some idea of the vastness of his enterprise in the world of Egyptian research, and with this light everything around me began to have a new interest. As I went on the interest grew, any lingering doubts which I might have had changed to wonder and admiration. The house seemed to be a veritable storehouse of marvels of antique art. In addition to the curios, big and little, in Mr. Trilani's own room, from the great sarcophagi down to the scarabs of all kinds in the cabinets, the great hall, the staircase landings, the study, and even the boudoir were full of antique pieces which would have made a collector's mouth water. Mr. Trilani, from the first, came with me and looked with growing interest at everything. After having examined some cabinets of exquisite amulets, she said to me in quite a naive way, "'You will hardly believe that I have of late seldom even looked at any of these things. It is only since father has been ill that I seem to have even any curiosity about them. But now they grow and grow on me to quite an absorbing degree. I wonder if it is that the collector's blood which I have in my veins is beginning to manifest itself. If so, the strange thing is that I have not felt the call of it before. Of course I know most of the big things, and have examined them more or less, but really, in a sort of way I have always taken them for granted, as though they had always been there. I have noticed the same thing now and again with family pictures, and the way they are taken for granted by the family. If you will let me examine them with you, it would be delightful.' It was a joy to me to hear her talk in such a way, and her last suggestion quite thrilled me. Together we went round the various rooms and passages, examining and admiring the magnificent curios. There was such a bewildering amount and variety of objects that we could only glance at most of them, but as we went along we arranged that we should take them seriatim, day by day, and examine them more closely. In the hall was a sort of big frame of floriated steelwork which Margaret said her father used for lifting the heavy stone lids of the sarcophagi. It was not heavy, and could be moved about easily enough. By aid of this we raised the covers in turn and looked at the endless series of hieroglyphic pictures cut in most of them. In spite of her profession of ignorance Margaret knew a good deal about them. Her year of life with her father had had unconsciously its daily and hourly lesson. She was a remarkably clever and acute-minded girl, and with a prodigious memory, so that her store of knowledge gathered unthinkingly bit by bit, had grown to proportions that many a scholar might have envied. And yet it was all so naive and unconscious, so girlish and simple. She was so fresh in her views and ideas, and had so little thought of self that in her companionship I forgot for the time all the troubles and mysteries which enmeshed the house, and I felt like a boy again. The most interesting of the sarcophagi were undoubtedly the three in Mr. Trelawney's room. Of these two were of dark stone, one of porphyry, and the other of a sort of iron stone. These were wrought with some hieroglyphs. But the third was strikingly different. It was of some yellow-brown substance of the dominating color effect of Mexican onyx, which it resembled in many ways, expecting that the natural pattern of its convolutions was less marked. Here and there were patches almost transparent, certainly translucent. The whole chest, cover and all, was wrought with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of minute hieroglyphics, seemingly in an endless series. Back, front, sides, edges, bottom, all had their quota of the dainty pictures, the deep blue of their coloring showing up fresh and sharply edge in the yellow stone. It was very long, nearly nine feet, and perhaps a yard wide. The sides undulated so that there was no hard line. Even the corners took such excellent curves that they pleased the eye. Truly, I said, this must have been made for a giant. Or for a giantess, said Margaret. This sarcophagus stood near to one of the windows. It was in one respect different from all the other sarcophagi in the place. All the others in the house, of whatever material, granite, porphyry, iron stone, basalt, slate, or wood, were quite simple in form within. Some of them were plain of interior surface, others were engraved in whole or part with hieroglyphics. But each and all of them had no protuberances or uneven surface anywhere. They might have been used for baths. Indeed, they resembled in many ways Roman baths of stone or marble which I had seen. Inside this, however, was a raised space, outlined like a human figure. I asked Margaret if she could explain it in any way. For answer, she said, Father, never wish to speak about this. It attracted my attention from the first. But when I asked him about it, he said, I shall tell you all about it some day, little girl, if I live. But not yet. The story is not yet told, as I hope to tell it to you. Someday, perhaps soon, I shall know all, and then we shall go over it together. And a mighty interesting story you will find it, from first to last. Once afterward I said, rather lightly, I am afraid, is that story of the sarcophagus told yet, Father? He shook his head and looked at me gravely, as he said. Not yet, little girl, but it will be, if I live, if I live. His repeating that phrase about his living rather frightened me. I never ventured to ask him again. Somehow this thrilled me. I could not exactly say how or why, but it seemed like a gleam of light, at least. There are, I think, moments when the mind accepts something is true, though it can account for neither the course of the thought, nor, if there be more than one thought, the connection between them. Hitherto we had been in such outer darkness regarding Mr. Trollani, and the strange visitation which had fallen on him, that anything which afforded a clue, even of the faintest and most shadowy kind, had at the outset the enlightening satisfaction of a certainty. Here were two lights of our puzzle, the first that Mr. Trollani associated with this particular curio a doubt of his own living. The second that he had some purpose or expectation with regard to it, which he would not disclose, even to his daughter, till complete. Again it was to be borne in mind that this sarcophagus differed internally from all the others. What meant that odd raised place? I said nothing to Mr. Trollani, for I feared lest I should either frighten her or buoy her up with future hopes, but I made up my mind that I would take an early opportunity for further investigation. Close beside the sarcophagus was a low table of green stone with red veins in it, like bloodstone. The feet were fashioned like the paws of a jackal, and round each leg was twined a full-throated snake wrought exquisitely in pure gold. On it rested a strange and very beautiful coffer or casket of stone of a peculiar shape. It was something like a small coffin, except that the longer sides, instead of being cut off square like the upper or level part, were continued to a point. Thus it was an irregular septahedron, there being two planes on each of the two sides, one end and a top and bottom. The stone, of one piece of which it was wrought, was such as I had never seen before. At the base it was of a full green, the color of emerald without, of course, its gleam. It was not by any means dull, however, either in color or substance, and was of infinite hardness and fineness of texture. The surface was almost that of a jewel. The color grew lighter as it rose, with gradation so fine as to be imperceptible, changing to a fine yellow almost of the color of mandor in China. It was quite unlike anything I had ever seen, and did not resemble any stone or gem that I knew. I took it to be some unique mother stone, or matrix of some gem. It was wrought all over, except in a few spots, with fine hieroglyphics exquisitely done and colored with the same blue-green cement or pigment that appeared on the sarcophagus. In length it was about two feet and a half. In breadth about half this, and was nearly a foot high. The vacant spaces were irregularly distributed about the top running to the pointed end. These places seemed less opaque than the rest of the stone. I tried to lift up the lid so that I might see if they were translucent, but it was securely fixed. It fitted so exactly that the whole coffer seemed like a single piece of stone mysteriously hollowed from within. On the sides and edges were some odd-looking protuberances wrought just as finely as any other portion of the coffer which had been sculptured by manifest design in the cutting of the stone. They had queer-shaped holes or hollows different in each, and like the rest were covered with the hieroglyphic figures, cut finely and filled in with the same blue-green cement. On the other side of the great sarcophagus stood another small table of alabaster, exquisitely chased with symbolic figures of gods and the signs of the zodiac. On this table stood a case of about a foot square composed of slabs of rock-crystal set in a skeleton of bands of red gold, beautifully engraved with hieroglyphics, and colored with a blue-green, very much the tint of the figures in the sarcophagus and the coffer. The whole work was quite modern. But if the case was modern, what it held was not. Within, on a cushion of cloth of gold as fine as silk, and with the peculiar softness of old gold, rested a mummy hand, so perfect that it startled one to see it. A woman's hand, fine and long, with slim, tapering fingers, and nearly as perfect as when it was given to the embalmer thousands of years before. In the embalming it had lost nothing of its beautiful shape. Even the wrist seemed to maintain its pliability as the gentle curve lay on the cushion. The skin was of a rich, creamy, or old ivory color, a dusky, fair skin which suggested heat, but heat in shadow. The great peculiarity of it, as a hand, was that it had in all seven fingers, there being two middle and two index fingers. The upper end of the wrist was jagged as though it had been broken off and was stained with the red-brown stain. On the cushion near the hand was a small scarab, exquisitely wrought of emerald. That is another of Father's mysteries. When I asked him about it, he said that it was perhaps the most valuable thing he had except one. When I asked him what that one was, he refused to tell me, and forbade me to ask him anything concerning it. I will tell you, he said, all about it, too, in good time, if I live. If I live, the phrase again, these three things grouped together, the sarcophagus, the coffer, and the hand, seemed to make a trilogy of mystery indeed. At this time Miss Trelawney was sent for on some domestic matter. I looked at the other curios in the room, but they did not seem to have anything like the same charm for me, now that she was away. Later on in the day I was sent for to the Boudoir where she was consulting with Mrs. Grant as to the lodgement of Mr. Corbett. They were in doubt as to whether he should have a room close to Mr. Trelawney's, or quite away from it, and had thought it well to ask my advice on the subject. I came to the conclusion that he had better not be too near, for the first at all events he could easily be moved closer if necessary. When Mrs. Grant had gone I asked Mr. Trelawney how it came that the furniture of this room, the Boudoir in which we were, was so different from the other rooms of the house. There's four thought, she answered. When I first came he thought, and rightly enough, that I might get frightened with so many records of death and the tomb everywhere. So he had this room and the little suite off it, that door opens into the sitting-room, where I slept last night, furnished with pretty things. You see, they are all beautiful. That cabinet belonged to the great Napoleon. There is nothing Egyptian in these rooms at all, then? I asked, rather to show interest in what she had said than anything else, for the furnishing of the room was apparent. What a lovely cabinet! May I look at it? Of course, with the greatest pleasure, she answered with a smile. It's finishing, within and without, Father says, is absolutely complete. I stepped over and looked at it closely. That was made of tulip wood, inlaid in patterns, and was mounted in ormaloo. I pulled open one of the drawers, a deep one, where I could see the work to great advantage. As I pulled it, something rattled inside as though rolling. There was a tinkle as of metal on metal. Hello, I said, there is something in here. Perhaps I'd better not open it. There is nothing that I know of, she answered. Some of the house-maids may have used it to put something by for the time and forgotten it, open it by all means. I pulled open the drawer. As I did so, both Miss Trelawney and I started back in amazement. There before our eyes lay a number of ancient Egyptian lamps, of various sizes, and of strangely varied shapes. We leaned over them and looked closely. My own heart was beating like a trip-hammer, and I could see by the heaving of Margaret's bosom that she was strangely excited. Whilst we looked, afraid to touch and almost afraid to think, there was a ring at the front door. Immediately afterwards Mr. Korbeck, followed by Sergeant Duh, came into the hall. The door of the Boudoir was open, and when they saw us, Mr. Korbeck came running in, followed more slowly by the detective. There was a sort of chastened joy in his face and manner, as he said impulsively. Rejoice with me, my dear Miss Trelawney! My luggage has come, and all my things are intact! Then his face fell, as he added, except the lamps. The lamps that were worth all the rest a thousand times. He stopped, struck by the strange pallor of her face. Then his eyes, following her look and mine, lit on the cluster of lamps in the drawer. He gave a sort of cry of surprise and joy as he bent over and touched them. My lamps! My lamps! Then they are safe, safe! But how in the name of God, of all the gods, did they come here? We all stood silent. The detective made a deep sound of intaking breath. I looked at him, and as he cut my glance he turned his eyes on Miss Trelawney, whose back was toward him. There was in them the same look of suspicion which had been there when he had spoken to me of her being the first to find her father on the occasions of the attacks. CHAPTER IX Mr. Korbeck seemed to go almost off his head at the recovery of the lamps. He took them up one by one and looked them all over tenderly, as though they were things that he loved. In his delight and excitement he breathed so hard that it seemed almost like a cat purring. Sergeant Duh said quietly, his voice breaking the silence like a discord in a melody, Are you quite sure those lamps were the ones you had and that were stolen? His answer was in an indignant tone. Sure, of course I'm sure. There isn't another set of lamps like these in the world. So far as you know the detective's words were smooth enough, but his manner was so exasperating that I was sure he had some motive in it. So I waited in silence. He went on. Of course there may be some in the British Museum, or Mr. Trelawney may have had these already. There's nothing new under the sun, you know, Mr. Korbeck, not even in Egypt. These may be the originals and yours may have been the copies. Are there any points by which you can identify these as yours? Mr. Korbeck was really angry by this time. He forgot his reserve and in his indignation poured forth a torrent of almost incoherent but enlightening broken sentences. Identify! copies of them! British Museum! Rot! Perhaps they keep a set in Scotland Yard for teaching idiot policemen Egyptology. Do I know them? When I have carried them about my body in the desert for three months and lay awake night after night to watch them, when I have looked them over with a magnifying glass hour after hour till my eyes ached, till every tiny blotch and chip and ding became as familiar to me as his chart to a captain, as familiar as they doubtless have been all the time to every thick-headed area prowler within the bounds of mortality. See here, young man, look at these! He ranged the lamps in a row on the top of the cabinet. Did you ever see a set of lamps of these shapes, of any one of these shapes? Look at these dominant figures on them. Did you ever see so complete a set, even in Scotland Yard, even in Bow Street? Look, one on each, the seven forms of Hathor. Look at that figure of the Ca, of a princess of the two Egypts, standing between Ra and Osiris in the Boat of the Dead, with the Eye of Sleep supported on legs bending before her, and Harmokas rising in the North. Will you find that in the British Museum, or Bow Street, or perhaps your studies in the Giza Museum, or the Fitzwilliam, or Paris, or Leiden, or Berlin have shown you that the episode is common in hieroglyphics, and that this is only a copy? Perhaps you can tell me what that figure of Ptar Sikar Osir holding the tet wrapped in the scepter of papyrus means. Did you ever see it before, even in the British Museum, or Giza, or Scotland Yard? He broke off suddenly, and then went on in quite a different way. Look here, it seems to me that the thick-headed idiot is myself. I beg your pardon, old fellow, for my rudeness. I quite lost my temper at the suggestion that I do not know these lamps. You don't mind, do you? The detective answered heartily, Lord, sir, not I. I like to see folks angry when I am dealing with them, whether they are on my side or the other. It is when people are angry that you learn the truth from them. I keep cool, that is my trade. Do you know you have told me more about those lamps in the past two minutes than when you filled me up with details of how to identify them? Mr. Korbeck grunted. He was not pleased at having given himself away. All at once he turned to me and said in his natural way, Now, tell me how you got them back. I was so surprised that I said without thinking, We didn't get them back. The traveller laughed openly. What on earth do you mean? He asked. You didn't get them back. Why, there they are before your eyes. We found you looking at them when we came in. By this time I had recovered my surprise and had my wits about me. Why, that's just it, I said. We had only come across them by accident that very moment. Mr. Korbeck drew back and looked hard at Mr. Lani and myself, turning his eyes from one to the other as he asked. Do you mean to tell me that no one brought them here? That you found them in that drawer? That so to speak, no one at all brought them back? I suppose someone must have brought them here. They couldn't have come up with their own accord. But who it was, or when, or how, neither of us knows. We shall have to make inquiry and see if any of the servants know anything of it. We all stood silent for several seconds. It seemed like a long time. The first to speak was the detective, who said in an unconscious way, Well, I'm damned. Oh, I beg your pardon, miss. Then his mouth shut like a steel trap. We called up the servants one by one and asked them if they knew anything of some articles placed in a drawer in the boudoir, but none of them could throw any light on the circumstance. We did not tell them what the articles were or let them see them. Mr. Korabeck packed the lamps in cotton wool and placed them in a tin box. This I may mention incidentally was then brought up to the detective's room, where one of the men stood guard over them with a revolver the whole night. Next day we got a small safe into the house and placed them in it. There were two different keys. One of them I kept myself, the other I placed in my drawer in the safe deposit vault. We were all determined that the lamp should not be lost again. About an hour after we had found the lamps Dr. Winchester arrived. He had a large parcel with him which, when unwrapped, proved to be the mummy of a cat. With Mr. Trelawney's permission he placed this in the boudoir and Silvia was brought close to it. To the surprise of us all, however, except perhaps Dr. Winchester, he did not manifest the least annoyance. He took no notice of it whatever. He stood on the table close beside it, purring loudly. Then, following out his plan, the doctor brought him into Mr. Trelawney's room, we all following. Dr. Winchester was excited. Mr. Trelawney, anxious. I was more than interested myself, for I began to have a glimmering of the doctor's idea. The detective was calmly and coldly superior, but Mr. Korbeck, who was an enthusiast, was full of eager curiosity. The moment Dr. Winchester got into the room Silvia began to mew and wriggle, and jumping out of his arms ran over to the cat-mummy and began to scratch angrily at it. Mr. Trelawney had some difficulty in taking him away, but so soon as he was out of the room he became quiet. When she came back there was a clamor of comments. I thought so, from the doctor. What can it mean, from Mr. Trelawney? That's a very strange thing, from Mr. Korbeck. Odd, but it doesn't prove anything, from the detective. I suspend my judgment, from myself thinking it advisable to say something. Then by common consent we dropped the theme, for the present. In my room that evening I was making some notes of what had happened when there came a low tap on the door. In obedience to my summons Sergeant Dahl came in, carefully closing the door behind him. Well, Sergeant, said I, sit down. What is it? I wanted to speak to you, sir, about those lamps. I nodded and waited. He went on, you know that the room where they were found opens directly into the room where Mr. Trelawney slept last night. Yes. During the night a window somewhere in that part of the house was opened and shut again. I heard it and took a look around, but I could see no sign of anything. Yes, I know that, I said. I heard a window moved myself. Does nothing strike you as strange about it, sir? Strange, I said. Strange? Why, it's all the most bewildering maddening thing I've ever encountered. It is all so strange that one seems to wonder and simply waits for what'll happen next. But what do you mean by strange? The detective paused as if choosing his words to begin and then said deliberately, You see, I am not one who believes in magic and such things. I am for facts all the time, and I always find in the long run that there is a reason and a cause for everything. This new gentleman says these things were stolen out of his room in the hotel. The lamps, I take it from some things he has said, really belong to Mr. Trelawney. His daughter, the lady of the house, having left the room she usually occupies, sleeps that night on the ground floor. A window is heard to open and shut during the night. When we, who have been during the day trying to find a clue to the robbery, come to the house, we find the stolen goods in a room close to where she slept, and opening out of it. He stopped. I felt that same sense of pain and apprehension which I had experienced when he had spoken to me before, creeping, or rather rushing, over me again. I had to face the matter out, however. My relations with her and the feelings toward her which I now knew full well meant a very deep love and devotion demanded so much. I said as calmly as I could, for I knew the keen eyes of the skillful investigator were on me, and the inference? He answered with the cool audacity of conviction. The inference to me is that there was no robbery at all. The goods were taken by someone to this house where they were received through a window on the ground floor. They were placed in the cabinet, ready to be discovered when the proper time should come. Somehow I felt relieved. The assumption was too monstrous. I did not want, however, my relief to be apparent, so I answered as gravely as I could. And who do you suppose brought them to the house? I keep my mind open as to that. Possibly Mr. Korbeck himself. The matter might be too risky to trust to a third party. Then the natural extension of your inference is that Mr. Korbeck is a liar and a fraud, and that he is in conspiracy with Miss Trelawney to deceive someone or other about those lamps. Those are harsh words, Mr. Ross. They're so plain-spoken that they bring a man upstanding and make few doubts for him. But I have to go where my reason points. It may be that there is another party than Miss Trelawney in it. Indeed, if it hadn't been for the other matter that set me thinking and bred doubts of its own about her, I wouldn't dream of mixing her up in this. But I'm safe on Korbeck. Whoever else is in it, he is. The things couldn't have been taken without his connivance, if what he says is true. If it isn't, well, he is a liar anyhow. I would think it a bad job to have him stay in the house with so many valuables, only that it will give me and my mate a chance of watching him. He'll keep a pretty good look out, too, I tell you. He's up in my room now, guarding those lamps. But Johnny Wright is there, too. I go on before he comes off, so there won't be much chance of another house-breaking. Of course, Mr. Ross, all this, too, is between you and me. Quite so, you may depend on my silence, I said, and he went away to keep a close eye on the Egyptologist. It seemed as though all my painful experiences were to go in pairs, and that the sequence of the previous day was to be repeated. For before long I had another private visit from Dr. Winchester, who had now paid his nightly visit to his patient and was on his way home. He took the seat which I proffered and began at once. This is a strange affair altogether. Miss Trelawney has just been telling me about the stolen lamps and of the finding of them in the Napoleon Cabinet. It would seem to be another complication of the mystery, and yet, do you know, it is a relief to me. I have exhausted all human and natural possibilities of the case, and am beginning to fall back on superhuman and supernatural possibilities. Here are such strange things that, if I am not going mad, I think we must have a solution before long. I wonder if I might ask some questions and some help from Mr. Korbac, without making further complications and embarrassing us. He seems to know an amazing amount regarding Egypt and all relating to it. Perhaps he wouldn't mind translating a little bit of hieroglyphic. It is child's play to him. What do you think? When I had thought the matter over a few seconds, I spoke. We wanted all the help we could get. For myself I had perfect confidence in both men, and any comparing notes or mutual assistance might bring good results. Such could hardly bring evil. By all means, I should ask him. He seems an extraordinarily learned man in Egyptology, and he seems to be a good fellow as well as an enthusiast. By the way, it will be necessary to be a little guarded as to whom you speak regarding any information which he may give you. Of course, he answered, indeed I should not dream of saying anything to anybody excepting yourself. We have to remember that when Mr. Trollani recovers he may not like to think that we have been chattering unduly over his affairs. Look here, I said, why not stay for a while, and I shall ask him to come and have a pipe with us. We can then talk over things. He acquiesced, so I went to the room where Mr. Korbek was, and brought him back with me. I thought the detectives were pleased at his going. On the way to my room he said, I don't half like leaving those things there with only those men to guard them. They're a deal sight too precious to be left to the police. From which it would appear that suspicion was not confined to Sergeant Dahl. Mr. Korbek and Dr. Winchester, after a quick glance at each other, became at once on most friendly terms. The traveller professed his willingness to be of any assistance which he could, provided, he added, that it was anything about which he was free to speak. This was not very promising, but Dr. Winchester began at once. I want you, if you will, to translate some hieroglyphic for me. Certainly, with the greatest pleasure, so far as I can. For I may tell you that hieroglyphic writing is not quite mastered yet, though we are getting at it. We are getting at it. What is the inscription? There are two, he answered, one of them I shall bring here. He went out and returned in a minute with the mummy-cat which he had that evening introduced to Silvio. The scholar took it and, after a short examination, said, There is nothing special in this. It is an appeal to Bost, the lady of Bubostis, to give her good bread and milk in the Elysian fields. There may be more inside, and if you will care to unroll it, I will do my best. I do not think, however, that there is anything special. From the method of wrapping I should say it is from the delta and of a late period when such mummy-work was common and cheap. What is the other inscription you wish me to see? The inscription on the mummy-cat in Mr. Trellani's room. Dr. Korbeck's face fell. No, he said. I cannot do that. I am, for the present at all events, practically bound to secrecy regarding any of the things in Mr. Trellani's room. Dr. Winchester's comment and my own were made at the same moment. I said only the one word, checkmate, from which I think he may have gathered that I guessed more of his idea and purpose than perhaps I had intentionally conveyed to him. He murmured, practically bound to secrecy? Mr. Korbeck at once took up the challenge conveyed. Do not misunderstand me. I am not bound by any definite pledge of secrecy, but I am bound in honor to respect Mr. Trellani's confidence, given to me, I may tell you, in a very large measure. Regarding many of the objects in his room, he has a definite purpose in view, and it would not be either right or becoming for me, his trusted friend and confidante, to forestall that purpose. Mr. Trellani, you may know, or rather you do not know, or you would not have so constructed my remark, is a scholar, a very great scholar. He has worked for years toward a certain end. For this he has spared no labor, no expense, no personal danger or self-denial. He is on the line of a result which will place him amongst the foremost discoverers or investigators of his age, and now, just at the time when any hour might bring him success, he is stricken down. He stopped, seemingly overcome with emotion. After a time he recovered himself and went on. Again do not misunderstand me as to another point. I have said that Mr. Trellani has made much confidence with me, but I do not mean to lead you to believe that I know all his plans or his aims or objects. I know the period which he has been studying, and the definite historical individual whose life he has been investigating, and his records he has been following up one by one with infinite patience. But beyond this I know nothing. That he has some aim or object in the completion of this knowledge I am convinced. What it is I may guess, but I must say nothing. Pleased to remember, gentlemen, that I have voluntarily accepted the position of recipient of a partial confidence. I have respected that, and I must ask any of my friends to do the same. He spoke with great dignity, and he grew moment by moment in the respect and esteem of both Dr. Winchester and myself. We understood that he had not done speaking, so he waited in silence till he continued. I have spoken this much, although I know well that even such a hint as either of you might gather from my words might jeopardize the success of his work. But I am convinced that you both wish to help him and his daughter. He said this, looking me fairly between the eyes. To the best of your power, honestly and unselfishly. He is so stricken down, and the manner of it is so mysterious, that I cannot but think that it is in some way a result of his own work. But he calculated on some setback as manifest to us all. God knows I am willing to do what I can and to use any knowledge I have on his behalf. I arrived in England full of exultation at the thought that I had fulfilled the mission with which he had trusted me. I had got what he said were the last objects of his search, and I felt assured that he would now be able to begin the experiment of which he had often hinted to me. It is too dreadful that at just such a time such a calamity should have fallen on him. Dr. Winchester, you are a physician, and if your face does not belay you, you are a clever and a bold one. Is there no way which you can devise to wake this man from his unnatural stupor? There was a pause, then the answer came slowly and deliberately. There is no ordinary remedy that I know of. There might possibly be some extraordinary one. But there would be no use in trying to find it, except on one condition. And that? Knowledge. I am completely ignorant of Egyptian matters, language, writing, history, secrets, medicines, poisons, occult powers, all that go to make up the mystery of that mysterious land. This disease, or condition, or whatever it may be called, from which Mr. Trelawney is suffering, is in some way connected with Egypt. I have had a suspicion of this from the first, and later it grew into a certainty, though without proof. What you have said tonight confirms my conjecture, and makes me believe that a proof is to be had. I do not think that you quite know all that has gone on in this house since the night of the attack, of the finding of Mr. Trelawney's body. Now I propose that we confide in you. If Mr. Ross agrees, I shall ask him to tell you. He is more skilled than I am in putting facts before other people. He can speak by his brief, and in this case he has the best of all briefs, the experience of his own eyes and ears, and the evidence that he has himself taken on the spot from participators in or spectators of what has happened. When you know all, you will, I hope, be in a position to judge as to whether you can best help Mr. Trelawney and further his secret wishes by your silence or your speech. I nodded approval. Mr. Korbeck jumped up and in his impulsive way held out a hand to each. Done, he said, I acknowledge the honour of your confidence, and on my part I pledge myself that if I find my duty to Mr. Trelawney's wishes will, in his own interest, allow my lips to open on his affairs I shall speak so freely as I may. Finally I began, and told him, as exactly as I could, everything that had happened from the moment of my waking at the knocking on the door in Germine Street. The only reservations I made were as to my own feeling toward Mr. Trelawney and the matters of small import to the main subject which followed it, and my conversations with Sergeant Da, which were in themselves private, and which would have demanded discretionary silence in any case. As I spoke Mr. Korbeck followed with breathless interest. Sometimes he would stand up and pace about the room in uncontrollable excitement, and then recover himself suddenly and sit down again. Sometimes he would be about to speak, but would, with an effort, restrain himself. I think the narration helped me to make up my own mind, for even as I talked things seemed to appear in a clearer light. Things big and little, in relation of their importance to the case, fell into proper perspective. The story up to date became coherent, except as to its cause, which seemed a greater mystery than ever. This is the merit of entire or collected narrative. Traded facts, doubts, suspicions, conjectures give way to a homogeneity which is convincing. That Mr. Korbeck was convinced was evident. He did not go through any process of explanation or limitation, but spoke right out at once to the point, and fearlessly, like a man. That settles me. There is inactivity some force that needs special care. If we all go on working in the dark we shall get in one another's way, and by hampering each other, undo the good that any or each of us working in different directions might do. It seems to me that the first thing we have to accomplish is to get Mr. Trelawney waked out of that unnatural sleep. That he can be waked is apparent from the way the nurse has recovered, though what additional harm may have been done to him in the time he has been lying in that room I suppose no one can tell. We must chance that, however. He has lain there, and whatever the effect might be it is there now, and we have and shall have to deal with it as a fact. A day more or less won't hurt in the long run. It is late now, and we shall probably have to-morrow a task before us that will require our energies afresh. You, Doctor, will want to get to your sleep, for I suppose you have other work as well as this to do to-morrow. As for you, Mr. Ross, I understand that you are to have a spell of watching in the sick room to-night. I shall get you a book which will help to pass the time for you. I shall go and look for it in the library. I know where it was when I was here last, and I don't suppose Mr. Trelawney has used it since. He knew long ago all that was in it which was or might be of interest to him, but it will be necessary, or at least helpful, to understand other things which I shall tell you later. You will be able to tell Dr. Winchester all that would aid him, for I take it that our work will branch out pretty soon. We shall each have our own end to hold up, and it will take each of us all our time and understanding to get through his own tasks. It will not be necessary for you to read the whole book. All that will interest you, with regard to our matter, I mean, of course, for the whole book is interesting as a record of travel in a country then quite unknown, is the preface and two or three chapters which I shall mark for you. He shook hands warmly with Dr. Winchester who had stood up to go. Whilst he was away I sat lonely, thinking. As I thought the world around me seemed to be illimitably great. The only little spot in which I was interested seemed like a tiny speck in the midst of a wilderness. Without and around it were darkness and unknown danger pressing in from every side. The central figure in our little oasis was one of sweetness and beauty. A figure one could love, could work for, could die for. Mr. Korabec came back in a very short time with the book. He had found it at once in the spot where he had seen it three years before. Having placed in it several slips of paper, marking the places where I was to read, he put it into my hands, saying, That is what started Mr. Trelawney, what started me when I read it, and which will, I have no doubt, be to you an interesting beginning to a special study whatever the end may be. If indeed any of us here may ever see the end. At the door he paused and said, I want to take back one thing. That detective is a good fellow. What you have told me of him puts him in a new light. The best proof of it is that I can go quietly to sleep tonight and leave the lamps in his care. When he had gone I took the book with me, put on my respirator, and went to my spell of duty in the sick-room. End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 The Valley of the Sorcerer I placed the book on the little table in which the shaded lamp rested and moved the screen to one side. Thus I could have the light on my book, and by looking up see the bed and the nurse and the door. I cannot say that the conditions were enjoyable or calculated to allow of that absorption in the subject which is advisable for effective study. However, I composed myself to the work as well as I could. The book was one which, on the very face of it, required special attention. It was a folio in Dutch, printed in Amsterdam in 1650. Someone had made a literal translation, writing generally the English word under the Dutch, so that the grammatical differences between the two tongues made even the reading of the translation a difficult matter. One had to dodge backward and forward among the words. This was in addition to the difficulty of deciphering a strange handwriting of two hundred years ago. I found, however, that after a short time I got into the habit of following in conventional English the Dutch construction, and as I became more familiar with the writing my task became easier. At first the circumstances of the room and the fear, lest Miss Trelawney should return unexpectedly and find me reading the book, disturbed me somewhat. For we had arranged amongst us, before Dr. Winchester had gone home, that she was not to be brought into the range of the coming investigation. We considered that there might be some shock to a woman's mind in matters of apparent mystery, and further that she, being Mr. Trelawney's daughter, might be placed in a difficult position with him afterward if she took part in, or even had a personal knowledge of, the disregarding of his expressed wishes. But when I remembered that she did not come on nursing duty till two o'clock, the fear of interruption passed away. I had still nearly three hours before me. Nurse Kennedy sat in her chair by the bedside, patient and alert. A clock ticked on the landing. Other clocks in the house ticked. The life of the city without manifested itself in the distant hum, now and again swelling into a roar as a breeze floating westward took the concourse of sounds with it. But still the dominant idea was of silence. The light on my book and the soothing fringe of green silk round the shade intensified, whenever I looked up, the gloom of the sick room. With every line I read this seemed to grow deeper and deeper, so that when my eyes came back to the page the light seemed to dazzle me. I stuck to my work, however, and presently began to get sufficiently into the subject to become interested in it. The book was by one Nicholas Van Hine of Hearn. In the preface he told how, attracted by the work of John Greaves of Merton College, Pyramidographia, he himself visited Egypt, where he became so interested in its wonders that he devoted some years of his life to visiting strange places and exploring the ruins of many temples and tombs. He had come across many variants of the story of the building of the pyramids, as told by the Arabian historian Ibn Abd al-Kolan, some of which he set down. These I did not stop to read, but went on to the marked pages. As soon as I began to read these, however, there grew on me some sense of a disturbing influence. Once or twice I looked to see if the nurse had moved, for there was a feeling as though someone were near me. Nurse Kennedy sat in her place, as steady and alert as ever, and I came back to my book again. The narrative went on to tell how, after passing for several days through the mountains to the east of Aswan, the explorer came to a certain place. Here I give his own words, simply putting the translation into modern English. Toward evening we came to the entrance of a narrow, deep valley running east and west. I wished to proceed through this, for the sun, now nearly down on the horizon, showed a wide opening beyond the narrowing of the cliffs. But the fellow heen absolutely refused to enter the valley at such a time, alleging that they might be caught by the night before they could emerge from the other end. At first they would give no reason for their fear. They had hitherto gone anywhere I wished, and at any time without demur. On being pressed, however, they said that the place was the valley of the sorcerer, where none might come in the night. On being asked to tell of the sorcerer, they refused, saying that there was no name and that they knew nothing. On the next morning, however, when the sun was up and shining down the valley, their fears had somewhat passed away. Then they told me that a great sorcerer in ancient days, millions of millions of years was the term they used, a king or a queen, they could not say which, was buried there. They could not give the name, persisting to the last, that there was no name, and that anyone who should name it would waste away in life so that at death nothing of him would remain to be raised again in the other world. In passing through the valley, they kept together in a cluster, hurrying on in front of me. None dared to remain behind. They gave, as their reason for so proceeding, that the arms of the sorcerer were long and that it was dangerous to be the last, the which was of little comfort to me who of this necessity took that honorable post. In the narrowest part of the valley, on the south side, was a great cliff of rock rising sheer, of smooth and even surface. Hereon were grave and certain cobalistic signs, and many figures of men and animals, fishes, reptiles and birds, suns and stars, and many quaint symbols. Some of these latter were disjointed limbs and features, such as arms and legs, fingers, eyes, noses, ears and lips. Mysterious symbols which will puzzle the recording angel to interpret at the judgment day. The cliff faced exactly north. There was something about it so strange and so different from the other carved rocks which I had visited that I called a halt and spent the day in examining the rock front as well as I could with my telescope. The Egyptians of my company were terribly afraid and used every kind of persuasion to induce me to pass on. I stayed till late in the afternoon, by which time I had failed to make out a right the entry of any tomb, for I suspected that such was the purpose of the sculpture of the rock. By this time the men were rebellious, and I had to leave the valley if I did not wish my whole retinue to desert. But I secretly made up my mind to discover the tomb and explore it. To this end I went further into the mountains, where I met with an Arab shake who was willing to take service with me. The Arabs were not bound by the same superstitious fears as the Egyptians. Sheikh Abusome and his following were willing to take apart in the explorations. When I returned to the valley with these Bedouins I made effort to climb the face of the rock, but failed it being of one impenetrable smoothness. The stone, generally flat and smooth by nature, had been chiseled to completeness. That there had been projecting steps was manifest, for there remained untouched by the wondrous climate of that strange land, the marks of saw and chisel and mallet where the steps had been cut or broken away. Being thus baffled of winning the tomb from below and being unprovided with ladders to scale, I found a way by much circuitous journeying to the top of the cliff. Thence I caused myself to be lowered by ropes till I had investigated that portion of the rock face wherein I expected to find the opening. I found that there was an entrance, closed, however, by a great stone slab. This was cut in the rock more than a hundred feet up, being two thirds the height of the cliff. The hieroglyphic and cabalistic symbols cut in the rock were so managed as to disguise it. The cutting was deep and was continued through the rock and the portals of the doorway and through the great slab which formed the door itself. This was fixed in place with such incredible exactness that no stone chisel or cutting implement which I had with me could find a lodgement in the interstices. I used much force, however, and by many heavy strokes, one away into the tomb, for such I found it to be. The stone door, having fallen into the entrance, I passed over it into the tomb, noting as I went along iron chain which hung coiled on a bracket close to the doorway. The tomb I found to be complete after the manner of the finest Egyptian tombs, with chamber and shaft leading down to the corridor ending in the mummy-pit. It had the table of pictures which seemed some kind of record whose meaning is now forever lost, graven in a wondrous color on a wondrous stone. All the walls of the chamber and the passage were carved with strange writings in the uncanny form mentioned. The huge stone coffin or sarcophagus in the deep pit was marvelously graven throughout with signs. The Arab chief and two others who ventured into the tomb with me, and who were evidently used to such grim explorations, managed to take the cover from the sarcophagus without breaking it, at which they wondered, for such good fortune, they said, did not usually attend such efforts. Indeed they seemed not over-careful and did handle the various furniture of the tomb with such little concern that only for its great strength and thickness even the coffin itself might have been injured. Which gave me much concern, for it was very beautifully wrought of rare stone such as I had no knowledge of. Much I grieved that it were not possible to carry it away. But time and desert journeyings forbade such, I could only take with me such small matters as could be carried on the person. Within the sarcophagus was a body, manifestly of a woman, swathed with many wrappings of linen as is usual with all mummies. From certain embroiderings thereon I gathered that she was of high rank. As the breast was one hand unwrapped. In the mummies which I had seen the arms and hands are within the wrappings and certain adornments of wood, shaped and painted to resemble arms and hands, lie outside the unwrapped body. But this hand was strange to see, for it was the real hand of her who lay unwrapped there, the arm projecting from the searments being a flesh, seemingly made as like marble in the process of embalming. Arm and hand were of dusky white, being of the hue of ivory that hath lain long in air. The skin and the nails were complete and whole, as though the body had been placed for burial overnight. I touched the hand and moved it, the arm being something flexible as a live arm, though stiff with long disuse, as are the arms of those fakirs which I have seen in the Indies. There was, too, an added wonder that on this ancient hand were no less than seven fingers, the same all being fine and long and of great beauty. Soothe to say it made me shudder and my flesh creep to touch that hand that had lain there undisturbed for so many thousands of years and yet was like unto living flesh. Underneath the hand, as though guarded by it, lay a huge jewel of ruby, a great stone of wondrous bigness, for the ruby is in the main a small jewel. This one of wondrous color being as of fine blood whereon the light shineth. But its wonder lay not in its size or color, though these were, as I have said, a priceless rarity, but in that the light of it shone from seven stars, each of seven points, as clearly as though the stars were in reality there imprisoned. When that the hand was lifted, the sight of that wondrous stone lying there struck me with a shock almost to momentary paralysis. I stood gazing on it, as did those with me, as though it were that faded head of the gorgon Medusa with the snakes in her hair, whose sight struck into stone those who beheld. So strong was the feeling that I wanted to hurry away from the place. So too, those with me, therefore, taking this rare jewel, together with certain amulets of strangeness and richness being rod of jewel stones, I made haste to depart. I would have remained longer, and made further research in the wrappings of the mummy, but that I feared so to do. For it came to me all at once that I was in a desert place, with strange men who were with me because they were not overscrupulous. That we were in a lone cavern of the dead, a hundred feet above the ground, where none could find me were ill done to me, or would any ever seek. But in secret I determined that I would come again, though with more secure following. Moreover, was I tempted to seek further, as in examining the wrappings I saw many things of strange import in that wondrous tomb, including a casket of eccentric shape made of some strange stone which, me thought, might have contained other jewels, in as much as it had secure lodgement in the great sarcophagus itself. There was in the tomb also another coffer which, though of rare proportion and adornment, was more simply shaped. It was of iron stone of great thickness, but the cover was lightly cemented down with what seemed gum and Paris plaster, as though to ensure that no air could penetrate. The Arabs with me so insisted in its opening, thinking that from its thickness much treasure was stored therein, that I consented there too. But their hope was a false one, as it proved. Within, closely packed, stood four jars finely wrought and carved with various adornments. Of these one was the head of a man, another of a dog, another of a jackal, and another of a hawk. I had before known that such burial-earns as these were used to contain the entrails and other organs of the mummy dead, but on opening these, for the fastening of wax, though complete, was thin and yielded easily, we found that they held but oil. The Bedouins, spilling out most of the oil in the process, hoped with their hands in the jars less treasure should have been there concealed. But their searching was of no avail, no treasure was there. I was warned of my danger by seeing in the eyes of the Arabs certain covetous glances, whereon in order to hasten their departure I wrought upon those fears of superstition which even in these callous men were apparent. The chief of the Bedouins ascended from the pit to give the signal to those above to raise us, and I, not caring to remain with the men whom I mistrusted, followed him immediately. The others did not come at once, from which I feared that they were rifling the tomb afresh on their own account. I refrained to speak of it, however, lest worse should befall. At last they came. One of them, who ascended first, in landing at the top of the cliff, lost his foothold and fell below. He was instantly killed. The other followed, but in safety. The chief came next, and I came last. Before coming away I pulled into its place again, as well as I could, the slab of stone that covered the entrance to the tomb. I wished, if possible, to preserve it for my own examination should I come again. When we all stood on the hill above the cliff, the burning sun that was bright and full of glory was good to see after the darkness and strange mystery of the tomb. Even was I glad that the poor Arab who fell down the cliff and lay dead below lay in the sunlight and not in that gloomy cavern. I would feign have gone with my companions to seek him and give him sepulcher of some kind, but the shake made light of it and sent two of his men to see to it whilst we went on our way. That night as we camped, one of the men only returned, saying that a lion in the desert had killed his companion. After that they had buried the dead man in a deep sand without the valley and had covered the spot where he lay with many great rocks so that jackals or other praying beasts might not dig him up again as is their want. Later in the light of the fire round which the men sat or lay, I saw him exhibit to his fellows something white which they seemed to regard with special awe and reverence. So I drew near silently and saw that it was none other than the white hand of the mummy which had lain protecting the jewel in the great sarcophagus. I heard the Bedouin tell how he had found it on the body of him who had fallen from the cliff. There was no mistaking it, for there were the seven fingers which I had noted before. This man must have wrenched it off the dead body whilst his chief and I were otherwise engaged, and from the awe of the others I doubted not that he had hoped to use it as an amulet or charm. Whereas if powers it had they were not for him who had taken it from the dead, since his death followed hard upon his theft. Already his amulet had had an awesome baptism, for the wrist of the dead hand was stained with red as though it had been dipped in recent blood. That night I was in certain fear lest there should be some violence done to me, for if the poor dead hand was so valued as a charm, it must be the worth in such wise of the rare jewel which it had guarded. Though only the chief knew of it, my doubt was perhaps even greater, for he could so order matters as to have me at his mercy when he would. I guarded myself, therefore, with wakefulness so well as I could, determined that at my earliest opportunity I should leave this party and complete my journeying home, first to the Nile Bank and then down its course to Alexandria, with other guides who knew not what strange matters I had with me. At last there came over me a disposition of sleep so potent that I felt it would be resistless. Fearing a tack or that being searched in my sleep the better one might find the star jewel which he had seen me place with others in my dress, I took it out unobserved and held it in my hand. It seemed to give back the light of the flickering fire and the light of the stars, for there was no moon, with equal fidelity, and I could note that on its reverse it was graven deeply with certain signs such as I had seen in the tomb. As I sank into the unconsciousness of sleep the graven star jewel was hidden in the hollow of my clenched hand. I waked out of sleep with the light of the morning sun in my face. I sat up and looked around me. The fire was out and the camp was desolate, save for one figure which lay prone close to me. It was that of the Arab chief who lay on his back, dead. His face was almost black and his eyes were open and staring horribly up at the sky, as though he saw there some dreadful vision. He had evidently been strangled, for on looking I found on his throat the red marks where fingers had pressed. There seemed so many of these marks that I counted them. There were seven, and all parallel, except the thumb mark, as though made with one hand. This thrilled me as I thought of the mummy hand with the seven fingers. Even there in the open desert it seemed as if there could be enchantments. In my surprise as I bent over him I opened my right hand, which up to now I had held shut with the feeling, instinctive even in sleep, of keeping safe that which it held. As I did so the star jewel held there, fell out and struck the dead man in the mouth. Mirabil diktu there came forth at once from the dead mouth a great gush of blood in which the red jewel was for the moment lost. I turned the dead man over to look for it, and found that he lay with his right hand bent under him as though he had fallen on it. And in it he held a great knife, keen of point and edge, such as Arabs carry at the belt. It may have been that he was about to murder me when vengeance came on him, whether from man or god, or the gods of old, I know not. Suffice it that when I found my ruby jewel which shone up as a living star from the mess of blood wherein it lay, I paused not but fled from the place. I journeyed on alone through the hot desert, till by God's grace I came upon an Arab tribe camping by a well who gave me salt. With them I rested till they had set me on my way. I know not what became of the mummy hand or of those who had it. What strife or suspicion or disaster or greed went with it I know not. But some such cause there must have been since those who had it fled with it. It doubtless is used as a charm of potence by some desert tribe. At the earliest opportunity I made examination of the star ruby as I wished to try to understand what was graven on it. The symbols, whose meaning, however, I could not understand, were as follows. Twice whilst I had been reading this engrossing narrative I thought that I had seen across the page streaks of shade which the weirdness of the subject had made to seem like the shadow of a hand. On the first of these occasions I found that the illusion came from the fringe of green silk around the lamp. But on the second I had looked up, and my eyes had lit on the mummy hand across the room on which the starlight was falling under the edge of the blind. It was of little wonder that I had connected it with such a narrative, for if my eyes told me truly, here, in this room with me, was the very hand of which the traveller Van Hine had written. I looked over at the bed, and it comforted me to think that the nurse still sat there, calm and wakeful. At such a time, with such surrounds, during such a narrative, it was well to have assurance of the presence of some living person. I sat looking at the book and the table before me, and so many strange thoughts crowded on me that my mind began to whirl. It was almost as if the light on the white fingers in front of me was beginning to have some hypnotic effect. All at once all thoughts seemed to stop, and for an instant the world and time stood still. There lay a real hand across the book. What was there to so overcome me as was the case? I knew the hand that I saw in the book, and loved it. Margaret Trelawney's hand was a joy to me to see, to touch, and yet, at that moment, coming after other marvellous things, it had a strangely moving effect on me. It was but momentary, however, and had passed even before her voice had reached me. What disturbs you? What are you staring at the book for? I thought for an instant that you must have been overcome again. I jumped up. I was reading, I said, an old book from the library. As I spoke I closed it and put it under my arm. I shall now put it back as I understand that your father wishes all things, especially books, kept in their proper places. My words were intentionally misleading, for I did not wish her to know what I was reading, and thought it best not to wake her curiosity by leaving the book about. I went away, but not to the library. I left my book in my room, where I could get it when I had had my sleep in the day. When I returned Nurse Kennedy was ready to go to bed, so Mr. Lani watched with me in the room. I did not want any book whilst she was present. We sat close together and talked in a whisper whilst the moments flew by. It was with surprise that I noted the edge of the curtains changing from gray to yellow light. What we talked of had nothing to do with the sick man, except in so far that all which concerned his daughter must ultimately concern him. But it had nothing to say to Egypt or mummies or the dead or caves or Bedouin chiefs. I could well take note in the growing light that Margaret's hand had not seven fingers, but five, for it lay in mine. When Dr. Winchester arrived in the morning and had made his visit to his patient, he came to see me as I sat in the dining-room having a little meal, breakfast or supper, I hardly knew which it was, before I went to lie down. Mr. Korabeck came in at the same time, and we resumed our conversation where we had left at the night before. I told Mr. Korabeck that I had read the chapter about the finding of the tomb, and that I thought Dr. Winchester should read it too. The latter said that if he might he would take it with him. He had that morning to make a railway journey to Ipswich and would read it on the train. He said he would bring it back with him when he came again in the evening. I went up to my room to bring it down, but I could not find it anywhere. I had a distinct recollection of having left it on the little table beside my bed when I had come up after Mr. Alani's going on duty into the sick room. It was very strange, for the book was not of a kind that any of the servants would be likely to take. I had to come back and explain to the others that I could not find it. When Dr. Winchester had gone, Mr. Korabeck, who seemed to know the Dutchman's work by heart, talked the whole matter over with me. I told him that I was interrupted by a change of nurses just as I had come to the description of the ring. He smiled, as he said. So far as that is concerned you need not be disappointed. Not in Van Hine's time, nor for nearly two centuries later, could the meaning of that engraving have been understood. It was only when the work was taken up and followed by Young and Champollion, by Birch and Lepceus and Rosalini and Salvalini, by Mariette Bay and by Wallace Budge and Flinders Petrie and the other scholars of their times that great results ensued and that the true meaning of hieroglyphic was known. Later I shall explain to you, if Mr. Trollani does not explain it himself, or if he does not forbid me to, what it means in that particular place. I think it will be better for you to know what followed Van Hine's narrative, for with the description of the stone and the accounts of his bringing it to Holland at the termination of his travels the episode ends. End so far as his book is concerned. The chief thing about the book is that it sets others' thinking and acting. Amongst them were Mr. Trollani and myself. Mr. Trollani is a good linguist of the Orient, but he does not know northern tongues. As for me I have a faculty for learning languages, and when I was pursuing my studies in Leiden I learned Dutch so that I might more easily make references in the library there. Thus it was that at the very time when Mr. Trollani, who in making his great collection of works on Egypt had, through a booksellor's catalogue, acquired this volume with the manuscript translation, was studying it, I was reading another copy, in original Dutch, in Leiden. We were both struck by the description of the lonely tomb in the rock, cut so high up as to be inaccessible to ordinary seekers, with all means of reaching it carefully obliterated, and yet with such an elaborate ornamentation of the smooth surface of the cliff as Van Hine has described. It also struck us both as an odd thing, for in the years between Van Hine's time and our own the general knowledge of Egyptian curios and records has increased marvelously, that in the case of such a tomb, made in such a place, and which must have cost an immense sum of money, there was no seeming record or effigy to point out who lay within. Moreover the very name of the place, the Valley of the Sorcerer, had in a prosaic age attractions of its own. When we met, which we did through his seeking the assistance of other Egyptologists in his work, we talked over this, as we did over many other things, and we determined to make search for the mysterious valley. Whilst we were waiting to start on the travel, for many things were required which Mr. Trollani undertook to see to himself, I went to Holland to try if I could by any traces verify Van Hine's narrative. I went straight to Herne, and set patiently to work to find the house of the traveler and his descendants, if any. I need not trouble you with details of my seeking and finding. Herne is a place that has not changed much since Van Hine's time, except that it has lost the place which it held amongst commercial cities. Its externals are such as they had been then, in such a sleepy old place a century or two does not count for much. I found the house and discovered that none of the descendants were alive. I searched records, but only to one end, death and extinction. Then I set me to work to find what had become of his treasures, for that such a traveler must have had great treasures was apparent. I traced a good many to museums in Leiden, Utrecht, and Amsterdam, and some few to the private houses of rich collectors. At last, in the shop of an old watchmaker and jeweler at Herne, I found what he considered his chiefest treasure, a great ruby, carven like a scarab, with seven stars, and engraven with hieroglyphics. The old man did not know hieroglyphic character, and in his old world, sleepy life, the philological discoveries of recent years had not reached him. He did not know anything of Van Hine, except that such a person who had been, and that his name was, during two centuries venerated in the town as a great traveler. He valued the jewel as only a rare stone, spoiled in part by the cutting, and though he was at first loathed to part with such a unique gem, he became amenable ultimately to commercial reason. I had a full purse since I bought for Mr. Trelawney, who is, as I suppose you know, immensely wealthy. I was shortly on my way back to London, with the star ruby safe in my pocketbook, and in my heart a joy and exultation which knew no bounds. For here we were with proof of Van Hine's wonderful story. The jewel was put in security in Mr. Trelawney's great safe, and we started out on our journey of exploration in full hope. Mr. Trelawney was, at the last, loathed to leave his young wife whom he dearly loved, but she, who loved him equally, knew his longing to prosecute the search. So keeping to herself, as all good women do, all her anxieties, which in her case were special, she bade him follow out his bent. CHAPTER X Recording by Roger Maline