BROOD OF THE

 WITCH-QUEEN

 BY

 SAX ROHMER

 LONDON

 C. ARTHUR PEARSON, LIMITED

 HENRIETTA STREET, W. C. 

 1918

 * * * * *

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. ANTONY FERRARA

II. THE PHANTOM HANDS

III. THE RING OF THOTH

IV. AT FERRARA'S CHAMBERS

V. THE RUSTLING SHADOWS

VI. THE BEETLES

VII. SIR ELWIN GROVES' PATIENT

VIII. THE SECRET OF DHOON

IX. THE POLISH JEWESS

X. THE LAUGHTER

XI. CAIRO

XII. THE MASK OF SET

XIII. THE SCORPION WIND

XIV. DR. CAIRN ARRIVES

XV. THE WITCH-QUEEN

XVI. LAIR OF THE SPIDERS

XVII. THE STORY OF ALI MOHAMMED

XVIII. THE BATS

XIX. ANTHROPOMANCY

XX. THE INCENSE

XXI. THE MAGICIAN

XXII. MYRA

XXIII. THE FACE IN THE ORCHID-HOUSE

XXIV. FLOWERING OF THE LOTUS

XXV. CAIRN MEETS FERRARA

XXVI. THE IVORY HAND

XXVII. THE THUG'S CORD

XXVIII. THE HIGH PRIEST HORTOTEF

XXIX. THE WIZARD'S DEN

XXX. THE ELEMENTAL

XXXI. THE BOOK OF THOTH

 * * * * *

PREFATORY NOTICE

The strange deeds of Antony Ferrara, as herein related, are intendedto illustrate certain phases of Sorcery as it was formerly practised(according to numerous records) not only in Ancient Egypt but also inEurope, during the Middle Ages. In no case do the powers attributed tohim exceed those which are claimed for a fully equipped Adept. 

S. R. 

 * * * * *

BROOD OF THE WITCH-QUEEN

CHAPTER I

ANTONY FERRARA

Robert Cairn looked out across the quadrangle. The moon had justarisen, and it softened the beauty of the old college buildings, mellowed the harshness of time, casting shadow pools beneath thecloisteresque arches to the west and setting out the ivy in strongerrelief upon the ancient walls. The barred shadow on the lichenedstones beyond the elm was cast by the hidden gate; and straight ahead, where, between a quaint chimney-stack and a bartizan, a triangularpatch of blue showed like spangled velvet, lay the Thames. It was fromthere the cooling breeze came. 

But Cairn's gaze was set upon a window almost directly ahead, and westbelow the chimneys. Within the room to which it belonged a lambentlight played. 

Cairn turned to his companion, a ruddy and athletic looking man, somewhat bovine in type, who at the moment was busily tracing outsections on a human skull and checking his calculations from Ross's_Diseases of the Nervous System_. 

"Sime, " he said, "what does Ferrara always have a fire in his roomsfor at this time of the year?"

Sime glanced up irritably at the speaker. Cairn was a tall, thinScotsman, clean-shaven, square jawed, and with the crisp light hairand grey eyes which often bespeak unusual virility. 

"Aren't you going to do any work?" he inquired pathetically. "Ithought you'd come to give me a hand with my _basal ganglia_. I shallgo down on that; and there you've been stuck staring out of thewindow!"

"Wilson, in the end house, has got a most unusual brain, " said Cairn, with apparent irrelevance. 

"Has he!" snapped Sime. 

"Yes, in a bottle. His governor is at Bart's; he sent it up yesterday. You ought to see it. "

"Nobody will ever want to put _your_ brain in a bottle, " predicted thescowling Sime, and resumed his studies. 

Cairn relighted his pipe, staring across the quadrangle again. Then--

"You've never been in Ferrara's rooms, have you?" he inquired. 

Followed a muffled curse, crash, and the skull went rolling across thefloor. 

"Look here, Cairn, " cried Sime, "I've only got a week or so now, andmy nervous system is frantically rocky; I shall go all to pieces on mynervous system. If you want to talk, go ahead. When you're finished, Ican begin work. "

"Right-oh, " said Cairn calmly, and tossed his pouch across. "I want totalk to you about Ferrara. "

"Go ahead then. What is the matter with Ferrara?"

"Well, " replied Cairn, "he's queer. "

"That's no news, " said Sime, filling his pipe; "we all know he's aqueer chap. But he's popular with women. He'd make a fortune as anerve specialist. "

"He doesn't have to; he inherits a fortune when Sir Michael dies. "

"There's a pretty cousin, too, isn't there?" inquired Sime slyly. 

"There is, " replied Cairn. "Of course, " he continued, "my governor andSir Michael are bosom friends, and although I've never seen much ofyoung Ferrara, at the same time I've got nothing against him. But--"he hesitated. 

"Spit it out, " urged Sime, watching him oddly. 

"Well, it's silly, I suppose, but what does he want with a fire on ablazing night like this?"

Sime stared. 

"Perhaps he's a throw-back, " he suggested lightly. "The Ferraras, although they're counted Scotch--aren't they?--must have been Italianoriginally--"

"Spanish, " corrected Cairn. "They date from the son of Andrea Ferrara, the sword-maker, who was a Spaniard. Cæsar Ferrara came with theArmada in 1588 as armourer. His ship was wrecked up in the Bay ofTobermory and he got ashore--and stopped. "

"Married a Scotch lassie?"

"Exactly. But the genealogy of the family doesn't account for Antony'shabits. "

"What habits?"

"Well, look. " Cairn waved in the direction of the open window. "Whatdoes he do in the dark all night, with a fire going?"

"Influenza?"

"Nonsense! You've never been in his rooms, have you?"

"No. Very few men have. But as I said before, he's popular with thewomen. "

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there have been complaints. Any other man would have been sentdown. "

"You think he has influence--"

"Influence of some sort, undoubtedly. "

"Well, I can see you have serious doubts about the man, as I havemyself, so I can unburden my mind. You recall that sudden thunderstormon Thursday?"

"Rather; quite upset me for work. "

"I was out in it. I was lying in a punt in the backwater--you know, _our_ backwater. "

"Lazy dog. "

"To tell you the truth, I was trying to make up my mind whether Ishould abandon bones and take the post on the _Planet_ which has beenoffered me. "

"Pills for the pen--Harley for Fleet? Did you decide?"

"Not then; something happened which quite changed my line ofreflection. "

The room was becoming cloudy with tobacco smoke. 

"It was delightfully still, " Cairn resumed. "A water rat rose withina foot of me and a kingfisher was busy on a twig almost at my elbow. Twilight was just creeping along, and I could hear nothing but faintcreakings of sculls from the river and sometimes the drip of apunt-pole. I thought the river seemed to become suddenly deserted; itgrew quite abnormally quiet--and abnormally dark. But I was so deep inreflection that it never occurred to me to move. 

"Then the flotilla of swans came round the bend, with Apollo--you knowApollo, the king-swan?--at their head. By this time it had growntremendously dark, but it never occurred to me to ask myself why. Theswans, gliding along so noiselessly, might have been phantoms. A hush, a perfect hush, settled down. Sime, that hush was the prelude to astrange thing--an unholy thing!"

Cairn rose excitedly and strode across to the table, kicking the skullout of his way. 

"It was the storm gathering, " snapped Sime. 

"It was something else gathering! Listen! It got yet darker, but forsome inexplicable reason, although I must have heard the thundermuttering, I couldn't take my eyes off the swans. Then ithappened--the thing I came here to tell you about; I must tellsomebody--the thing that I am not going to forget in a hurry. "

He began to knock out the ash from his pipe. 

"Go on, " directed Sime tersely. 

"The big swan--Apollo--was within ten feet of me; he swam in openwater, clear of the others; no living thing touched him. Suddenly, uttering a cry that chilled my very blood, a cry that I never heardfrom a swan in my life, he rose in the air, his huge wingsextended--like a tortured phantom, Sime; I can never forget it--sixfeet clear of the water. The uncanny wail became a stifled hiss, andsending up a perfect fountain of water--I was deluged--the poor oldking-swan fell, beat the surface with his wings--and was still. "

"Well?"

"The other swans glided off like ghosts. Several heavy raindropspattered on the leaves above. I admit I was scared. Apollo lay withone wing right in the punt. I was standing up; I had jumped to my feetwhen the thing occurred. I stooped and touched the wing. The bird wasquite dead! Sime, I pulled the swan's head out of the water, and--hisneck was broken; no fewer than three vertebrae fractured!"

A cloud of tobacco smoke was wafted towards the open window. 

"It isn't one in a million who could wring the neck of a bird likeApollo, Sime; but it was done before my eyes without the visibleagency of God or man! As I dropped him and took to the pole, the stormburst. A clap of thunder spoke with the voice of a thousand cannon, and I poled for bare life from that haunted backwater. I was drenchedto the skin when I got in, and I ran up all the way from the stage. "

"Well?" rapped the other again, as Cairn paused to refill his pipe. 

"It was seeing the firelight flickering at Ferrara's window that ledme to do it. I don't often call on him; but I thought that a rub downbefore the fire and a glass of toddy would put me right. The storm hadabated as I got to the foot of his stair--only a distant rolling ofthunder. 

"Then, out of the shadows--it was quite dark--into the flickeringlight of the lamp came somebody all muffled up. I started horribly. Itwas a girl, quite a pretty girl, too, but very pale, and withover-bright eyes. She gave one quick glance up into my face, mutteredsomething, an apology, I think, and drew back again into herhiding-place. "

"He's been warned, " growled Sime. "It will be notice to quit nexttime. "

"I ran upstairs and banged on Ferrara's door. He didn't open at first, but shouted out to know who was knocking. When I told him, he let mein, and closed the door very quickly. As I went in, a pungent cloudmet me--incense. "

"Incense?"

"His rooms smelt like a joss-house; I told him so. He said he wasexperimenting with _Kyphi_--the ancient Egyptian stuff used in thetemples. It was all dark and hot; phew! like a furnace. Ferrara'srooms always were odd, but since the long vacation I hadn't been in. Good lord, they're disgusting!"

"How? Ferrara spent vacation in Egypt; I suppose he's brought thingsback?"

"Things--yes! Unholy things! But that brings me to something too. Iought to know more about the chap than anybody; Sir Michael Ferraraand the governor have been friends for thirty years; but my father isoddly reticent--quite singularly reticent--regarding Antony. Anyway, have you heard about him, in Egypt?"

"I've heard he got into trouble. For his age, he has a devil of aqueer reputation; there's no disguising it. "

"What sort of trouble?"

"I've no idea. Nobody seems to know. But I heard from young Ashby thatFerrara was asked to leave. "

"There's some tale about Kitchener--"

"_By_ Kitchener, Ashby says; but I don't believe it. "

"Well--Ferrara lighted a lamp, an elaborate silver thing, and I foundmyself in a kind of nightmare museum. There was an unwrapped mummythere, the mummy of a woman--I can't possibly describe it. He hadpictures, too--photographs. I shan't try to tell you what theyrepresented. I'm not thin-skinned; but there are some subjects that noman anxious to avoid Bedlam would willingly investigate. On the tableby the lamp stood a number of objects such as I had never seen in mylife before, evidently of great age. He swept them into a cupboardbefore I had time to look long. Then he went off to get a bath towel, slippers, and so forth. As he passed the fire he threw something in. Ahissing tongue of flame leapt up--and died down again. "

"What did he throw in?"

"I am not absolutely certain; so I won't say what I _think_ it was, at the moment. Then he began to help me shed my saturated flannels, and he set a kettle on the fire, and so forth. You know the personalcharm of the man? But there was an unpleasant sense of something--whatshall I say?--sinister. Ferrara's ivory face was more pale than usual, and he conveyed the idea that he was chewed up--exhausted. Beads ofperspiration were on his forehead. "

"Heat of his rooms?"

"No, " said Cairn shortly. "It wasn't that. I had a rub down andborrowed some slacks. Ferrara brewed grog and pretended to make mewelcome. Now I come to something which I can't forget; it may be amere coincidence, but--. He has a number of photographs in his rooms, good ones, which he has taken himself. I'm not speaking now of themonstrosities, the outrages; I mean views, and girls--particularlygirls. Well, standing on a queer little easel right under the lamp wasa fine picture of Apollo, the swan, lord of the backwater. "

Sime stared dully through the smoke haze. 

"It gave me a sort of shock, " continued Cairn. "It made me think, harder than ever, of the thing he had thrown in the fire. Then, in hisphotographic zenana, was a picture of a girl whom I am almost sure wasthe one I had met at the bottom of the stair. Another was of MyraDuquesne. "

"His cousin?"

"Yes. I felt like tearing it from the wall. In fact, the moment I sawit, I stood up to go. I wanted to run to my rooms and strip the man'sclothes off my back! It was a struggle to be civil any longer. Sime, if you had seen that swan die--"

Sime walked over to the window. 

"I have a glimmering of your monstrous suspicions, " he said slowly. "The last man to be kicked out of an English varsity for this sort ofthing, so far as I know, was Dr. Dee of St. John's, Cambridge, andthat's going back to the sixteenth century. "

"I know; it's utterly preposterous, of course. But I had to confide insomebody. I'll shift off now, Sime. "

Sime nodded, staring from the open window. As Cairn was about to closethe outer door:

"Cairn, " cried Sime, "since you are now a man of letters and leisure, you might drop in and borrow Wilson's brains for me. "

"All right, " shouted Cairn. 

Down in the quadrangle he stood for a moment, reflecting; then, actingupon a sudden resolution, he strode over towards the gate and ascendedFerrara's stair. 

For some time he knocked at the door in vain, but he persisted in hisclamouring, arousing the ancient echoes. Finally, the door was opened. 

Antony Ferrara faced him. He wore a silver-grey dressing gown, trimmedwith white swansdown, above which his ivory throat rose statuesque. The almond-shaped eyes, black as night, gleamed strangely beneath thelow, smooth brow. The lank black hair appeared lustreless bycomparison. His lips were very red. In his whole appearance there wassomething repellently effeminate. 

"Can I come in?" demanded Cairn abruptly. 

"Is it--something important?" Ferrara's voice was husky but notunmusical. 

"Why, are you busy?"

"Well--er--" Ferrara smiled oddly. 

"Oh, a visitor?" snapped Cairn. 

"Not at all. "

"Accounts for your delay in opening, " said Cairn, and turned on hisheel. "Mistook me for the proctor, in person, I suppose. Good-night. "

Ferrara made no reply. But, although he never once glanced back, Cairnknew that Ferrara, leaning over the rail, above, was looking afterhim; it was as though elemental heat were beating down upon his head. 

CHAPTER II

THE PHANTOM HANDS

A week later Robert Cairn quitted Oxford to take up the newspaperappointment offered to him in London. It may have been due to somemysterious design of a hidden providence that Sime 'phoned him earlyin the week about an unusual case in one of the hospitals. 

"Walton is junior house-surgeon there, " he said, "and he can arrangefor you to see the case. She (the patient) undoubtedly died from somerare nervous affection. I have a theory, " etc. ; the conversationbecame technical. 

Cairn went to the hospital, and by courtesy of Walton, whom he hadknown at Oxford, was permitted to view the body. 

"The symptoms which Sime has got to hear about, " explained thesurgeon, raising the sheet from the dead woman's face, "are--"

He broke off. Cairn had suddenly exhibited a ghastly pallor; heclutched at Walton for support. 

"My God!"

Cairn, still holding on to the other, stooped over the discolouredface. It had been a pretty face when warm life had tinted its curves;now it was congested--awful; two heavy discolorations showed, one oneither side of the region of the larynx. 

"What on earth is wrong with you?" demanded Walton. 

"I thought, " gasped Cairn, "for a moment, that I knew--"

"Really! I wish you did! We can't find out anything about her. Have agood look. "

"No, " said Cairn, mastering himself with an effort--"a chanceresemblance, that's all. " He wiped the beads of perspiration from hisforehead. 

"You look jolly shaky, " commented Walton. "Is she like someone youknow very well?"

"No, not at all, now that I come to consider the features; but it wasa shock at first. What on earth caused death?"

"Asphyxia, " answered Walton shortly. "Can't you see?"

"Someone strangled her, and she was brought here too late?"

"Not at all, my dear chap; nobody strangled her. She was brought herein a critical state four or five days ago by one of the slum priestswho keep us so busy. We diagnosed it as exhaustion from lack offood--with other complications. But the case was doing quite well upto last night; she was recovering strength. Then, at about oneo'clock, she sprang up in bed, and fell back choking. By the time thenurse got to her it was all over. "

"But the marks on her throat?"

Walton shrugged his shoulders. 

"There they are! Our men are keenly interested. It's absolutelyunique. Young Shaw, who has a mania for the nervous system, sent along account up to Sime, who suffers from a similar form ofaberration. "

"Yes; Sime 'phoned me. "

"It's nothing to do with nerves, " said Walton contemptuously. "Don'task me to explain it, but it's certainly no nerve case. "

"One of the other patients--"

"My dear chap, the other patients were all fast asleep! The nurse wasat her table in the corner, and in full view of the bed the wholetime. I tell you no one touched her!"

"How long elapsed before the nurse got to her?"

"Possibly half a minute. But there is no means of learning when theparoxysm commenced. The leaping up in bed probably marked the end andnot the beginning of the attack. "

Cairn experienced a longing for the fresh air; it was as though someevil cloud hovered around and about the poor unknown. Strange ideas, horrible ideas, conjectures based upon imaginings all but insane, flooded his mind darkly. 

Leaving the hospital, which harboured a grim secret, he stood at thegate for a moment, undecided what to do. His father, Dr. Cairn, wasout of London, or he would certainly have sought him in this hour ofsore perplexity. 

"What in Heaven's name is behind it all!" he asked himself. 

For he knew beyond doubt that the girl who lay in the hospital was thesame that he had seen one night at Oxford, was the girl whosephotograph he had found in Antony Ferrara's rooms!

He formed a sudden resolution. A taxi-cab was passing at that moment, and he hailed it, giving Sir Michael Ferrara's address. He couldscarcely trust himself to think, but frightful possibilities presentedthemselves to him, repel them how he might. London seemed to growdark, overshadowed, as once he had seen a Thames backwater grow. Heshuddered, as though from a physical chill. 

The house of the famous Egyptian scholar, dull white behind itsrampart of trees, presented no unusual appearances to his anxiousscrutiny. What he feared he scarcely knew; what he suspected he couldnot have defined. 

Sir Michael, said the servant, was unwell and could see no one. Thatdid not surprise Cairn; Sir Michael had not enjoyed good health sincemalaria had laid him low in Syria. But Miss Duquesne was at home. 

Cairn was shown into the long, low-ceiled room which contained so manypriceless relics of a past civilisation. Upon the bookcase stood thestately ranks of volumes which had carried the fame of Europe'sforemost Egyptologist to every corner of the civilised world. Thisqueerly furnished room held many memories for Robert Cairn, who hadknown it from childhood, but latterly it had always appeared to him inhis daydreams as the setting for a dainty figure. It was here that hehad first met Myra Duquesne, Sir Michael's niece, when, fresh from aNorman convent, she had come to shed light and gladness upon thesomewhat, sombre household of the scholar. He often thought of thatday; he could recall every detail of the meeting--

Myra Duquesne came in, pulling aside the heavy curtains that hung inthe arched entrance. With a granite Osiris flanking her slim figure onone side and a gilded sarcophagus on the other, she burst upon thevisitor, a radiant vision in white. The light gleamed through hersoft, brown hair forming a halo for a face that Robert Cairn knew forthe sweetest in the world. 

"Why, Mr. Cairn, " she said, and blushed entrancingly--"we thought youhad forgotten us. "

"That's not a little bit likely, " he replied, taking her profferedhand, and there was that in his voice and in his look which made herlower her frank grey eyes. "I have only been in London a few days, andI find that Press work is more exacting than I had anticipated!"

"Did you want to see my uncle very particularly?" asked Myra. 

"In a way, yes. I suppose he could not manage to see me--"

Myra shook her head. Now that the flush of excitement had left herface, Cairn was concerned to see how pale she was and what darkshadows lurked beneath her eyes. 

"Sir Michael is not seriously ill?" he asked quickly. "Only one of thevisual attacks--"

"Yes--at least it began with one. "

She hesitated, and Cairn saw to his consternation that her eyes becamefilled with tears. The real loneliness of her position, now that herguardian was ill, the absence of a friend in whom she could confideher fears, suddenly grew apparent to the man who sat watching her. 

"You are tired out, " he said gently. "You have been nursing him?"

She nodded and tried to smile. 

"Who is attending?"

"Sir Elwin Groves, but--"

"Shall I wire for my father?"

"We wired for him yesterday!"

"What! to Paris?"

"Yes, at my uncle's wish. "

Cairn started. 

"Then--he thinks he is seriously ill, himself?"

"I cannot say, " answered the girl wearily. "His behaviour is--queer. He will allow no one in his room, and barely consents to see SirElwin. Then, twice recently, he has awakened in the night and made asingular request. "

"What is that?"

"He has asked me to send for his solicitor in the morning, speakingharshly and almost as though--he hated me.... "

"I don't understand. Have you complied?"

"Yes, and on each occasion he has refused to see the solicitor when hehas arrived!"

"I gather that you have been acting as night-attendant?"

"I remain in an adjoining room; he is always worse at night. Perhapsit is telling on my nerves, but last night--"

Again she hesitated, as though doubting the wisdom of further speech;but a brief scrutiny of Cairn's face, with deep anxiety to be read inhis eyes, determined her to proceed. 

"I had been asleep, and I must have been dreaming, for I thought thata voice was chanting, quite near to me. "

"Chanting?"

"Yes--it was horrible, in some way. Then a sensation of intensecoldness came; it was as though some icily cold creature fanned mewith its wings! I cannot describe it, but it was numbing; I think Imust have felt as those poor travellers do who succumb to thetemptation to sleep in the snow. "

Cairn surveyed her anxiously, for in its essentials this might be asymptom of a dreadful ailment. 

"I aroused myself, however, " she continued, "but experienced anunaccountable dread of entering my uncle's room. I could hear himmuttering strangely, and--I forced myself to enter! I saw--oh, howcan I tell you! You will think me mad!"

She raised her hands to her face; she was trembling. Robert Cairn tookthem in his own, forcing her to look up. 

"Tell me, " he said quietly. 

"The curtains were drawn back; I distinctly remembered having closedthem, but they were drawn back; and the moonlight was shining on tothe bed. "

"Bad; he was dreaming. "

"But was _I_ dreaming? Mr. Cairn, two hands were stretched out over myuncle, two hands that swayed slowly up and down in the moonlight!"

Cairn leapt to his feet, passing his hand over his forehead. 

"Go on, " he said. 

"I--I cried out, but not loudly--I think I was very near to swooning. The hands were withdrawn into the shadow, and my uncle awoke and satup. He asked, in a low voice, if I were there, and I ran to him. "

"Yes. "

"He ordered me, very coldly, to 'phone for his solicitor at nineo'clock this morning, and then fell back, and was asleep again almostimmediately. The solicitor came, and was with him for nearly an hour. He sent for one of his clerks, and they both went away at half-pastten. Uncle has been in a sort of dazed condition ever since; in facthe has only once aroused himself, to ask for Dr. Cairn. I had atelegram sent immediately. "

"The governor will be here to-night, " said Cairn confidently. "Tellme, the hands which you thought you saw: was there anything peculiarabout them?"

"In the moonlight they seemed to be of a dull white colour. There wasa ring on one finger--a green ring. Oh!" she shuddered. "I can see itnow. "

"You would know it again?"

"Anywhere!"

"Actually, there was no one in the room, of course?"

"No one. It was some awful illusion; but I can never forget it. "

CHAPTER III

THE RING OF THOTH

Half-Moon Street was very still; midnight had sounded nearlyhalf-an-hour; but still Robert Cairn paced up and down his father'slibrary. He was very pale, and many times he glanced at a book whichlay open upon the table. Finally he paused before it and read onceagain certain passages. 

"In the year 1571, " it recorded, "the notorious Trois Echelles wasexecuted in the Place de Grève. He confessed before the king, CharlesIX.... That he performed marvels.... Admiral de Coligny, who also waspresent, recollected ... The death of two gentlemen.... He added thatthey were found black and swollen. "

He turned over the page, with a hand none too steady. 

"The famous Maréchal d'Ancre, Concini Concini, " he read, "was killedby a pistol shot on the drawbridge of the Louvre by Vitry, Captain ofthe Bodyguard, on the 24th of April, 1617.... It was proved that theMaréchal and his wife made use of wax images, which they kept incoffins.... "

Cairn shut the book hastily and began to pace the room again. 

"Oh, it is utterly, fantastically incredible!" he groaned. "Yet, withmy own eyes I saw--"

He stepped to a bookshelf and began to look for a book which, so faras his slight knowledge of the subject bore him, would possibly throwlight upon the darkness. But he failed to find it. Despite the heat ofthe weather, the library seemed to have grown chilly. He pressed thebell. 

"Marston, " he said to the man who presently came, "you must be verytired, but Dr. Cairn will be here within an hour. Tell him that Ihave gone to Sir Michael Ferrara's. "

"But it's after twelve o'clock, sir!"

"I know it is; nevertheless I am going. "

"Very good, sir. You will wait there for the Doctor?"

"Exactly, Marston. Good-night!"

"Good-night, sir. "

Robert Cairn went out into Half-Moon Street. The night was perfect, and the cloudless sky lavishly gemmed with stars. He walked onheedlessly, scarce noting in which direction. An awful conviction waswith him, growing stronger each moment, that some mysterious menace, some danger unclassifiable, threatened Myra Duquesne. What did hesuspect? He could give it no name. How should he act? He had no idea. 

Sir Elwin Groves, whom he had seen that evening, had hinted broadly atmental trouble as the solution of Sir Michael Ferrara's peculiarsymptoms. Although Sir Michael had had certain transactions with hissolicitor during the early morning, he had apparently forgotten allabout the matter, according to the celebrated physician. 

"Between ourselves, Cairn, " Sir Elwin had confided, "I believe healtered his will. "

The inquiry of a taxi driver interrupted Cairn's meditations. Heentered the vehicle, giving Sir Michael Ferrara's address. 

His thoughts persistently turned to Myra Duquesne, who at that momentwould be lying listening for the slightest sound from the sick-room;who would be fighting down fear, that she might do her duty to herguardian--fear of the waving phantom hands. The cab sped through thealmost empty streets, and at last, rounding a corner, rolled up thetree-lined avenue, past three or four houses lighted only by theglitter of the moon, and came to a stop before that of Sir MichaelFerrara. 

Lights shone from the many windows. The front door was open, and lightstreamed out into the porch. 

"My God!" cried Cairn, leaping from the cab. "My God! what hashappened?"

A thousand fears, a thousand reproaches, flooded his brain withfrenzy. He went racing up to the steps and almost threw himself uponthe man who stood half-dressed in the doorway. 

"Felton, Felton!" he whispered hoarsely. "What has happened? Who--"

"Sir Michael, sir, " answered the man. "I thought"--his voicebroke--"you were the doctor, sir?"

"Miss Myra--"

"She fainted away, sir. Mrs. Hume is with her in the library, now. "

Cairn thrust past the servant and ran into the library. Thehousekeeper and a trembling maid were bending over Myra Duquesne, wholay fully dressed, white and still, upon a Chesterfield. Cairnunceremoniously grasped her wrist, dropped upon his knees and placedhis ear to the still breast. 

"Thank God!" he said. "It is only a swoon. Look after her, Mrs. Hume. "

The housekeeper, with set face, lowered her head, but did not trustherself to speak. Cairn went out into the hall and tapped Felton onthe shoulder. The man turned with a great start. 

"What happened?" he demanded. "Is Sir Michael--?"

Felton nodded. 

"Five minutes before you came, sir. " His voice was hoarse withemotion. "Miss Myra came out of her room. She thought someone calledher. She rapped on Mrs. Hume's door, and Mrs. Hume, who was justretiring, opened it. She also thought she had heard someone callingMiss Myra out on the stairhead. "

"Well?"

"There was no one there, sir. Everyone was in bed; I was justundressing, myself. But there was a sort of faint perfume--somethinglike a church, only disgusting, sir--"

"How--disgusting! Did _you_ smell it?"

"No, sir, never. Mrs. Hume and Miss Myra have noticed it in the houseon other nights, and one of the maids, too. It was very strong, I'mtold, last night. Well, sir, as they stood by the door they heard ahorrid kind of choking scream. They both rushed to Sir Michael'sroom, and--"

"Yes, yes?"

"He was lying half out of bed, sir--"

"Dead?"

"Seemed like he'd been strangled, they told me, and--"

"Who is with him now?"

The man grew even paler. 

"No one, Mr. Cairn, sir. Miss Myra screamed out that there were twohands just unfastening from his throat as she and Mrs. Hume got to thedoor, and there was no living soul in the room, sir. I might as wellout with it! We're all afraid to go in!"

Cairn turned and ran up the stairs. The upper landing was in darknessand the door of the room which he knew to be Sir Michael's stood wideopen. As he entered, a faint scent came to his nostrils. It broughthim up short at the threshold, with a chill of supernatural dread. 

The bed was placed between the windows, and one curtain had beenpulled aside, admitting a flood, of moonlight. Cairn remembered thatMyra had mentioned this circumstance in connection with thedisturbance of the previous night. 

"Who, in God's name, opened that curtain!" he muttered. 

Fully in the cold white light lay Sir Michael Ferrara, his silver hairgleaming and his strong, angular face upturned to the intruding rays. His glazed eyes were starting from their sockets; his face was nearlyblack; and his fingers were clutching the sheets in a death grip. Cairn had need of all his courage to touch him. 

He was quite dead. 

Someone was running up the stairs. Cairn turned, half dazed, anticipating the entrance of a local medical man. Into the room ranhis father, switching on the light as he did so. A greyish tingeshowed through his ruddy complexion. He scarcely noticed his son. 

"Ferrara!" he cried, coming up to the bed. "Ferrara!"

He dropped on his knees beside the dead man. 

"Ferrara, old fellow--"

His cry ended in something like a sob. Robert Cairn turned, choking, and went downstairs. 

In the hall stood Felton and some other servants. 

"Miss Duquesne?"

"She has recovered, sir. Mrs. Hume has taken her to another bedroom. "

Cairn hesitated, then walked into the deserted library, where a lightwas burning. He began to pace up and down, clenching and unclenchinghis fists. Presently Felton knocked and entered. Clearly the man wasglad of the chance to talk to someone. 

"Mr. Antony has been 'phoned at Oxford, sir. I thought you might liketo know. He is motoring down, sir, and will be here at four o'clock. "

"Thank you, " said Cairn shortly. 

Ten minutes later his father joined him. He was a slim, well-preservedman, alert-eyed and active, yet he had aged five years in his son'seyes. His face was unusually pale, but he exhibited no other signs ofemotion. 

"Well, Rob, " he said, tersely. "I can see you have something to tellme. I am listening. "

Robert Cairn leant back against a bookshelf. 

"I _have_ something to tell you, sir, and something to ask you. "

"Tell your story, first; then ask your question. "

"My story begins in a Thames backwater--"

Dr. Cairn stared, squaring his jaw, but his son proceeded to relate, with some detail, the circumstances attendant upon the death of theking-swan. He went on to recount what took place in Antony Ferrara'srooms, and at the point where something had been taken from the tableand thrown in the fire--

"Stop!" said Dr. Cairn. "What did he throw in the fire?"

The doctor's nostrils quivered, and his eyes were ablaze with somehardly repressed emotion. 

"I cannot swear to it, sir--"

"Never mind. What do you _think_ he threw in the fire?"

"A little image, of wax or something similar--an image of--a swan. "

At that, despite his self-control, Dr. Cairn became so pale that hisson leapt forward. 

"All right, Rob, " his father waved him away, and turning, walkedslowly down the room. 

"Go on, " he said, rather huskily. 

Robert Cairn continued his story up to the time that he visited thehospital where the dead girl lay. 

"You can swear that she was the original of the photograph in Antony'srooms and the same who was waiting at the foot of the stair?"

"I can, sir. "

"Go on. "

Again the younger man resumed his story, relating what he had learntfrom Myra Duquesne; what she had told him about the phantom hands;what Felton had told him about the strange perfume perceptible in thehouse. 

"The ring, " interrupted Dr. Cairn--"she would recognise it again?"

"She says so. "

"Anything else?"

"Only that if some of your books are to be believed, sir, TroisEchelle, D'Ancre and others have gone to the stake for such things ina less enlightened age!"

"Less enlightened, boy!" Dr. Cairn turned his blazing eyes upon him. "_More_ enlightened where the powers of hell were concerned!"

"Then you think--"

"_Think_! Have I spent half my life in such studies in vain? Did Ilabour with poor Michael Ferrara in Egypt and learn _nothing_? JustGod! what an end to his labour! What a reward for mine!"

He buried his face in quivering hands. 

"I cannot tell exactly what you mean by that, sir, " said Robert Cairn;"but it brings me to my question. "

Dr. Cairn did not speak, did not move. 

"_Who is Antony Ferrara_?"

The doctor looked up at that; and it was a haggard face he raised fromhis hands. 

"You have tried to ask me that before. "

"I ask now, sir, with better prospect of receiving an answer. "

"Yet I can give you none, Rob. "

"Why, sir? Are you bound to secrecy?"

"In a degree, yes. But the real reason is this--I don't know. "

"You don't know!"

"I have said so. "

"Good God, sir, you amaze me! I have always felt certain that he wasreally no Ferrara, but an adopted son; yet it had never entered mymind that you were ignorant of his origin. "

"You have not studied the subjects which I have studied; nor do I wishthat you should; therefore it is impossible, at any rate now, topursue that matter further. But I may perhaps supplement yourresearches into the history of Trois Echelles and Concini Concini. Ibelieve you told me that you were looking in my library for some workwhich you failed to find?"

"I was looking for M. Chabas' translation of the _Papyrus Harris_. "

"What do you know of it?"

"I once saw a copy in Antony Ferrara's rooms. "

Dr. Cairn started slightly. 

"Indeed. It happens that my copy is here; I lent it quite recentlyto--Sir Michael. It is probably somewhere on the shelves. "

He turned on more lights and began to scan the rows of books. Presently--

"Here it is, " he said, and took down and opened the book on the table. "This passage may interest you. " He laid his finger upon it. 

His son bent over the book and read the following:--

"Hai, the evil man, was a shepherd. He had said: 'O, that I might havea book of spells that would give me resistless power!' He obtained abook of the Formulas.... By the divine powers of these he enchantedmen. He obtained a deep vault furnished with implements. He made waxenimages of men, and love-charms. And then he perpetrated all thehorrors that his heart conceived. "

"Flinders Petrie, " said Dr. Cairn, "mentions the Book of Thoth asanother magical work conferring similar powers. "

"But surely, sir--after all, it's the twentieth century--this is meresuperstition!"

"I thought so--_once_!" replied Dr. Cairn. "But I have lived to knowthat Egyptian magic was a real and a potent force. A great part of itwas no more than a kind of hypnotism, but there were other branches. Our most learned modern works are as children's nursery rhymes besidesuch a writing as the Egyptian _Ritual of the Dead_! God forgive me!What have I done!"

"You cannot reproach yourself in any way, sir!"

"Can I not?" said Dr. Cairn hoarsely. "Ah, Rob, you don't know!"

There came a rap on the door, and a local practitioner entered. 

"This is a singular case, Dr. Cairn, " he began diffidently. "Anautopsy--"

"Nonsense!" cried Dr. Cairn. "Sir Elwin Groves had foreseen it--so hadI!"

"But there are distinct marks of pressure on either side of thewindpipe--"

"Certainly. These marks are not uncommon in such cases. Sir Michaelhad resided in the East and had contracted a form of plague. Virtuallyhe died from it. The thing is highly contagious, and it is almostimpossible to rid the system of it. A girl died in one of thehospitals this week, having identical marks on the throat. " He turnedto his son. "You saw her, Rob?"

Robert Cairn nodded, and finally the local man withdrew, highlymystified, but unable to contradict so celebrated a physician as Dr. Bruce Cairn. 

The latter seated himself in an armchair, and rested his chin in thepalm of his left hand. Robert Cairn paced restlessly about thelibrary. Both were waiting, expectantly. At half-past two Feltonbrought in a tray of refreshments, but neither of the men attemptedto avail themselves of the hospitality. 

"Miss Duquesne?" asked the younger. 

"She has just gone to sleep, sir. "

"Good, " muttered Dr. Cairn. "Blessed is youth. "

Silence fell again, upon the man's departure, to be broken but rarely, despite the tumultuous thoughts of those two minds, until, at about aquarter to three, the faint sound of a throbbing motor brought Dr. Cairn sharply to his feet. He looked towards the window. Dawn wasbreaking. The car came roaring along the avenue and stopped outsidethe house. 

Dr. Cairn and his son glanced at one another. A brief tumult andhurried exchange of words sounded in the hall; footsteps were heardascending the stairs, then came silence. The two stood side by side infront of the empty hearth, a haggard pair, fitly set in that desolateroom, with the yellowing rays of the lamps shrinking before the firstspears of dawn. 

Then, without warning, the door opened slowly and deliberately, andAntony Ferrara came in. 

His face was expressionless, ivory; his red lips were firm, and hedrooped his head. But the long black eyes glinted and gleamed as ifthey reflected the glow from a furnace. He wore a motor coat linedwith leopard skin and he was pulling off his heavy gloves. 

"It is good of you to have waited, Doctor, " he said in his huskilymusical voice--"you too, Cairn. "

He advanced a few steps into the room. Cairn was conscious of a kindof fear, but uppermost came a desire to pick up some heavy implementand crush this evilly effeminate thing with the serpent eyes. Then hefound himself speaking; the words seemed to be forced from his throat. 

"Antony Ferrara, " he said, "have you read the _Harris Papyrus_?"

Ferrara dropped his glove, stooped and recovered it, and smiledfaintly. 

"No, " he replied. "Have you?" His eyes were nearly closed, mereluminous slits. "But surely, " he continued, "this is no time, Cairn, to discuss books? As my poor father's heir, and therefore your host, I beg of you to partake--"

A faint sound made him turn. Just within the door, where the lightfrom the reddening library windows touched her as if with sanctity, stood Myra Duquesne, in her night robe, her hair unbound and herlittle bare feet gleaming whitely upon the red carpet. Her eyes werewide open, vacant of expression, but set upon Antony Ferrara'sungloved left hand. 

Ferrara turned slowly to face her, until his back was towards the twomen in the library. She began to speak, in a toneless, unemotionalvoice, raising her finger and pointing at a ring which Ferrara wore. 

"I know you now, " she said; "I know you, son of an evil woman, for youwear her ring, the sacred ring of Thoth. You have stained that ringwith blood, as she stained it--with the blood of those who loved andtrusted you. I could name you, but my lips are sealed--I could nameyou, brood of a witch, murderer, for I know you now. "

Dispassionately, mechanically, she delivered her strange indictment. Over her shoulder appeared the anxious face of Mrs. Hume, finger tolip. 

"My God!" muttered Cairn. "My God! What--"

"S--sh!" his father grasped his arm. "She is asleep!"

Myra Duquesne turned and quitted the room, Mrs. Hume hoveringanxiously about her. Antony Ferrara faced around; his mouth was oddlytwisted. 

"She is troubled with strange dreams, " he said, very huskily. 

"Clairvoyant dreams!" Dr. Cairn addressed him for the first time. "Donot glare at me in that way, for it may be that _I_ know you, too!Come, Rob. "

"But Myra--"

Dr. Cairn laid his hand upon his son's shoulder, fixing his eyes uponhim steadily. 

"Nothing in this house can injure Myra, " he replied quietly; "for Goodis higher than Evil. For the present we can only go. "

Antony Ferrara stood aside, as the two walked out of the library. 

CHAPTER IV

AT FERRARA'S CHAMBERS

Dr. Bruce Cairn swung around in his chair, lifting his heavy eyebrowsinterrogatively, as his son, Robert, entered the consulting-room. Half-Moon Street was bathed in almost tropical sunlight, but alreadythe celebrated physician had sent those out from his house to whom thesky was overcast, whom the sun would gladden no more, and a group ofanxious-eyed sufferers yet awaited his scrutiny in an adjoining room. 

"Hullo, Rob! Do you wish to see me professionally?"

Robert Cairn seated himself upon a corner of the big table, shakinghis head slowly. 

"No, thanks sir; I'm fit enough; but I thought you might like to knowabout the will--"

"I do know. Since I was largely interested, Jermyn attended on mybehalf; an urgent case detained me. He rang up earlier this morning. "

"Oh, I see. Then perhaps I'm wasting your time; but it was asurprise--quite a pleasant one--to find that Sir Michael had providedfor Myra--Miss Duquesne. "

Dr. Cairn stared hard. 

"What led you to suppose that he had _not_ provided for his niece? Sheis an orphan, and he was her guardian. "

"Of course, he should have done so; but I was not alone in my beliefthat during the--peculiar state of mind--which preceded his death, hehad altered his will--"

"In favour of his adopted son, Antony?"

"Yes. I know _you_ were afraid of it, sir! But as it turns out theyinherit equal shares, and the house goes to Myra. Mr. AntonyFerrara"--he accentuated the name--"quite failed to conceal hischagrin. "

"Indeed!"

"Rather. He was there in person, wearing one of his beastly furcoats--a fur coat, with the thermometer at Africa!--lined withcivet-cat, of all abominations!"

Dr. Cairn turned to his table, tapping at the blotting-pad with thetube of a stethoscope. 

"I regret your attitude towards young Ferrara, Rob. "

His son started. 

"Regret it! I don't understand. Why, you, yourself brought about anopen rupture on the night of Sir Michael's death. "

"Nevertheless, I am sorry. You know, since you were present, that SirMichael has left his niece--to my care--"

"Thank God for that!"

"I am glad, too, although there are many difficulties. But, furthermore, he enjoined me to--"

"Keep an eye on Antony! Yes, yes--but, heavens! he didn't know him forwhat he is!"

Dr. Cairn turned to him again. 

"He did not; by a divine mercy, he never knew--what we know. But"--hisclear eyes were raised to his son's--"the charge is none the lesssacred, boy!"

The younger man stared perplexedly. 

"But he is nothing less than a ----"

His father's upraised hand checked the word on his tongue. 

"_I_ know what he is, Rob, even better than you do. But cannot you seehow this ties my hands, seals my lips?"

Robert Cairn was silent, stupefied. 

"Give me time to see my way clearly, Rob. At the moment I cannotreconcile my duty and my conscience; I confess it. But give me time. If only as a move--as a matter of policy--keep in touch with Ferrara. You loathe him, I know; but we _must_ watch him! There are otherinterests--"

"Myra!" Robert Cairn flushed hotly. "Yes, I see. I understand. Byheavens, it's a hard part to play, but--"

"Be advised by me, Rob. Meet stealth with stealth. My boy, we haveseen strange ends come to those who stood in the path of someone. Ifyou had studied the subjects that I have studied you would know thatretribution, though slow, is inevitable. But be on your guard. I amtaking precautions. We have an enemy; I do not pretend to deny it; andhe fights with strange weapons. Perhaps I know something of thoseweapons, too, and I am adopting--certain measures. But one defence, and the one for you, is guile--stealth!"

Robert Cairn spoke abruptly. 

"He is installed in palatial chambers in Piccadilly. "

"Have you been there?"

"No. "

"Call upon him. Take the first opportunity to do so. Had it not beenfor your knowledge of certain things which happened in a top set atOxford we might be groping in the dark now! You never liked AntonyFerrara--no men do; but you used to call upon him in college. Continueto call upon him, in town. "

Robert Cairn stood up, and lighted a cigarette. 

"Right you are, sir!" he said. "I'm glad I'm not alone in this thing!By the way, about--?"

"Myra? For the present she remains at the house. There is Mrs. Hume, and all the old servants. We shall see what is to be done, later. Youmight run over and give her a look-up, though. "

"I will, sir! Good-bye. "

"Good-bye, " said Dr. Cairn, and pressed the bell which summonedMarston to usher out the caller, and usher in the next patient. 

In Half-Moon Street, Robert Cairn stood irresolute; for he was one ofthose whose mental moods are physically reflected. He might call uponMyra Duquesne, in which event he would almost certainly be asked tostay to lunch; or he might call upon Antony Ferrara. He determinedupon the latter, though less pleasant course. 

Turning his steps in the direction of Piccadilly, he reflected thatthis grim and uncanny secret which he shared with his father was liketo prove prejudicial to his success in journalism. It was eternallyuprising, demoniac, between himself and his work. The feeling offierce resentment towards Antony Ferrara which he cherished grewstronger at every step. _He_ was the spider governing the web, the webthat clammily touched Dr. Cairn, himself, Robert Cairn, and--MyraDuquesne. Others there had been who had felt its touch, who had beendrawn to the heart of the unclean labyrinth--and devoured. In the mindof Cairn, the figure of Antony Ferrara assumed the shape of a monster, a ghoul, an elemental spirit of evil. 

And now he was ascending the marble steps. Before the gates of thelift he stood and pressed the bell. 

Ferrara's proved to be a first-floor suite, and the doors were openedby an Eastern servant dressed in white. 

"His beastly theatrical affectation again!" muttered Cairn. "The manshould have been a music-hall illusionist!"

The visitor was salaamed into a small reception room. Of thisapartment the walls and ceiling were entirely covered by a fretwork insandalwood, evidently Oriental in workmanship. In niches, or doorlesscup-boards; stood curious-looking vases and pots. Heavy curtains ofrich fabric draped the doors. The floor was of mosaic, and a smallfountain played in the centre. A cushioned divan occupied one side ofthe place, from which natural light was entirely excluded and whichwas illuminated only by an ornate lantern swung from the ceiling. Thislantern had panes of blue glass, producing a singular effect. A silver_mibkharah_, or incense-burner, stood near to one corner of the divanand emitted a subtle perfume. As the servant withdrew:

"Good heavens!" muttered Cairn, disgustedly; "poor Sir Michael'sfortune won't last long at this rate!" He glanced at the smoking_mibkharah_. "Phew! effeminate beast! Ambergris!"

No more singular anomaly could well be pictured than that afforded bythe lean, neatly-groomed Scotsman, with his fresh, clean-shaven faceand typically British air, in this setting of Eastern voluptuousness. 

The dusky servitor drew back a curtain and waved him to enter, bowinglow as the visitor passed. Cairn found himself in Antony Ferrara'sstudy. A huge fire was blazing in the grate, rendering the heat of thestudy almost insufferable. 

It was, he perceived, an elaborated copy of Ferrara's room at Oxford;infinitely more spacious, of course, and by reason of the rugs, cushions and carpets with which its floor was strewn, suggestive ofgreat opulence. But the littered table was there, with its namelessinstruments and its extraordinary silver lamp; the mummies were there;the antique volumes, rolls of papyrus, preserved snakes and cats andibises, statuettes of Isis, Osiris and other Nile deities were there;the many photographs of women, too (Cairn had dubbed it at Oxford "thezenana"); above all, there was Antony Ferrara. 

He wore the silver-grey dressing-gown trimmed with white swansdown inwhich Cairn had seen him before. His statuesque ivory face was set ina smile, which yet was no smile of welcome; the over-red lips smiledalone; the long, glittering dark eyes were joyless; almost, beneaththe straightly-pencilled brows, sinister. Save for the short, lustreless hair it was the face of a handsome, evil woman. 

"My dear Cairn--what a welcome interruption. How good of you!"

There was strange music in his husky tones. He spoke unemotionally, falsely, but Cairn could not deny the charm of that unique voice. Itwas possible to understand how women--some women--would be as clay inthe hands of the man who had such a voice as that. 

His visitor nodded shortly. Cairn was a poor actor; already his _rôle_was oppressing him. Whilst Ferrara was speaking one found a sort offascination in listening, but when he was silent he repelled. Ferraramay have been conscious of this, for he spoke much, and well. 

"You have made yourself jolly comfortable, " said Cairn. 

"Why not, my dear Cairn? Every man has within him something of theSybarite. Why crush a propensity so delightful? The Spartan philosophyis palpably absurd; it is that of one who finds himself in a gardenfilled with roses and who holds his nostrils; who perceives thereshady bowers, but chooses to burn in the sun; who, ignoring the choicefruits which tempt his hand and court his palate, stoops to pluckbitter herbs from the wayside!"

"I see!" snapped Cairn. "Aren't you thinking of doing any more work, then?"

"Work!" Antony Ferrara smiled and sank upon a heap of cushions. "Forgive me, Cairn, but I leave it, gladly and confidently, to morerobust characters such as your own. "

He proffered a silver box of cigarettes, but Cairn shook his head, balancing himself on a corner of the table. 

"No; thanks. I have smoked too much already; my tongue is parched. "

"My dear fellow!" Ferrara rose. "I have a wine which, I declare, youwill never have tasted but which you will pronounce to be nectar. Itis made in Cyprus--"

Cairn raised his hand in a way that might have reminded a niceobserver of his father. 

"Thank you, nevertheless. Some other time, Ferrara; I am no wine man. "

"A whisky and soda, or a burly British B. And S. , even a sporty'Scotch and Polly'?"

There was a suggestion of laughter in the husky voice, now, of a sortof contemptuous banter. But Cairn stolidly shook his head and forced asmile. 

"Many thanks; but it's too early. "

He stood up and began to walk about the room, inspecting thenumberless oddities which it contained. The photographs he examinedwith supercilious curiosity. Then, passing to a huge cabinet, he beganto peer in at the rows of amulets, statuettes and other, unclassifiable, objects with which it was laden. Ferrara's voice came. 

"That head of a priestess on the left, Cairn, is of great interest. The brain had not been removed, and quite a colony of DermestesBeetles had propagated in the cavity. Those creatures never saw thelight, Cairn. Yet I assure you that they had eyes. I have nearly fortyof them in the small glass case on the table there. You might like toexamine them. "

Cairn shuddered, but felt impelled to turn and look at these gruesomerelics. In a square, glass case he saw the creatures. They lay in rowson a bed of moss; one might almost have supposed that unclean life yetsurvived in the little black insects. They were an unfamiliar speciesto Cairn, being covered with unusually long, black hair, except uponthe root of the wing-cases where they were of brilliant orange. 

"The perfect pupæ of this insect are extremely rare, " added Ferrarainformatively. 

"Indeed?" replied Cairn. 

He found something physically revolting in that group of beetles whosehistory had begun and ended in the skull of a mummy. 

"Filthy things!" he said. "Why do you keep them?"

Ferrara shrugged his shoulders. 

"Who knows?" he answered enigmatically. "They might prove useful, someday. "

A bell rang; and from Ferrara's attitude it occurred to Cairn that hewas expecting a visitor. 

"I must be off, " he said accordingly. 

And indeed he was conscious of a craving for the cool andcomparatively clean air of Piccadilly. He knew something of the greatevil which dwelt within this man whom he was compelled, by singularcircumstances, to tolerate. But the duty began to irk. 

"If you must, " was the reply. "Of course, your press work no doubt isvery exacting. "

The note of badinage was discernible again, but Cairn passed out intothe _mandarah_ without replying, where the fountain plashed coolly andthe silver _mibkharah_ sent up its pencils of vapour. The outer doorwas opened by the Oriental servant, and Ferrara stood and bowed to hisdeparting visitor. He did not proffer his hand. 

"Until our next meeting. Cairn, _es-selâm aleykûm_!" (peace be withyou) he murmured, "as the Moslems say. But indeed I shall be with youin spirit, dear Cairn. "

There was something in the tone wherein he spoke those last words thatbrought Cairn up short. He turned, but the doors closed silently. Afaint breath of ambergris was borne to his nostrils. 

CHAPTER V

THE RUSTLING SHADOWS

Cairn stepped out of the lift, crossed the hall, and was about to walkout on to Piccadilly, when he stopped, staring hard at a taxi-cabwhich had slowed down upon the opposite side whilst the driver awaiteda suitable opportunity to pull across. 

The occupant of the cab was invisible now, but a moment before Cairnhad had a glimpse of her as she glanced out, apparently towards thevery doorway in which he stood. Perhaps his imagination was playinghim tricks. He stood and waited, until at last the cab drew up withina few yards of him. 

Myra Duquesne got out. 

Having paid the cabman, she crossed the pavement and entered thehall-way. Cairn stepped forward so that she almost ran into his arms. 

"Mr. Cairn!" she cried. "Why! have you been to see Antony?"

"I have, " he replied, and paused, at a loss for words. 

It had suddenly occurred to him that Antony Ferrara and Myra Duquesnehad known one another from childhood; that the girl probably regardedFerrara in the light of a brother. 

"There are so many things I want to talk to him about, " she said. "Heseems to know everything, and I am afraid I know very little. "

Cairn noted with dismay the shadows under her eyes--the grey eyes thathe would have wished to see ever full of light and laughter. She waspale, too, or seemed unusually so in her black dress; but the tragicdeath of her guardian, Sir Michael Ferrara, had been a dreadful blowto this convent-bred girl who had no other kin in the world. A longingswept into Cairn's heart and set it ablaze; a longing to take all hersorrows, all her cares, upon his own broad shoulders, to take her andhold her, shielded from whatever of trouble or menace the future mightbring. 

"Have you seen his rooms here?" he asked, trying to speak casually;but his soul was up in arms against the bare idea of this girl'sentering that perfumed place where abominable and vile things were, and none of them so vile as the man she trusted, whom she counted abrother. 

"Not yet, " she answered, with a sort of childish glee momentarilylighting her eyes. "Are they _very_ splendid?"

"Very, " he answered her, grimly. 

"Can't you come in with me for awhile? Only just a little while, thenyou can come home to lunch--you and Antony. " Her eyes sparkled now. "Oh, do say yes!"

Knowing what he did know of the man upstairs, he longed to accompanyher; yet, contradictorily, knowing what he did he could not face himagain, could not submit himself to the test of being civil to AntonyFerrara in the presence of Myra Duquesne. 

"Please don't tempt me, " he begged, and forced a smile. "I shall findmyself enrolled amongst the seekers of soup-tickets if I _completely_ignore the claims of my employer upon my time!"

"Oh, what a shame!" she cried. 

Their eyes met, and something--something unspoken but cogent--passedbetween them; so that for the first time a pretty colour tinted thegirl's cheeks. She suddenly grew embarrassed. 

"Good-bye, then, " she said, holding out her hand. "Will you lunch withus to-morrow?"

"Thanks awfully, " replied Cairn. "Rather--if it's humanly possible. I'll ring you up. "

He released her hand, and stood watching her as she entered the lift. When it ascended, he turned and went out to swell the human tide ofPiccadilly. He wondered what his father would think of the girl'svisiting Ferrara. Would he approve? Decidedly the situation was adelicate one; the wrong kind of interference--the tactless kind--mightmerely render it worse. It would be awfully difficult, if notimpossible, to explain to Myra. If an open rupture were to be avoided(and he had profound faith in his father's acumen), then Myra mustremain in ignorance. But was she to be allowed to continue thesevisits?

Should he have permitted her to enter Ferrara's rooms?

He reflected that he had no right to question her movements. But, atleast, he might have accompanied her. 

"Oh, heavens!" he muttered--"what a horrible tangle. It will drive memad!"

There could be no peace for him until he knew her to be safely homeagain, and his work suffered accordingly; until, at about midday, herang up Myra Duquesne, on the pretence of accepting her invitation tolunch on the morrow, and heard, with inexpressible relief, her voicereplying to him. 

In the afternoon he was suddenly called upon to do a big "royal"matinée, and this necessitated a run to his chambers in order tochange from Harris tweed into vicuna and cashmere. The usual stream oflawyers' clerks and others poured under the archway leading to thecourt; but in the far corner shaded by the tall plane tree, where theascending steps and worn iron railing, the small panes of glass in thesolicitor's window on the ground floor and the general air ofDickens-like aloofness prevailed, one entered a sort of backwater. Inthe narrow hall-way, quiet reigned--a quiet profound as though motor'buses were not. 

Cairn ran up the stairs to the second landing, and began to fumble forhis key. Although he knew it to be impossible, he was aware of a queerimpression that someone was waiting for him, inside his chambers. Thesufficiently palpable fact--that such a thing _was_ impossible--didnot really strike him until he had opened the door and entered. Up tothat time, in a sort of subconscious way, he had anticipated finding avisitor there. 

"What an ass I am!" he muttered; then, "Phew! there's a disgustingsmell!"

He threw open all the windows, and entering his bedroom, also openingboth the windows there. The current of air thus established began todisperse the odour--a fusty one as of something decaying--and by thetime that he had changed, it was scarcely perceptible. He had littletime to waste in speculation, but when, as he ran out to the door, glancing at his watch, the nauseous odour suddenly rose again to hisnostrils, he stopped with his hand on the latch. 

"What the deuce is it!" he said loudly. 

Quite mechanically he turned and looked back. As one might haveanticipated, there was nothing visible to account for the odour. 

The emotion of fear is a strange and complex one. In this breath ofdecay rising to his nostril, Cairn found something fearsome. He openedthe door, stepped out on to the landing, and closed the door behindhim. 

At an hour close upon midnight, Dr. Bruce Cairn, who was about toretire, received a wholly unexpected visit from his son. Robert Cairnfollowed his father into the library and sat down in the big, redleathern easy-chair. The doctor tilted the lamp shade, directing thelight upon Robert's face. It proved to be slightly pale, and in theclear eyes was an odd expression--almost a hunted look. 

"What's the trouble, Rob? Have a whisky and soda. "

Robert Cairn helped himself quietly. 

"Now take a cigar and tell me what has frightened you. "

"Frightened me!" He started, and paused in the act of reaching for amatch. "Yes--you're right, sir. I _am_ frightened!"

"Not at the moment. You have been. "

"Right again. " He lighted his cigar. "I want to begin by sayingthat--well, how can I put it? When I took up newspaper work, wethought it would be better if I lived in chambers--"

"Certainly. "

"Well, at that time--" he examined the lighted end of hiscigar--"there was no reason--why I should not live alone. But now--"

"Well?"

"Now I feel, sir, that I have need of more or less constantcompanionship. Especially I feel that it would be desirable to have afriend handy at--er--at night time!"

Dr. Cairn leant forward in his chair. His face was very stern. 

"Hold out your fingers, " he said, "extended; left hand. "

His son obeyed, smiling slightly. The open hand showed in thelamplight steady as a carven hand. 

"Nerves quite in order, sir. "

Dr. Cairn inhaled a deep breath. 

"Tell me, " he said. 

"It's a queer tale, " his son began, "and if I told it to Craig Fenton, or Madderley round in Harley Street I know what they would say. Butyou will _understand_. It started this afternoon, when the sun waspouring in through the windows. I had to go to my chambers to change;and the rooms were filled with a most disgusting smell. "

His father started. 

"What kind of smell?" he asked. "Not--incense?"

"No, " replied Robert, looking hard at him--"I thought you would askthat. It was a smell of something putrid--something rotten, rottenwith the rottenness of ages. "

"Did you trace where it came from?"

"I opened all the windows, and that seemed to disperse it for a time. Then, just as I was going out, it returned; it seemed to envelop melike a filthy miasma. You know, sir, it's hard to explain just the wayI felt about it--but it all amounts to this: I was glad to getoutside!"

Dr. Cairn stood up and began to pace about the room, his hands lockedbehind him. 

"To-night, " he rapped suddenly, "what occurred to-night?"

"To-night, " continued his son, "I got in at about half-past nine. Ihad had such a rush, in one way and another, that the incident hadquite lost its hold on my imagination; I hadn't forgotten it, ofcourse, but I was not thinking of it when I unlocked the door. In factI didn't begin to think of it again until, in slippers anddressing-gown, I had settled down for a comfortable read. There wasnothing, absolutely nothing, to influence my imagination--in that way. The book was an old favourite, Mark Twain's _Up the Mississippi_, andI sat in the armchair with a large bottle of lager beer at my elbowand my pipe going strong. "

Becoming restless in turn, the speaker stood up and walking to thefireplace flicked off the long cone of grey ash from his cigar. Heleant one elbow upon the mantel-piece, resuming his story:

"St. Paul's had just chimed the half-hour--half-past ten--when my pipewent out. Before I had time to re-light it, came the damnable smellagain. At the moment nothing was farther from my mind, and I jumped upwith an exclamation of disgust. It seemed to be growing stronger andstronger. I got my pipe alight quickly. Still I could smell it; thearoma of the tobacco did not lessen its beastly pungency in thesmallest degree. 

"I tilted the shade of my reading-lamp and looked all about. There wasnothing unusual to be seen. Both windows were open and I went to oneand thrust my head out, in order to learn if the odour came fromoutside. It did not. The air outside the window was fresh and clean. Then I remembered that when I had left my chambers in the afternoon, the smell had been stronger near the door than anywhere. I ran out tothe door. In the passage I could smell nothing; but--"

He paused, glancing at his father. 

"Before I had stood there thirty seconds it was rising all about melike the fumes from a crater. By God, sir! I realised then that it wassomething ... Following me!"

Dr. Cairn stood watching him, from the shadows beyond the big table, as he came forward and finished his whisky at a gulp. 

"That seemed to work a change in me, " he continued rapidly; "Irecognised there was something behind this disgusting manifestation, something directing it; and I recognised, too, that the next move wasup to me. I went back to my room. The odour was not so pronounced, butas I stood by the table, waiting, it increased, and increased, untilit almost choked me. My nerves were playing tricks, but I kept a fasthold on myself. I set to work, very methodically, and fumigated theplace. Within myself I knew that it could do no good, but I felt thatI had to put up some kind of opposition. You understand, sir?"

"Quite, " replied Dr. Cairn quietly. "It was an organised attempt toexpel the invader, and though of itself it was useless, the mentalattitude dictating it was good. Go on. "

"The clocks had chimed eleven when I gave up, and I felt physicallysick. The air by this time was poisonous, literally poisonous. Idropped into the easy-chair and began to wonder what the end of itwould be. Then, in the shadowy parts of the room, outside the circleof light cast by the lamp, I detected--darker patches. For awhile Itried to believe that they were imaginary, but when I saw one movealong the bookcase, glide down its side, and come across the carpet, towards me, I knew that they were not. Before heaven, sir"--his voiceshook--"either I am mad, or to-night my room was filled with thingsthat _crawled_! They were everywhere; on the floor, on the walls, evenon the ceiling above me! Where the light was I couldn't detect them, but the shadows were alive, alive with things--the size of my twohands; and in the growing stillness--"

His voice had become husky. Dr. Cairn stood still, as a man of stone, watching him. 

"In the stillness, very faintly, _they rustled_!"

Silence fell. A car passed outside in Half-Moon Street; its throb diedaway. A clock was chiming the half-hour after midnight. Dr. Cairnspoke:

"Anything else?"

"One other thing, sir. I was gripping the chair arms; I felt that Ihad to grip something to prevent myself from slipping into madness. Myleft hand--" he glanced at it with a sort of repugnance--"somethinghairy--and indescribably loathsome--touched it; just brushed againstit. But it was too much. I'm ashamed to tell you, sir; I screamed, screamed like any hysterical girl, and for the second time, ran! I ranfrom my own rooms, grabbed a hat and coat; and left my dressing gownon the floor!"

He turned, leaning both elbows on the mantel-piece, and buried hisface in his hands. 

"Have another drink, " said Dr. Cairn. "You called on Antony Ferrarato-day, didn't you? How did he receive you?"

"That brings me to something else I wanted to tell you, " continuedRobert, squirting soda-water into his glass. "Myra--goes there. "

"Where--to his chambers?"

"Yes. "

Dr. Cairn began to pace the room again. 

"I am not surprised, " he admitted; "she has always been taught toregard him in the light of a brother. But nevertheless we must put astop to it. How did you learn this?"

Robert Cairn gave him an account of the morning's incidents, describing Ferrara's chambers with a minute exactness which revealedhow deep, how indelible an impression their strangeness had made uponhis mind. 

"There is one thing, " he concluded, "against which I am always comingup, I puzzled over it at Oxford, and others did, too; I came againstit to-day. Who _is_ Antony Ferrara? Where did Sir Michael find him?What kind of woman bore such a son?"

"Stop boy!" cried Dr. Cairn. 

Robert started, looking at his father across the table. 

"You are already in danger, Rob. I won't disguise that fact from you. Myra Duquesne is no relation of Ferrara's; therefore, since sheinherits half of Sir Michael's fortune, a certain course must havesuggested itself to Antony. You, patently, are an obstacle! That'sbad enough, boy; let us deal with it before we look for furthertrouble. "

"He took up a blackened briar from the table and began to load it. 

"Regarding your next move, " he continued slowly, "there can be noquestion. You must return to your chambers!"

"What!"

"There can be no question, Rob. A kind of attack has been made uponyou which only _you_ can repel. If you desert your chambers, it willbe repeated here. At present it is evidently localised. There are lawsgoverning these things; laws as immutable as any other laws in Nature. One of them is this: the powers of darkness (to employ a conventionaland significant phrase) cannot triumph over the powers of Will. Belowthe Godhead, Will is the supreme force of the Universe. _Resist_! You_must_ resist, or you are lost!"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean that destruction of mind, and of something more than mind, threatens you. If you retreat you are lost. Go back to your rooms. _Seek_ your foe; strive to haul him into the light and crush him! Thephenomena at your rooms belong to one of two varieties; at present itseems impossible to classify them more closely. Both are dangerous, though in different ways. I suspect, however, that a purely mentaleffort will be sufficient to disperse these nauseous shadow-things. Probably you will not be troubled again to-night, but whenever thephenomena return, take off your coat to them! You require no bettercompanion than the one you had:--Mark Twain! Treat your visitors asone might imagine he would have treated them; as a very poor joke! Butwhenever it begins again, ring me up. Don't hesitate, whatever thehour. I shall be at the hospital all day, but from seven onward Ishall be here and shall make a point of remaining. Give me a call whenyou return, now, and if there is no earlier occasion, another in themorning. Then rely upon my active co-operation throughout thefollowing night. "

"Active, sir?"

"I said active, Rob. The next repetition of these manifestations shallbe the last. Good-night. Remember, you have only to lift the receiverto know that you are not alone in your fight. "

Robert Cairn took a second cigar, lighted it, finished his whisky, andsquared his shoulders. 

"Good-night, sir, " he said. "I shan't run away a third time!"

When the door had closed upon his exit, Dr. Cairn resumed his restlesspacing up and down the library. He had given Roman counsel, for he hadsent his son out to face, alone, a real and dreadful danger. Only thuscould he hope to save him, but nevertheless it had been hard. The nextfight would be a fight to the finish, for Robert had said, "I shan'trun away a third time;" and he was a man of his word. 

As Dr. Cairn had declared, the manifestations belonged to one of twovarieties. According to the most ancient science in the world, thescience by which the Egyptians, and perhaps even earlier peoples, ordered their lives, we share this, our plane of existence, withcertain other creatures, often called Elementals. Mercifully, thesefearsome entities are invisible to our normal sight, just as the finertones of music are inaudible to our normal powers of hearing. 

Victims of delirium tremens, opium smokers, and other debauchees, artificially open that finer, latent power of vision; and the horrorswhich surround them are not imaginary but are Elementals attracted tothe victim by his peculiar excesses. 

The crawling things, then, which reeked abominably might be Elementals(so Dr. Cairn reasoned) superimposed upon Robert Cairn's consciousnessby a directing, malignant intelligence. On the other hand they mightbe mere glamours--or thought-forms--thrust upon him by the same wizardmind; emanations from an evil, powerful will. 

His reflections were interrupted by the ringing of the 'phone bell. Hetook up the receiver. 

"Hullo!"

"That you, sir? All's clear here, now. I'm turning in. "

"Right. Good-night, Rob. Ring me in the morning. "

"Good-night, sir. "

Dr. Cairn refilled his charred briar, and, taking from a drawer in thewriting table a thick MS. , sat down and began to study theclosely-written pages. The paper was in the cramped handwriting of thelate Sir Michael Ferrara, his travelling companion through manystrange adventures; and the sun had been flooding the library withdimmed golden light for several hours, and a bustle below stairsacclaiming an awakened household, ere the doctor's studies wereinterrupted. Again, it was the 'phone bell. He rose, switched off thereading-lamp, and lifted the instrument. 

"That you, Rob?"

"Yes, sir. All's well, thank God! Can I breakfast with you?"

"Certainly, my boy!" Dr. Cairn glanced at his watch. "Why, upon mysoul it's seven o'clock!"

CHAPTER VI

THE BEETLES

Sixteen hours had elapsed and London's clocks were booming eleven thatnight, when the uncanny drama entered upon its final stage. Once moreDr. Cairn sat alone with Sir Michael's manuscript, but at frequentintervals his glance would stray to the telephone at his elbow. He hadgiven orders to the effect that he was on no account to be disturbedand that his car should be ready at the door from ten o'clock onward. 

As the sound of the final strokes was dying away the expected summonscame. Dr. Cairn's jaw squared and his mouth was very grim, when herecognised his son's voice over the wires. 

"Well, boy?"

"They're here, sir--now, while I'm speaking! I have beenfighting--fighting hard--for half an hour. The place smells like acharnel-house and the--shapes are taking definite, horrible form! Theyhave ... _eyes_!" His voice sounded harsh. "Quite black the eyes are, and they shine like beads! It's gradually wearing me down, although Ihave myself in hand, so far. I mean I might crack up--at any moment. Bah!--"

His voice ceased. 

"Hullo!" cried Dr. Cairn. "Hullo, Rob!"

"It's all right, sir, " came, all but inaudibly. "The--things are allaround the edge of the light patch; they make a sort of rustlingnoise. It is a tremendous, conscious _effort_ to keep them at bay. While I was speaking, I somehow lost my grip of the situation. One--crawled ... It fastened on my hand ... A hairy, many-limbedhorror.... Oh, my God! another is touching.... "

"Rob! Rob! Keep your nerve, boy! Do you hear?"

"Yes--yes--" faintly. 

"_Pray_, my boy--pray for strength, and it will come to you! You_must_ hold out for another ten minutes. Ten minutes--do youunderstand?"

"Yes! yes!--Merciful God!--if you can help me, do it, sir, or--"

"Hold out, boy! In _ten minutes_ you'll have won. "

Dr. Cairn hung up the receiver, raced from the library, and grabbing acap from the rack in the hall, ran down the steps and bounded into thewaiting car, shouting an address to the man. 

Piccadilly was gay with supper-bound theatre crowds when he leapt outand ran into the hall-way which had been the scene of Robert's meetingwith Myra Duquesne. Dr. Cairn ran past the lift doors and went up thestairs three steps at a time. He pressed his finger to the bell-pushbeside Antony Ferrara's door and held it there until the door openedand a dusky face appeared in the opening. 

The visitor thrust his way in, past the white-clad man holding out hisarms to detain him. 

"Not at home, _effendim_--"

Dr. Cairn shot out a sinewy hand, grabbed the man--he was a tall_fellahîn_--by the shoulder, and sent him spinning across the mosaicfloor of the _mandarah_. The air was heavy with the perfume ofambergris. 

Wasting no word upon the reeling man, Dr. Cairn stepped to thedoorway. He jerked the drapery aside and found himself in a darkcorridor. From his son's description of the chambers he had nodifficulty in recognising the door of the study. 

He turned the handle--the door proved to be unlocked--and entered thedarkened room. 

In the grate a huge fire glowed redly; the temperature of the placewas almost unbearable. On the table the light from the silver lampshed a patch of radiance, but the rest of the study was veiled inshadow. 

A black-robed figure was seated in a high-backed, carved chair; onecorner of the cowl-like garment was thrown across the table. Halfrising, the figure turned--and, an evil apparition in the glow fromthe fire, Antony Ferrara faced the intruder. 

Dr. Cairn walked forward, until he stood over the other. 

"Uncover what you have on the table, " he said succinctly. 

Ferrara's strange eyes were uplifted to the speaker's with anexpression in their depths which, in the Middle Ages, alone would havesent a man to the stake. 

"Dr. Cairn--"

The husky voice had lost something of its suavity. 

"You heard my order!"

"Your _order_! Surely, doctor, since I am in my own--"

"Uncover what you have on the table. Or must I do so for you!"

Antony Ferrara placed his hand upon the end of the black robe whichlay across the table. 

"Be careful, Dr. Cairn, " he said evenly. "You--are taking risks. "

Dr. Cairn suddenly leapt, seized the shielding hand in a sure grip andtwisted Ferrara's arm behind him. Then, with a second rapid movement, he snatched away the robe. A faint smell--a smell of corruption, ofancient rottenness--arose on the superheated air. 

A square of faded linen lay on the table, figured with all butindecipherable Egyptian characters, and upon it, in rows which formeda definite geometrical design, were arranged a great number of little, black insects. 

Dr. Cairn released the hand which he held, and Ferrara sat quitestill, looking straight before him. 

"_Dermestes beetles!_ from the skull of a mummy! You filthy, obscenebeast!"

Ferrara spoke, with a calm suddenly regained:

"Is there anything obscene in the study of beetles?"

"My son saw these things here yesterday; and last night, and againto-night, you cast magnified doubles--glamours--of the horriblecreatures into his rooms! By means which you know of, but which _I_know of, too, you sought to bring your thought-things down to thematerial plane. "

"Dr. Cairn, my respect for you is great; but I fear that much studyhas made you mad. "

Ferrara reached out his hand towards an ebony box; he was smiling. 

"Don't dare to touch that box!"

He paused, glancing up. 

"More orders, doctor?"

"Exactly. "

Dr. Cairn grabbed the faded linen, scooping up the beetles within it, and, striding across the room, threw the whole unsavoury bundle intothe heart of the fire. A great flame leapt up; there came a series ofsqueaky explosions, so that, almost, one might have imagined thoseage-old insects to have had life. Then the doctor turned again. 

Ferrara leapt to his feet with a cry that had in it something inhuman, and began rapidly to babble in a tongue that was not European. He wasfacing Dr. Cairn, a tall, sinister figure, but one hand was gropingbehind him for the box. 

"Stop that!" rapped the doctor imperatively--"and for the last time donot dare to touch that box!"

The flood of strange words was dammed. Ferrara stood quivering, butsilent. 

"The laws by which such as you were burnt--the _wise_ laws of longago--are no more, " said Dr. Cairn. "English law cannot touch you, butGod has provided for your kind!"

"Perhaps, " whispered Ferrara, "you would like also to burn this box towhich you object so strongly?"

"No power on earth would prevail upon me to touch it! But you--you_have_ touched it--and you know the penalty! You raise forces of evilthat have lain dormant for ages and dare to wield them. Beware! I knowof some whom you have murdered; I cannot know how many you have sentto the madhouse. But I swear that in future your victims shall be few. There is a way to deal with you!"

He turned and walked to the door. 

"Beware also, dear Dr. Cairn, " came softly. "As you say, I raiseforces of evil--"

Dr. Cairn spun about. In three strides he was standing over AntonyFerrara, fists clenched and his sinewy body tense in every fibre. Hisface was pale, as was apparent even in that vague light, and his eyesgleamed like steel. 

"You raise other forces, " he said--and his voice, though steady wasvery low; "evil forces, also. "

Antony Ferrara, invoker of nameless horrors, shrank before him--beforethe primitive Celtic man whom unwittingly he had invoked. Dr. Cairnwas spare and lean, but in perfect physical condition. Now he wasstrong, with the strength of a just cause. Moreover, he was dangerous, and Ferrara knew it well. 

"I fear--" began the latter huskily. 

"Dare to bandy words with me, " said Dr. Cairn, with icy coolness, "answer me back but once again, and before God I'll strike you dead!"

Ferrara sat silent, clutching at the arms of his chair, and not daringto raise his eyes. For ten magnetic seconds they stayed so, then againDr. Cairn turned, and this time walked out. 

The clocks had been chiming the quarter after eleven as he had enteredAntony Ferrara's chambers, and some had not finished their chimes whenhis son, choking, calling wildly upon Heaven to aid him, had fallen inthe midst of crowding, obscene things, and, in the instant of hisfall, had found the room clear of the waving antennæ, the beady eyes, and the beetle shapes. The whole horrible phantasmagoria--togetherwith the odour of ancient rottenness--faded like a fevered dream, atthe moment that Dr. Cairn had burst in upon the creator of it. 

Robert Cairn stood up, weakly, trembling; then dropped upon his kneesand sobbed out prayers of thankfulness that came from his frightenedsoul. 

CHAPTER VII

SIR ELWIN GROVES' PATIENT

When a substantial legacy is divided into two shares, one of whichfalls to a man, young, dissolute and clever, and the other to a girl, pretty and inexperienced, there is laughter in the hells. But, to thegirl's legacy add another item--a strong, stern guardian, and theissue becomes one less easy to predict. 

In the case at present under consideration, such an arrangement ledDr. Bruce Cairn to pack off Myra Duquesne to a grim Scottish manor inInverness upon a visit of indefinite duration. It also led to heartburnings on the part of Robert Cairn, and to other things about to benoticed. 

Antony Ferrara, the co-legatee, was not slow to recognise that adamaging stroke had been played, but he knew Dr. Cairn too well to putup any protest. In his capacity of fashionable physician, the doctorfrequently met Ferrara in society, for a man at once rich, handsome, and bearing a fine name, is not socially ostracised on the meresuspicion that he is a dangerous blackguard. Thus Antony Ferrara wascourted by the smartest women in town and tolerated by the men. Dr. Cairn would always acknowledge him, and then turn his back upon thedark-eyed, adopted son of his dearest friend. 

There was that between the two of which the world knew nothing. Hadthe world known what Dr. Cairn knew respecting Antony Ferrara, then, despite his winning manner, his wealth and his station, every door inLondon, from those of Mayfair to that of the foulest den in Limehouse, would have been closed to him--closed, and barred with horror andloathing. A tremendous secret was locked up within the heart of Dr. Bruce Cairn. 

Sometimes we seem to be granted a glimpse of the guiding Hand thatsteers men's destinies; then, as comprehension is about to dawn, welose again our temporal lucidity of vision. The following incidentillustrates this. 

Sir Elwin Groves, of Harley Street, took Dr. Cairn aside at the clubone evening. 

"I am passing a patient on to you, Cairn, " he said; "Lord Lashmore. "

"Ah!" replied Cairn, thoughtfully. "I have never met him. "

"He has only quite recently returned to England--you may haveheard?--and brought a South American Lady Lashmore with him. "

"I had heard that, yes. "

"Lord Lashmore is close upon fifty-five, and his wife--a passionateSouthern type--is probably less than twenty. They are an odd couple. The lady has been doing some extensive entertaining at the townhouse. "

Groves stared hard at Dr. Cairn. 

"Your young friend, Antony Ferrara, is a regular visitor. "

"No doubt, " said Cairn; "he goes everywhere. I don't know how long hisfunds will last. "

"I have wondered, too. His chambers are like a scene from the 'ArabianNights. '"

"How do you know?" inquired the other curiously. "Have you attendedhim?"

"Yes, " was the reply. "His Eastern servant 'phoned for me one nightlast week; and I found Ferrara lying unconscious in a room like apasha's harem. He looked simply ghastly, but the man would give me noaccount of what had caused the attack. It looked to me like sheernervous exhaustion. He gave me quite an anxious five minutes. Incidentally, the room was blazing hot, with a fire roaring right upthe chimney, and it smelt like a Hindu temple. "

"Ah!" muttered Cairn, "between his mode of life and his peculiarstudies he will probably crack up. He has a fragile constitution. "

"Who the deuce is he, Cairn?" pursued Sir Elwin. "You must know allthe circumstances of his adoption; you were with the late Sir Michaelin Egypt at the time. The fellow is a mystery to me; he repels, insome way. I was glad to get away from his rooms. "

"You were going to tell me something about Lord Lashmore's case, Ithink?" said Cairn. 

Sir Elwin Groves screwed up his eyes and readjusted his pince-nez, forthe deliberate way in which his companion had changed the conversationwas unmistakable. However, Cairn's brusque manners were proverbial, and Sir Elwin accepted the lead. 

"Yes, yes, I believe I was, " he agreed, rather lamely. "Well, it'svery singular. I was called there last Monday, at about two o'clock inthe morning. I found the house upside-down, and Lady Lashmore, with adressing-gown thrown over her nightdress, engaged in bathing a badwound in her husband's throat. "

"What! Attempted suicide?"

"My first idea, naturally. But a glance at the wound set me wondering. It was bleeding profusely, and from its location I was afraid that itmight have penetrated the internal jugular; but the external only waswounded. I arrested the flow of blood and made the patientcomfortable. Lady Lashmore assisted me coolly and displayed some skillas a nurse. In fact she had applied a ligature before my arrival. "

"Lord Lashmore remained conscious?"

"Quite. He was shaky, of course. I called again at nine o'clock thatmorning, and found him progressing favourably. When I had dressed thewounds--"

"Wounds?"

"There were two actually; I will tell you in a moment. I asked LordLashmore for an explanation. He had given out, for the benefit of thehousehold, that, stumbling out of bed in the dark, he had tripped upona rug, so that he fell forward almost into the fireplace. There is arather ornate fender, with an elaborate copper scrollwork design, andhis account was that he came down with all his weight upon this, insuch a way that part of the copperwork pierced his throat. It waspossible, just possible, Cairn; but it didn't satisfy me and I couldsee that it didn't satisfy Lady Lashmore. However, when we were alone, Lashmore told me the real facts. "

"He had been concealing the truth?"

"Largely for his wife's sake, I fancy. He was anxious to spare her thealarm which, knowing the truth, she must have experienced. His storywas this--related in confidence, but he wishes that you should know. He was awakened by a sudden, sharp pain in the throat; not very acute, but accompanied by a feeling of pressure. It was gone again, in amoment, and he was surprised to find blood upon his hands when he feltfor the cause of the pain. 

"He got out of bed and experienced a great dizziness. The hemorrhagewas altogether more severe than he had supposed. Not wishing to arousehis wife, he did not enter his dressing-room, which is situatedbetween his own room and Lady Lashmore's; he staggered as far as thebell-push, and then collapsed. His man found him on thefloor--sufficiently near to the fender to lend colour to the story ofthe accident. "

Dr. Cairn coughed drily. 

"Do you think it was attempted suicide after all, then?" he asked. 

"No--I don't, " replied Sir Elwin emphatically. "I think it wassomething altogether more difficult to explain. "

"Not attempted murder?"

"Almost impossible. Excepting Chambers, Lord Lashmore's valet, no onecould possibly have gained access to that suite of rooms. They numberfour. There is a small boudoir, out of which opens Lady Lashmore'sbedroom; between this and Lord Lashmore's apartment is thedressing-room. Lord Lashmore's door was locked and so was that of theboudoir. These are the only two means of entrance. "

"But you said that Chambers came in and found him. "

"Chambers has a key of Lord Lashmore's door. That is why I said'excepting Chambers. ' But Chambers has been with his present mastersince Lashmore left Cambridge. It's out of the question. "

"Windows?"

"First floor, no balcony, and overlook Hyde Park. "

"Is there no clue to the mystery?"

"There are three!"

"What are they?"

"First: the nature of the wounds. Second: Lord Lashmore's idea thatsomething was in the room at the moment of his awakening. Third: thefact that an identical attempt was made upon him last night!"

"Last night! Good God! With what result?"

"The former wounds, though deep, are very tiny, and had quite healedover. One of them partially reopened, but Lord Lashmore awokealtogether more readily and before any damage had been done. He saysthat some soft body rolled off the bed. He uttered a loud cry, leaptout and switched on the electric lights. At the same moment he heard afrightful scream from his wife's room. When I arrived--Lashmorehimself summoned me on this occasion--I had a new patient. "

"Lady Lashmore?"

"Exactly. She had fainted from fright, at hearing her husband's cry, Iassume. There had been a slight hemorrhage from the throat, too. "

"What! Tuberculous?"

"I fear so. Fright would not produce hemorrhage in the case of ahealthy subject, would it?"

Dr. Cairn shook his head. He was obviously perplexed. 

"And Lord Lashmore?" he asked. 

"The marks were there again, " replied Sir Elwin; "rather lower on theneck. But they were quite superficial. He had awakened in time and hadstruck out--hitting something. "

"What?"

"Some living thing; apparently covered with long, silky hair. Itescaped, however. "

"And now, " said Dr. Cairn--"these wounds; what are they like?"

"They are like the marks of fangs, " replied Sir Elwin; "of two long, sharp fangs!"

CHAPTER VIII

THE SECRET OF DHOON

Lord Lashmore was a big, blonde man, fresh coloured, and having hisnearly white hair worn close cut and his moustache trimmed in the neatmilitary fashion. For a fair man, he had eyes of a singular colour. They were of so dark a shade of brown as to appear black: southerneyes; lending to his personality an oddness very striking. 

When he was shown into Dr. Cairn's library, the doctor regarded himwith that searching scrutiny peculiar to men of his profession, at thesame time inviting the visitor to be seated. 

Lashmore sat down in the red leathern armchair, resting his largehands upon his knees, with the fingers widely spread. He had a massivedignity, but was not entirely at his ease. 

Dr. Cairn opened the conversation, in his direct fashion. 

"You come to consult me, Lord Lashmore, in my capacity of occultistrather than in that of physician?"

"In both, " replied Lord Lashmore; "distinctly, in both. "

"Sir Elwin Groves is attending you for certain throat wounds--"

Lord Lashmore touched the high stock which he was wearing. 

"The scars remain, " he said. "Do you wish to see them?"

"I am afraid I must trouble you. "

The stock was untied; and Dr. Cairn, through a powerful glass, examined the marks. One of them, the lower, was slightly inflamed. 

Lord Lashmore retied his stock, standing before the small mirror setin the overmantel. 

"You had an impression of some presence in the room at the time of theoutrage?" pursued the doctor. 

"Distinctly; on both occasions. "

"Did you see anything?"

"The room was too dark. "

"But you felt something?"

"Hair; my knuckles, as I struck out--I am speaking of the secondoutrage--encountered a thick mass of hair. "

"The body of some animal?"

"Probably the head. "

"But still you saw nothing?"

"I must confess that I had a vague idea of some shape flitting awayacross the room; a white shape--therefore probably a figment of myimagination. "

"Your cry awakened Lady Lashmore?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Her nerves were badly shaken already, and thissecond shock proved too severe. Sir Elwin fears chest trouble. I amtaking her abroad as soon as possible. "

"She was found insensible. Where?"

"At the door of the dressing-room--the door communicating with her ownroom, not that communicating with mine. She had evidently started tocome to my assistance when faintness overcame her. "

"What is her own account?"

"That is her own account. "

"Who discovered her?"

"I did. "

Dr. Cairn was drumming his fingers on the table. 

"You have a theory, Lord Lashmore, " he said suddenly. "Let me hearit. "

Lord Lashmore started, and glared across at the speaker with a sort ofhaughty surprise. 

"_I_ have a theory?"

"I think so. Am I wrong?"

Lashmore stood on the rug before the fireplace, with his hands lockedbehind him and his head lowered, looking out under his tufted eyebrowsat Dr. Cairn. Thus seen, Lord Lashmore's strange eyes had a sinisterappearance. 

"If I had had a theory--" he began. 

"You would have come to me to seek confirmation?" suggested Dr. Cairn. 

"Ah! yes, you may be right. Sir Elwin Groves, to whom I hintedsomething, mentioned your name. I am not quite clear upon one point, Dr. Cairn. Did he send me to you because he thought--in a word, areyou a mental specialist?"

"I am not. Sir Elwin has no doubts respecting your brain, LordLashmore. He has sent you here because I have made some study of whatI may term psychical ailments. There is a chapter in your familyhistory"--he fixed his searching gaze upon the other's face--"whichlatterly has been occupying your mind?"

At that, Lashmore started in good earnest. 

"To what do you refer?"

"Lord Lashmore, you have come to me for advice. A rareailment--happily very rare in England--has assailed you. Circumstanceshave been in your favour thus far, but a recurrence is to beanticipated at any time. Be good enough to look upon me as aspecialist, and give me all your confidence. "

Lashmore cleared his throat. 

"What do you wish to know, Dr. Cairn?" he asked, with a queerintermingling of respect and hauteur in his tones. 

"I wish to know about Mirza, wife of the third Baron Lashmore. "

Lord Lashmore took a stride forward. His large hands clenched, and hiseyes were blazing. 

"What do you know about her?"

Surprise was in his voice, and anger. 

"I have seen her portrait in Dhoon Castle; you were not in residenceat the time. Mirza, Lady Lashmore, was evidently a very beautifulwoman. What was the date of the marriage?"

"1615. "

"The third Baron brought her to England from?--"

"Poland. "

"She was a Pole?"

"A Polish Jewess. "

"There was no issue of the marriage, but the Baron outlived her andmarried again?"

Lord Lashmore shifted his feet nervously, and gnawed his finger-nails. 

"There _was_ issue of the marriage, " he snapped. "She was--myancestress. "

"Ah!" Dr. Cairn's grey eyes lighted up momentarily. "We get to thefacts! Why was this birth kept secret?"

"Dhoon Castle has kept many secrets!" It was a grim noble of theMiddle Ages who was speaking. "For a Lashmore, there was no difficultyin suppressing the facts, arranging a hasty second marriage andrepresenting the boy as the child of the later union. Had the secondmarriage proved fruitful, this had been unnecessary; but an heir toDhoon was--essential. "

"I see. Had the second marriage proved fruitful, the child of Mirzawould have been--what shall we say?--smothered?"

"Damn it! What do you mean?"

"He was the rightful heir. "

"Dr. Cairn, " said Lashmore slowly, "you are probing an open wound. Thefourth Baron Lashmore represents what the world calls 'The Curse ofthe House of Dhoon. ' At Dhoon Castle there is a secret chamber, whichhas engaged the pens of many so-called occultists, but which no man, save every heir, has entered for generations. It's very location is asecret. Measurements do not avail to find it. You would appear to knowmuch of my family's black secret; perhaps you know where that roomlies at Dhoon?"

"Certainly, I do, " replied Dr. Cairn calmly; "it is under the moat, some thirty yards west of the former drawbridge. "

Lord Lashmore changed colour. When he spoke again his voice had lostits _timbre_. 

"Perhaps you know--what it contains. "

"I do. It contains Paul, fourth Baron Lashmore, son of Mirza, thePolish Jewess!"

Lord Lashmore reseated himself in the big armchair, staring at thespeaker, aghast. 

"I thought no other in the world knew that!" he said, hollowly. "Yourstudies have been extensive indeed. For three years--three whole yearsfrom the night of my twenty-first birthday--the horror hung over me, Dr. Cairn. It ultimately brought my grandfather to the madhouse, butmy father was of sterner stuff, and so, it seems, was I. After thosethree years of horror I threw off the memories of Paul Dhoon, thethird baron--"

"It was on the night of your twenty-first birthday that you wereadmitted to the subterranean room?"

"You know so much, Dr. Cairn, that you may as well know all. "Lashmore's face was twitching. "But you are about to hear what no manhas ever heard from the lips of one of my family before. "

He stood up again, restlessly. 

"Nearly thirty-five years have elapsed, " he resumed, "since thatDecember night; but my very soul trembles now, when I recall it! Therewas a big house-party at Dhoon, but I had been prepared, for someweeks, by my father, for the ordeal that awaited me. Our familymystery is historical, and there were many fearful glances bestowedupon me, when, at midnight, my father took me aside from the companyand led me to the old library. By God! Dr. Cairn--fearful as thesereminiscences are, it is a relief to relate them--to _someone_!"

A sort of suppressed excitement was upon Lashmore, but his voiceremained low and hollow. 

"He asked me, " he continued, "the traditional question: if I hadprayed for strength. God knows I had! Then, his stern face very pale, he locked the library door, and from a closet concealed beside theancient fireplace--a closet which, hitherto, I had not known toexist--he took out a bulky key of antique workmanship. Together we setto work to remove all the volumes from one of the bookshelves. 

"Even when the shelves were empty, it called for our united efforts tomove the heavy piece of furniture; but we accomplished the taskultimately, making visible a considerable expanse of panelling. Nearlyforty years had elapsed since that case had been removed, and thecarvings which it concealed were coated with all the dust which hadaccumulated there since the night of my father's coming of age. 

"A device upon the top of the centre panel represented the arms of thefamily; the helm which formed part of the device projected like aknob. My father grasped it, turned it, and threw his weight againstthe seemingly solid wall. It yielded, swinging inward upon concealedhinges, and a damp, earthy smell came out into the library. Taking upa lamp, which he had in readiness, my father entered the cavity, beckoning me to follow. 

"I found myself descending a flight of rough steps, and the roof aboveme was so low that I was compelled to stoop. A corner was come to, passed, and a further flight of steps appeared beneath. At that timethe old moat was still flooded, and even had I not divined as muchfrom the direction of the steps, I should have known, at this point, that we were beneath it. Between the stone blocks roofing us in oozeddrops of moisture, and the air was at once damp and icily cold. 

"A short passage, commencing at the foot of the steps, terminatedbefore a massive, iron-studded door. My father placed the key in thelock, and holding the lamp above his head, turned and looked at me. Hewas deathly pale. 

"'Summon all your fortitude, ' he said. 

"He strove to turn the key, but for a long time without success forthe lock was rusty. Finally, however--he was a strong man--his effortswere successful. The door opened, and an indescribable smell came outinto the passage. Never before had I met with anything like it; I havenever met with it since. "

Lord Lashmore wiped his brow with his handkerchief. 

"The first thing, " he resumed, "upon which the lamplight shone, waswhat appeared to be a blood-stain spreading almost entirely over onewall of the cell which I perceived before me. I have learnt since thatthis was a species of fungus, not altogether uncommon, but at thetime, and in that situation, it shocked me inexpressibly. 

"But let me hasten to that which we were come to see--let me finishmy story as quickly as may be. My father halted at the entrance tothis frightful cell; his hand, with which he held the lamp above hishead, was not steady; and over his shoulder I looked into the placeand saw ... _him_. 

"Dr. Cairn, for three years, night and day, that spectacle haunted me;for three years, night and day, I seemed to have before my eyes thedreadful face--the bearded, grinning face of Paul Dhoon. He lay thereupon the floor of the dungeon, his fists clenched and his knees drawnup as if in agony. He had lain there for generations; yet, as God ismy witness, there was flesh on his bones. 

"Yellow and seared it was, and his joints protruded through it, buthis features were yet recognisable--horribly, dreadfully, recognisable. His black hair was like a mane, long and matted, hiseyebrows were incredibly heavy and his lashes overhung his cheekbones. The nails of his fingers ... No! I will spare you! But his teeth, hisivory gleaming teeth--with the two wolf-fangs fully revealed by thatdeath-grin!... 

"An aspen stake was driven through his breast, pinning him to theearthern floor, and there he lay in the agonised attitude of one whohad died by such awful means. Yet--that stake was not driven throughhis unhallowed body until a whole year after his death!

"How I regained the library I do not remember. I was unable to rejointhe guests, unable to face my fellow-men for days afterwards. Dr. Cairn, for three years I feared--feared the world--fearedsleep--feared myself above all; for I knew that I had in my veins theblood of a _vampire_!"

CHAPTER IX

THE POLISH JEWESS

There was a silence of some minutes' duration. Lord Lashmore satstaring straight before him, his fists clenched upon his knees. Then:

"It was after death that the third baron developed--certainqualities?" inquired Dr. Cairn. 

"There were six cases of death in the district within twelve months, "replied Lashmore. "The gruesome cry of 'vampire' ran through thecommunity. The fourth baron--son of Paul Dhoon--turned a deaf ear tothese reports, until the mother of a child--a child who haddied--traced a man, or the semblance of a man, to the gate of theDhoon family vault. By night, secretly, the son of Paul Dhoon visitedthe vault, and found.... 

"The body, which despite twelve months in the tomb, looked as it hadlooked in life, was carried to the dungeon--in the Middle Ages atorture-room; no cry uttered there can reach the outer world--and wassubmitted to the ancient process for slaying a vampire. From that hourno supernatural visitant has troubled the district; but--"

"But, " said Dr. Cairn quietly, "the strain came from Mirza, thesorceress. What of her?"

Lord Lashmore's eyes shone feverishly. 

"How do you know that she was a sorceress?" he asked, hoarsely. "Theseare family secrets. "

"They will remain so, " Dr. Cairn answered. "But my studies have gonefar, and I know that Mirza, wife of the third Baron Lashmore, practised the Black Art in life, and became after death a ghoul. Herhusband surprised her in certain detestable magical operations andstruck her head off. He had suspected her for some considerable time, and had not only kept secret the birth of her son but had secludedthe child from the mother. No heir resulting from his second marriage, however, the son of Mirza became Baron Lashmore, and after deathbecame what his mother had been before him. 

"Lord Lashmore, the curse of the house of Dhoon will prevail until thePolish Jewess who originated it has been treated as her son wastreated!"

"Dr. Cairn, it is not known where her husband had her body concealed. He died without revealing the secret. Do you mean that the taint, thedevil's taint, may recur--Oh, my God! do you want to drive me mad?"

"I do not mean that after so many generations which have been freefrom it, the vampirism will arise again in your blood; but I mean thatthe spirit, the unclean, awful spirit of that vampire woman, is stillearth-bound. The son was freed, and with him went the hereditarytaint, it seems; but the mother was _not_ freed! Her body wasdecapitated, but her vampire soul cannot go upon its appointed courseuntil the ancient ceremonial has been performed!"

Lord Lashmore passed his hand across his eyes. 

"You daze me, Dr. Cairn. In brief, what do you mean?"

"I mean that the spirit of Mirza is to this day loose upon the world, and is forced, by a deathless, unnatural longing to seek incarnationin a human body. It is such awful pariahs as this, Lord Lashmore, thatconstitute the danger of so-called spiritualism. Given suitableconditions, such a spirit might gain control of a human being. "

"Do you suggest that the spirit of the second lady--"

"It is distinctly possible that she haunts her descendants. I seem toremember a tradition of Dhoon Castle, to the effect that births anddeaths are heralded by a woman's mocking laughter?"

"I, myself, heard it on the night--I became Lord Lashmore. "

"That is the spirit who was known, in life, as Mirza, Lady Lashmore!"

"But--"

"It is possible to gain control of such a being. "

"By what means?"

"By unhallowed means; yet there are those who do not hesitate toemploy them. The danger of such an operation is, of course, enormous. "

"I perceive, Dr. Cairn, that a theory, covering the facts of my recentexperiences, is forming in your mind. "

"That is so. In order that I may obtain corroborative evidence, Ishould like to call at your place this evening. Suppose I comeostensibly to see Lady Lashmore?"

Lord Lashmore was watching the speaker. 

"There is someone in my household whose suspicions you do not wish toarouse?" he suggested. 

"There is. Shall we make it nine o'clock?"

"Why not come to dinner?"

"Thanks all the same, but I think it would serve my purpose better ifI came later. "

 * * * * *

Dr. Cairn and his son dined alone together in Half-Moon Street thatnight. 

"I saw Antony Ferrara in Regent Street to-day, " said. Robert Cairn. "Iwas glad to see him. "

Dr. Cairn raised his heavy brows. 

"Why?" he asked. 

"Well, I was half afraid that he might have left London. "

"Paid a visit to Myra Duquesne in Inverness?"

"It would not have surprised me. "

"Nor would it have surprised me, Rob, but I think he is stalking othergame at present. "

Robert Cairn looked up quickly. 

"Lady Lashmore, " he began--

"Well?" prompted his father. 

"One of the Paul Pry brigade who fatten on scandal sent a veiledparagraph in to us at _The Planet_ yesterday, linking Ferrara's namewith Lady Lashmores. ' Of course we didn't use it; he had come to thewrong market; but--Ferrara was with Lady Lashmore when I met himto-day. "

"What of that?"

"It is not necessarily significant, of course; Lord Lashmore in allprobability will outlive Ferrara, who looked even more pallid thanusual. "

"You regard him as an utterly unscrupulous fortune-hunter?"

"Certainly. "

"Did Lady Lashmore appear to be in good health?"

"Perfectly. "

"Ah!"

A silence fell, of some considerable duration, then:

"Antony Ferrara is a menace to society, " said Robert Cairn. "When Imeet the reptilian glance of those black eyes of his and reflect uponwhat the man has attempted--what he has done--my blood boils. It istragically funny to think that in our new wisdom we have abolished theonly laws that could have touched him! He could not have existed inAncient Chaldea, and would probably have been burnt at the stake evenunder Charles II. ; but in this wise twentieth century he dallies inRegent Street with a prominent society beauty and laughs in the faceof a man whom he has attempted to destroy!"

"Be very wary, " warned Dr. Cairn. "Remember that if you diedmysteriously to-morrow, Ferrara would be legally immune. We must wait, and watch. Can you return here to-night, at about ten o'clock?"

"I think I can manage to do so--yes. "

"I shall expect you. Have you brought up to date your record of thoseevents which we know of, together with my notes and explanations?"

"Yes, sir, I spent last evening upon the notes. "

"There may be something to add. This record, Rob, one day will be aweapon to destroy an unnatural enemy. I will sign two copies to-nightand lodge one at my bank. "

CHAPTER X

THE LAUGHTER

Lady Lashmore proved to be far more beautiful than Dr. Cairn hadanticipated. She was a true brunette with a superb figure and eyeslike the darkest passion flowers. Her creamy skin had a goldenquality, as though it had absorbed within its velvet texture somethingof the sunshine of the South. 

She greeted Dr. Cairn without cordiality. 

"I am delighted to find you looking so well, Lady Lashmore, " said thedoctor. "Your appearance quite confirms my opinion. "

"Your opinion of what, Dr. Cairn?"

"Of the nature of your recent seizure. Sir Elwin Groves invited myopinion and I gave it. "

Lady Lashmore paled perceptibly. 

"Lord Lashmore, I know, " she said, "was greatly concerned, but indeedit was nothing serious--"

"I quite agree. It was due to nervous excitement. "

Lady Lashmore held a fan before her face. 

"There have been recent happenings, " she said--"as no doubt you areaware--which must have shaken anyone's nerves. Of course, I amfamiliar with your reputation, Dr. Cairn, as a psychicalspecialist--?"

"Pardon me, but from whom have you learnt of it?"

"From Mr. Ferrara, " she answered simply. "He has assured me that youare the greatest living authority upon such matters. "

Dr. Cairn turned his head aside. 

"Ah!" he said grimly. 

"And I want to ask you a question, " continued Lady Lashmore. "Have youany idea, any idea at all respecting the cause of the wounds upon myhusband's throat? Do you think them due to--something supernatural?"

Her voice shook, and her slight foreign accent became more marked. 

"Nothing is supernatural, " replied Dr. Cairn; "but I think they aredue to something supernormal. I would suggest that possibly you havesuffered from evil dreams recently?"

Lady Lashmore started wildly, and her eyes opened with a sort ofsudden horror. 

"How can you know?" she whispered. "How can you know! Oh, Dr. Cairn!"She laid her hand upon his arm--"if you can prevent those dreams; ifyou can assure me that I shall never dream them again--!"

It was a plea and a confession. This was what had lain behind hercoldness--this horror which she had not dared to confide in another. 

"Tell me, " he said gently. "You have dreamt these dreams twice?"

She nodded, wide-eyed with wonder for his knowledge. 

"On the occasions of your husband's illnesses?"

"Yes, yes!"

"What did you dream?"

"Oh! can I, dare I tell you!--"

"You must. "

There was pity in his voice. 

"I dreamt that I lay in some very dark cavern. I could hear the seabooming, apparently over my head. But above all the noise a voice wasaudible, calling to me--not by name; I cannot explain in what way; butcalling, calling imperatively. I seemed to be clothed but scantily, insome kind of ragged garments; and upon my knees I crawled toward thevoice, through a place where there were other living things thatcrawled also--things with many legs and clammy bodies.... "

She shuddered and choked down an hysterical sob that was half a laugh. 

"My hair hung dishevelled about me and in some inexplicable way--oh!am I going mad!--my head seemed to be detached from my living body! Iwas filled with a kind of unholy anger which I cannot describe. Also, I was consumed with thirst, and this thirst.... "

"I think I understand, " said Dr. Cairn quietly. "What followed?"

"An interval--quite blank--after which I dreamt again. Dr. Cairn, I_cannot_ tell you of the dreadful, the blasphemous and foul thoughts, that then possessed me! I found myself resisting--resisting--something, some power that was dragging me back to that foul cavern with my thirstunslaked! I was frenzied; I dare not name, I tremble to think, of theideas which filled my mind. Then, again came a blank, and I awoke. "

She sat trembling. Dr. Cairn noted that she avoided his gaze. 

"You awoke, " he said, "on the first occasion, to find that yourhusband had met with a strange and dangerous accident?"

"There was--something else. "

Lady Lashmore's voice had become a tremulous whisper. 

"Tell me; don't be afraid. "

She looked up; her magnificent eyes were wild with horror. 

"I believe you know!" she breathed. "Do you?"

Dr. Cairn nodded. 

"And on the second occasion, " he said, "you awoke earlier?"

Lady Lashmore slightly moved her head. 

"The dream was identical?"

"Yes. "

"Excepting these two occasions, you never dreamt it before?"

"I dreamt _part_ of it on several other occasions; or only rememberedpart of it on waking. "

"Which part?"

"The first; that awful cavern--"

"And now, Lady Lashmore--you have recently been present at aspiritualistic _séance_. "

She was past wondering at his power of inductive reasoning, and merelynodded. 

"I suggest--I do not know--that the _séance_ was held under theauspices of Mr. Antony Ferrara, ostensibly for amusement. "

Another affirmative nod answered him. 

"You proved to be mediumistic?"

It was admitted. 

"And now, Lady Lashmore"--Dr. Cairn's face was very stern--"I willtrouble you no further. "

He prepared to depart; when--

"Dr. Cairn!" whispered Lady Lashmore, tremulously, "some dreadfulthing, something that I cannot comprehend but that I fear and loathewith all my soul, has come to me. Oh--for pity's sake, give me a wordof hope! Save for you, I am alone with a horror I cannot name. Tellme--"

At the door, he turned. 

"Be brave, " he said--and went out. 

Lady Lashmore sat still as one who had looked upon Gorgon, herbeautiful eyes yet widely opened and her face pale as death; for hehad not even told her to hope. 

 * * * * *

Robert Cairn was sitting smoking in the library, a bunch of notesbefore him, when Dr. Cairn returned to Half-Moon Street. His face, habitually fresh coloured, was so pale that his son leapt up in alarm. But Dr. Cairn waved him away with a characteristic gesture of thehand. 

"Sit down, Rob, " he said, quietly; "I shall be all right in a moment. But I have just left a woman--a young woman and a beautifulwoman--whom a fiend of hell has condemned to that which my mindrefuses to contemplate. "

Robert Cairn sat down again, watching his father. 

"Make out a report of the following facts, " continued the latter, beginning to pace up and down the room. 

He recounted all that he had learnt of the history of the house ofDhoon and all that he had learnt of recent happenings from Lord andLady Lashmore. His son wrote rapidly. 

"And now, " said the doctor, "for our conclusions. Mirza, the PolishJewess, who became Lady Lashmore in 1615, practised sorcery in lifeand became, after death, a ghoul--one who sustained an unholyexistence by unholy means--a vampire. "

"But, sir! Surely that is but a horrible superstition of the MiddleAges!"

"Rob, I could take you to a castle not ten miles from Cracow in Polandwhere there are--certain relics, which would for ever settle yourdoubts respecting the existence of vampires. Let us proceed. The sonof Mirza, Paul Dhoon, inherited the dreadful proclivities of hismother, but his shadowy existence was cut short in the traditional, and effective, manner. Him we may neglect. 

"It is Mirza, the sorceress, who must engage our attention. She wasdecapitated by her husband. This punishment prevented her, in theunhallowed life which, for such as she, begins after ordinary decease, from practising the horrible rites of a vampire. Her headless bodycould not serve her as a vehicle for nocturnal wanderings, but theevil spirit of the woman might hope to gain control of some body moresuitable. 

"Nurturing an implacable hatred against all of the house of Dhoon, that spirit, disembodied, would frequently be drawn to theneighbourhood of Mirza's descendants, both by hatred and by affinity. Two horrible desires of the Spirit Mirza would be gratified if a Dhooncould be made her victim--the desire for blood and the desire forvengeance! The fate of Lord Lashmore would be sealed if that spiritcould secure incarnation!"

Dr. Cairn paused, glancing at his son, who was writing at furiousspeed. Then--

"A magician more mighty and more evil than Mirza ever was or couldbe, " he continued, "a master of the Black Art, expelled a woman'sspirit from its throne and temporarily installed in its place theblood-lustful spirit of Mirza!"

"My God, sir!" cried Robert Cairn, and threw down his pencil. "I beginto understand!"

"Lady Lashmore, " said Dr. Cairn, "since she was weak enough toconsent to be present at a certain _séance_, has, from time to time, been _possessed_; she has been possessed by the spirit of a vampire!Obedient to the nameless cravings of that control, she has sought outLord Lashmore, the last of the House of Dhoon. The horrible attackmade, a mighty will which, throughout her temporary incarnation, hasheld her like a hound in leash, has dragged her from her prey, hasforced her to remove, from the garments clothing her borrowed body, all traces of the deed, and has cast her out again to the pit ofabomination where her headless trunk was thrown by the third BaronLashmore!

"Lady Lashmore's brain retains certain memories. They have beenreceived at the moment when possession has taken place and at themoment when the control has been cast out again. They thus arememories of some secret cavern near Dhoon Castle, where that headlessbut deathless body lies, and memories of the poignant moment when thevampire has been dragged back, her 'thirst unslaked, ' by the rulingWill. "

"Merciful God!" muttered Robert Cairn, "Merciful God, can such thingsbe!"

"They can be--they are! Two ways have occurred to me of dealing withthe matter, " continued Dr. Cairn quietly. "One is to find that cavernand to kill, in the occult sense, by means of a stake, the vampire wholies there; the other which, I confess, might only result in thepermanent 'possession' of Lady Lashmore--is to get at the power whichcontrols this disembodied spirit--kill Antony Ferrara!"

Robert Cairn went to the sideboard, and poured out brandy with ashaking hand. 

"What's his object?" he whispered. 

Dr. Cairn shrugged his shoulders. 

"Lady Lashmore would be the wealthiest widow in society, " he replied. 

"_He_ will know now, " continued the younger man unsteadily, "that youare up against him. Have you--"

"I have told Lord Lashmore to lock, at night, not only his outer doorbut also that of his dressing-room. For the rest--?" he dropped intoan easy-chair, --"I cannot face the facts, I--"

The telephone bell rang. 

Dr. Cairn came to his feet as though he had been electrified; and ashe raised the receiver to his ear, his son knew, by the expression onhis face, from where the message came and something of its purport. 

"Come with me, " was all that he said, when he had replaced theinstrument on the table. 

They went out together. It was already past midnight, but a cab wasfound at the corner of Half-Moon Street, and within the space of fiveminutes they were at Lord Lashmore's house. 

Excepting Chambers, Lord Lashmore's valet, no servants were to beseen. 

"They ran away, sir, out of the house, " explained the man, huskily, "when it happened. "

Dr. Cairn delayed for no further questions, but raced upstairs, hisson close behind him. Together they burst into Lord Lashmore'sbedroom. But just within the door they both stopped, aghast. 

Sitting bolt upright in bed was Lord Lashmore, his face a dingy greyand his open eyes, though filming over, yet faintly alight with astark horror ... Dead. An electric torch was still gripped in his lefthand. 

Bending over someone who lay upon the carpet near the bedside theyperceived Sir Elwin Groves. He looked up. Some little of his usualself-possession had fled. 

"Ah, Cairn!" he jerked. "We've both come too late. "

The prostrate figure was that of Lady Lashmore, a loose kimono wornover her night-robe. She was white and still and the physician hadbeen engaged in bathing a huge bruise upon her temple. 

"She'll be all right, " said Sir Elwin; "she has sustained a tremendousblow, as you see. But Lord Lashmore--"

Dr. Cairn stepped closer to the dead man. 

"Heart, " he said. "He died of sheer horror. "

He turned to Chambers, who stood in the open doorway behind him. 

"The dressing-room door is open, " he said. "I had advised LordLashmore to lock it. "

"Yes, sir; his lordship meant to, sir. But we found that the lock hadbeen broken. It was to have been replaced to-morrow. "

Dr. Cairn turned to his son. 

"You hear?" he said. "No doubt you have some idea respecting which ofthe visitors to this unhappy house took the trouble to break thatlock? It was to have been replaced to-morrow; hence the tragedy ofto-night. " He addressed Chambers again. "Why did the servants leavethe house to-night?"

The man was shaking pitifully. 

"It was the laughter, sir! the laughter! I can never forget it! I wassleeping in an adjoining room and I had the key of his lordship's doorin case of need. But when I heard his lordship cry out--quick andloud, sir--like a man that's been stabbed--I jumped up to come to him. Then, as I was turning the doorknob--of my room, sir--someone, something, began to _laugh_! It was in here; it was in here, gentlemen! It wasn't--her ladyship; it wasn't like _any_ woman. Ican't describe it; but it woke up every soul in the house. "

"When you came in?"

"I daren't come in, sir! I ran downstairs and called up Sir ElwinGroves. Before he came, all the rest of the household huddled on theirclothes and went away--"

"It was I who found him, " interrupted Sir Elwin--"as you see him now;with Lady Lashmore where she lies. I have 'phoned for nurses. "

"Ah!" said Dr. Cairn; "I shall come back, Groves, but I have a smallmatter to attend to. "

He drew his son from the room. On the stair:

"You understand?" he asked. "The spirit of Mirza came to him again, clothed in his wife's body. Lord Lashmore felt the teeth at histhroat, awoke instantly and struck out. As he did so, he turned thetorch upon her, and recognised--his wife! His heart completed thetragedy, and so--to the laughter of the sorceress--passed the last ofthe house of Dhoon. "

The cab was waiting. Dr. Cairn gave an address in Piccadilly, and thetwo entered. As the cab moved off, the doctor took a revolver from hispocket, with some loose cartridges, charged the five chambers, andquietly replaced the weapon in his pocket again. 

One of the big doors of the block of chambers was found to be ajar, and a porter proved to be yet in attendance. 

"Mr. Ferrara?" began Dr. Cairn. 

"You are five minutes too late, sir, " said the man. "He left by motorat ten past twelve. He's gone abroad, sir. "

CHAPTER XI

CAIRO

The exact manner in which mental stress will effect a man's physicalhealth is often difficult to predict. Robert Cairn was in the pink ofcondition at the time that he left Oxford to take up his Londonappointment; but the tremendous nervous strain wrought upon him bythis series of events wholly outside the radius of normal things hadbroken him up physically, where it might have left unscathed a morehighly strung, though less physically vigorous man. 

Those who have passed through a nerve storm such as this which hadlaid him low will know that convalescence seems like a welcomeawakening from a dreadful dream. It was indeed in a state betweenawaking and dreaming that Robert Cairn took counsel with hisfather--the latter more pale than was his wont and somewhatanxious-eyed--and determined upon an Egyptian rest-cure. 

"I have made it all right at the office, Rob, " said Dr. Cairn. "Inthree weeks or so you will receive instructions at Cairo to write up aseries of local articles. Until then, my boy, complete rest and--don'tworry; above all, don't worry. You and I have passed through asaturnalia of horror, and you, less inured to horrors than I, havegone down. I don't wonder. "

"Where is Antony Ferrara?"

Dr. Cairn shook his head and his eyes gleamed with a sudden anger. "For God's sake don't mention his name!" he said. "That topic istaboo, Rob. I may tell you, however, that he has left England. "

In this unreal frame of mind, then, and as one but partly belonging tothe world of things actual, Cairn found himself an invalid, who butyesterday had been a hale man; found himself shipped for Port Said;found himself entrained for Cairo; and with an awakening to therealities of life, an emerging from an ill-dream to lively interest inthe novelties of Egypt, found himself following the red-jerseyedShepheard's porter along the corridor of the train and out on to theplatform. 

A short drive through those singular streets where East meets West andmingles, in the sudden, violet dusk of Lower Egypt, and he was amidthe bustle of the popular hotel. 

Sime was there, whom he had last seen at Oxford, Sime the phlegmatic. He apologised for not meeting the train, but explained that his dutieshad rendered it impossible. Sime was attached temporarily to anarchæological expedition as medical man, and his athletic and somewhatbovine appearance contrasted oddly with the unhealthy gauntness ofCairn. 

"I only got in from Wasta ten minutes ago, Cairn. You must come out tothe camp when I return; the desert air will put you on your feet againin no time. "

Sime was unemotional, but there was concern in his voice and in hisglance, for the change in Cairn was very startling. Although he knewsomething, if but very little, of certain happenings inLondon--gruesome happenings centering around the man called AntonyFerrara--he avoided any reference to them at the moment. 

Seated upon the terrace, Robert Cairn studied the busy life in thestreet below with all the interest of a new arrival in the Capital ofthe Near East. More than ever, now, his illness and the things whichhad led up to it seemed to belong to a remote dream existence. Throughthe railings at his feet a hawker was thrusting fly-whisks, andimploring him in complicated English to purchase one. Vendors ofbeads, of fictitious "antiques, " of sweetmeats, of what-not;fortune-tellers--and all that chattering horde which some obscureprocess of gravitation seems to hurl against the terrace ofShepheard's, buzzed about him. Carriages and motor cars, camels anddonkeys mingled, in the Shâria Kâmel Pasha. Voices American, voicesAnglo-Saxon, guttural German tones, and softly murmured Arabic mergedinto one indescribable chord of sound; but to Robert Cairn it was allunspeakably restful. He was quite contented to sit there sipping hiswhisky and soda, and smoking his pipe. Sheer idleness was good for himand exactly what he wanted, and idling amid that unique throng isidleness _de luxe_. 

Sime watched him covertly, and saw that his face had acquiredlines--lines which told of the fires through which he had passed. Something, it was evident--something horrible--had seared his mind. Considering the many indications of tremendous nervous disaster inCairn, Sime wondered how near his companion had come to insanity, andconcluded that he had stood upon the frontiers of that grim land ofphantoms, and had only been plucked back in the eleventh hour. 

Cairn glanced around with a smile, from the group of hawkers whosolicited his attention upon the pavement below. 

"This is a delightful scene, " he said. "I could sit here for hours;but considering that it's some time after sunset it remains unusuallyhot, doesn't it?"

"Rather!" replied Sime. "They are expecting _Khamsîn_--the hot wind, you know. I was up the river a week ago and we struck it badly inAssouan. It grew as black as night and one couldn't breathe for sand. It's probably working down to Cairo. "

"From your description I am not anxious to make the acquaintance of_Khamsîn_!"

Sime shook his head, knocking out his pipe into the ash-tray. 

"This is a funny country, " he said reflectively. "The most weird ideasprevail here to this day--ideas which properly belong to the MiddleAges. For instance"--he began to recharge the hot bowl--"it is notreally time for _Khamsîn_, consequently the natives feel called uponto hunt up some explanation of its unexpected appearance. Their ideason the subject are interesting, if idiotic. One of our Arabs (we areexcavating in the Fayûm, you know), solemnly assured me yesterdaythat the hot wind had been caused by an Efreet, a sort of ArabianNights' demon, who has arrived in Egypt!"

He laughed gruffly, but Cairn was staring at him with a curiousexpression. Sime continued:

"When I got to Cairo this evening I found news of the Efreet hadpreceded me. Honestly, Cairn, it is all over the town--the nativetown, I mean. All the shopkeepers in the Mûski are talking about it. If a puff of _Khamsîn_ should come, I believe they would permanentlyshut up shop and hide in their cellars--if they have any! I am ratherhazy on modern Egyptian architecture. "

Cairn nodded his head absently. 

"You laugh, " he said, "but the active force of a superstition--what wecall a superstition--is sometimes a terrible thing. "

Sime stared. 

"Eh!" The medical man had suddenly come uppermost; he recollected thatthis class of discussion was probably taboo. 

"You may doubt the existence of Efreets, " continued Cairn, "butneither you nor I can doubt the creative power of thought. If atrained hypnotist, by sheer concentration, can persuade his subjectthat the latter sits upon the brink of a river fishing when actuallyhe sits upon a platform in a lecture-room, what result should youexpect from a concentration of thousands of native minds upon the ideathat an Efreet is visiting Egypt?"

Sime stared in a dull way peculiar to him. 

"Rather a poser, " he said. "I have a glimmer of a notion what youmean. "

"Don't you think--"

"If you mean don't I think the result would be the creation of anEfreet, no, I don't!"

"I hardly mean that, either, " replied Cairn, "but this wave ofsuperstition cannot be entirely unproductive; all that thought energydirected to one point--"

Sime stood up. 

"We shall get out of our depth, " he replied conclusively. Heconsidered the ground of discussion an unhealthy one; this was theterritory adjoining that of insanity. 

A fortune-teller from India proffered his services incessantly. 

"_Imshi_! _imshi_!" growled Sime. 

"Hold on, " said Cairn smiling; "this chap is not an Egyptian; let usask him if he has heard the rumour respecting the Efreet!"

Sime reseated himself rather unwillingly. The fortune-teller spreadhis little carpet and knelt down in order to read the palm of hishypothetical client, but Cairn waved him aside. 

"I don't want my fortune told!" he said; "but I will give you yourfee, "--with a smile at Sime--"for a few minutes' conversation. "

"Yes, sir, yes, sir!" The Indian was all attention. 

"Why"--Cairn pointed forensically at the fortune-teller--"why is_Khamsîn_ come so early this year?"

The Indian spread his hands, palms upward. 

"How should I know?" he replied in his soft, melodious voice. "I amnot of Egypt; I can only say what is told to me by the Egyptians. "

"And what is told to you?"

Sime rested his hands upon his knees, bending forward curiously. Hewas palpably anxious that Cairn should have confirmation of the Efreetstory from the Indian. 

"They tell me, sir, "--the man's voice sank musically low--"that athing very evil"--he tapped a long brown finger upon his breast--"notas I am"--he tapped Sime upon the knee--"not as he, your friend"--hethrust the long finger at Cairn--"not as you, sir; not a man at all, though something like a man! not having any father and mother--"

"You mean, " suggested Sime, "a spirit?"

The fortune-teller shook his head. 

"They tell me, sir, not a spirit--a man, but not as other men; a very, very bad man; one that the great king, long, long ago, the king youcall Wise ----"

"Solomon?" suggested Cairn. 

"Yes, yes, Suleyman!--one that he, when he banish all the tribe of thedemons from earth--one that he not found. "

"One he overlooked?" jerked Sime. 

"Yes, yes, overlook! A very evil man, my gentlemen. They tell me hehas come to Egypt. He come not from the sea, but across the greatdesert--"

"The Libyan Desert?" suggested Sime. 

The man shook, his head, seeking for words. 

"The Arabian Desert?"

"No, no! Away beyond, far up in Africa"--he waved his long armsdramatically--"far, far up beyond the Sûdan. "

"The Sahara Desert?" proposed Sime. 

"Yes, yes! it is Sahara Desert!--come across the Sahara Desert, and iscome to Khartûm. "

"How did he get there?" asked Cairn. 

The Indian shrugged his shoulders. 

"I cannot say, but next he come to Wady Halfa, then he is in Assouan, and from Assouan he come down to Luxor! Yesterday an Egyptian friendtold me _Khamsîn_ is in the Fayûm. Therefore _he_ is there--the man ofevil--for he bring the hot wind with him. "

The Indian was growing impressive, and two American tourists stoppedto listen to his words. 

"To-night--to-morrow, "--he spoke now almost in a whisper, glancingabout him as if apprehensive of being overheard--"he may be here, inCairo, bringing with him the scorching breath of the desert--thescorpion wind!"

He stood up, casting off the mystery with which he had invested hisstory, and smiling insinuatingly. His work was done; his fee was due. Sime rewarded him with five piastres, and he departed, bowing. 

"You know, Sime--" Cairn began to speak, staring absently the whileafter the fortune-teller, as he descended the carpeted steps andrejoined the throng on the sidewalk below--"you know, if aman--anyone, could take advantage of such a wave of thought as thiswhich is now sweeping through Egypt--if he could cause it toconcentrate upon him, as it were, don't you think that it wouldenable him to transcend the normal, to do phenomenal things?"

"By what process should you propose to make yourself such a focus?"

"I was speaking impersonally, Sime. It might be possible--"

"It might be possible to dress for dinner, " snapped Sime, "if we shutup talking nonsense! There's a carnival here to-night; great fun. Suppose we concentrate our brain-waves on another Scotch and soda?"

CHAPTER XII

THE MASK OF SET

Above the palm trees swept the jewelled vault of Egypt's sky, and setamid the clustering leaves gleamed little red electric lamps; fairylanterns outlined the winding paths and paper Japanese lamps hungdancing in long rows, whilst in the centre of the enchanted garden afountain spurned diamond spray high in the air, to fall back coollyplashing into the marble home of the golden carp. The rustling ofinnumerable feet upon the sandy pathway and the ceaseless murmur ofvoices, with pealing laughter rising above all, could be heard amidthe strains of the military band ensconced in a flower-covered arbour. 

Into the brightly lighted places and back into the luminous shadowscame and went fantastic forms. Sheikhs there were with flowing robes, dragomans who spoke no Arabic, Sultans and priests of Ancient Egypt, going arm-in-arm. Dancing girls of old Thebes, and harem ladies insilken trousers and high-heeled red shoes. Queens of Babylon andCleopatras, many Geishas and desert Gypsies mingled, specks in a giantkaleidoscope. The thick carpet of confetti rustled to the tread; girlsran screaming before those who pursued them armed with handfuls of thetiny paper disks. Pipers of a Highland regiment marched piping throughthe throng, their Scottish kilts seeming wildly incongruous amid sucha scene. Within the hotel, where the mosque lanterns glowed, one mightcatch a glimpse of the heads of dancers gliding shadowlike. 

"A tremendous crowd, " said Sime, "considering it is nearly the end ofthe season. "

Three silken ladies wearing gauzy white _yashmaks_ confronted Cairnand the speaker. A gleaming of jewelled fingers there was and Cairnfound himself half-choked with confetti, which filled his eyes, hisnose, his ears, and of which quite a liberal amount found access tohis mouth. The three ladies of the _yashmak_ ran screaming from theirvengeance-seeking victims, Sime pursuing two, and Cairn hard upon theheels of the third. Amid this scene of riotous carnival all else wasforgotten, and only the madness, the infectious madness of the night, claimed his mind. In and out of the strangely attired groups dartedhis agile quarry, all but captured a score of times, but alwayseluding him. 

Sime he had hopelessly lost, as around fountain and flower-bed, arbourand palm trunk he leapt in pursuit of the elusive _yashmak_. 

Then, in a shadowed corner of the garden, he trapped her. Plunging hishand into the bag of confetti, which he carried, he leapt, exulting, to his revenge: when a sudden gust of wind passed sibilantly throughthe palm tops, and glancing upward, Cairn saw that the blue sky wasovercast and the stars gleaming dimly, as through a veil. That momentof hesitancy proved fatal to his project, for with a little excitedscream the girl dived under his outstretched arm and fled back towardsthe fountain. He turned to pursue again, when a second puff of wind, stronger than the first, set waving the palm fronds and showered dryleaves upon the confetti carpet of the garden. The band played loudly, the murmur of conversation rose to something like a roar, but above itwhistled the increasing breeze, and there was a sort of grittiness inthe air. 

Then, proclaimed by a furious lashing of the fronds above, burst thewind in all its fury. It seemed to beat down into the garden in wavesof heat. Huge leaves began to fall from the tree tops and themast-like trunks bent before the fury from the desert. The atmospheregrew hazy with impalpable dust; and the stars were wholly obscured. 

Commenced a stampede from the garden. Shrill with fear, rose a woman'sscream from the heart of the throng:

"A scorpion! a scorpion!"

Panic threatened, but fortunately the doors were wide, so that, without disaster the whole fantastic company passed into the hotel;and even the military band retired. 

Cairn perceived that he alone remained in the garden, and glancingalong the path in the direction of the fountain, he saw a blotchy drabcreature, fully four inches in length, running zigzag towards him. Itwas a huge scorpion; but, even as he leapt forward to crush it, itturned and crept in amid the tangle of flowers beside the path, whereit was lost from view. 

The scorching wind grew momentarily fiercer, and Cairn, enteringbehind a few straggling revellers, found something ominous anddreadful in its sudden fury. At the threshold, he turned and lookedback upon the gaily lighted garden. The paper lamps were thrashing inthe wind, many extinguished; others were in flames; a number ofelectric globes fell from their fastenings amid the palm tops, andburst bomb-like upon the ground. The pleasure garden was now abattlefield, beset with dangers, and he fully appreciated the anxietyof the company to get within doors. Where chrysanthemum and _yashmak_turban and _tarboosh_, uraeus and Indian plume had mingled gaily, nosoul remained; but yet--he was in error ... Someone did remain. 

As if embodying the fear that in a few short minutes had emptied thegarden, out beneath the waving lanterns, the flying _débris_, thewhirling dust, pacing sombrely from shadow to light, and to shadowagain, advancing towards the hotel steps, came the figure of onesandalled, and wearing the short white tunic of Ancient Egypt. Hisarms were bare, and he carried a long staff; but rising hideously uponhis shoulders was a crocodile-mask, which seemed to grin--the mask ofSet, Set the Destroyer, God of the underworld. 

Cairn, alone of all the crowd, saw the strange figure, for the reasonthat Cairn alone faced towards the garden. The gruesome mask seemed tofascinate him; he could not take his gaze from that weird advancinggod; he felt impelled hypnotically to stare at the gleaming eyes setin the saurian head. The mask was at the foot of the steps, and stillCairn stood rigid. When, as the sandalled foot was set upon the firststep, a breeze, dust-laden, and hot as from a furnace door, blew fullyinto the hotel, blinding him. A chorus arose from the crowd at hisback; and many voices cried out for doors to be shut. Someone tappedhim on the shoulder, and spun him about. 

"By God!"--it was Sime who now had him by the arm--"_Khamsîn_ has comewith a vengeance! They tell me that they have never had anything likeit!"

The native servants were closing and fastening the doors. The nightwas now as black as Erebus, and the wind was howling about thebuilding with the voices of a million lost souls. Cairn glanced backacross his shoulder. Men were drawing heavy curtains across the doorsand windows. 

"They have shut him out, Sime!" he said. 

Sime stared in his dull fashion. 

"You surely saw him?" persisted Cairn irritably; "the man in the maskof Set--he was coming in just behind me. "

Sime strode forward, pulled the curtains aside, and peered out intothe deserted garden. 

"Not a soul, old man, " he declared. "You must have seen the Efreet!"

CHAPTER XIII

THE SCORPION WIND

This sudden and appalling change of weather had sadly affected themood of the gathering. That part of the carnival planned to take placein the garden was perforce abandoned, together with the fireworkdisplay. A halfhearted attempt was made at dancing, but the howling ofthe wind, and the omnipresent dust, perpetually reminded thepleasure-seekers that _Khamsîn_ raged without--raged with a violenceunparalleled in the experience of the oldest residents. This was afull-fledged sand-storm, a terror of the Sahara descended upon Cairo. 

But there were few departures, although many of the visitors who hadlong distances to go, especially those from Mena House, discussed theadvisability of leaving before this unique storm should have growneven worse. The general tendency, though, was markedly gregarious;safety seemed to be with the crowd, amid the gaiety, where music andlaughter were, rather than in the sand-swept streets. 

"Guess we've outstayed our welcome!" confided an American lady toSime. "Egypt wants to drive us all home now. "

"Possibly, " he replied with a smile. "The season has run very late, this year, and so this sort of thing is more or less to be expected. "

The orchestra struck up a lively one-step, and a few of the moreenthusiastic dancers accepted the invitation, but the bulk of thecompany thronged around the edge of the floor, acting as spectators. 

Cairn and Sime wedged a way through the heterogeneous crowd to theAmerican Bar. 

"I prescribe a 'tango, '" said Sime. 

"A 'tango' is--?"

"A 'tango, '" explained Sime, "is a new kind of cocktail sacred to thisbuffet. Try it. It will either kill you or cure you. "

Cairn smiled rather wanly. 

"I must confess that I need bucking up a bit, " he said: "thatconfounded sand seems to have got me by the throat. "

Sime briskly gave his orders to the bar attendant. 

"You know, " pursued Cairn, "I cannot get out of my head the idea thatthere was someone wearing a crocodile mask in the garden a while ago. "

"Look here, " growled Sime, studying the operations of the cocktailmanufacturer, "suppose there were--what about it?"

"Well, it's odd that nobody else saw him. "

"I suppose it hasn't occurred to you that the fellow might haveremoved his mask?"

Cairn shook his head slowly. 

"I don't think so, " he declared; "I haven't seen him anywhere in thehotel. "

"Seen him?" Sime turned his dull gaze upon the speaker. "How shouldyou know him?"

Cairn raised his hand to his forehead in an oddly helpless way. 

"No, of course not--it's very extraordinary. "

They took their seats at a small table, and in mutual silence loadedand lighted their pipes. Sime, in common with many young andenthusiastic medical men, had theories--theories of that revolutionarysort which only harsh experience can shatter. Secretly he was disposedto ascribe all the ills to which flesh is heir primarily to adisordered nervous system. It was evident that Cairn's mindpersistently ran along a particular groove; something lay back of allthis erratic talk; he had clearly invested the Mask of Set with acurious individuality. 

"I gather that you had a stiff bout of it in London?" Sime saidsuddenly. 

Cairn nodded. 

"Beastly stiff. There is a lot of sound reason in your nervous theory, Sime. It was touch and go with me for days, I am told; yet, pathologically, I was a hale man. That would seem to show how nervescan kill. Just a series of shocks--horrors--one piled upon another, did as much for me as influenza, pneumonia, and two or three otherailments together could have done. "

Sime shook his head wisely; this was in accordance with his ideas. 

"You know Antony Ferrara?" continued Cairn. "Well, he has done thisfor me. His damnable practices are worse than any disease. Sime, theman is a pestilence! Although the law cannot touch him, although nojury can convict him--he is a murderer. He controls--forces--"

Sime was watching him intently. 

"It will give you some idea, Sime, of the pitch to which things hadcome, when I tell you that my father drove to Ferrara's rooms onenight, with a loaded revolver in his pocket--"

"For"--Sime hesitated--"for protection?"

"No. " Cairn leant forward across the table--"to shoot him, Sime, shoothim on sight, as one shoots a mad dog!"

"Are you serious?"

"As God is my witness, if Antony Ferrara had been in his rooms thatnight, my father would have killed him!"

"It would have been a shocking scandal. "

"It would have been a martyrdom. The man who removes Antony Ferrarafrom the earth will be doing mankind a service worthy of the highestreward. He is unfit to live. Sometimes I cannot believe that he doeslive; I expect to wake up and find that he was a figure of aparticularly evil dream. "

"This incident--the call at his rooms--occurred just before yourillness?"

"The thing which he had attempted that night was the last straw, Sime;it broke me down. From the time that he left Oxford, Antony Ferrarahas pursued a deliberate course of crime, of crime so cunning, sounusual, and based upon such amazing and unholy knowledge that nobreath of suspicion has touched him. Sime, you remember a girl I toldyou about at Oxford one evening, a girl who came to visit him?"

Sime nodded slowly. 

"Well--he killed her! Oh! there is no doubt about it; I saw her bodyin the hospital. "

"_How_ had he killed her, then?"

"How? Only he and the God who permits him to exist can answer that, Sime. He killed her without coming anywhere near her--and he killedhis adoptive father, Sir Michael Ferrara, by the same unholy means!"

Sime watched him, but offered no comment. 

"It was hushed up, of course; there is no existing law which could beused against him. "

"_Existing_ law?"

"They are ruled out, Sime, the laws that _could_ have reached him; buthe would have been burnt at the stake in the Middle Ages!"

"I see. " Sime drummed his fingers upon the table. "You had those ideasabout him at Oxford; and does Dr. Cairn seriously believe the same?"

"He does. So would you--you could not doubt it, Sime, not for amoment, if you had seen what we have seen!" His eyes blazed into asudden fury, suggestive of his old, robust self. "He tried night afternight, by means of the same accursed sorcery, which everyone thoughtburied in the ruins of Thebes, to kill _me_! He projected--things--"

"Suggested these--things, to your mind?"

"Something like that. I saw, or thought I saw, and smelt--pah!--I seemto smell them now!--beetles, mummy-beetles, you know, from the skullof a mummy! My rooms were thick with them. It brought me very near toBedlam, Sime. Oh! it was not merely imaginary. My father and I caughthim red-handed. " He glanced across at the other. "You read of thedeath of Lord Lashmore? It was just after you came out. "

"Yes--heart. "

"It was his heart, yes--but Ferrara was responsible! That was thebusiness which led my father to drive to Ferrara's rooms with a loadedrevolver in his pocket. "

The wind was shaking the windows, and whistling about the buildingwith demoniacal fury as if seeking admission; the band played apopular waltz; and in and out of the open doors came and went groupsrepresentative of many ages and many nationalities. 

"Ferrara, " began Sime slowly, "was always a detestable man, with hissleek black hair, and ivory face. Those long eyes of his had anexpression which always tempted me to hit him. Sir Michael, if whatyou say is true--and after all, Cairn, it only goes to show how littlewe know of the nervous system--literally took a viper to his bosom. "

"He did. Antony Ferrara was his adopted son, of course; God knows towhat evil brood he really belongs. "

Both were silent for a while. Then:

"Gracious heavens!"

Cairn started to his feet so wildly as almost to upset the table. 

"Look, Sime! look!" he cried. 

Sime was not the only man in the bar to hear, and to heed his words. Sime, looking in the direction indicated by Cairn's extended finger, received a vague impression that a grotesque, long-headed figure hadappeared momentarily in the doorway opening upon the room where thedancers were; then it was gone again, if it had ever been there, andhe was supporting Cairn, who swayed dizzily, and had become ghastlypale. Sime imagined that the heated air had grown suddenly even moreheated. Curious eyes were turned upon, his companion, who now sankback into his chair, muttering:

"The Mask, the Mask!"

"I think I saw the chap who seems to worry you so much, " said Simesoothingly. "Wait here; I will tell the waiter to bring you a dose ofbrandy; and whatever you do, don't get excited. "

He made for the door, pausing and giving an order to a waiter on hisway, and pushed into the crowd outside. It was long past midnight, andthe gaiety, which had been resumed, seemed of a forced and feverishsort. Some of the visitors were leaving, and a breath of hot windswept in from the open doors. 

A pretty girl wearing a _yashmak_, who, with two similarly attiredcompanions, was making her way to the entrance, attracted hisattention; she seemed to be on the point of swooning. He recognisedthe trio for the same that had pelted Cairn and himself with confettiearlier in the evening. 

"The sudden heat has affected your friend, " he said, stepping up tothem. "My name is Dr. Sime; may I offer you my assistance?"

The offer was accepted, and with the three he passed out on to theterrace, where the dust grated beneath the tread, and helped thefainting girl into an _arabîyeh_. The night was thunderously black, the heat almost insufferable, and the tall palms in front of the hotelbowed before the might of the scorching wind. 

As the vehicle drove off, Sime stood for a moment looking after it. His face was very grave, for there was a look in the bright eyes ofthe girl in the _yashmak_ which, professionally, he did not like. Turning up the steps, he learnt from the manager that several visitorshad succumbed to the heat. There was something furtive in the mannerof his informant's glance, and Sime looked at him significantly. 

"_Khamsîn_ brings clouds of septic dust with it, " he said. "Let ushope that these attacks are due to nothing more than the unexpectedrise in the temperature. "

An air of uneasiness prevailed now throughout the hotel. The wind hadconsiderably abated, and crowds were leaving, pouring from the stepsinto the deserted street, a dreamlike company. 

Colonel Royland took Sime aside, as the latter was making his way backto the buffet. The Colonel, whose regiment was stationed at theCitadel, had known Sime almost from childhood. 

"You know, my boy, " he said, "I should never have allowed Eileen" (hisdaughter) "to remain in Cairo, if I had foreseen this change in theweather. This infernal wind, coming right through the native town, isloaded with infection. "

"Has it affected her, then?" asked Sime anxiously. 

"She nearly fainted in the ball-room, " replied the Colonel. "Hermother took her home half an hour ago. I looked for you everywhere, but couldn't find you. "

"Quite a number have succumbed, " said Sime. 

"Eileen seemed to be slightly hysterical, " continued the Colonel. "Shepersisted that someone wearing a crocodile mask had been standingbeside her at the moment that she was taken ill. "

Sime started; perhaps Cairn's story was not a matter of imaginationafter all. 

"There is someone here, dressed like that, I believe, " he replied, with affected carelessness. "He seems to have frightened severalpeople. Any idea who he is?"

"My dear chap!" cried the Colonel, "I have been searching the placefor him! But I have never once set eyes upon him. I was about to askif _you_ knew anything about it!"

Sime returned to the table where Cairn was sitting. The latter seemedto have recovered somewhat; but he looked far from well. Sime staredat him critically. 

"I should turn in, " he said, "if I were you. _Khamsîn_ is playing thedeuce with people. I only hope it does not justify its name and blowfor fifty days. "

"Have you seen the man in the mask!" asked Cairn. 

"No, " replied Sime, "but he's here alright; others have seen him. "

Cairn stood up rather unsteadily, and with Sime made his way throughthe moving crowd to the stairs. The band was still playing, but thecloud of gloom which had settled upon the place, refused to bedissipated. 

"Good-night, Cairn, " said Sime, "see you in the morning. "

Robert Cairn, with aching head and a growing sensation of nausea, paused on the landing, looking down into the court below. He could notdisguise from himself that he felt ill, not nervously ill as inLondon, but physically sick. This superheated air was difficult tobreathe; it seemed to rise in waves from below. 

Then, from a weary glancing at the figures beneath him, his attitudechanged to one of tense watching. 

A man, wearing the crocodile mask of Set, stood by a huge urncontaining a palm, looking up to the landing!

Cairn's weakness left him, and in its place came an indescribableanger, a longing to drive his fist into that grinning mask. He turnedand ran lightly down the stairs, conscious of a sudden glow of energy. Reaching the floor, he saw the mask making across the hall, in thedirection of the outer door. As rapidly as possible, for he could notrun, without attracting undesirable attention, Cairn followed. Thefigure of Set passed out on to the terrace, but when Cairn in turnswung open the door, his quarry had vanished. 

Then, in an _arabîyeh_ just driving off, he detected the hideous mask. Hatless as he was, he ran down the steps and threw himself intoanother. The carriage-controller was in attendance, and Cairn rapidlytold him to instruct the driver to follow the _arabîyeh_ which hadjust left. The man lashed up his horses, turned the carriage, and wentgalloping on after the retreating figure. Past the Esbekîya Gardensthey went, through several narrow streets, and on to the quarter ofthe Mûski. Time after time he thought he had lost the carriage ahead, but his own driver's knowledge of the tortuous streets enabled himalways to overtake it again. They went rocking along lanes so narrowthat with outstretched arms one could almost have touched the walls oneither side; past empty shops and unlighted houses. Cairn had not theremotest idea of his whereabouts, save that he was evidently in thedistrict of the bazaars. A right-angled corner was abruptlynegotiated--and there, ahead of him, stood the pursued vehicle! Thedriver was turning his horses around, to return; his fare wasdisappearing from sight into the black shadows of a narrow alley onthe left. 

Cairn leaped from the _arabîyeh_, shouting to the man to wait, andwent dashing down the sloping lane after the retreating figure. A sortof blind fury possessed him, but he never paused to analyse it, neverasked himself by what right he pursued this man, what wrong the latterhad done him. His action was wholly unreasoning; he knew that hewished to overtake the wearer of the mask and to tear it from hishead; upon that he acted!

He discovered that despite the tropical heat of the night, he wasshuddering with cold, but he disregarded this circumstance, and ranon. 

The pursued stopped before an iron-studded door, which was openedinstantly; he entered as the runner came up with him. And, before thedoor could be reclosed, Cairn thrust his way in. 

Blackness, utter blackness, was before him. The figure which he hadpursued seemed to have been swallowed up. He stumbled on, gropingly, hands outstretched, then fell--fell, as he realised in the moment offalling, down a short flight of stone steps. 

Still amid utter blackness, he got upon his feet, shaken but otherwiseunhurt by his fall. He turned about, expecting to see some glimmer oflight from the stairway, but the blackness was unbroken. Silence andgloom hemmed him in. He stood for a moment, listening intently. 

A shaft of light pierced the darkness, as a shutter was thrown open. Through an iron-barred window the light shone; and with the light camea breath of stifling perfume. That perfume carried his imaginationback instantly to a room at Oxford, and he advanced and looked throughinto the place beyond. He drew a swift breath, clutched the bars, andwas silent--stricken speechless. 

He looked into a large and lofty room, lighted by several hanginglamps. It had a carpeted divan at one end and was otherwise scantilyfurnished, in the Eastern manner. A silver incense-burner smoked upona large praying-carpet, and by it stood the man in the crocodile mask. An Arab girl, fantastically attired, who had evidently just opened theshutters, was now helping him to remove the hideous head-dress. 

She presently untied the last of the fastenings and lifted the thingfrom the man's shoulders, moving away with the gliding step of theOriental, and leaving him standing there in his short white tunic, bare-legged and sandalled. 

The smoke of the incense curled upward and played around the straight, slim figure, drew vaporous lines about the still, ivory face--thehandsome, sinister face, sometimes partly veiling the long black eyesand sometimes showing them in all their unnatural brightness. So theman stood, looking towards the barred window. 

It was Antony Ferrara!

"Ah, dear Cairn--" the husky musical voice smote upon Cairn's ears asthe most hated sound in nature--"you have followed me. Not contentwith driving me from London, you would also render Cairo--my dearCairo--untenable for me. "

Cairn clutched the bars but was silent. 

"How wrong of you, Cairn!" the soft voice mocked. "This attention isso harmful--to you. Do you know, Cairn, the Sudanese formed theextraordinary opinion that I was an _efreet_, and this strangereputation has followed me right down the Nile. Your father, my dearfriend, has studied these odd matters, and he would tell you thatthere is no power, in Nature, higher than the human will. Actually, Cairn, they have ascribed to me the direction of the _Khamsîn_, and somany worthy Egyptians have made up their minds that I travel with thestorm--or that the storm follows me--that something of the kind hasreally come to pass! Or is it merely coincidence, Cairn? Who can say?"

Motionless, immobile, save for a slow smile, Antony Ferrara stood, andCairn kept his eyes upon the evil face, and with trembling handsclutched the bars. 

"It is certainly odd, is it not, " resumed the taunting voice, "that_Khamsîn_, so violent, too, should thus descend upon the Caireneseason? I only arrived from the Fayûm this evening, Cairn, and, do youknow, they have the pestilence there! I trust the hot wind does notcarry it to Cairo; there are so many distinguished European andAmerican visitors here. It would be a thousand pities!"

Cairn released his grip of the bars, raised his clenched fists abovehis head, and in a voice and with a maniacal fury that were neitherhis own, cursed the man who stood there mocking him. Then he reeled, fell, and remembered no more. 

 * * * * *

"All right, old man--you'll do quite nicely now. "

It was Sime speaking. 

Cairn struggled upright ... And found himself in bed! Sime was seatedbeside him. 

"Don't talk!" said Sime, "you're in hospital! I'll do the talking; youlisten. I saw you bolt out of Shepheard's last night--shut up! Ifollowed, but lost you. We got up a search party, and with the aid ofthe man who had driven you, ran you to earth in a dirty alley behindthe mosque of El-Azhar. Four kindly mendicants, who reside upon thesteps of the establishment, had been awakened by your blundering inamong them. They were holding you--yes, you were raving pretty badly. You are a lucky man, Cairn. You were inoculated before you left home?"

Cairn nodded weakly. 

"Saved you. Be all right in a couple of days. That damned _Khamsîn_has brought a whiff of the plague from somewhere! Curiously enough, over fifty per cent. Of the cases spotted so far are people who wereat the carnival! Some of them, Cairn--but we won't discuss that now. Iwas afraid of it, last night. That's why I kept my eye on you. My boy, you were delirious when you bolted out of the hotel!"

"Was I?" said Cairn wearily, and lay back on the pillow. "Perhaps Iwas. "

CHAPTER XIV

DR. CAIRN ARRIVES

Dr. Bruce Cairn stepped into the boat which was to take him ashore, and as it swung away from the side of the liner sought to divert histhoughts by a contemplation of the weird scene. Amid the smoky flareof many lights, amid rising clouds of dust, a line of laden toilerswas crawling ant-like from the lighters into the bowels of the bigship; and a second line, unladen, was descending by another gangway. Above, the jewelled velvet of the sky swept in a glorious arc; beyond, the lights of Port Said broke through the black curtain of the night, and the moving ray from the lighthouse intermittently swept theharbour waters; whilst, amid the indescribable clamour, the grimilypicturesque turmoil, so characteristic of the place, the liner took incoal for her run to Rangoon. 

Dodging this way and that, rounding the sterns of big ships, anddisputing the water-way with lesser craft, the boat made for shore. 

The usual delay at the Custom House, the usual soothing of the excitedofficials in the usual way, and his _arabîyeh_ was jolting Dr. Cairnthrough the noise and the smell of those rambling streets, a noise anda smell entirely peculiar to this clearing-house of the Near East. 

He accepted the room which was offered to him at the hotel, withouttroubling to inspect it, and having left instructions that he was tobe called in time for the early train to Cairo, he swallowed a whiskyand soda at the buffet, and wearily ascended the stairs. There weretourists in the hotel, English and American, marked by a gapingwonderment, and loud with plans of sightseeing; but Port Said, nay allEgypt, had nothing of novelty to offer Dr. Cairn. He was there atgreat inconvenience; a practitioner of his repute may not easilyarrange to quit London at a moment's notice. But the business uponwhich he was come was imperative. For him the charm of the place hadnot existence, but somewhere in Egypt his son stood in deadly peril, and Dr. Cairn counted the hours that yet divided them. His soul was upin arms against the man whose evil schemes had led to his presence inPort Said, at a time when many sufferers required his ministrations inHalf-Moon Street. He was haunted by a phantom, a ghoul in human shape;Antony Ferrara, the adopted son of his dear friend, the adopted son, who had murdered his adopter, who whilst guiltless in the eyes of thelaw, was blood-guilty in the eyes of God!

Dr. Cairn switched on the light and seated himself upon the side ofthe bed, knitting his brows and staring straight before him, with anexpression in his clear grey eyes whose significance he would havedenied hotly, had any man charged him with it. He was thinking ofAntony Ferrara's record; the victims of this fiendish youth (forAntony Ferrara was barely of age) seemed to stand before him withhands stretched out appealingly. 

"You alone, " they seemed to cry, "know who and what he is! You aloneknow of our awful wrongs; you alone can avenge them!"

And yet he had hesitated! It had remained for his own flesh and bloodto be threatened ere he had taken decisive action. The viper had lainwithin his reach, and he had neglected to set his heel upon it. Menand women had suffered and had died of its venom; and he had notcrushed it. Then Robert, his son, had felt the poison fang, and Dr. Cairn, who had hesitated to act upon the behalf of all humanity, hadleapt to arms. He charged himself with a parent's selfishness, and hisconscience would hear no defence. 

Dimly, the turmoil from the harbour reached him where he sat. Helistened dully to the hooting of a syren--that of some vessel comingout of the canal. 

His thoughts were evil company, and, with a deep sigh, he rose, crossed the room and threw open the double windows, giving access tothe balcony. 

Port Said, a panorama of twinkling lights, lay beneath him. The beamfrom the lighthouse swept the town searchingly like the eye of somepagan god lustful for sacrifice. He imagined that he could hear theshouting of the gangs coaling the liner in the harbour; but the nightwas full of the remote murmuring inseparable from that gateway of theEast. The streets below, white under the moon, looked empty anddeserted, and the hotel beneath him gave up no sound to tell of themany birds of passage who sheltered within it. A stunning sense of hisloneliness came to him; his physical loneliness was symbolic of thatwhich characterised his place in the world. He, alone, had theknowledge and the power to crush Antony Ferrara. He, alone, could ridthe world of the unnatural menace embodied in the person bearing thatname. 

The town lay beneath his eyes, but now he saw nothing of it; beforehis mental vision loomed--exclusively--the figure of a slim andstrangely handsome young man, having jet black hair, lustreless, aface of uniform ivory hue, long dark eyes wherein lurked lambentfires, and a womanish grace expressed in his whole bearing andemphasised by his long white hands. Upon a finger of the left handgleamed a strange green stone. 

Antony Ferrara! In the eyes of this solitary traveller, who stoodlooking down upon Port Said, that figure filled the entire landscapeof Egypt!

With a weary sigh, Dr. Cairn turned and began to undress. Leaving thewindows open, he switched off the light and got into bed. He was veryweary, with a weariness rather of the spirit than of the flesh, but itwas of that sort which renders sleep all but impossible. Around andabout one fixed point his thoughts circled; in vain he endeavoured toforget, for a while, Antony Ferrara and the things connected with him. Sleep was imperative, if he would be in fit condition to cope with thematters which demanded his attention in Cairo. 

Yet sleep defied him. Every trifling sound from the harbour and thecanal seemed to rise upon the still air to his room. Through a sort ofmist created by the mosquito curtains, he could see the open windows, and look out upon the stars. He found himself studying the heavenswith sleepless eyes, and idly working out the constellations visible. Then one very bright star attracted the whole of his attention, and, with the dogged persistency of insomnia, he sought to place it, butcould not determine to which group it belonged. 

So he lay with his eyes upon the stars until the other veiled lamps ofheaven became invisible, and the patch of sky no more than a settingfor that one white orb. 

In this contemplation he grew restful; his thoughts ceased feverishlyto race along that one hateful groove; the bright star seemed tosoothe him. As a result of his fixed gazing, it now appeared to haveincreased in size. This was a common optical delusion, upon which hescarcely speculated at all. He recognised the welcome approach ofsleep, and deliberately concentrated his mind upon the globe of light. 

Yes, a globe of light indeed--for now it had assumed the dimensions ofa lesser moon; and it seemed to rest in the space between the openwindows. Then, he thought that it crept still nearer. Therealities--the bed, the mosquito curtain, the room--were fading, andgrateful slumber approached, and weighed upon his eyes in the form ofthat dazzling globe. The feeling of contentment was the lastimpression which he had, ere, with the bright star seemingly suspendedjust beyond the netting, he slept. 

CHAPTER XV

THE WITCH-QUEEN

A man mentally over-tired sleeps either dreamlessly, or dreams with avividness greater than that characterising the dreams of normalslumber. Dr. Cairn dreamt a vivid dream. 

He dreamt that he was awakened by the sound of a gentle rapping. Opening his eyes, he peered through the cloudy netting. He started up, and wrenched back the curtain. The rapping was repeated; and peeringagain across the room, he very distinctly perceived a figure upon thebalcony by the open window. It was that of a woman who wore the blacksilk dress and the white _yashmak_ of the Moslem, and who was bendingforward looking into the room. 

"Who is there?" he called. "What do you want?"

"_S--sh_!"

The woman raised her hand to her veiled lips, and looked right andleft as if fearing to disturb the occupants of the adjacent rooms. 

Dr. Cairn reached out for his dressing-gown which lay upon the chairbeside the bed, threw it over his shoulders, and stepped out upon thefloor. He stooped and put on his slippers, never taking his eyes fromthe figure at the window. The room was flooded with moonlight. 

He began to walk towards the balcony, when the mysterious visitorspoke. 

"You are Dr. Cairn?"

The words were spoken in the language of dreams; that is to say, thatalthough he understood them perfectly, he knew that they had not beenuttered in the English language, nor in any language known to him;yet, as is the way with one who dreams, he had understood. 

"I am he, " he said. "Who are you?"

"Make no noise, but follow me quickly. Someone is very ill. "

There was sincerity in the appeal, spoken in the softest, most silverntone which he had ever heard. He stood beside the veiled woman, andmet the glance of her dark eyes with a consciousness of some magneticforce in the glance, which seemed to set his nerves quivering. 

"Why do you come to the window? How do you know--"

The visitor raised her hand again to her lips. It was of a gleamingivory colour, and the long tapered fingers were laden with singularjewellery--exquisite enamel work, which he knew to be AncientEgyptian, but which did not seem out of place in this dream adventure. 

"I was afraid to make any unnecessary disturbance, " she replied. "Please do not delay, but come at once. "

Dr. Cairn adjusted his dressing-gown, and followed the veiledmessenger along the balcony. For a dream city, Port Said appearedremarkably substantial, as it spread out at his feet, its dingybuildings whitened by the moonlight. But his progress was dreamlike, for he seemed to glide past many windows, around the corner of thebuilding, and, without having consciously exerted any physical effort, found his hands grasped by warm jewelled fingers, found himself guidedinto some darkened room, and then, possessed by that doubting whichsometimes comes in dreams, found himself hesitating. The moonlight didnot penetrate to the apartment in which he stood, and the darknessabout him was impenetrable. 

But the clinging fingers did not release their hold, and vaguely awarethat he was acting in a manner which might readily be misconstrued, henevertheless allowed his unseen guide to lead him forward. 

Stairs were descended in phantom silence--many stairs. The coolness ofthe air suggested that they were outside the hotel. But the darknessremained complete. Along what seemed to be a stone-paved passage theyadvanced mysteriously, and by this time Dr. Cairn was wholly resignedto the strangeness of his dream. 

Then, although the place lay in blackest shadow, he saw that they werein the open air, for the starry sky swept above them. 

It was a narrow street--at points, the buildings almost metabove--wherein, he now found himself. In reality, had he been inpossession of his usual faculties, awake, he would have asked himselfhow this veiled woman had gained admittance to the hotel, and why shehad secretly led him out from it. But the dreamer's mental lethargypossessed him, and, with the blind faith of a child, he followed on, until he now began vaguely to consider the personality of his guide. 

She seemed to be of no more than average height, but she carriedherself with unusual grace, and her progress was marked by a certainhauteur. At the point where a narrow lane crossed that which they weretraversing the veiled figure was silhouetted for a moment against thelight of the moon, and through the gauze-like fabric, he perceived theoutlines of a perfect shape. His vague wonderment, concerned itselfnow with the ivory, jewel-laden hands. His condition differed from thenormal dream state, in that he was not entirely resigned to theanomalous. 

Misty doubts were forming, when his dream guide paused before a heavydoor of a typical native house which once had been of someconsequence, and which faced the entrance to a mosque, indeed lay inthe shadow of the minaret. It was opened from within, although shegave no perceptible signal, and its darkness, to Dr. Cairn's dulledperceptions, seemed to swallow them both up. He had an impression of atrap raised, of stone steps descended, of a new darkness almostpalpable. 

The gloom of the place effected him as a mental blank, and, when abright light shone out, it seemed to mark the opening of a second dreamphase. From where the light came, he knew not, cared not, but itilluminated a perfectly bare room, with a floor of native mud bricks, aplastered wall, and wood-beamed ceiling. A tall sarcophagus stoodupright against the wall before him; its lid leant close beside it ... And his black robed guide, her luminous eyes looking straightly over theyashmak, stood rigidly upright-within it!

She raised the jewelled hands, and with a swift movement discardedrobe and _yashmak_, and stood before him, in the clinging draperies ofan ancient queen, wearing the leopard skin and the _uraeus_, andcarrying the flail of royal Egypt!

Her pale face formed a perfect oval; the long almond eyes had an evilbeauty which seemed to chill; and the brilliantly red mouth was curvedin a smile which must have made any man forget the evil in the eyes. But when we move in a dream world, our emotions become dreamlike too. She placed a sandalled foot upon the mud floor and stepped out of thesarcophagus, advancing towards Dr. Cairn, a vision of such sinfulloveliness as he could never have conceived in his waking moments. Inthat strange dream language, in a tongue not of East nor West, shespoke; and her silvern voice had something of the tone of thoseEgyptian pipes whose dree fills the nights upon the Upper Nile--theseductive music of remote and splendid wickedness. 

"You know me, _now_?" she whispered. 

And in his dream she seemed to be a familiar figure, at once dreadfuland worshipful. 

A fitful light played through the darkness, and seemed to dance upon acurtain draped behind the sarcophagus, picking out diamond points. Thedreamer groped in the mental chaos of his mind, and found a clue tothe meaning of this. The diamond points were the eyes of thousands oftarantula spiders with which the curtain was broidered. 

The sign of the spider! What did he know of it? Yes! of course; it wasthe secret mark of Egypt's witch-queen--of the beautiful woman whosename, after her mysterious death, had been erased from all hermonuments. A sweet whisper stole to his ears:

"You will befriend him, befriend my son--for _my_ sake. "

And in his dream-state he found himself prepared to foreswear all thathe held holy--for her sake. She grasped both his hands, and herburning eyes looked closely into his. 

"Your reward shall be a great one, " she whispered, even more softly. 

Came a sudden blank, and Dr. Cairn found himself walking again throughthe narrow street, led by the veiled woman. His impressions weregrowing dim; and now she seemed less real than hitherto. The streetswere phantom streets, built of shadow stuff, and the stairs whichpresently he found himself ascending, were unsubstantial, and heseemed rather to float upward; until, with the jewelled fingers heldfast in his own, he stood in a darkened apartment, and saw before himan open window, knew that he was once more back in the hotel. A dimlight dawned in the blackness of the room and the musical voicebreathed in his ear:

"Your reward shall be easily earned. I did but test you. Strike--andstrike truly!"

The whisper grew sibilant--serpentine. Dr. Cairn felt the hilt of adagger thrust into his right hand, and in the dimly-mysterious lightlooked down at one who lay in a bed close beside him. 

At sight of the face of the sleeper--the perfectly-chiselled face, with the long black lashes resting on the ivory cheeks--he forgot allelse, forgot the place wherein he stood, forgot his beautiful guide, and only remembered that he held a dagger in his hand, and that AntonyFerrara lay there, sleeping!

"Strike!" came the whisper again. 

Dr. Cairn felt a mad exultation boiling up within him. He raised hishand, glanced once more on the face of the sleeper, and nerved himselfto plunge the dagger into the heart of this evil thing. 

A second more, and the dagger would have been buried to the hilt inthe sleeper's breast--when there ensued a deafening, an appallingexplosion. A wild red light illuminated the room, the building seemedto rock. Close upon that frightful sound followed a cry so piercingthat it seemed to ice the blood in Dr. Cairn's veins. 

"Stop, sir, stop! My God! what are you doing!"

A swift blow struck the dagger from his hand and the figure on the bedsprang upright. Swaying dizzily, Dr. Cairn stood there in thedarkness, and as the voice of awakened sleepers reached his ears fromadjoining rooms, the electric light was switched on, and across thebed, the bed upon which he had thought Antony Ferrara lay, he saw hisson, Robert Cairn!

No one else was in the room. But on the carpet at his feet lay anancient dagger, the hilt covered with beautiful and intricate gold andenamel work. 

Rigid with a mutual horror, these two so strangely met stood staringat one another across the room. Everyone in the hotel, it wouldappear, had been awakened by the explosion, which, as if by theintervention of God, had stayed the hand of Dr. Cairn--had spared himfrom a deed impossible to contemplate. 

There were sounds of running footsteps everywhere; but the origin ofthe disturbance at that moment had no interest for these two. Robertwas the first to break the silence. 

"Merciful God, sir!" he whispered huskily, "how did you come to behere? What is the matter? Are you ill?"

Dr. Cairn extended his hands like one groping in darkness. 

"Rob, give me a moment, to think, to collect myself. Why am I here? Byall that is wonderful, why are _you_ here?"

"I am here to meet you. "

"To meet me! I had no idea that you were well enough for the journey, and if you came to meet me, why--"

"That's it, sir! Why did you send me that wireless?"

"I sent no wireless, boy!"

Robert Cairn, with a little colour returning to his pale cheeks, advanced and grasped his father's hand. 

"But after I arrived here to meet the boat, sir I received a wirelessfrom the P. And O. Due in the morning, to say that you had changedyour mind, and come _via_ Brindisi. "

Dr. Cairn glanced at the dagger upon the carpet, repressed a shudder, and replied in a voice which he struggled to make firm:

"_I_ did not send that wireless!"

"Then you actually came by the boat which arrived last night?--and tothink that I was asleep in the same hotel! What an amazing--"

"Amazing indeed, Rob, and the result of a cunning and well plannedscheme. " He raised his eyes, looking fixedly at his son. "Youunderstand the scheme; the scheme that could only have germinated inone mind--a scheme to cause me, your father, to--"

His voice failed and again his glance sought the weapon which lay soclose to his feet. Partly in order to hide his emotion, he stooped, picked up the dagger, and threw it on the bed. 

"For God's sake, sir, " groaned Robert, "what were you doing here in myroom with--that!"

Dr. Cairn stood straightly upright and replied in an even voice:

"I was here to do murder!"

"_Murder_!"

"I was under a spell--no need to name its weaver; I thought that apoisonous thing at last lay at my mercy, and by cunning means theprimitive evil within me was called up, and braving the laws of Godand man, I was about to slay that thing. Thank God!--"

He dropped upon his knees, silently bowed his head for a moment, andthen stood up, self-possessed again, as his son had always known him. It had been a strange and awful awakening for Robert Cairn--to findhis room illuminated by a lurid light, and to find his own fatherstanding over him with a knife! But what had moved him even moredeeply than the fear of these things, had been the sight of theemotion which had shaken that stern and unemotional man. Now, as hegathered together his scattered wits, he began to perceive that amalignant hand was moving above them, that his father, and himself, were pawns, which had been moved mysteriously to a dreadful end. 

A great disturbance had now arisen in the streets below, streams ofpeople it seemed, were pouring towards the harbour; but Dr. Cairnpointed to an armchair. 

"Sit down, Rob, " he said. "I will tell my story, and you shall tellyours. By comparing notes, we can arrive at some conclusion. Then wemust act. This is a fight to a finish, and I begin to doubt if we arestrong enough to win. "

He took up the dagger and ran a critical glance over it, from the keenpoint to the enamelled hilt. 

"This is unique, " he muttered, whilst his son, spellbound, watchedhim; "the blade is as keen as if tempered but yesterday; yet it wasmade full five thousand years ago, as the workmanship of the hilttestifies. Rob, we deal with powers more than human! We have to copewith a force which might have awed the greatest Masters which theworld has known. It would have called for all the knowledge, and allthe power of Apollonius of Tyana to have dealt with--_him_!"

"Antony Ferrara!"

"Undoubtedly, Rob! it was by the agency of Antony Ferrara that thewireless message was sent to you from the P. And O. It was by theagency of Antony Ferrara that I dreamt a dream to-night. In fact itwas no true dream; I was under the influence of--what shall I termit?--hypnotic suggestion. To what extent that malign will wasresponsible for you and I being placed in rooms communicating by meansof a balcony, we probably shall never know; but if this proximity wasmerely accidental, the enemy did not fail to take advantage of thecoincidence. I lay watching the stars before I slept, and one of themseemed to grow larger as I watched. " He began to pace about the roomin growing excitement. "Rob, I cannot doubt that a mirror, or acrystal, was actually suspended before my eyes by--someone, who hadbeen watching for the opportunity. I yielded myself to the soothinginfluence, and thus deliberately--deliberately--placed myself in thepower of--Antony Ferrara--"

"You think that he is here, in this hotel?"

"I cannot doubt that he is in the neighbourhood. The influence was toostrong to have emanated from a mind at a great distance removed. Iwill tell you exactly what I dreamt. "

He dropped into a cane armchair. Comparative quiet reigned again inthe streets below, but a distant clamour told of some untowardhappening at the harbour. 

Dawn would break ere long, and there was a curious rawness in theatmosphere. Robert Cairn seated himself upon the side of the bed, andwatched his father, whilst the latter related those happenings withwhich we are already acquainted. 

"You think, sir, " said Robert, at the conclusion of the strange story, "that no part of your experience was real?"

Dr. Cairn held up the antique dagger, glancing at the speakersignificantly. 

"On the contrary, " he replied, "I _do_ know that part of it wasdreadfully real. My difficulty is to separate the real from thephantasmal. "

Silence fell for a moment. Then:

"It is almost certain, " said the younger man, frowning thoughtfully, "that you did not actually leave the hotel, but merely passed fromyour room to mine by way of the balcony. "

Dr. Cairn stood up, walked to the open window, and looked out, thenturned and faced his son again. 

"I believe I can put that matter to the test, " he declared. "In mydream, as I turned into the lane where the house was--the house of themummy--there was a patch covered with deep mud, where at some timeduring the evening a quantity of water had been spilt. I stepped uponthat patch, or dreamt that I did. We can settle the point. "

He sat down on the bed beside his son, and, stooping, pulled off oneof his slippers. The night had been full enough of dreadful surprises;but here was yet another, which came to them as Dr. Cairn, with theinverted slipper in his hand, sat looking into his son's eyes. 

The sole of the slipper was caked with reddish brown mud. 

CHAPTER XVI

LAIR OF THE SPIDERS

"We must find that house, find the sarcophagus--for I no longer doubtthat it exists--drag it out, and destroy it. "

"Should you know it again, sir?"

"Beyond any possibility of doubt. It is the sarcophagus of a queen. "

"What queen?"

"A queen whose tomb the late Sir Michael Ferrara and I sought for manymonths, but failed to find. "

"Is this queen well known in Egyptian history?"

Dr. Cairn stared at him with an odd expression in his eyes. 

"Some histories ignore her existence entirely, " he said; and, with anevident desire to change the subject, added, "I shall return to myroom to dress now. Do you dress also. We cannot afford to sleep whilstthe situation of that house remains unknown to us. "

Robert Cairn nodded, and his father stood up, and went out of theroom. 

Dawn saw the two of them peering from the balcony upon the streets ofPort Said, already dotted with moving figures, for the Egyptian is anearly riser. 

"Have you any clue, " asked the younger man, "to the direction in whichthis place lies?"

"Absolutely none, for the reason that I do not know where my dreamingleft off, and reality commenced. Did someone really come to my window, and lead me out through another room, downstairs, and into the street, or did I wander out of my own accord and merely imagine the existenceof the guide? In either event, I must have been guided in some way toa back entrance; for had I attempted to leave by the front door of thehotel in that trance-like condition, I should certainly have beendetained by the _bowwab_. Suppose we commence, then, by inquiring ifthere is such another entrance?"

The hotel staff was already afoot, and their inquiries led to thediscovery of an entrance communicating with the native servants'quarters. This could not be reached from the main hall, but there wasa narrow staircase to the left of the lift-shaft by which it might begained. The two stood looking out across the stone-paved courtyardupon which the door opened. 

"Beyond doubt, " said Dr. Cairn, "I might have come down that staircaseand out by this door without arousing a soul, either by passingthrough my own room, or through any other on that floor. "

They crossed the yard, where members of the kitchen staff were busilypolishing various cooking utensils, and opened the gate. Dr. Cairnturned to one of the men near by. 

"Is this gate bolted at night?" he asked, in Arabic. 

The man shook his head, and seemed to be much amused by the question, revealing his white teeth as he assured him that it was not. 

A narrow lane ran along behind the hotel, communicating with a maze ofstreets almost exclusively peopled by natives. 

"Rob, " said Dr. Cairn slowly, "it begins to dawn upon me that this isthe way I came. "

He stood looking to right and left, and seemed to be undecided. Then:

"We will try right, " he determined. 

They set off along the narrow way. Once clear of the hotel wall, highbuildings rose upon either side, so that at no time during the daycould the sun have penetrated to the winding lane. Suddenly RobertCairn stopped. 

"Look!" he said, and pointed. "The mosque! You spoke of a mosque nearto the house?"

Dr. Cairn nodded; his eyes were gleaming, now that he felt himself tobe upon the track of this great evil which had shattered his peace. 

They advanced until they stood before the door of the mosque--andthere in the shadow of a low archway was just such an ancient, iron-studded door as Dr. Cairn remembered! Latticed windows overhungthe street above, but no living creature was in sight. 

He very gently pressed upon the door, but as he had anticipated it wasfastened from within. In the vague light, his face seemed strangelyhaggard as he turned to his son, raising his eyebrows interrogatively. 

"It is just possible that I may be mistaken, " he said; "so that Iscarcely know what to do. "

He stood looking about him in some perplexity. 

Adjoining the mosque, was a ruinous house, which clearly had had nooccupants for many years. As Robert Cairn's gaze lighted upon itsgaping window-frames and doorless porch, he seized his father by thearm. 

"We might hide up there, " he suggested, "and watch for anyone enteringor leaving the place opposite. "

"I have little doubt that this was the scene of my experience, "replied Dr. Cairn; "therefore I think we will adopt your plan. Perhapsthere is some means of egress at the back. It will be useful if wehave to remain on the watch for any considerable time. "

They entered the ruined building and, by means of a rickety staircase, gained the floor above. It moved beneath them unsafely, but from thedivan which occupied one end of the apartment an uninterrupted view ofthe door below was obtainable. 

"Stay here, " said Dr. Cairn, "and watch, whilst I reconnoitre. "

He descended the stairs again, to return in a minute or so andannounce that another street could be reached through the back of thehouse. There and then they settled the plan of campaign. One at a timethey would go to the hotel for their meals, so that the door wouldnever be unwatched throughout the day. Dr. Cairn determined to make noinquiries respecting the house, as this might put the enemy upon hisguard. 

"We are in his own country, Rob, " he said. "Here, we can trust noone. "

Thereupon they commenced their singular and self-imposed task. Inturn they went back to the hotel for breakfast, and watchedfruitlessly throughout the morning. They lunched in the same way, andthroughout the great midday heat sat hidden in the ruined building, mounting guard over that iron-studded door. It was a dreary andmonotonous day, long to be remembered by both of them, and when thehour of sunset drew nigh, and their vigil remained unrewarded, theybegan to doubt the wisdom of their tactics. The street was but littlefrequented; there was not the slightest chance of their presence beingdiscovered. 

It was very quiet, too, so that no one could have approached unheard. At the hotel they had learnt the cause of the explosion during thenight; an accident in the engine-room of a tramp steamer, which haddone considerable damage, but caused no bodily injury. 

"We may hope to win yet, " said Dr. Cairn, in speaking of the incident. "It was the hand of God. "

Silence had prevailed between them for a long time, and he was aboutto propose that his son should go back to dinner, when the rare soundof a footstep below checked the words upon his lips. Both craned theirnecks to obtain a view of the pedestrian. 

An old man stooping beneath the burden of years and resting much ofhis weight upon a staff, came tottering into sight. The watcherscrouched back, breathless with excitement, as the newcomer pausedbefore the iron-studded door, and from beneath his cloak took out abig key. 

Inserting it into the lock, he swung open the door; it creaked uponancient hinges as it opened inward, revealing a glimpse of a stonefloor. As the old man entered, Dr. Cairn grasped his son by the wrist. 

"Down!" he whispered. "Now is our chance!"

They ran down the rickety stairs, crossed the narrow street, andRobert Cairn cautiously looked in around the door which had been leftajar. 

Black against the dim light of another door at the further end of thelarge and barn-like apartment, showed the stooping figure. Tap, tap, tap! went the stick; and the old man had disappeared around a corner. 

"Where can we hide?" whispered Dr. Cairn. "He is evidently making atour of inspection. "

The sound of footsteps mounting to the upper apartments came to theirears. They looked about them right and left, and presently the youngerman detected a large wooden cupboard set in one wall. Opening it, hesaw that it contained but one shelf only, near the top. 

"When he returns, " he said, "we can hide in here until he has goneout. "

Dr. Cairn nodded; he was peering about the room intently. 

"This is the place I came to, Rob!" he said softly; "but there was astone stair leading down to some room underneath. We must find it. "

The old man could be heard passing from room to room above; then hisuneven footsteps sounded on the stair again, and glancing at oneanother the two stepped into the cupboard, and pulled the door gentlyinward. A few moments later, the old caretaker--since such appeared tobe his office--passed out, slamming the door behind him. At that, theyemerged from their hiding-place and began to examine the apartmentcarefully. It was growing very dark now; indeed with the door shut, itwas difficult to detect the outlines of the room. Suddenly a loud crybroke the perfect stillness, seeming to come from somewhere above. Robert Cairn started violently, grasping his father's arm, but theolder man smiled. 

"You forget that there is a mosque almost opposite, " he said. "That isthe _mueddin_!"

His son laughed shortly. 

"My nerves are not yet all that they might be, " he explained, andbending low began to examine the pavement. 

"There must be a trap-door in the floor?" he continued. "Don't youthink so?"

His father nodded silently, and upon hands and knees also began toinspect the cracks and crannies between the various stones. In theright-hand corner furthest from the entrance, their quest wasrewarded. A stone some three feet square moved slightly when pressurewas applied to it, and gave up a sound of hollowness beneath thetread. Dust and litter covered the entire floor, but having clearedthe top of this particular stone, a ring was discovered, lying flat ina circular groove cut to receive it. The blade of a penknife served toraise it from its resting place, and Dr. Cairn, standing astrideacross the trap, tugged at the ring, and, without great difficulty, raised the stone block from its place. 

A square hole was revealed. There were irregular stone steps leadingdown into the blackness. A piece of candle, stuck in a crude woodenholder, lay upon the topmost. Dr. Cairn, taking a box of matches fromhis pocket, very quickly lighted the candle, and with it held in hisleft hand began to descend. His head was not yet below the level ofthe upper apartment when he paused. 

"You have your revolver?" he said. 

Robert nodded grimly, and took his revolver from his pocket. 

A singular and most disagreeable smell was arising from the trap whichthey had opened; but ignoring this they descended, and presently stoodside by side in a low cellar. Here the odour was almost insupportable;it had in it something menacing, something definitely repellent; andat the foot of the steps they stood hesitating. 

Dr. Cairn slowly moved the candle, throwing the light along the floor, where it picked out strips of wood and broken cases, straw packing andkindred litter--until it impinged upon a brightly painted slab. Further, he moved it, and higher, and the end of a sarcophagus cameinto view. He drew a quick, hissing breath, and bending forward, directed the light into the interior of the ancient coffin. Then, hehad need of all his iron nerve to choke down the cry that rose to hislips. 

"By God! _Look_!" whispered his son. 

Swathed in white wrappings, Antony Ferrara lay motionless before them. 

The seconds passed one by one, until a whole minute was told, andstill the two remained inert and the cold light shone fully upon thativory face. 

"Is he dead?"

Robert Cairn spoke huskily, grasping his father's shoulder. 

"I think not, " was the equally hoarse reply. "He is in the state oftrance mentioned in--certain ancient writings; he is absorbing evilforce from the sarcophagus of the Witch-Queen.... "[A]

[Footnote A: _Note_. --"It seems exceedingly probable that ... Themummy-case (sarcophagus), with its painted presentment of the livingperson, was the material basis for the preservation of the ... _Khu_(magical powers) of a fully-equipped Adept. "

_Collectanea Hermetica_. Vol. VIII. ]

There was a faint rustling sound in the cellar, which seemed to growlouder and more insistent, but Dr. Cairn, apparently, did not noticeit, for he turned to his son, and albeit the latter could see him butvaguely, he knew that his face was grimly set. 

"It seems like butchery, " he said evenly, "but, in the interests ofthe world, we must not hesitate. A shot might attract attention. Giveme your knife. "

For a moment, the other scarcely comprehended the full purport of thewords. Mechanically he took out his knife, and opened the big blade. 

"Good heavens, sir, " he gasped breathlessly, "it is _too_ awful!"

"Awful I grant you, " replied Dr. Cairn, "but a duty--a duty, boy, andone that we must not shirk. I, alone among living men, know whom, and_what_, lies there, and my conscience directs me in what I do. His endshall be that which he had planned for you. Give me the knife. "

He took the knife from his son's hand. With the light directed uponthe still, ivory face, he stepped towards the sarcophagus. As he didso, something dropped from the roof, narrowly missed falling upon hisoutstretched hand, and with a soft, dull thud dropped upon the mudbrick floor. Impelled by some intuition, he suddenly directed thelight to the roof above. 

Then with a shrill cry which he was wholly unable to repress, RobertCairn seized his father's arm and began to pull him back towards thestair. 

"Quick, sir!" he screamed shrilly, almost hysterically. "My God! myGod! _be quick_!"

The appearance of the roof above had puzzled him for an instant as thelight touched it, then in the next had filled his very soul withloathing and horror. For directly above them was moving a black patch, a foot or so in extent ... And it was composed of a dense moving massof tarantula spiders! A line of the disgusting creatures was mountingthe wall and crossing the ceiling, ever swelling the unclean group!

Dr. Cairn did not hesitate to leap for the stair, and as he did so thespiders began to drop. Indeed, they seemed to leap towards theintruders, until the floor all about them and the bottom steps of thestair presented a mass of black, moving insects. 

A perfect panic fear seized upon them. At every step spiders_crunched_ beneath their feet. They seem to come from nowhere, to beconjured up out of the darkness, until the whole cellar, the stairs, the very fetid air about them, became black and nauseous with spiders. 

Half-way to the top Dr. Cairn turned, snatched out a revolver andbegan firing down into the cellar in the direction of the sarcophagus. 

A hairy, clutching thing ran up his arm, and his son, uttering a groanof horror, struck at it and stained the tweed with its poisonousblood. 

They staggered to the head of the steps, and there Dr. Cairn turnedand hurled the candle at a monstrous spider that suddenly sprang intoview. The candle, still attached to its wooden socket, went boundingdown steps that now were literally carpeted with insects. 

Tarantulas began to run out from the trap, as if pursuing theintruders, and a faint light showed from below. Then came a cracklingsound, and a wisp of smoke floated up. 

Dr. Cairn threw open the outer door, and the two panic-stricken menleapt out into the street and away from the spider army. White to thelips they stood leaning against the wall. 

"Was it really--Ferrara?" whispered Robert. 

"I hope so!" was the answer. 

Dr. Cairn pointed to the closed door. A fan of smoke was creeping frombeneath it. 

 * * * * *

The fire which ensued destroyed, not only the house in which it hadbroken out, but the two adjoining; and the neighbouring mosque wassaved only with the utmost difficulty. 

When, in the dawn of the new day, Dr. Cairn looked down into thesmoking pit which once had been the home of the spiders, he shook hishead and turned to his son. 

"If our eyes did not deceive us, Rob, " he said, "a just retribution atlast has claimed him!"

Pressing a way through the surrounding crowd of natives, they returnedto the hotel. The hall porter stopped them as they entered. 

"Excuse me, sir, " he said, "but which is Mr. Robert Cairn?"

Robert Cairn stepped forward. 

"A young gentleman left this for you, sir, half an hour ago, " said theman--"a very pale gentleman, with black eyes. He said you'd droppedit. "

Robert Cairn unwrapped the little parcel. It contained a penknife, theivory handle charred as if it had been in a furnace. It was hisown--which he had handed to his father in that awful cellar at themoment when the first spider had dropped; and a card was enclosed, bearing the pencilled words, "With Antony Ferrara's Compliments. "

CHAPTER XVII

THE STORY OF ALI MOHAMMED

Saluting each of the three in turn, the tall Egyptian passed from Dr. Cairn's room. Upon his exit followed a brief but electric silence. Dr. Cairn's face was very stern and Sime, with his hands locked behindhim, stood staring out of the window into the palmy garden of thehotel. Robert Cairn looked from one to the other excitedly. 

"What did he say, sir?" he cried, addressing his father. "It hadsomething to do with--"

Dr. Cairn turned. Sime did not move. 

"It had something to do with the matter which has brought me toCairo, " replied the former--"yes. "

"You see, " said Robert, "my knowledge of Arabic is _nil_--"

Sime turned in his heavy fashion, and directed a dull gaze upon thelast speaker. 

"Ali Mohammed, " he explained slowly, "who has just left, had come downfrom the Fayûm to report a singular matter. He was unaware of its realimportance, but it was sufficiently unusual to disturb him, and AliMohammed es-Suefi is not easily disturbed. "

Dr. Cairn dropped into an armchair, nodding towards Sime. 

"Tell him all that we have heard, " he said. "We stand together in thisaffair. "

"Well, " continued Sime, in his deliberate fashion, "when we struck ourcamp beside the Pyramid of Méydûm, Ali Mohammed remained behind with agang of workmen to finish off some comparatively unimportant work. Heis an unemotional person. Fear is alien to his composition; it has nomeaning for him. But last night something occurred at the camp--orwhat remained of the camp--which seems to have shaken even AliMohammed's iron nerve. "

Robert Cairn nodded, watching the speaker intently. 

"The entrance to the Méydûm Pyramid--, " continued Sime. 

"_One_ of the entrances, " interrupted Dr. Cairn, smiling slightly. 

"There is only one entrance, " said Sime dogmatically. 

Dr. Cairn waved his hand. 

"Go ahead, " he said. "We can discuss these archæological detailslater. "

Sime stared dully, but, without further comment, resumed:

"The camp was situated on the slope immediately below the only _known_entrance to the Méydûm Pyramid; one might say that it lay in theshadow of the building. There are tumuli in the neighbourhood--part ofa prehistoric cemetery--and it was work in connection with this whichhad detained Ali Mohammed in that part of the Fayûm. Last night aboutten o'clock he was awakened by an unusual sound, or series of sounds, he reports. He came out of the tent into the moonlight, and looked upat the pyramid. The entrance was a good way above his head, of course, and quite fifty or sixty yards from the point where he was standing, but the moonbeams bathed that side of the building in dazzling lightso that he was enabled to see a perfect crowd of bats whirling out ofthe pyramid. "

"Bats!" ejaculated Robert Cairn. 

"Yes. There is a small colony of bats in this pyramid, of course; butthe bat does not hunt in bands, and the sight of these bats flying outfrom the place was one which Ali Mohammed had never witnessed before. Their concerted squeaking was very clearly audible. He could notbelieve that it was this which had awakened him, and which hadawakened the ten or twelve workmen who also slept in the camp, forthese were now clustering around him, and all looking up at the sideof the pyramid. 

"Fayûm nights are strangely still. Except for the jackals and thevillage dogs, and some other sounds to which one grows accustomed, there is nothing--absolutely nothing--audible. 

"In this stillness, then, the flapping of the bat regiment made quitea disturbance overhead. Some of the men were only half awake, butmost, of them were badly frightened. And now they began to comparenotes, with the result that they determined upon the exact nature ofthe sound which had aroused them. It seemed almost certain that thishad been a dreadful scream--the scream of a woman in the last agony. "

He paused, looking from Dr. Cairn to his son, with a singularexpression upon his habitually immobile face. 

"Go on, " said Robert Cairn. 

Slowly Sime resumed:

"The bats had begun to disperse in various directions, but the panicwhich had seized upon the camp does not seem to have dispersed soreadily. Ali Mohammed confesses that he himself felt almost afraid--aremarkable admission for a man of his class to make. Picture thesefellows, then, standing looking at one another, and very frequently upat the opening in the side of the pyramid. Then the smell began toreach their nostrils--the smell which completed the panic, and whichled to the abandonment of the camp--"

"The smell--what kind of smell?" jerked Robert Cairn. 

Dr. Cairn turned himself in his chair, looking fully at his son. 

"The smell of Hades, boy!" he said grimly, and turned away again. 

"Naturally, " continued Sime, "I can give you no particulars on thepoint, but it must have been something very fearful to have affectedthe Egyptian native! There was no breeze, but it swept down upon them, this poisonous smell, as though borne by a hot wind. "

"Was it actually hot?"

"I cannot say. But Ali Mohammed is positive that it came from theopening in the pyramid. It was not apparently in disgust, but insheer, stark horror, that the whole crowd of them turned tail and ran. They never stopped and never looked back until they came to Rekka onthe railway. "

A short silence followed. Then:

"That was last night?" questioned Cairn. 

His father nodded. 

"The man came in by the first train from Wasta, " he said, "and we havenot a moment to spare!"

Sime stared at him. 

"I don't understand--"

"I have a mission, " said Dr. Cairn quietly. "It is to run to earth, tostamp out, as I would stamp out a pestilence, a certain _thing_--Icannot call it a man--Antony Ferrara. I believe, Sime, that you are atone with me in this matter?"

Sime drummed his fingers upon the table, frowning thoughtfully, andlooking from one to the other of his companions under his loweredbrows. 

"With my own eyes, " he said, "I have seen something of this secretdrama which has brought you, Dr. Cairn, to Egypt; and, up to a point, I agree with you regarding Antony Ferrara. You have lost all trace ofhim?"

"Since leaving Port Said, " said Dr. Cairn, "I have seen and heardnothing of him; but Lady Lashmore, who was an intimate--and aninnocent victim, God help her--of Ferrara in London, after staying atthe Semiramis in Cairo for one day, departed. Where did she go?"

"What has Lady Lashmore to do with the matter?" asked Sime. 

"If what I fear be true--" replied Dr. Cairn. "But I anticipate. Atthe moment it is enough for me that, unless my information be atfault, Lady Lashmore yesterday left Cairo by the Luxor train at 8. 30. "

Robert Cairn looked in a puzzled way at his father. 

"What do you suspect, sir?" he said. 

"I suspect that she went no further than Wasta, " replied Dr. Cairn. 

"Still I do not understand, " declared Sime. 

"You may understand later, " was the answer. "We must not waste amoment. You Egyptologists think that Egypt has little or nothing toteach you; the Pyramid of Méydûm lost interest directly you learntthat apparently it contained no treasure. How, little you know what it_really_ contained, Sime! Mariette did not suspect; Sir Gaston Masperodoes not suspect! The late Sir Michael Ferrara and I once camped bythe Pyramid of Méydûm, as you have camped there, and we made adiscovery--"

"Well?" said Sime, with growing interest. 

"It is a point upon which my lips are sealed, but--do you believe inblack magic?"

"I am not altogether sure that I do--"

"Very well; you are entitled to your opinion. But although you appearto be ignorant of the fact, the Pyramid of Méydûm was formerly one ofthe strong-holds--the second greatest in all the land of the Nile--ofAncient Egyptian sorcery! I pray heaven I may be wrong, but in thedisappearance of Lady Lashmore, and in the story of Ali Mohammed, Isee a dreadful possibility. Ring for a time-table. We have not amoment to waste!"

CHAPTER XVIII

THE BATS

Rekka was a mile behind. 

"It will take us fully an hour yet, " said Dr. Cairn, "to reach thepyramid, although it appears so near. "

Indeed, in the violet dusk, the great mastabah Pyramid of Méydûmseemed already to loom above them, although it was quite four milesaway. The narrow path along which they trotted their donkeys ranthrough the fertile lowlands of the Fayûm. They had just passed avillage, amid an angry chorus from the pariah dogs, and were nowfollowing the track along the top of the embankment. Where the greencarpet merged ahead into the grey ocean of sand the desert began, andout in that desert, resembling some weird work of Nature rather thananything wrought by the hand of man, stood the gloomy and lonelybuilding ascribed by the Egyptologists to the Pharaoh Sneferu. 

Dr. Cairn and his son rode ahead, and Sime, with Ali Mohammed, broughtup the rear of the little company. 

"I am completely in the dark, sir, " said Robert Cairn, "respecting theobject of our present journey. What leads you to suppose that we shallfind Antony Ferrara here?"

"I scarcely hope to _find_ him here, " was the enigmatical reply, "butI am almost certain that he _is_ here. I might have expected it, and Iblame myself for not having provided against--this. "

"Against what?"

"It is impossible, Rob, for you to understand this matter. Indeed, ifI were to publish what I know--not what I imagine, but what Iknow--about the Pyramid of Méydûm I should not only call down uponmyself the ridicule of every Egyptologist in Europe; I should beaccounted mad by the whole world. "

His son was silent for a time; then:

"According to the guide books, " he said, "it is merely an empty tomb. "

"It is empty, certainly, " replied Dr. Cairn grimly, "or that apartmentknown as the King's Chamber is now empty. But even the so-calledKing's Chamber was not empty once; and there is another chamber in thepyramid which is not empty _now_!"

"If you know of the existence of such a chamber, sir, why have youkept it secret?"

"Because I cannot _prove_ its existence. I do not know how to enterit, but I know it is there; I know what it was formerly used for, andI suspect that last night it was used for that same unholy purposeagain--after a lapse of perhaps four thousand years! Even you woulddoubt me, I believe, if I were to tell you what I know, if I were tohint at what I suspect. But no doubt in your reading you have met withJulian the Apostate?"

"Certainly, I have read of him. He is said to have practisednecromancy. "

"When he was at Carra in Mesopotamia, he retired to the Temple of theMoon, with a certain sorcerer and some others, and, his nocturnaloperations concluded, he left the temple locked, the door sealed, andplaced a guard over the gate. He was killed in the war, and neverreturned to Carra, but when, in the reign of Jovian, the seal wasbroken and the temple opened, a body was found hanging by its hair--Iwill spare you the particulars; it was a case of that most awful formof sorcery--_anthropomancy_!"

An expression of horror had crept over Robert Cairn's face. 

"Do you mean, sir, that this pyramid was used for similar purposes?"

"In the past it has been used for many purposes, " was the quiet reply. "The exodus of the bats points to the fact that it was again used forone of those purposes last night; the exodus of the bats--andsomething else. "

Sime, who had been listening to this strange conversation, cried outfrom the rear:

"We cannot reach it before sunset!"

"No, " replied Dr. Cairn, turning in his saddle, "but that does notmatter. Inside the pyramid, day and night make no difference. "

Having crossed a narrow wooden bridge, they turned now fully in thedirection of the great ruin, pursuing a path along the opposite bankof the cutting. They rode in silence for some time, Robert Cairn deepin thought. 

"I suppose that Antony Ferrara actually visited this place lastnight, " he said suddenly, "although I cannot follow your reasoning. But what leads you to suppose that he is there now?"

"This, " answered his father slowly. "The purpose for which I believehim to have come here would detain him at least two days and twonights. I shall say no more about it, because if I am wrong, or if forany reason I am unable to establish my suspicions as facts, you wouldcertainly regard me as a madman if I had confided those suspicions toyou. "

Mounted upon donkeys, the journey from Rekka to the Pyramid of Méydûmoccupies fully an hour and a half, and the glories of the sunset hadmerged into the violet dusk of Egypt before the party passed theoutskirts of the cultivated land and came upon the desert sands. Themountainous pile of granite, its peculiar orange hue a ghastly yellowin the moonlight, now assumed truly monstrous proportions, seeminglike a great square tower rising in three stages from its mound ofsand to some three hundred and fifty feet above the level of thedesert. 

There is nothing more awesome in the world than to find one's self atnight, far from all fellow-men, in the shadow of one of those edificesraised by unknown hands, by unknown means, to an unknown end; for, despite all the wisdom of our modern inquirers, these stupendousrelics remain unsolved riddles set to posterity by a mysteriouspeople. 

Neither Sime nor Ali Mohammed were of highly strung temperament, neither subject to those subtle impressions which more delicateorganisations receive, as the nostrils receive an exhalation, fromsuch a place as this. But Dr. Cairn and his son, though each in adifferent way, came now within the _aura_ of this temple of the deadages. 

The great silence of the desert--a silence like no other in the world;the loneliness, which must be experienced to be appreciated, of thatdry and tideless ocean; the traditions which had grown up like fungiabout this venerable building; lastly, the knowledge that it wasassociated in some way with the sorcery, the unholy activity, ofAntony Ferrara, combined to chill them with a supernatural dread whichcalled for all their courage to combat. 

"What now?" said Sime, descending from his mount. 

"We must lead the donkeys up the slope, " replied Dr. Cairn, "wherethose blocks of granite are, and tether them there. "

In silence, then, the party commenced the tedious ascent of the moundby the narrow path to the top, until at some hundred and twenty feetabove the surrounding plain they found themselves actually under thewall of the mighty building. The donkeys were made fast. 

"Sime and I, " said Dr. Cairn quietly, "will enter the pyramid. "

"But--" interrupted his son. 

"Apart from the fatigue of the operation, " continued the doctor, "thetemperature in the lower part of the pyramid is so tremendous, and theair so bad, that in your present state of health it would be absurdfor you to attempt it. Apart from which there is a possibly moreimportant task to be undertaken here, outside. "

He turned his eyes upon Sime, who was listening intently, thencontinued:

"Whilst we are penetrating to the interior by means of the slopingpassage on the north side, Ali Mohammed and yourself must mount guardon the south side. "

"What for?" said Sime rapidly. 

"For the reason, " replied Dr. Cairn, "that there is an entrance on tothe first stage--"

"But the first stage is nearly seventy feet above us. Even assumingthat there were an entrance there--which I doubt--escape by that meanswould be impossible. No one could climb down the face of the pyramidfrom above; no one has ever succeeded in climbing up. For the purposeof surveying the pyramid a scaffold had to be erected. Its sides arequite unscaleable. "

"That may be, " agreed Dr. Cairn; "but, nevertheless, I have my reasonsfor placing a guard over the south side. If anything appears upon thestage above, Rob--_anything_--shoot, and shoot straight!"

He repeated the same instructions to Ali Mohammed, to the evidentsurprise of the latter. 

"I don't understand at all, " muttered Sime, "but as I presume you havea good reason for what you do, let it be as you propose. Can you giveme any idea respecting what we may hope to find inside this place? Ionly entered once, and I am not anxious to repeat the experiment. Theair is unbreathable, the descent to the level passage below is stiffwork, and, apart from the inconvenience of navigating the latterpassage, which as you probably know is only sixteen inches high, theclimb up the vertical shaft into the tomb is not a particularly safeone. I exclude the possibility of snakes, " he added ironically. 

"You have also omitted the possibility of Antony Ferrara, " said Dr. Cairn. 

"Pardon my scepticism, doctor, but I cannot imagine any manvoluntarily remaining in that awful place. "

"Yet I am greatly mistaken if he is not there!"

"Then he is trapped!" said Sime grimly, examining a Browning pistolwhich he carried. "Unless--"

He stopped, and an expression, almost of fear, crept over his stoicalfeatures. 

"That sixteen-inch passage, " he muttered--"with Antony Ferrara at thefurther end!"

"Exactly!" said Dr. Cairn. "But I consider it my duty to the world toproceed. I warn you that you are about to face the greatest peril, probably, which you will ever be called upon to encounter. I do notask you to do this. I am quite prepared to go alone. "

"That remark was wholly unnecessary, doctor, " said Sime rathertruculently. "Suppose the other two proceed to their post. "

"But, sir--" began Robert Cairn. 

"You know the way, " said the doctor, with an air of finality. "Thereis not a moment to waste, and although I fear that we are too late, itis just possible we may be in time to prevent a dreadful crime. "

The tall Egyptian and Robert Cairn went stumbling off amongst theheaps of rubbish and broken masonry, until an angle of the great wallconcealed them from view. Then the two who remained continued theclimb yet higher, following the narrow, zigzag path leading up to theentrance of the descending passage. Immediately under the square blackhole they stood and glanced at one another. 

"We may as well leave our outer garments here, " said Sime. "I notethat you wear rubber-soled shoes, but I shall remove my boots, asotherwise I should be unable to obtain any foothold. "

Dr. Cairn nodded, and without more ado proceeded to strip off hiscoat, an example which was followed by Sime. It was as he stooped andplaced his hat upon the little bundle of clothes at his feet that Dr. Cairn detected something which caused him to stoop yet lower and topeer at that dark object on the ground with a strange intentness. 

"What is it?" jerked Sime, glancing back at him. 

Dr. Cairn, from a hip pocket, took out an electric lamp, and directedthe white ray upon something lying on the splintered fragments ofgranite. 

It was a bat, a fairly large one, and a clot of blood marked the placewhere its head had been. For the bat was decapitated!

As though anticipating what he should find there, Dr. Cairn flashedthe ray of the lamp all about the ground in the vicinity of theentrance to the pyramid. Scores of dead bats, headless, lay there. 

"For God's sake, what does this mean?" whispered Sime, glancingapprehensively into the black entrance beside him. 

"It means, " answered Cairn, in a low voice, "that my suspicion, almostincredible though it seems, was well founded. Steel yourself againstthe task that is before you, Sime; we stand upon the borderland ofstrange horrors. "

Sime hesitated to touch any of the dead bats, surveying them with anill-concealed repugnance. 

"What kind of creature, " he whispered, "has done this?"

"One of a kind that the world has not known for many ages! The mostevil kind of creature conceivable--a man-devil!"

"But what does he want with bats' heads?"

"The Cynonycteris, or pyramid bat, has a leaf-like appendage besidethe nose. A gland in this secretes a rare oil. This oil is one of theingredients of the incense which is never named in the magicalwritings. "

Sime shuddered. 

"Here!" said Dr. Cairn, proffering a flask. "This is only theoverture! No nerves. "

The other nodded shortly, and poured out a peg of brandy. 

"Now, " said Dr. Cairn, "shall I go ahead?"

"As you like, " replied Sime quietly, and again quite master ofhimself. "Look out for snakes. I will carry the light and you can keepyours handy in case you may need it. "

Dr. Cairn drew himself up into the entrance. The passage was less thanfour feet high, and generations of sand-storms had polished itssloping granite floor so as to render it impossible to descend exceptby resting one's hands on the roof above and lowering one's self footby foot. 

A passage of this description, descending at a sharp angle for overtwo hundred feet, is not particularly easy to negotiate, and progresswas slow. Dr. Cairn at every five yards or so would stop, and, withthe pocket-lamp which he carried, would examine the sandy floor andthe crevices between the huge blocks composing the passage, in questof those faint tracks which warn the traveller that a serpent hasrecently passed that way. Then, replacing his lamp, he would proceed. Sime followed in like manner, employing only one hand to supporthimself, and, with the other, constantly directing the ray of hispocket torch past his companion, and down into the blackness beneath. 

Out in the desert the atmosphere had been sufficiently hot, but nowwith every step it grew hotter and hotter. That indescribable smell, as of a decay begun in remote ages, that rises with the impalpabledust in these mysterious labyrinths of Ancient Egypt which never knowthe light of day, rose stiflingly; until, at some forty or fifty feetbelow the level of the sand outside, respiration became difficult, andthe two paused, bathed in perspiration and gasping for air. 

"Another thirty or forty feet, " panted Sime, "and we shall be in thelevel passage. There is a sort of low, artificial cavern there, youmay remember, where, although we cannot stand upright, we can sit andrest for a few moments. "

Speech was exhausting, and no further words were exchanged until thebottom of the slope was reached, and the combined lights of the twopocket-lamps showed them that they had reached a tiny chamberirregularly hewn in the living rock. This also was less than four feethigh, but its jagged floor being level, they were enabled to pausehere for a while. 

"Do you notice something unfamiliar in the smell of the place?"

Dr. Cairn was the speaker. Sime nodded, wiping the perspiration fromhis face the while. 

"It was bad enough when I came here before, " he said hoarsely. "It isterrible work for a heavy man. But to-night it seems to be reeking. Ihave smelt nothing like it in my life. "

"Correct, " replied Dr. Cairn grimly. "I trust that, once clear of thisplace, you will never smell it again. "

"What is it?"

"It is the _incense_, " was the reply. "Come! The worst of our task isbefore us yet. "

The continuation of the passage now showed as an opening no more thanfifteen to seventeen inches high. It was necessary, therefore, to lieprone upon the rubbish of the floor, and to proceed serpent fashion;one could not even employ one's knees, so low was the roof, but wascompelled to progress by clutching at the irregularities in the wall, and by digging the elbows into the splintered stones one crawled upon!

For three yards or so they proceeded thus. Then Dr. Cairn lay suddenlystill. 

"What is it?" whispered Sime. 

A threat of panic was in his voice. He dared not conjecture what wouldhappen if either should be overcome in that evil-smelling burrow, deepin the bowels of the ancient building. At that moment it seemed tohim, absurdly enough, that the weight of the giant pile rested uponhis back, was crushing him, pressing the life out from his body as helay there prone, with his eyes fixed upon the rubber soles of Dr. Cairn's shoes, directly in front of him. 

But softly came a reply:

"Do not speak again! Proceed as quietly as possible, and pray heavenwe are not expected!"

Sime understood. With a malignant enemy before them, this hole in therock through which they crawled was a certain death-trap. He thoughtof the headless bats and of how he, in crawling out into the shaftahead, must lay himself open to a similar fate!

Dr. Cairn moved slowly onward. Despite their anxiety to avoid noise, neither he nor his companion could control their heavy breathing. Bothwere panting for air. The temperature was now deathly. A candle wouldscarcely have burnt in the vitiated air; and above that odour ofancient rottenness which all explorers of the monuments of Egypt know, rose that other indescribable odour which seemed to stifle one's verysoul. 

Dr. Cairn stopped again. 

Sime knew, having performed this journey before, that his companionmust have reached the end of the passage, that he must be lyingpeering out into the shaft, for which they were making. Heextinguished his lamp. 

Again Dr. Cairn moved forward. Stretching out his hand, Sime foundonly emptiness. He wriggled forward, in turn, rapidly, all the timegroping with his fingers. Then:

"Take my hand, " came a whisper. "Another two feet, and you can standupright. "

He proceeded, grasped the hand which was extended to him in theimpenetrable darkness, and panting, temporarily exhausted, roseupright beside Dr. Cairn, and stretched his cramped limbs. 

Side by side they stood, mantled about in such a darkness as cannot bedescribed; in such a silence as dwellers in the busy world cannotconceive; in such an atmosphere of horror that only a man morally andphysically brave could have retained his composure. 

Dr. Cairn bent to Sime's ear. 

"We _must_ have the light for the ascent, " he whispered. "Have yourpistol ready; I am about to press the button of the lamp. "

A shaft of white light shone suddenly up the rocky sides of the pit inwhich they stood, and lost itself in the gloom of the chamber above. 

"On to my shoulders, " jerked Sime. "You are lighter than I. Then, assoon as you can reach, place your lamp on the floor above and mount upbeside it. I will follow. "

Dr. Cairn, taking advantage of the rugged walls, and of the blocks ofstone amid which they stood, mounted upon Sime's shoulders. 

"Could you carry your revolver in your teeth?" asked the latter. "Ithink you might hold it by the trigger-guard. "

"I proposed to do so, " replied Dr. Cairn grimly. "Stand fast!"

Gradually he rose upright upon the other's shoulders; then, placinghis foot in a cranny of the rock, and with his left hand grasping aprotruding fragment above, he mounted yet higher, all the time holdingthe lighted lamp in his right hand. Upward he extended his arms, andupward, until he could place the lamp upon the ledge above his head, where its white beam shone across the top of the shaft. 

"Mind it does not fall!" panted Sime, craning his head upward to watchthese operations. 

Dr. Cairn, whose strength and agility were wonderful, twisted aroundsideways, and succeeded in placing his foot on a ledge of stone on theopposite side of the shaft. Resting his weight upon this, he extendedhis hand to the lip of the opening, and drew himself up to the top, where he crouched fully in the light of the lamp. Then, wedging hisfoot into a crevice a little below him, he reached out his hand toSime. The latter, following much the same course as his companion, seized the extended hand, and soon found himself beside Dr. Cairn. 

Impetuously he snatched out his own lamp and shone its beams about theweird apartment in which they found themselves--the so-called King'sChamber of the pyramid. Right and left leapt the searching rays, touching the ends of the wooden beams, which, practically fossilisedby long contact with the rock, still survive in that sepulchral place. Above and below and all around he directed the light--upon the littercovering the rock floor, upon the blocks of the higher walls, upon thefrowning roof. 

They were alone in the King's Chamber!

CHAPTER XIX

ANTHROPOMANCY

"There is no one here!"

Sime looked about the place excitedly. 

"Fortunately for us!" answered Dr. Cairn. 

He breathed rather heavily yet with his exertions, and, moreover, theair of the chamber was disgusting. But otherwise he was perfectlycalm, although his face was pale and bathed in perspiration. 

"Make as little noise as possible. "

Sime, who, now that the place proved to be empty, began to cast offthat dread which had possessed him in the passage-way, found somethingominous in the words. 

Dr. Cairn, stepping carefully over the rubbish of the floor, advancedto the east corner of the chamber, waving his companion to follow. Side by side they stood there. 

"Do you notice that the abominable smell of the incense is moreoverpowering here than anywhere?"

Sime nodded. 

"You are right. What does that mean?"

Dr. Cairn directed the ray of light down behind a little mound ofrubbish into a corner of the wall. 

"It means, " he said, with a subdued expression of excitement, "that wehave got to crawl in _there_!"

Sime stifled an exclamation. 

One of the blocks of the bottom tier was missing, a fact which he hadnot detected before by reason of the presence of the mound of rubbishbefore the opening. 

"Silence again!" whispered Dr. Cairn. 

He lay down flat, and, without hesitation, crept into the gap. As hisfeet disappeared, Sime followed. Here it was possible to crawl uponhands and knees. The passage was formed of square stone blocks. Itwas but three yards or so in length; then it suddenly turned upwardat a tremendous angle of about one in four. Square foot-holds were cutin the lower face. The smell of incense was almost unbearable. 

Dr. Cairn bent to Sime's ear. 

"Not a word, now, " he said. "No light--pistol ready!"

He began to mount. Sime, following, counted the steps. When they hadmounted sixty he knew that they must have come close to the top of theoriginal _mastabah_, and close to the first stage of the pyramid. Despite the shaft beneath, there was little danger of falling, for onecould lean back against the wall while seeking for the foothold above. 

Dr. Cairn mounted very slowly, fearful of striking his head upon someobstacle. Then on the seventieth step, he found that he could thrusthis foot forward and that no obstruction met his knee. They hadreached a horizontal passage. 

Very softly he whispered back to Sime:

"Take my hand. I have reached the top. "

They entered the passage. The heavy, sickly sweet odour almostoverpowered them, but, grimly set upon their purpose, they, after onemoment of hesitancy, crept on. 

A fitful light rose and fell ahead of them. It gleamed upon the polishedwalls of the corridor in which they now found themselves--thatinexplicable light burning in a place which had known no light since thedim ages of the early Pharaohs!

The events of that incredible night had afforded no such emotion asthis. This was the crowning wonder, and, in its dreadful mystery, thecrowning terror of Méydûm. 

When first that lambent light played upon the walls of the passageboth stopped, stricken motionless with fear and amazement. Sime, whowould have been prepared to swear that the Méydûm Pyramid contained noapartment other than the King's Chamber, now was past mere wonder, past conjecture. But he could still fear. Dr. Cairn, although he hadanticipated this, temporarily also fell a victim to the supernaturalcharacter of the phenomenon. 

They advanced. 

They looked into a square chamber of about the same size as the King'sChamber. In fact, although they did not realise it until later, thissecond apartment, no doubt was situated directly above the first. 

The only light was that of a fire burning in a tripod, and by means ofthis illumination, which rose and fell in a strange manner, it waspossible to perceive the details of the place. But, indeed, at themoment they were not concerned with these; they had eyes only for theblack-robed figure beside the tripod. 

It was that of a man, who stood with his back towards them, and hechanted monotonously in a tongue unfamiliar to Sime. At certain pointsin his chant he would raise his arms in such a way that, clad in theblack robe, he assumed the appearance of a gigantic bat. Each timethat he acted thus the fire in the tripod, as if fanned into new life, would leap up, casting a hellish glare about the place. Then, as thechanter dropped his arms again, the flame would drop also. 

A cloud of reddish vapour floated low in the apartment. There were anumber of curiously-shaped vessels upon the floor, and against thefarther wall, only rendered visible when the flames leapt high, wassome motionless white object, apparently hung from the roof. 

Dr. Cairn drew a hissing breath and grasped Sime's wrist. 

"We are too late!" he said strangely. 

He spoke at a moment when his companion, peering through the ruddygloom of the place, had been endeavouring more clearly to perceivethat ominous shape which hung, horrible, in the shadow. He spoke, too, at a moment when the man in the black robe, raised his arms--when, asif obedient to his will, the flames leapt up fitfully. 

Although Sime could not be sure of what he saw, the recollection cameto him of words recently spoken by Dr. Cairn. He remembered the storyof Julian the Apostate, Julian the Emperor--the Necromancer. Heremembered what had been found in the Temple of the Moon afterJulian's death. He remembered that Lady Lashmore--

And thereupon he experienced such a nausea that but for the fact thatDr. Cairn gripped him he must have fallen. 

Tutored in a materialistic school, he could not even now admit thatsuch monstrous things could be. With a necromantic operation takingplace before his eyes; with the unholy perfume of the secret incenseall but suffocating him; with the dreadful Oracle dully gleaming inthe shadows of that temple of evil--his reason would not accept theevidences. Any man of the ancient world--of the middle ages--wouldhave known that he looked upon a professed wizard, upon a magician, who, according to one of the most ancient formulæ known to mankind, was seeking to question the dead respecting the living. 

But how many modern men are there capable of realising such acircumstance? How many who would accept the statement that suchoperations are still performed, not only in the East, but in Europe?How many who, witnessing this mass of Satan, would accept it forverity, would not deny the evidence of their very senses?

He could not believe such an orgie of wickedness possible. A Paganemperor might have been capable of these things, but to-day--wondrousis our faith in the virtue of "to-day!"

"Am I mad?" he whispered hoarsely, "or--"

A thinly-veiled shape seemed to float out from that still form in theshadows; it assumed definite outlines; it became a woman, beautifulwith a beauty that could only be described as awful. 

She wore upon her brow the _uraeus_ of Ancient Egyptian royalty; hersole garment was a robe of finest gauze. Like a cloud, like a vision, she floated into the light cast by the tripod. 

A voice--a voice which seemed to come from a vast distance, fromsomewhere outside the mighty granite walls of that unholyplace--spoke. The language was unknown to Sime, but the fiercehand-grip upon his wrist grew fiercer. That dead tongue, that languageunspoken since the dawn of Christianity, was known to the man who hadbeen the companion of Sir Michael Ferrara. 

In upon Sime swept a swift conviction--that one could not witness sucha scene as this and live and move again amongst one's fellow-men! In asort of frenzy, then, he wrenched himself free from the detaininghand, and launched a retort of modern science against the challenge ofancient sorcery. 

Raising his Browning pistol, he fired--shot after shot--at thatbat-like shape which stood between himself and the tripod!

A thousand frightful echoes filled the chamber with a demon mockery, boomed along those subterranean passages beneath, and bore theconflict of sound into the hidden places of the pyramid which hadknown not sound for untold generations. 

"My God--!"

Vaguely he became aware that Dr. Cairn was seeking to drag him away. Through a cloud of smoke he saw the black-robed figure turn; dreamfashion, he saw the pallid, glistening face of Antony Ferrara; thelong, evil eyes, alight like the eyes of a serpent, were fixed uponhim. He seemed to stand amid a chaos, in a mad world beyond theborders of reason, beyond the dominions of God. But to his stupefiedmind one astounding fact found access. 

He had fired at least seven shots at the black-robed figure, and itwas not humanly possible that all could have gone wide of their mark. 

Yet Antony Ferrara lived!

Utter darkness blotted out the evil vision. Then there was a whitelight ahead; and feeling that he was struggling for sanity, Simemanaged to realise that Dr. Cairn, retreating along the passage, wascrying to him, in a voice rising almost to a shriek, to run--run forhis life--for his salvation!

"_You should not have fired_!" he seemed to hear. 

Unconscious of any contact with the stones--although afterwards hefound his knees and shins to be bleeding--he was scrambling down thatlong, sloping shaft. 

He had a vague impression that Dr. Cairn, descending beneath him, sometimes grasped his ankles and placed his feet into the footholes. Acontinuous roaring sound filled his ears, as if a great ocean werecasting its storm waves against the structure around him. The placeseemed to rock. 

"Down flat!"

Some sense of reality was returning to him. Now he perceived that Dr. Cairn was urging him to crawl back along the short passage by whichthey had entered from the King's Chamber. 

Heedless of hurt, he threw himself down and pressed on. 

A blank, like the sleep of exhaustion which follows delirium, came. Then Sime found himself standing in the King's Chamber, Dr. Cairn, whoheld an electric lamp in his hand, beside him, and half supportinghim. 

The realities suddenly reasserting themselves, "I have dropped my pistol!" muttered Sime. 

He threw off the supporting arm, and turned to that corner behind theheap of _débris_ where was the opening through which they had enteredthe Satanic temple. 

No opening was visible!

"He has closed it!" cried Dr. Cairn. "There are six stone doorsbetween here and the place above! If he had succeeded in shutting_one_ of them before we--?"

"My God!" whispered Sime. "Let us get out! I am nearly at the end ofmy tether!"

Fear lends wings, and it was with something like the lightness of abird that Sime descended the shaft. At the bottom--

"On to my shoulders!" he cried, looking up. 

Dr. Cairn lowered himself to the foot of the shaft. "You go first, " hesaid. 

He was gasping, as if nearly suffocated, but retained a wonderfulself-control. Once over into the Borderland, and bravery assumes a newguise; the courage which can face physical danger undaunted, melts inthe fires of the unknown. 

Sime, his breath whistling sibilantly between his clenched teeth, hauled himself through the low passage, with incredible speed. The twoworked their way arduously, up the long slope. They saw the blue skyabove them.... 

 * * * * *

"Something like a huge bat, " said Robert Cairn, "crawled out upon thefirst stage. We both fired--"

Dr. Cairn raised his hand. He lay exhausted at the foot of the mound. 

"He had lighted the incense, " he replied, "and was reciting the secretritual. I cannot explain. But your shots were wasted. We came toolate--"

"Lady Lashmore--"

"Until the Pyramid of Méydûm is pulled down, stone by stone, the worldwill never know her fate! Sime and I have looked in at the gate ofhell! Only the hand of God plucked us back! Look!"

He pointed to Sime. He lay, pallid, with closed eyes--and his hair wasabundantly streaked with white!

CHAPTER XX

THE INCENSE

To Robert Cairn it seemed that the boat-train would never reachCharing Cross. His restlessness was appalling. He perpetually glancedfrom his father, with whom he shared the compartment, to the flyinglandscape with its vistas of hop-poles; and Dr. Cairn, although heexhibited less anxiety, was, nevertheless, strung to highest tension. 

That dash from Cairo homeward had been something of a fevered dream toboth men. To learn, whilst one is searching for a malign andimplacable enemy in Egypt, that that enemy, having secretly returnedto London, is weaving his evil spells around "some we loved, theloveliest and the best, " is to know the meaning of ordeal. 

In pursuit of Antony Ferrara--the incarnation of an awful evil--Dr. Cairn had deserted his practice, had left England for Egypt. Now hewas hurrying back again; for whilst he had sought in strange and darkplaces of that land of mystery for Antony Ferrara, the latter had beendarkly active in London!

Again and again Robert Cairn read the letter which, surely as a royalcommand, had recalled them. It was from Myra Duquesne. One line in ithad fallen upon them like a bomb, had altered all their plans, hadshattered the one fragment of peace remaining to them. 

In the eyes of Robert Cairn, the whole universe centred around MyraDuquesne; she was the one being in the world of whom he could not bearto think in conjunction with Antony Ferrara. Now he knew that AntonyFerrara was beside her, was, doubtless at this very moment, directingthose Black Arts of which he was master, to the destruction of hermind and body--perhaps of her very soul. 

Again he drew the worn envelope from his pocket and read that ominoussentence, which, when his eyes had first fallen upon it, had blottedout the sunlight of Egypt. 

"... And you will be surprised to hear that Antony is back in London ... And is a frequent visitor here. It is quite like old times.... "

Raising his haggard eyes, Robert Cairn saw that his father waswatching him. 

"Keep calm, my boy, " urged the doctor; "it can profit us nothing, itcan profit Myra nothing, for you to shatter your nerves at a time whenreal trials are before you. You are inviting another breakdown. Oh! Iknow it is hard; but for everybody's sake try to keep yourself inhand. "

"I am trying, sir, " replied Robert hollowly. 

Dr. Cairn nodded, drumming his fingers upon his knee. 

"We must be diplomatic, " he continued. "That James Saunderson proposedto return to London, I had no idea. I thought that Myra would be faroutside the Black maelström in Scotland. Had I suspected thatSaunderson would come to London, I should have made otherarrangements. "

"Of course, sir, I know that. But even so we could never have foreseenthis. "

Dr. Cairn shook his head. 

"To think that whilst we have been scouring Egypt from Port Said toAssouan--_he_ has been laughing at us in London!" he said. "Directlyafter the affair at Méydûm he must have left the country--how, Heavenonly knows. That letter is three weeks old, now?"

Robert Cairn nodded. "What may have happened since--what may havehappened!"

"You take too gloomy a view. James Saunderson is a Roman guardian. Even Antony Ferrara could make little headway there. "

"But Myra says that--Ferrara is--a frequent visitor. "

"And Saunderson, " replied Dr. Cairn with a grim smile, "is aScotchman! Rely upon his diplomacy, Rob. Myra will be safe enough. "

"God grant that she is!"

At that, silence fell between them, until punctually to time, thetrain slowed into Charing Cross. Inspired by a common anxiety, Dr. Cairn and his son were first among the passengers to pass the barrier. The car was waiting for them; and within five minutes of the arrivalof the train they were whirling through London's traffic to the houseof James Saunderson. 

It lay in that quaint backwater, remote from motor-bushigh-ways--Dulwich Common, and was a rambling red-tiled building whichat some time had been a farmhouse. As the big car pulled up at thegate, Saunderson, a large-boned Scotchman, tawny-eyed, and with hisgrey hair worn long and untidily, came out to meet them. Myra Duquesnestood beside him. A quick blush coloured her face momentarily; thenleft it pale again. 

Indeed, her pallor was alarming. As Robert Cairn, leaping from thecar, seized both her hands and looked into her eyes, it seemed to himthat the girl had almost an ethereal appearance. Something clutched athis heart, iced his blood; for Myra Duquesne seemed a creaturescarcely belonging to the world of humanity--seemed already half aspirit. The light in her sweet eyes was good to see; but herfragility, and a certain transparency of complexion, horrified him. 

Yet, he knew that he must hide these fears from her; and turning toMr. Saunderson, he shook him warmly by the hand, and the party of fourpassed by the low porch into the house. 

In the hall-way Miss Saunderson, a typical Scottish housekeeper, stoodbeaming welcome; but in the very instant of greeting her, Robert Cairnstopped suddenly as if transfixed. 

Dr. Cairn also pulled up just within the door, his nostrils quiveringand his clear grey eyes turning right and left--searching the shadows. 

Miss Saunderson detected this sudden restraint. 

"Is anything the matter?" she asked anxiously. 

Myra, standing beside Mr. Saunderson, began to look frightened. ButDr. Cairn, shaking off the incubus which had descended upon him, forced a laugh, and clapping his hand upon Robert's shoulder cried:

"Wake up, my boy! I know it is good to be back in England again, butkeep your day-dreaming for after lunch!"

Robert Cairn forced a ghostly smile in return, and the odd incidentpromised soon to be forgotten. 

"How good of you, " said Myra as the party entered the dining-room, "tocome right from the station to see us. And you must be expected inHalf-Moon Street, Dr. Cairn?"

"Of course we came to see _you_ first, " replied Robert Cairnsignificantly. 

Myra lowered her face and pursued that subject no further. 

No mention was made of Antony Ferrara, and neither Dr. Cairn nor hisson cared to broach the subject. The lunch passed off, then, withoutany reference to the very matter which had brought them there thatday. 

It was not until nearly an hour later that Dr. Cairn and his son foundthemselves alone for a moment. Then, with a furtive glance about him, the doctor spoke of that which had occupied his mind, to the exclusionof all else, since first they had entered the house of JamesSaunderson. 

"You noticed it, Rob?" he whispered. 

"My God! it nearly choked me!"

Dr. Cairn nodded grimly. 

"It is all over the house, " he continued, "in every room that I haveentered. They are used to it, and evidently do not notice it, butcoming in from the clean air, it is--"

"Abominable, unclean--unholy!"

"We know it, " continued Dr. Cairn softly--"that smell of unholiness;we have good reason to know it. It heralded the death of Sir MichaelFerrara. It heralded the death of--another. "

"With a just God in heaven, can such things be?"

"It is the secret incense of Ancient Egypt, " whispered Dr. Cairn, glancing towards the open door; "it is the odour of that Black Magicwhich, by all natural law, should be buried and lost for ever in thetombs of the ancient wizards. Only two living men within my knowledgeknow the use and the hidden meaning of that perfume; only one livingman has ever dared to make it--to use it.... "

"Antony Ferrara--"

"We knew he was here, boy; now we know that he is using his powershere. Something tells me that we come to the end of the fight. Mayvictory be with the just. "

CHAPTER XXI

THE MAGICIAN

Half-Moon Street was bathed in tropical sunlight. Dr. Cairn, with hishands behind him, stood looking out of the window. He turned to hisson, who leant against a corner of the bookcase in the shadows of thebig room. 

"Hot enough for Egypt, Rob, " he said. 

Robert Cairn nodded. 

"Antony Ferrara, " he replied, "seemingly travels his own atmospherewith him. I first became acquainted with his hellish activities duringa phenomenal thunderstorm. In Egypt his movements apparentlycorresponded with those of the _Khamsîn_. Now, "--he waved his handvaguely towards the window--"this is Egypt in London. "

"Egypt is in London, indeed, " muttered Dr. Cairn. "Jermyn has decidedthat our fears are well-founded. "

"You mean, sir, that the will--?"

"Antony Ferrara would have an almost unassailable case in the eventof--of Myra--"

"You mean that her share of the legacy would fall to that fiend, ifshe--"

"If she died? Exactly. "

Robert Cairn began to stride up and down the room, clenching andunclenching his fists. He was a shadow of his former self, but now hischeeks were flushed and his eyes feverishly bright. 

"Before Heaven!" he cried suddenly, "the situation is becomingunbearable. A thing more deadly than the Plague is abroad here inLondon. Apart from the personal aspect of the matter--of which I darenot think!--what do we know of Ferrara's activities? His record isdamnable. To our certain knowledge his victims are many. If the murderof his adoptive father, Sir Michael, was actually the first of hiscrimes, we know of three other poor souls who beyond any shadow ofdoubt were launched into eternity by the Black Arts of this ghastlyvillain--"

"We do, Rob, " replied Dr. Cairn sternly. 

"He has made attempts upon you; he has made attempts upon me. We oweour survival"--he pointed to a row of books upon a corner shelf--"tothe knowledge which you have accumulated in half a life-time ofresearch. In the face of science, in the face of modern scepticism, inthe face of our belief in a benign God, this creature, Antony Ferrara, has proved himself conclusively to be--"

"He is what the benighted ancients called a magician, " interrupted Dr. Cairn quietly. "He is what was known in the Middle Ages as a wizard. What that means, exactly, few modern thinkers know; but I know, andone day others will know. Meanwhile his shadow lies upon a certainhouse. "

Robert Cairn shook his clenched fists in the air. In some men thegesture had seemed melodramatic; in him it was the expression of asoul's agony. 

"But, sir!" he cried--"are we to wait, inert, helpless? Whatever heis, he has a human body and there are bullets, there are knives, thereare a hundred drugs in the British Pharmacopoeia!"

"Quite so, " answered Dr. Cairn, watching his son closely, and, by hisown collected manner, endeavouring to check the other's growingexcitement. "I am prepared at any personal risk to crush AntonyFerrara as I would crush a scorpion; but where is he?"

Robert Cairn groaned, dropping into the big red-leathern armchair, andburying his face in his hands. 

"Our position is maddening, " continued the elder man. "We know thatAntony Ferrara visits Mr. Saunderson's house; we know that he islaughing at our vain attempts to trap him. Crowning comedy of all, Saunderson does not know the truth; he is not the type of man whocould ever understand; in fact we dare not tell him--and we dare nottell Myra. The result is that those whom we would protect, unwittinglyare working against us, and against themselves. "

"That perfume!" burst out Robert Cairn; "that hell's incense whichloads the atmosphere of Saunderson's house! To think that we know whatit means--that we know what it means!"

"Perhaps _I_ know even better than you do, Rob. The occult uses ofperfume are not understood nowadays; but you, from experience, knowthat certain perfumes have occult uses. At the Pyramid of Méydûm inEgypt, Antony Ferrara dared--and the just God did not strike himdead--to make a certain incense. It was often made in the remote past, and a portion of it, probably in a jar hermetically sealed, had comeinto his possession. I once detected its dreadful odour in his roomsin London. Had you asked me prior to that occasion if any of thehellish stuff had survived to the present day, I should mostemphatically have said _no_; I should have been wrong. Ferrara hadsome. He used it all--and went to the Méydûm pyramid to renew hisstock. "

Robert Cairn was listening intently. 

"All this brings me back to a point which I have touched upon before, sir, " he said: "To my certain knowledge, the late Sir Michael andyourself have delved into the black mysteries of Egypt more deeplythan any men of the present century. Yet Antony Ferrara, little morethan a boy, has mastered secrets which you, after years of research, have failed to grasp. What does this mean, sir?"

Dr. Cairn, again locking his hands behind him, stared out of thewindow. 

"He is not an ordinary mortal, " continued his son. "He issupernormal--and supernaturally wicked. You have admitted--indeed itwas evident--that he is merely the adopted son of the late SirMichael. Now that we have entered upon the final struggle--for I feelthat this is so--I will ask you again: _Who is Antony Ferrara_?"

Dr. Cairn spun around upon the speaker; his grey eyes were verybright. 

"There is one little obstacle, " he answered, "which has deterred mefrom telling you what you have asked so often. Although--and you havehad dreadful opportunities to peer behind the veil--you will find ithard to believe, I hope very shortly to be able to answer thatquestion, and to tell you who Antony Ferrara really is. "

Robert Cairn beat his fist upon the arm of the chair. 

"I sometimes wonder, " he said, "that either of us has remained sane. Oh! what does it mean? What can we do? What can we do?"

"We must watch, Rob. To enlist the services of Saunderson, would bealmost impossible; he lives in his orchid houses; they are his world. In matters of ordinary life I can trust him above most men, but inthis--"

He shrugged his shoulders. 

"Could we suggest to him a reason--any reason but the real one--why heshould refuse to receive Ferrara?"

"It might destroy our last chance. "

"But sir, " cried Robert wildly, "it amounts to this: we are using Myraas a lure!"

"In order to save her, Rob--simply in order to save her, " retorted Dr. Cairn sternly. 

"How ill she looks, " groaned the other; "how pale and worn. There aregreat shadows under her eyes--oh! I cannot bear to think about her!"

"When was _he_ last there?"

"Apparently some ten days ago. You may depend upon him to be aware ofour return! He will not come there again, sir. But there are otherways in which he might reach her--does he not command a whole shadowarmy! And Mr. Saunderson is entirely unsuspicious--and Myra thinks ofthe fiend as a brother! Yet--she has never once spoken of him. Iwonder.... "

Dr. Cairn sat deep in reflection. Suddenly he took out his watch. 

"Go around now, " he said--"you will be in time for lunch--and remainthere until I come. From to-day onward, although actually your healthdoes not permit of the strain, we must watch, watch night and day. "

CHAPTER XXII

MYRA

Myra Duquesne came under an arch of roses to the wooden seat whereRobert Cairn awaited her. In her plain white linen frock, with the sunin her hair and her eyes looking unnaturally large, owing to thepallor of her beautiful face, she seemed to the man who rose to greether an ethereal creature, but lightly linked to the flesh and bloodworld. 

An impulse, which had possessed him often enough before, but whichhitherto he had suppressed, suddenly possessed him anew, set his heartbeating, and filled his veins with fire. As a soft blush spread overthe girl's pale cheeks, and, with a sort of timidity, she held out herhand, he leapt to his feet, threw his arms around her, and kissed her;kissed her eyes, her hair, her lips!

There was a moment of frightened hesitancy ... And then she hadresigned herself to this sort of savage tenderness which was better inits very brutality than any caress she had ever known, which thrilledher with a glorious joy such as, she realised now, she had dreamt ofand lacked, and wanted; which was a harbourage to which she came, blushing, confused--but glad, conquered, and happy in the thrall ofthat exquisite slavery. 

"Myra, " he whispered, "Myra! have I frightened you? Will you forgiveme?--"

She nodded her head quickly and nestled upon his shoulder. 

"I could wait no longer, " he murmured in her ear. "Words seemedunnecessary; I just wanted you; you are everything in the world;and, "--he concluded simply--"I took you. "

She whispered his name, very softly. What a serenity there is in sucha moment, what a glow of secure happiness, of immunity from the painsand sorrows of the world!

Robert Cairn, his arms about this girl, who, from his early boyhood, had been his ideal of womanhood, of love, and of all that love meant, forgot those things which had shaken his life and brought him to thethreshold of death, forgot those evidences of illness which marred theonce glorious beauty of the girl, forgot the black menace of thefuture, forgot the wizard enemy whose hand was stretched over thathouse and that garden--and was merely happy. 

But this paroxysm of gladness--which Eliphas Lévi, last of the Adepts, has so marvellously analysed in one of his works--is of shortduration, as are all joys. It is needless to recount, here, the brokensentences (punctuated with those first kisses which sweeten the memoryof old age) that now passed for conversation, and which lovers havebelieved to be conversation since the world began. As dusk creeps overa glorious landscape, so the shadow of Antony Ferrara crept over thehappiness of these two. 

Gradually that shadow fell between them and the sun; the grim thingwhich loomed big in the lives of them both, refused any longer to beignored. Robert Cairn, his arm about the girl's waist, broached thehated subject. 

"When did you last see--Ferrara?"

Myra looked up suddenly. 

"Over a week--nearly a fortnight, ago--"

"Ah!"

Cairn noted that the girl spoke of Ferrara with an odd sort ofrestraint for which he was at a loss to account. Myra had alwaysregarded her guardian's adopted son in the light of a brother;therefore her present attitude was all the more singular. 

"You did not expect him to return to England so soon?" he asked. 

"I had no idea that he was in England, " said Myra, "until he walkedin here one day. I was glad to see him--then. "

"And should you not be glad to see him now?" inquired Cairn eagerly. 

Myra, her head lowered, deliberately pressed out a crease in her whiteskirt. 

"One day, last week, " she replied slowly, "he--came here, and--actedstrangely--"

"In what way?" jerked Cairn. 

"He pointed out to me that actually we--he and I--were in no wayrelated. "

"Well?"

"You know how I have always liked Antony? I have always thought of himas my brother. "

Again she hesitated, and a troubled expression crept over her paleface. Cairn raised his arm and clasped it about her shoulders. 

"Tell me all about it, " he whispered reassuringly. 

"Well, " continued Myra in evident confusion, "his behaviourbecame--embarrassing; and suddenly--he asked me if I could ever lovehim, not as a brother, but--"

"I understand!" said Cairn grimly. "And you replied?"

"For some time I could not reply at all: I was so surprised, andso--horrified. I cannot explain how I felt about it, but it seemedhorrible--it seemed horrible!--"

"But of course, you told him?"

"I told him that I could never be fond of him in any differentway--that I could never _think_ of it. And although I endeavoured toavoid hurting his feelings, he--took it very badly. He said, in such aqueer, choking voice, that he was going away--"

"Away!--from England?"

"Yes; and--he made a strange request. "

"What was it?"

"In the circumstances--you see--I felt sorry for him--I did not liketo refuse him; it was only a trifling thing. He asked for a lock of myhair!"

"A lock of your hair! And you--"

"I told you that I did not like to refuse--and I let him snip off atiny piece, with a pair of pocket scissors which he had. Are youangry?"

"Of course not! You--were almost brought up together. You--?"

"Then--" she paused--"he seemed to change. Suddenly, I found myselfafraid--dreadfully afraid--"

"Of Ferrara?"

"Not of Antony, exactly. But what is the good of my trying to explain!A most awful dread seized me. His face was no longer the face that Ihave always known; something--"

Her voice trembled, and she seemed disposed to leave the sentenceunfinished; then:

"Something evil--sinister, had come into it. "

"And since then, " said Cairn, "you have not seen him?"

"He has not been here since then--no. "

Cairn, his hands resting upon the girl's shoulders, leant back in theseat, and looked into her troubled eyes with a kind of sad scrutiny. 

"You have not been fretting about him?"

Myra shook her head. 

"Yet you look as though something were troubling you. This house"--heindicated the low-lying garden with a certain irritation--"is nothealthily situated. This place lies in a valley; look at the rankgrass--and there are mosquitoes everywhere. You do not look well, Myra. "

The girl smiled--a little wistful smile. 

"But I was so tired of Scotland, " she said. "You do not know how Ilooked forward to London again. I must admit, though, that I was inbetter health there; I was quite ashamed of my dairy-maid appearance. "

"You have nothing to amuse you here, " said Cairn tenderly; "nocompany, for Mr. Saunderson only lives for his orchids. "

"They are very fascinating, " said Myra dreamily, "I, too, have felttheir glamour. I am the only member of the household whom he allowsamongst his orchids--"

"Perhaps you spend too much time there, " interrupted Cairn; "thatsuperheated, artificial atmosphere--"

Myra shook her head playfully, patting his arm. 

"There is nothing in the world the matter with me, " she said, almostin her old bright manner--"now that you are back--"

"I do not approve of orchids, " jerked Cairn doggedly. "They areparodies of what a flower should be. Place an Odontoglossum beside arose, and what a distorted unholy thing it looks!"

"Unholy?" laughed Myra. 

"Unholy, --yes!--they are products of feverish swamps and deathlyjungles. I hate orchids. The atmosphere of an orchid-house cannotpossibly be clean and healthy. One might as well spend one's time in abacteriological laboratory!"

Myra shook her head with affected seriousness. 

"You must not let Mr. Saunderson hear you, " she said. "His orchids arehis children. Their very mystery enthrals him--and really it is mostfascinating. To look at one of those shapeless bulbs, and to speculateupon what kind of bloom it will produce, is almost as thrilling asreading a sensational novel! He has one growing now--it will bloomsome time this week--about which he is frantically excited. "

"Where did he get it?" asked Cairn without interest. 

"He bought it from a man who had almost certainly stolen it! Therewere six bulbs in the parcel; only two have lived and one of these ismuch more advanced than the other; it is _so_ high--"

She held out her hand, indicating a height of some three feet from theground. 

"It has not flowered yet?"

"No. But the buds--huge, smooth, egg-shaped things--seem on the pointof bursting at any moment. We call it the 'Mystery, ' and it is myspecial care. Mr. Saunderson has shown me how to attend to its simpleneeds, and if it proves to be a new species--which is almostcertain--he is going to exhibit it, and name it after me! Shall yoube proud of having an orchid named after--"

"After my wife?" Cairn concluded, seizing her hands. "I could never bemore proud of you than I am already.... "

CHAPTER XXIII

THE FACE IN THE ORCHID-HOUSE

Dr. Cairn walked to the window, with its old-fashioned leaded panes. Alamp stood by the bedside, and he had tilted the shade so that itshone upon the pale face of the patient--Myra Duquesne. 

Two days had wrought a dreadful change in her. She lay with closedeyes, and sunken face upon which ominous shadows played. Herrespiration was imperceptible. The reputation of Dr. Bruce Cairn was awell deserved one, but this case puzzled him. He knew that MyraDuquesne was dying before his eyes; he could still see the agonisedface of his son, Robert, who at that moment was waiting, filled withintolerable suspense, downstairs in Mr. Saunderson's study; but, withal, he was helpless. He looked out from the rose-entwined casementacross the shrubbery, to where the moonlight glittered among thetrees. 

Those were the orchid-houses; and with his back to the bed, Dr. Cairnstood for long, thoughtfully watching the distant gleams of reflectedlight. Craig Fenton and Sir Elwin Groves, with whom he had beenconsulting, were but just gone. The nature of Myra Duquesne's illnesshad utterly puzzled them, and they had left, mystified. 

Downstairs, Robert Cairn was pacing the study, wondering if his reasonwould survive this final blow which threatened. He knew, and hisfather knew, that a sinister something underlay this strangeillness--an illness which had commenced on the day that Antony Ferrarahad last visited the house. 

The evening was insufferably hot; not a breeze stirred in the leaves;and despite open windows, the air of the room was heavy and lifeless. A faint perfume, having a sort of sweetness, but which yet wasunutterably revolting, made itself perceptible to the nostrils. Apparently it had pervaded the house by slow degrees. The occupantswere so used to it that they did not notice it at all. 

Dr. Cairn had busied himself that evening in the sick-room, burningsome pungent preparation, to the amazement of the nurse and of theconsultants. Now the biting fumes of his pastilles had all been waftedout of the window and the faint sweet smell was as noticeable as ever. 

Not a sound broke the silence of the house; and when the nurse quietlyopened the door and entered, Dr. Cairn was still standing staringthoughtfully out of the window in the direction of the orchid-houses. He turned, and walking back to the bedside, bent over the patient. 

Her face was like a white mask; she was quite unconscious; and so faras he could see showed no change either for better or worse. But herpulse was slightly more feeble and the doctor suppressed a groan ofdespair; for this mysterious progressive weakness could only have oneend. All his experience told him that unless something could bedone--and every expedient thus far attempted had proved futile--MyraDuquesne would die about dawn. 

He turned on his heel, and strode from the room, whispering a fewwords of instruction to the nurse. Descending the stairs, he passedthe closed study door, not daring to think of his son who waitedwithin, and entered the dining-room. A single lamp burnt there, andthe gaunt figure of Mr. Saunderson was outlined dimly where he sat inthe window seat. Crombie, the gardener, stood by the table. 

"Now, Crombie, " said Dr. Cairn, quietly, closing the door behind him, "what is this story about the orchid-houses, and why did you notmention it before?"

The man stared persistently into the shadows of the room, avoiding Dr. Cairn's glance. 

"Since he has had the courage to own up, " interrupted Mr. Saunderson, "I have overlooked the matter: but he was afraid to speak before, because he had no business to be in the orchid-houses. " His voicegrew suddenly fierce--"He knows it well enough!"

"I know, sir, that you don't want me to interfere with the orchids, "replied the man, "but I only ventured in because I thought I saw alight moving there--"

"Rubbish!" snapped Mr. Saunderson. 

"Pardon me, Saunderson, " said Dr. Cairn, "but a matter of moreimportance than the welfare of all the orchids in the world is underconsideration now. "

Saunderson coughed dryly. 

"You are right, Cairn, " he said. "I shouldn't have lost my temper forsuch a trifle, at a time like this. Tell your own tale, Crombie; Iwon't interrupt. "

"It was last night then, " continued the man. "I was standing at thedoor of my cottage smoking a pipe before turning in, when I saw afaint light moving over by the orchid-houses--"

"Reflection of the moon, " muttered Saunderson. "I am sorry. Go on, Crombie!"

"I knew that some of the orchids were very valuable, and I thoughtthere would not be time to call you; also I did not want to worry you, knowing you had worry enough already. So I knocked out my pipe and putit in my pocket, and went through the shrubbery. I saw the lightagain--it seemed to be moving from the first house into the second. Icouldn't see what it was. "

"Was it like a candle, or a pocket-lamp?" jerked Dr. Cairn. 

"Nothing like that, sir; a softer light, more like a glow-worm; butmuch brighter. I went around and tried the door, and it was locked. Then I remembered the door at the other end, and I cut round by thepath between the houses and the wall, so that I had no chance to seethe light again, until I got to the other door. I found this unlocked. There was a close kind of smell in there, sir, and the air was veryhot--"

"Naturally, it was hot, " interrupted Saunderson. 

"I mean much hotter than it should have been. It was like an oven, andthe smell was stifling--"

"What smell?" asked Dr. Cairn. "Can you describe it?"

"Excuse me, sir, but I seem to notice it here in this room to-night, and I think I noticed it about the place before--never so strong as inthe orchid-houses. "

"Go on!" said Dr. Cairn. 

"I went through the first house, and saw nothing. The shadow of thewall prevented the moonlight from shining in there. But just as I wasabout to enter the middle house, I thought I saw--a face. "

"What do you mean you _thought_ you saw?" snapped Mr. Saunderson. 

"I mean, sir, that it was so horrible and so strange that I could notbelieve it was real--which is one of the reasons why I did not speakbefore. It reminded me of the face of a gentleman I have seenhere--Mr. Ferrara--"

Dr. Cairn stifled an exclamation. 

"But in other ways it was quite unlike the gentleman. In some ways itwas more like the face of a woman--a very bad woman. It had a sort ofbluish light on it, but where it could have come from, I don't know. It seemed to be smiling, and two bright eyes looked straight out atme. "

Crombie stopped, raising his hand to his head confusedly. 

"I could see nothing but just this face--low down as if the person itbelonged to was crouching on the floor; and there was a tall plant ofsome kind just beside it--"

"Well, " said Dr. Cairn, "go on! What did you do?"

"I turned to run!" confessed the man. "If you had seen that horribleface, you would understand how frightened I was. Then when I got tothe door, I looked back. "

"I hope you had closed the door behind you, " snapped Saunderson. 

"Never mind that, never mind that!" interrupted Dr. Cairn. 

"I had closed the door behind me--yes, sir--but just as I was going toopen it again, I took a quick glance back, and the face had gone! Icame out, and I was walking over the lawn, wondering whether I shouldtell you, when it occurred to me that I hadn't noticed whether thekey had been left in or not. "

"Did you go back to see?" asked Dr. Cairn. 

"I didn't want to, " admitted Crombie, "but I did--and--"

"Well?"

"The door was locked, sir!"

"So you concluded that your imagination had been playing you tricks, "said Saunderson grimly. "In my opinion you were right. "

Dr. Cairn dropped into an armchair. 

"All right, Crombie; that will do. "

Crombie, with a mumbled "Good-night, gentlemen, " turned and left theroom. 

"Why are you worrying about this matter, " inquired Saunderson, whenthe door had closed, "at a time like the present?"

"Never mind, " replied Dr. Cairn wearily. "I must return to Half-MoonStreet, now, but I shall be back within an hour. "

With no other word to Saunderson, he stood up and walked out to thehall. He rapped at the study door, and it was instantly opened byRobert Cairn. No spoken word was necessary; the burning question couldbe read in his too-bright eyes. Dr. Cairn laid his hand upon his son'sshoulder. 

"I won't excite false hopes, Rob, " he said huskily. "I am going backto the house, and I want you to come with me. "

Robert Cairn turned his head aside, groaning aloud, but his fathergrasped him by the arm, and together they left that house of shadows, entered the car which waited at the gate, and without exchanging aword _en route_, came to Half-Moon Street. 

CHAPTER XXIV

FLOWERING OF THE LOTUS

Dr. Cairn led the way into the library, switching on the reading-lampupon the large table. His son stood just within the doorway, his armsfolded and his chin upon his breast. 

The doctor sat down at the table, watching the other. 

Suddenly Robert spoke:

"Is it possible, sir, is it possible--" his voice was barelyaudible--"that her illness can in any way be due to the orchids?"

Dr. Cairn frowned thoughtfully. 

"What do you mean, exactly?" he asked. 

"Orchids are mysterious things. They come from places where there arestrange and dreadful diseases. Is it not possible that they mayconvey--"

"Some sort of contagion?" concluded Dr. Cairn. "It is a point that Ihave seen raised, certainly. But nothing of the sort has ever beenestablished. I have heard something, to-night, though, which--"

"What have you heard, sir?" asked his son eagerly, stepping forward tothe table. 

"Never mind at the moment, Rob; let me think. "

He rested his elbow upon the table, and his chin in his hand. Hisprofessional instincts had told him that unless something could bedone--something which the highest medical skill in London had thus farbeen unable to devise--Myra Duquesne had but four hours to live. Somewhere in his mind a memory lurked, evasive, taunting him. Thiswild suggestion of his son's, that the girl's illness might be due insome way to her contact with the orchids, was in part responsible forthis confused memory, but it seemed to be associated, too, with thestory of Crombie the gardener--and with Antony Ferrara. He felt thatsomewhere in the darkness surrounding him there was a speck of light, if he could but turn in the right direction to see it. So, whilstRobert Cairn walked restlessly about the big room, the doctor sat withhis chin resting in the palm of his hand, seeking to concentrate hismind upon that vague memory, which defied him, whilst the hand of thelibrary clock crept from twelve towards one; whilst he knew that thefaint life in Myra Duquesne was slowly ebbing away in response to somemysterious condition, utterly outside his experience. 

Distant clocks chimed _One_! Three hours only!

Robert Cairn began to beat his fist into the palm of his left handconvulsively. Yet his father did not stir, but sat there, ablack-shadowed wrinkle between his brows.... 

"By God!"

The doctor sprang to his feet, and with feverish haste began to fumbleamongst a bunch of keys. 

"What is it, sir! What is it?"

The doctor unlocked the drawer of the big table, and drew out a thickmanuscript written in small and exquisitely neat characters. He placedit under the lamp, and rapidly began to turn the pages. 

"It is hope, Rob!" he said with quiet self-possession. 

Robert Cairn came round the table, and leant over his father'sshoulder. 

"Sir Michael Ferrara's writing!"

"His unpublished book, Rob. We were to have completed it, together, but death claimed him, and in view of the contents, I--perhapssuperstitiously--decided to suppress it.... Ah!"

He placed the point of his finger upon a carefully drawn sketch, designed to illustrate the text. It was evidently a careful copy fromthe Ancient Egyptian. It represented a row of priestesses, each havingher hair plaited in a thick queue, standing before a priest armed witha pair of scissors. In the centre of the drawing was an altar, uponwhich stood vases of flowers; and upon the right ranked a row ofmummies, corresponding in number with the priestesses upon the left. 

"By God!" repeated Dr. Cairn, "we were both wrong, we were bothwrong!"

"What do you mean, sir? for Heaven's sake, what do you mean?"

"This drawing, " replied Dr. Cairn, "was copied from the wall of acertain tomb--now reclosed. Since we knew that the tomb was that ofone of the greatest wizards who ever lived in Egypt, we knew also thatthe inscription had some magical significance. We knew that theflowers represented here, were a species of the extinct sacred Lotus. All our researches did not avail us to discover for what purpose or bywhat means these flowers were cultivated. Nor could we determine themeaning of the cutting off, "--he ran his fingers over the sketch--"ofthe priestesses' hair by the high priest of the goddess--"

"What goddess, sir?"

"A goddess, Rob, of which Egyptology knows nothing!--a mysticalreligion the existence of which has been vaguely suspected by a livingFrench _savant_ ... But this is no time--"

Dr. Cairn closed the manuscript, replaced it and relocked the drawer. He glanced at the clock. 

"A quarter past one, " he said. "Come, Rob!"

Without hesitation, his son followed him from the house. The car waswaiting, and shortly they were speeding through the deserted streets, back to the house where death in a strange guise was beckoning to MyraDuquesne. As the car started--

"Do you know, " asked Dr. Cairn, "if Saunderson has bought anyorchids--_quite_ recently, I mean?"

"Yes, " replied his son dully; "he bought a small parcel only afortnight ago. "

"A fortnight!" cried Dr. Cairn excitedly--"you are sure of that? Youmean that the purchase was made since Ferrara--"

"Ceased to visit the house? Yes. Why!--it must have been the very dayafter!"

Dr. Cairn clearly was labouring under tremendous excitement. 

"Where did he buy these orchids?" he asked, evenly. 

"From someone who came to the house--someone he had never dealt withbefore. "

The doctor, his hands resting upon his knees, was rapidly drummingwith his fingers. 

"And--did he cultivate them?"

"Two only proved successful. One is on the point of blooming--if it isnot blooming already. He calls it the 'Mystery. '"

At that, the doctor's excitement overcame him. Suddenly leaning out ofthe window, he shouted to the chauffeur:

"Quicker! Quicker! Never mind risks. Keep on top speed!"

"What is it, sir?" cried his son. "Heavens! what is it?"

"Did you say that it might have bloomed, Rob?"

"Myra"--Robert Cairn swallowed noisily--"told me three days ago thatit was expected to bloom before the end of the week. "

"What is it like?"

"A thing four feet high, with huge egg-shaped buds. "

"Merciful God grant that we are in time, " whispered Dr. Cairn. "Icould believe once more in the justice of Heaven, if the greatknowledge of Sir Michael Ferrara should prove to be the weapon todestroy the fiend whom we raised!--he and I--may we be forgiven!"'

Robert Cairn's excitement was dreadful. 

"Can you tell me nothing?" he cried. "What do you hope? What do youfear?"

"Don't ask me, Rob, " replied his father; "you will know within fiveminutes. "

The car indeed was leaping along the dark suburban roads at a speedlittle below that of an express train. Corners the chauffeurnegotiated in racing fashion, so that at times two wheels thrashed theempty air; and once or twice the big car swung round as upon a pivotonly to recover again in response to the skilled tactics of thedriver. 

They roared down the sloping narrow lane to the gate of Mr. Saunderson's house with a noise like the coming of a great storm, andwere nearly hurled from their seats when the brakes were applied, andthe car brought to a standstill. 

Dr. Cairn leapt out, pushed open the gate and ran up to the house, hisson closely following. There was a light in the hall and MissSaunderson who had expected them, and had heard their stormy approach, already held the door open. In the hall--

"Wait here one moment, " said Dr. Cairn. 

Ignoring Saunderson, who had come out from the library, he ranupstairs. A minute later, his face very pale, he came running downagain. 

"She is worse?" began Saunderson, "but--"

"Give me the key of the orchid-house!" said Dr. Cairn tersely. 

"Orchid-house!--"

"Don't hesitate. Don't waste a second. Give me the key. "

Saunderson's expression showed that he thought Dr. Cairn to be mad, but nevertheless he plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out akey-ring. Dr. Cairn snatched it in a flash. 

"Which key?" he snapped. 

"The Chubb, but--"

"Follow me, Rob!"

Down the hall he raced, his son beside him, and Mr. Saundersonfollowing more slowly. Out into the garden he went and over the lawntowards the shrubbery. 

The orchid-houses lay in dense shadow; but the doctor almost threwhimself against the door. 

"Strike a match!" he panted. Then--"Never mind--I have it!"

The door flew open with a bang. A sickly perfume swept out to them. 

"Matches! matches, Rob! this way!"

They went stumbling in. Robert Cairn took out a box of matches--andstruck one. His father was further along, in the centre building. 

"Your knife, boy--quick! _quick_!"

As the dim light crept along the aisle between the orchids, RobertCairn saw his father's horror-stricken face ... And saw a vivid greenplant growing in a sort of tub, before which the doctor stood. Fourhuge, smooth, egg-shaped buds grew upon the leafless stems; two ofthem were on the point of opening, and one already showed a delicious, rosy flush about its apex. 

Dr. Cairn grasped the knife which Robert tremblingly offered him. Thematch went out. There was a sound of hacking, a soft _swishing_, and adull thud upon the tiled floor. 

As another match fluttered into brief life, the mysterious orchid, severed just above the soil, fell from the tub. Dr. Cairn stamped theswelling buds under his feet. A profusion of colourless sap waspouring out upon the floor. 

Above the intoxicating odour of the place, a smell like that of bloodmade itself perceptible. 

The second match went out. 

"Another--"

Dr. Cairn's voice rose barely above a whisper. With fingers quivering, Robert Cairn managed to light a third match. His father, from a secondtub, tore out a smaller plant and ground its soft tentacles beneathhis feet. The place smelt like an operating theatre. The doctor swayeddizzily as the third match became extinguished, clutching at his sonfor support. 

"Her life was in it, boy!" he whispered. "She would have died in thehour that it bloomed! The priestesses--were consecrated to this.... Let me get into the air--"

Mr. Saunderson, silent with amazement, met them. 

"Don't speak, " said Dr. Cairn to him. "Look at the dead stems of your'Mystery. ' You will find a thread of bright hair in the heart ofeach!... "

 * * * * *

Dr. Cairn opened the door of the sick-room and beckoned to his son, who, haggard, trembling, waited upon the landing. 

"Come in, boy, " he said softly--"and thank God!"

Robert Cairn, on tiptoe, entered. Myra Duquesne, pathetically pale butwith that dreadful, ominous shadow gone from her face, turned herwistful eyes towards the door; and their wistfulness became gladness. 

"Rob!" she sighed--and stretched out her arms. 

CHAPTER XXV

CAIRN MEETS FERRARA

Not the least of the trials which Robert Cairn experienced during thetime that he and his father were warring with their supernaturallyequipped opponent was that of preserving silence upon this matterwhich loomed so large in his mind, and which already had changed thecourse of his life. 

Sometimes he met men who knew Ferrara, but who knew him only as a manabout town of somewhat evil reputation. Yet even to these he dared notconfide what he knew of the true Ferrara; undoubtedly they would havedeemed him mad had he spoken of the knowledge and of the deeds of thisuncanny, this fiendish being. How would they have listened to him hadhe sought to tell them of the den of spiders in Port Said; of the batsof Méydûm; of the secret incense and of how it was made; of thenumberless murders and atrocities, wrought by means not human, whichstood to the account of this adopted son of the late Sir MichaelFerrara?

So, excepting his father, he had no confidant; for above all it wasnecessary to keep the truth from Myra Duquesne--from Myra around whomhis world circled, but who yet thought of the dreadful being whowielded the sorcery of forgotten ages, as a brother. Whilst Myra layill--not yet recovered from the ghastly attack made upon her life bythe man whom she trusted--whilst, having plentiful evidence of hispresence in London, Dr. Cairn and himself vainly sought for AntonyFerrara; whilst any night might bring some unholy visitant to hisrooms, obedient to the will of this modern wizard; whilst these fears, anxieties, doubts, and surmises danced, impish, through his brain, itwas all but impossible to pursue with success, his vocation ofjournalism. Yet for many reasons it was necessary that he should doso, and so he was employed upon a series of articles which were theoutcome of his recent visit to Egypt--his editor having given him thatwork as being less exacting than that which properly falls to the lotof the Fleet Street copy-hunter. 

He left his rooms about three o'clock in the afternoon, in order toseek, in the British Museum library, a reference which he lacked. Theday was an exceedingly warm one, and he derived some littlesatisfaction from the fact that, at his present work, he was notcalled upon to endue the armour of respectability. Pipe in mouth, hemade his way across the Strand towards Bloomsbury. 

As he walked up the steps, crossed the hall-way, and passed in beneaththe dome of the reading-room, he wondered if, amid those mountains oferudition surrounding him, there was any wisdom so strange, and soawful, as that of Antony Ferrara. 

He soon found the information for which he was looking, and havingcopied it into his notebook, he left the reading-room. Then, as he wasrecrossing the hall near the foot of the principal staircase, hepaused. He found himself possessed by a sudden desire to visit theEgyptian Rooms, upstairs. He had several times inspected the exhibitsin those apartments, but never since his return from the land to whoseancient civilisation they bore witness. 

Cairn was not pressed for time in these days, therefore he turned andpassed slowly up the stairs. 

There were but few visitors to the grove of mummies that afternoon. When he entered the first room he found a small group of touristspassing idly from case to case; but on entering the second, he sawthat he had the apartment to himself. He remembered that his fatherhad mentioned on one occasion that there was a ring in this room whichhad belonged to the Witch-Queen. Robert Cairn wondered in which of thecases it was exhibited, and by what means he should be enabled torecognise it. 

Bending over a case containing scarabs and other amulets, many set inrings, he began to read the inscriptions upon the little ticketsplaced beneath some of them; but none answered to the description, neither the ticketed nor the unticketed. A second case he examinedwith like results. But on passing to a third, in an angle near thedoor, his gaze immediately lighted upon a gold ring set with a strangegreen stone, engraved in a peculiar way. It bore no ticket, yet asRobert Cairn eagerly bent over it, he knew, beyond the possibility ofdoubt, that this was the ring of the Witch-Queen. 

Where had he seen it, or its duplicate?

With his eyes fixed upon the gleaming stone, he sought to remember. That he had seen this ring before, or one exactly like it, he knew, but strangely enough he was unable to determine where and upon whatoccasion. So, his hands resting upon the case, he leant, peering downat the singular gem. And as he stood thus, frowning in the effort ofrecollection, a dull white hand, having long tapered fingers, glidedacross the glass until it rested directly beneath his eyes. Upon oneof the slim fingers was an exact replica of the ring in the case!

Robert Cairn leapt back with a stifled exclamation. 

Antony Ferrara stood before him!

"The Museum ring is a copy, dear Cairn, " came the huskily musical, hateful voice; "the one upon my finger is the real one. "

Cairn realised in his own person, the literal meaning of theoverworked phrase, "frozen with amazement. " Before him stood the mostdangerous man in Europe; a man who had done murder and worse; a manonly in name, a demon in nature. His long black eyes half-closed, hisperfectly chiselled ivory face expressionless, and his blood-red lipsparted in a mirthless smile, Antony Ferrara watched Cairn--Cairn whomhe had sought to murder by means of hellish art. 

Despite the heat of the day, he wore a heavy overcoat, lined withwhite fox fur. In his right hand--for his left still rested upon thecase--he held a soft hat. With an easy nonchalance, he stood regardingthe man who had sworn to kill him, and the latter made no move, uttered no word. Stark amazement held him inert. 

"I knew that you were in the Museum, Cairn, " Ferrara continued, stillhaving his basilisk eyes fixed upon the other from beneath thedrooping lids, "and I called to you to join me here. "

Still Cairn did not move, did not speak. 

"You have acted very harshly towards me in the past, dear Cairn; butbecause my philosophy consists in an admirable blending of thatpractised in Sybaris with that advocated by the excellent Zeno;because whilst I am prepared to make my home in a Diogenes' tub, I, nevertheless, can enjoy the fragrance of a rose, the flavour of apeach--"

The husky voice seemed to be hypnotising Cairn; it was a siren'svoice, thralling him. 

"Because, " continued Ferrara evenly, "in common with all humanity I amcompound of man and woman, I can resent the enmity which drives mefrom shore to shore, but being myself a connoisseur of the red lipsand laughing eyes of maidenhood--I am thinking, more particularly ofMyra--I can forgive you, dear Cairn--"

Then Cairn recovered himself. 

"You white-faced cur!" he snarled through clenched teeth; his knuckleswhitened as he stepped around the case. "You dare to stand theremocking me--"

Ferrara again placed the case between himself and his enemy. 

"Pause, my dear Cairn, " he said, without emotion. "What would you do?Be discreet, dear Cairn; reflect that I have only to call an attendantin order to have you pitched ignominiously into the street. "

"Before God! I will throttle the life from you!" said Cairn, in avoice savagely hoarse. 

He sprang again towards Ferrara. Again the latter dodged around thecase with an agility which defied the heavier man. 

"Your temperament is so painfully Celtic, Cairn, " he protestedmockingly. "I perceive quite clearly that you will not discuss thismatter judicially. Must I then call for the attendant?"

Cairn clenched his fists convulsively. Through all the tumult of hisrage, the fact had penetrated--that he was helpless. He could notattack Ferrara in that place; he could not detain him against hiswill. For Ferrara had only to claim official protection to bring aboutthe complete discomfiture of his assailant. Across the case containingthe duplicate ring, he glared at this incarnate fiend, whom the law, which he had secretly outraged, now served to protect. Ferrara spokeagain in his huskily musical voice. 

"I regret that you will not be reasonable, Cairn. There is so muchthat I should like to say to you; there are so many things of interestwhich I could tell you. Do you know in some respects I am peculiarlygifted, Cairn? At times I can recollect, quite distinctly, particularsof former incarnations. Do you see that priestess lying there, justthrough the doorway? I can quite distinctly remember having met herwhen she was a girl; she was beautiful, Cairn. And I can even recallhow, one night beside the Nile--but I see that you are growingimpatient! If you will not avail yourself of this opportunity, I mustbid you good-day--"

He turned and walked towards the door. Cairn leapt after him; butFerrara, suddenly beginning to run, reached the end of the EgyptianRoom and darted out on to the landing, before his pursuer had time torealise what he was about. 

At the moment that Ferrara turned the corner ahead of him, Cairn sawsomething drop. Coming to the end of the room, he stooped and pickedup this object, which was a plaited silk cord about three feet inlength. He did not pause to examine it more closely, but thrust itinto his pocket and raced down the steps after the retreating figureof Ferrara. At the foot, a constable held out his arm, detaining him. Cairn stopped in surprise. 

"I must ask you for your name and address, " said the constable, gruffly. 

"For Heaven's sake! what for?"

"A gentleman has complained--"

"My good man!" exclaimed Cairn, and proffered his card--"it is--it isa practical joke on his part. I know him well--"

The constable looked at the card and from the card, suspiciously, backto Cairn. Apparently the appearance of the latter reassured him--or hemay have formed a better opinion of Cairn, from the fact thathalf-a-crown had quickly changed hands. 

"All right, sir, " he said, "it is no affair of mine; he did not chargeyou with anything--he only asked me to prevent you from followinghim. "

"Quite so, " snapped Cairn irritably, and dashed off along the galleryin the hope of overtaking Ferrara. 

But, as he had feared, Ferrara had made good use of his ruse toescape. He was nowhere to be seen; and Cairn was left to wonder withwhat object he had risked the encounter in the Egyptian Room--for thatit had been deliberate, and not accidental, he quite clearlyperceived. 

He walked down the steps of the Museum, deep in reflection. Thethought that he and his father for months had been seeking the fiendFerrara, that they were sworn to kill him as they would kill a maddog; and that he, Robert Cairn, had stood face to face with Ferrara, had spoken with him; and had let him go free, unscathed, wasmaddening. Yet, in the circumstances, how could he have actedotherwise?

With no recollection of having traversed the intervening streets, hefound himself walking under the archway leading to the court in whichhis chambers were situated; in the far corner, shadowed by the tallplane tree, where the worn iron railings of the steps and the smallpanes of glass in the solicitor's window on the ground floor called upmemories of Charles Dickens, he paused, filled with a sort ofwonderment. It seemed strange to him that such an air of peace couldprevail, anywhere, whilst Antony Ferrara lived and remained at large. 

He ran up the stairs to the second landing, opened the door, andentered his chambers. He was oppressed to-day with a memory, thememory of certain gruesome happenings whereof these rooms had been thescene. Knowing the powers of Antony Ferrara he often doubted thewisdom of living there alone, but he was persuaded that to allowthese fears to make headway, would be to yield a point to the enemy. Yet there were nights when he found himself sleepless, listening forsounds which had seemed to arouse him; imagining sinister whispers inhis room--and imagining that he could detect the dreadful odour of thesecret incense. 

Seating himself by the open window, he took out from his pocket thesilken cord which Ferrara had dropped in the Museum, and examined itcuriously. His examination of the thing did not serve to enlighten himrespecting its character. It was merely a piece of silken cord, veryclosely and curiously plaited. He threw it down on the table, determined to show it to Dr. Cairn at the earliest opportunity. He wasconscious of a sort of repugnance; and prompted by this, he carefullywashed his hands as though the cord had been some unclean thing. Then, he sat down to work, only to realise immediately, that work wasimpossible until he had confided in somebody his encounter withFerrara. 

Lifting the telephone receiver, he called up Dr. Cairn, but his fatherwas not at home. 

He replaced the receiver, and sat staring vaguely at his opennotebook. 

CHAPTER XXVI

THE IVORY HAND

For close upon an hour Robert Cairn sat at his writing-table, endeavouring to puzzle out a solution to the mystery of Ferrara'smotive. His reflections served only to confuse his mind. 

A tangible clue lay upon the table before him--the silken cord. But itwas a clue of such a nature that, whatever deductions an expertdetective might have based upon it, Robert Cairn could base none. Duskwas not far off, and he knew that his nerves were not what they hadbeen before those events which had led to his Egyptian journey. He wasback in his own chamber--scene of one gruesome outrage in Ferrara'sunholy campaign; for darkness is the ally of crime, and it had alwaysbeen in the darkness that Ferrara's activities had most fearfullymanifested themselves. 

What was that?

Cairn ran to the window, and, leaning out, looked down into the courtbelow. He could have sworn that a voice--a voice possessing a strangemusic, a husky music, wholly hateful--had called him by name. But atthe moment the court was deserted, for it was already past the hour atwhich members of the legal fraternity desert their business premisesto hasten homewards. Shadows were creeping under the quaint oldarchways; shadows were draping the ancient walls. And there wassomething in the aspect of the place which reminded him of aquadrangle at Oxford, across which, upon a certain fateful evening, heand another had watched the red light rising and falling in AntonyFerrara's rooms. 

Clearly his imagination was playing him tricks; and against this heknew full well that he must guard himself. The light in his rooms wasgrowing dim, but instinctively his gaze sought out and found themysterious silken cord amid the litter on the table. He contemplatedthe telephone, but since he had left a message for his father, he knewthat the latter would ring him up directly he returned. 

Work, he thought, should be the likeliest antidote to the poisonousthoughts which oppressed his mind, and again he seated himself at thetable and opened his notes before him. The silken rope lay close tohis left hand, but he did not touch it. He was about to switch on thereading lamp, for it was now too dark to write, when his mind wanderedoff along another channel of reflection. He found himself picturingMyra as she had looked the last time that he had seen her. 

She was seated in Mr. Saunderson's garden, still pale from herdreadful illness, but beautiful--more beautiful in the eyes of RobertCairn than any other woman in the world. The breeze was blowing herrebellious curls across her eyes--eyes bright with a happiness whichhe loved to see. 

Her cheeks were paler than they were wont to be, and the sweet lipshad lost something of their firmness. She wore a short cloak, and awide-brimmed hat, unfashionable, but becoming. No one but Myra couldsuccessfully have worn that hat, he thought. 

Wrapt in such lover-like memories, he forgot that he had sat down towrite--forgot that he held a pen in his hand--and that this same handhad been outstretched to ignite the lamp. 

When he ultimately awoke again to the hard facts of his lonelyenvironment, he also awoke to a singular circumstance; he made theacquaintance of a strange phenomenon. 

He had been writing unconsciously!

And this was what he had written:

"Robert Cairn--renounce your pursuit of me, and renounce Myra; orto-night--" The sentence was unfinished. 

Momentarily, he stared at the words, endeavouring to persuade himselfthat he had written them consciously, in idle mood. But some voicewithin gave him the lie; so that with a suppressed groan he mutteredaloud:

"It has begun!"

Almost as he spoke there came a sound, from the passage outside, thatled him to slide his hand across the table--and to seize his revolver. 

The visible presence of the little weapon reassured him; and, as afurther sedative, he resorted to tobacco, filled and lighted his pipe, and leant back in the chair, blowing smoke rings towards the closeddoor. 

He listened intently--and heard the sound again. 

It was a soft _hiss_!

And now, he thought he could detect another noise--as of some creaturedragging its body along the floor. 

"A lizard!" he thought; and a memory of the basilisk eyes of AntonyFerrara came to him. 

Both the sounds seemed to come slowly nearer and nearer--the draggingthing being evidently responsible for the hissing; until Cairn decidedthat the creature must be immediately outside the door. 

Revolver in hand, he leapt across the room, and threw the door open. 

The red carpet, to right and left, was innocent of reptiles!

Perhaps the creaking of the revolving chair, as he had prepared toquit it, had frightened the thing. With the idea before him, hesystematically searched all the rooms into which it might have gone. 

His search was unavailing; the mysterious reptile was not to be found. 

Returning again to the study he seated himself behind the table, facing the door--which he left ajar. 

Ten minutes passed in silence--only broken by the dim murmur of thedistant traffic. 

He had almost persuaded himself that his imagination--quickened by theatmosphere of mystery and horror wherein he had recently moved--wasresponsible for the hiss, when a new sound came to confute hisreasoning. 

The people occupying the chambers below were moving about so thattheir footsteps were faintly audible; but, above these dim footsteps, a rustling--vague, indefinite, demonstrated itself. As in the case ofthe hiss, it proceeded from the passage. 

A light burnt inside the outer door, and this, as Cairn knew, mustcast a shadow before any thing--or person--approaching the room. 

_Sssf! ssf!_--came, like the rustle of light draperies. 

The nervous suspense was almost unbearable. He waited. 

_What_ was creeping, slowly, cautiously, towards the open door?

Cairn toyed with the trigger of his revolver. 

"The arts of the West shall try conclusions with those of the East, "he said. 

A shadow!... 

Inch upon inch it grew--creeping across the door, until it covered allthe threshold visible. 

Someone was about to appear. 

He raised the revolver. 

The shadow moved along. 

Cairn saw the tail of it creep past the door, until no shadow wasthere!

The shadow had come--and gone ... But there was _no substance_!

"I am going mad!"

The words forced themselves to his lips. He rested his chin upon hishands and clenched his teeth grimly. Did the horrors of insanity starehim in the face!

From that recent illness in London--when his nervous system hadcollapsed, utterly--despite his stay in Egypt he had never fullyrecovered. "A month will see you fit again, " his father had said;but?--perhaps he had been wrong--perchance the affection had beendeeper than he had suspected; and now this endless carnival ofsupernatural happenings had strained the weakened cells, so that hewas become as a man in a delirium!

Where did reality end and phantasy begin? Was it all merelysubjective?

He had read of such aberrations. 

And now he sat wondering if he were the victim of a likeaffliction--and while he wondered he stared at the rope of silk. Thatwas real. 

Logic came to his rescue. If he had seen and heard strange things, so, too, had Sime in Egypt--so had his father, both in Egypt and inLondon! Inexplicable things were happening around him; and all couldnot be mad!

"I'm getting morbid again, " he told himself; "the tricks of ourdamnable Ferrara are getting on my nerves. Just what he desires andintends!"

This latter reflection spurred him to new activity; and, pocketing therevolver, he switched off the light in the study and looked out of thewindow. 

Glancing across the court, he thought that he saw a man standingbelow, peering upward. With his hands resting upon the window ledge, Cairn looked long and steadily. 

There certainly was someone standing in the shadow of the tall planetree--but whether man or woman he could not determine. 

The unknown remaining in the same position, apparently watching, Cairnran downstairs, and, passing out into the Court, walked rapidly acrossto the tree. There he paused in some surprise; there was no onevisible by the tree and the whole court was quite deserted. 

"Must have slipped off through the archway, " he concluded; and, walking back, he remounted the stair and entered his chambers again. 

Feeling a renewed curiosity regarding the silken rope which had sostrangely come into his possession, he sat down at the table, andmastering his distaste for the thing, took it in his hands andexamined it closely by the light of the lamp. 

He was seated with his back to the windows, facing the door, so thatno one could possibly have entered the room unseen by him. It was ashe bent down to scrutinise the curious plaiting, that he felt asensation stealing over him, as though someone were standing veryclose to his chair. 

Grimly determined to resist any hypnotic tricks that might bepractised against him, and well assured that there could be no personactually present in the chambers, he sat back, resting his revolver onhis knee. Prompted by he knew not what, he slipped the silk cord intothe table drawer and turned the key upon it. 

As he did so a hand crept over his shoulder--followed by a bare arm ofthe hue of old ivory--a woman's arm!

Transfixed he sat, his eyes fastened upon the ring of dull metal, bearing a green stone inscribed with a complex figure vaguelyresembling a spider, which adorned the index finger. 

A faint perfume stole to his nostrils--that of the secret incense; andthe ring was the ring of the Witch-Queen!

In this incredible moment he relaxed that iron control of his mind, which, alone, had saved him before. Even as he realised it, and stroveto recover himself, he knew that it was too late; he knew that he waslost!

 * * * * *

Gloom ... Blackness, unrelieved by any speck of light; murmuring, subdued, all around; the murmuring of a concourse of people. Thedarkness was odorous with a heavy perfume. 

A voice came--followed by complete silence. 

Again the voice sounded, chanting sweetly. 

A response followed in deep male voices. 

The response was taken up all around--what time a tiny speck grew, inthe gloom--and grew, until it took form; and out of the darkness, theshape of a white-robed woman appeared--high up--far away. 

Wherever the ray that illumined her figure emanated from, it did notperceptibly dispel the Stygian gloom all about her. She was bathed indazzling light, but framed in impenetrable darkness. 

Her dull gold hair was encircled by a band of white metal--likesilver, bearing in front a round, burnished disk, that shone like aminor sun. Above the disk projected an ornament having the shape of aspider. 

The intense light picked out every detail vividly. Neck and shoulderswere bare--and the gleaming ivory arms were uplifted--the long slenderfingers held aloft a golden casket covered with dim figures, almostundiscernible at that distance. 

A glittering zone of the same white metal confined the snowydraperies. Her bare feet peeped out from beneath the flowing robe. 

Above, below, and around her was--Memphian darkness!

Silence--the perfume was stifling.... A voice, seeming to come from agreat distance, cried:--"On your knees to the Book of Thoth! on yourknees to the Wisdom Queen, who is deathless, being unborn, who is deadthough living, whose beauty is for all men--that all men may die.... "

The whole invisible concourse took up the chant, and the light faded, until only the speck on the disk below the spider was visible. 

Then that, too, vanished. 

 * * * * *

A bell was ringing furiously. Its din grew louder and louder; itbecame insupportable. Cairn threw out his arms and staggered up like aman intoxicated. He grasped at the table-lamp only just in time toprevent it overturning. 

The ringing was that of his telephone bell. He had been unconscious, then--under some spell!

He unhooked the receiver--and heard his father's voice. 

"That you, Rob?" asked the doctor anxiously. 

"Yes, sir, " replied Cairn, eagerly, and he opened the drawer and slidhis hand in for the silken cord. 

"There is something you have to tell me?"

Cairn, without preamble, plunged excitedly into an account of hismeeting with Ferrara. "The silk cord, " he concluded, "I have in myhand at the present moment, and--"

"Hold on a moment!" came Dr. Cairn's voice, rather grimly. 

Followed a short interval; then--

"Hullo, Rob! Listen to this, from to-night's paper: 'A curiousdiscovery was made by an attendant in one of the rooms, of the IndianSection of the British Museum late this evening. A case had beenopened in some way, and, although it contained more valuable objects, the only item which the thief had abstracted was a Thug'sstrangling-cord from Kundélee (district of Nursingpore). '"

"But, I don't understand--"

"Ferrara _meant_ you to find that cord, boy! Remember, he isunacquainted with your chambers and he requires a _focus_ for hisdamnable forces! He knows well that you will have the thing somewherenear to you, and probably he knows something of its awful history! Youare in danger! Keep a fast hold upon yourself. I shall be with you inless than half-an-hour!"

CHAPTER XXVII

THE THUG'S CORD

As Robert Cairn hung up the receiver and found himself cut off againfrom the outer world, he realised, with terror beyond his control, howin this quiet backwater, so near to the main stream, he yet was farfrom human companionship. 

He recalled a night when, amid such a silence as this which nowprevailed about him, he had been made the subject of an uncannydemonstration; how his sanity, his life, had been attacked; how he hadfled from the crowding horrors which had been massed against him byhis supernaturally endowed enemy. 

There was something very terrifying in the quietude of the court--aquietude which to others might have spelt peace, but which, to RobertCairn, spelled menace. That Ferrara's device was aimed at his freedom, that his design was intended to lead to the detention of his enemywhilst he directed his activities in other directions, seemedplausible, if inadequate. The carefully planned incident at the Museumwhereby the constable had become possessed of Cairn's card; thedistinct possibility that a detective might knock upon his door at anymoment--with the inevitable result of his detention pendinginquiries--formed a chain which had seemed complete, save that AntonyFerrara, was the schemer. For another to have compassed so much, wouldhave been a notable victory; for Ferrara, such a victory would betrivial. 

What then, did it mean? His father had told him, and the uncannyevents of the evening stood evidence of Dr. Cairn's wisdom. Themysterious and evil force which Antony Ferrara controlled was beingfocussed upon him!

Slight sounds from time to time disturbed the silence and to these helistened attentively. He longed for the arrival of his father--for thestrong, calm counsel of the one man in England fitted to cope with theHell Thing which had uprisen in their midst. That he had already beensubjected to some kind of hypnotic influence, he was unable to doubt;and having once been subjected to this influence, he might at anymoment (it Was a terrible reflection) fall a victim to it again. 

Cairn directed all the energies of his mind to resistance; ill-definedreflection must at all costs be avoided, for the brain vaguelyemployed he knew to be more susceptible to attack than that directedin a well-ordered channel. 

Clocks were chiming the hour--he did not know what hour, nor did heseek to learn. He felt that he was at rapier play with a skilledantagonist, and that to glance aside, however momentarily, was to layhimself open to a fatal thrust. 

He had not moved from the table, so that only the reading lamp upon itwas lighted, and much of the room lay in half shadow. The silken cord, coiled snake-like, was close to his left hand; the revolver was closeto his right. The muffled roar of traffic--diminished, since the hourgrew late--reached his ears as he sat. But nothing disturbed thestillness of the court, and nothing disturbed the stillness of theroom. 

The notes which he had made in the afternoon at the Museum, were stillspread open before him, and he suddenly closed the book, fearful ofanything calculated to distract him from the mood of tense resistance. His life, and more than his life, depended upon his successfullyopposing the insidious forces which beyond doubt, invisibly surroundedthat lighted table. 

There is a courage which is not physical, nor is it entirely moral; acourage often lacking in the most intrepid soldier. And this was thekind of courage which Robert Cairn now called up to his aid. Theoccult inquirer can face, unmoved, horrors which would turn the brainof many a man who wears the V. C. ; on the other hand it is questionableif the possessor of this peculiar type of bravery could face a bayonetcharge. Pluck of the physical sort, Cairn had in plenty; pluck ofthat more subtle kind he was acquiring from growing intimacy with theterrors of the Borderland. 

"Who's there?"

He spoke the words aloud, and the eerie sound of his own voice added anew dread to the enveloping shadows. 

His revolver grasped in his hand, he stood up, but slowly andcautiously, in order that his own movements might not prevent him fromhearing any repetition of that which had occasioned his alarm. Andwhat had occasioned this alarm?

Either he was become again a victim of the strange trickery whichalready had borne him, though not physically, from Fleet Street to thesecret temple of Méydûm, or with his material senses he had detected asoft rapping upon the door of his room. 

He knew that his outer door was closed; he knew that there was no oneelse in his chambers; yet he had heard a sound as of knuckles beatingupon the panels of the door--the closed door of the room in which hesat!

Standing upright, he turned deliberately, and faced in that direction. 

The light pouring out from beneath the shade of the table-lampscarcely touched upon the door at all. Only the edges of the lowerpanels were clearly perceptible; the upper part of the door was maskedin greenish shadow. 

Intent, tensely strung, he stood; then advanced in the direction of theswitch in order to light the lamp fixed above the mantel-piece and toilluminate the whole of the room. One step forward he took, then ... Thesoft rapping was repeated. 

"Who's there?"

This time he cried the words loudly, and acquired some new assurancefrom the imperative note in his own voice. He ran to the switch andpressed it down. The lamp did not light!

"The filament has burnt out, " he muttered. 

Terror grew upon him--a terror akin to that which children experiencein the darkness. But he yet had a fair mastery of his emotions;when--not suddenly, as is the way of a failing electric lamp--butslowly, uncannily, unnaturally, the table-lamp became extinguished!

Darkness.... Cairn turned towards the window. This was a moonlessnight, and little enough illumination entered the room from the court. 

Three resounding raps were struck upon the door. 

At that, terror had no darker meaning for Cairn; he had plumbed itsultimate deeps; and now, like a diver, he arose again to the surface. 

Heedless of the darkness, of the seemingly supernatural means by whichit had been occasioned, he threw open the door and thrust his revolverout into the corridor. 

For terrors, he had been prepared--for some gruesome shape such as weread of in _The Magus_. But there was nothing. Instinctively he hadlooked straight ahead of him, as one looks who expects to encounter ahuman enemy. But the hall-way was empty. A dim light, finding accessover the door from the stair, prevailed there, yet, it was sufficientto have revealed the presence of anyone or anything, had anyone oranything been present. 

Cairn stepped out from the room and was about to walk to the outerdoor. The idea of flight was strong upon him, for no man can fight theinvisible; when, on a level with his eyes--flat against the wall, asthough someone crouched there--he saw two white hands!

They were slim hands, like the hands of a woman, and, upon one of thetapered fingers, there dully gleamed a green stone. 

A peal of laughter came chokingly from his lips; he knew that hisreason was tottering. For these two white hands which now moved alongthe wall, as though they were sidling to the room which Cairn had justquitted, were attached to no visible body; just two ivory hands werethere ... _and nothing more_!

That he was in deadly peril, Cairn realised fully. His completesubjection by the will-force of Ferrara had been interrupted by theringing of the telephone bell But now, the attack had been renewed!

The hands vanished. 

Too well he remembered the ghastly details attendant upon the death ofSir Michael Ferrara to doubt that these slim hands were directed uponmurderous business. 

A soft swishing sound reached him. Something upon the writing-tablehad been moved. 

The strangling cord!

Whilst speaking to his father he had taken it out from the drawer, andwhen he quitted the room it had lain upon the blotting-pad. 

He stepped back towards the outer door. 

Something fluttered past his face, and he turned in a mad panic. Thedreadful, bodiless hands groped in the darkness between himself andthe exit!

Vaguely it came home to him that the menace might be avoidable. He wasbathed in icy perspiration. 

He dropped the revolver into his pocket, and placed his hands upon histhroat. Then he began to grope his way towards the closed door of hisbedroom. 

Lowering his left hand, he began to feel for the doorknob. As he didso, he saw--and knew the crowning horror of the night--that he hadmade a false move. In retiring he had thrown away his last, his only, chance. 

The phantom hands, a yard apart and holding the silken cord stretchedtightly between them, were approaching him swiftly!

He lowered his head, and charged along the passage, with a wild cry. 

The cord, stretched taut, struck him under the chin. 

Back he reeled. 

The cord was about his throat!

"God!" he choked, and thrust up his hands. 

Madly, he strove to pluck the deadly silken thing from his neck. Itwas useless. A grip of steel was drawing it tightly--and ever moretightly--about him.... 

Despair touched him, and almost he resigned himself. Then, "Rob! Rob! open the door!"

Dr. Cairn was outside. 

A new strength came--and he knew that it was the last atom left tohim. To remove the rope was humanly impossible. He dropped his crampedhands, bent his body by a mighty physical effort, and hurled himselfforward upon the door. 

The latch, now, was just above his head. 

He stretched up ... And was plucked back. But the fingers of his righthand grasped the knob convulsively. 

Even as that superhuman force jerked him back, he turned the knob--andfell. 

All his weight hung upon the fingers which were locked about thatbrass disk in a grip which even the powers of Darkness could notrelax. 

The door swung open, and Cairn swung back with it. 

He collapsed, an inert heap, upon the floor. Dr. Cairn leapt in overhim. 

 * * * * *

When he reopened his eyes, he lay in bed, and his father was bathinghis inflamed throat. 

"All right, boy! There's no damage done, thank God.... "

"The hands!--"

"I quite understand. But _I_ saw no hands but your own, Rob; and if ithad come to an inquest I could not even have raised my voice against averdict of suicide!"

"But I--opened the door!"

"They would have said that you repented your awful act, too late. Although it is almost impossible for a man to strangle himself undersuch conditions, there is no jury in England who would have believedthat Antony Ferrara had done the deed. "

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE HIGH PRIEST, HORTOTEF

The breakfast-room of Dr. Cairn's house in Half-Moon Street presenteda cheery appearance, and this despite the gloom of the morning; forthunderous clouds hung low in the sky, and there were distantmutterings ominous of a brewing storm. 

Robert Cairn stood looking out of the window. He was thinking of anafternoon at Oxford, when, to such an accompaniment as this, he hadwitnessed the first scene in the drama of evil wherein the man calledAntony Ferrara sustained the leading _rôle_. 

That the _denouément_ was at any moment to be anticipated, his reasontold him; and some instinct that was not of his reason forewarned him, too, that he and his father, Dr. Cairn, were now upon the eve of thatfinal, decisive struggle which should determine the triumph of goodover evil--or of evil over good. Already the doctor's house wasinvested by the uncanny forces marshalled by Antony Ferrara againstthem. The distinguished patients, who daily flocked to theconsulting-room of the celebrated specialist, who witnessed hisperfect self-possession and took comfort from his confidence, knowingit for the confidence of strength, little suspected that a greater illthan any flesh is heir to, assailed the doctor to whom they came forhealing. 

A menace, dreadful and unnatural, hung over that home as now thethunder clouds hung over it. This well-ordered household, so modern, so typical of twentieth century culture and refinement, presented noneof the appearances of a beleaguered garrison; yet the house of Dr. Cairn in Half-Moon Street, was nothing less than an investedfortress. 

A peal of distant thunder boomed from the direction of Hyde Park. Robert Cairn looked up at the lowering sky as if seeking a portent. Tohis eyes it seemed that a livid face, malignant with the malignancy ofa devil, looked down out of the clouds. 

Myra Duquesne came into the breakfast-room. 

He turned to greet her, and, in his capacity of accepted lover, wasabout to kiss the tempting lips, when he hesitated--and contentedhimself with kissing her hand. A sudden sense of the proprieties hadassailed him; he reflected that the presence of the girl beneath thesame roof as himself--although dictated by imperative need--might beopen to misconstruction by the prudish. Dr. Cairn had decided that forthe present Myra Duquesne must dwell beneath his own roof, as, infeudal days, the Baron at first hint of an approaching enemy formerlywas, accustomed to call within the walls of the castle, those whom itwas his duty to protect. Unknown to the world, a tremendous battleraged in London, the outer works were in the possession of theenemy--and he was now before their very gates. 

Myra, though still pale from her recent illness, already wasrecovering some of the freshness of her beauty, and in her simplemorning dress, as she busied herself about the breakfast table, shewas a sweet picture enough, and good to look upon. Robert Cairn stoodbeside her, looking into her eyes, and she smiled up at him with ahappy contentment, which filled him with a new longing. But:

"Did you dream again, last night?" he asked, in a voice which hestrove to make matter-of-fact. 

Myra nodded--and her face momentarily clouded over. 

"The same dream?"

"Yes, " she said in a troubled way; "at least--in some respects--"

Dr. Cairn came in, glancing at his watch. 

"Good morning!" he cried, cheerily. "I have actually oversleptmyself. "

They took their seats at the table. 

"Myra has been dreaming again, sir, " said Robert Cairn slowly. 

The doctor, serviette in hand, glanced up with an inquiry in his greyeyes. 

"We must not overlook any possible weapon, " he replied. "Give usparticulars of your dream, Myra. "

As Marston entered silently with the morning fare, and, having placedthe dishes upon the table, as silently withdrew, Myra began:

"I seemed to stand again in the barn-like building which I havedescribed to you before. Through the rafters of the roof I could seethe cracks in the tiling, and the moonlight shone through, forminglight and irregular patches upon the floor. A sort of door, like thatof a stable, with a heavy bar across, was dimly perceptible at thefurther end of the place. The only furniture was a large deal tableand a wooden chair of a very common kind. Upon the table, stood alamp--"

"What kind of lamp?" jerked Dr. Cairn. 

"A silver lamp"--she hesitated, looking from Robert to hisfather--"one that I have seen in--Antony's rooms. Its shaded lightshone upon a closed iron box. I immediately recognised this box. Youknow that I described to you a dream which--terrified me on theprevious night?"

Dr. Cairn nodded, frowning darkly. 

"Repeat your account of the former dream, " he said. "I regard it asimportant. "

"In my former dream, " the girl resumed--and her voice had an odd, far-away quality--"the scene was the same, except that the light ofthe lamp was shining down upon the leaves of an open book--a very, very old book, written in strange characters. These charactersappeared to dance before my eyes--almost as though they lived. "

She shuddered slightly; then:

"The same iron box, but open, stood upon the table, and a number ofother, smaller, boxes, around it. Each of these boxes was of adifferent material. Some were wooden; one, I think, was of ivory; onewas of silver--and one, of some dull metal, which might have beengold. In the chair, by the table, Antony was sitting. His eyes werefixed upon me, with such a strange expression that I awoke, tremblingfrightfully--"

Dr. Cairn nodded again. 

"And last night?" he prompted. 

"Last night, " continued Myra, with a note of trouble in her sweetvoice--"at four points around this table, stood four smaller lamps andupon the floor were rows of characters apparently traced in luminouspaint. They flickered up and then grew dim, then flickered up again, in a sort of phosphorescent way. They extended from lamp to lamp, soas entirely to surround the table and the chair. 

"In the chair Antony Ferrara was sitting. He held a wand in his righthand--a wand with several copper rings about it; his left hand restedupon the iron box. In my dream, although I could see this all veryclearly, I seemed to see it from a distance; yet, at the same time, Istood apparently close by the tables--I cannot explain. But I couldhear nothing; only by the movements of his lips, could I tell that hewas speaking--or chanting. "

She looked across at Dr. Cairn as if fearful to proceed, but presentlycontinued:

"Suddenly, I saw a frightful shape appear on the far side of thecircle; that is to say, the table was between me and this shape. Itwas just like a grey cloud having the vague outlines of a man, butwith two eyes of red fire glaring out from it--horribly--oh! horribly!It extended its shadowy arms as if saluting Antony. He turned andseemed to question it. Then with a look of ferocious anger--oh! it wasfrightful! he dismissed the shape, and began to walk up and downbeside the table, but never beyond the lighted circle, shaking hisfists in the air, and, to judge by the movements of his lips, utteringmost awful imprecations. He looked gaunt and ill. I dreamt no more, but awoke conscious of a sensation as though some dead weight, whichhad been pressing upon me had been suddenly removed. "

Dr. Cairn glanced across at his son significantly, but the subject wasnot renewed throughout breakfast. 

Breakfast concluded:

"Come into the library, Rob, " said Dr. Cairn, "I have half-an-hour tospare, and there are some matters to be discussed. "

He led the way into the library with its orderly rows of obscureworks, its store of forgotten wisdom, and pointed to the red leathernarmchair. As Robert Cairn seated himself and looked across at hisfather, who sat at the big writing-table, that scene reminded him ofmany dangers met and overcome in the past; for the library atHalf-Moon Street was associated in his mind with some of the blackestpages in the history of Antony Ferrara. 

"Do you understand the position, Rob?" asked the doctor, abruptly. 

"I think so, sir. This I take it is his last card; this outrageous, ungodly Thing which he has loosed upon us. "

Dr. Cairn nodded grimly. 

"The exact frontier, " he said, "dividing what we may term hypnotismfrom what we know as sorcery, has yet to be determined; and to whichterritory the doctrine of Elemental Spirits belongs, it would bepurposeless at the moment to discuss. We may note, however, remembering with whom we are dealing, that the one-hundred-and-eighthchapter of the Ancient Egyptian _Book of the Dead_, is entitled 'TheChapter of Knowing the Spirits of the West. ' Forgetting, _pro tem. _, that we dwell in the twentieth century, and looking at the situationfrom the point of view, say, of Eliphas Lévi, Cornelius Agrippa, orthe Abbé de Villars--the man whom we know as Antony Ferrara, isdirecting against this house, and those within it, a type of elementalspirit, known as a Salamander!"

Robert Cairn smiled slightly. 

"Ah!" said the doctor, with an answering smile in which there waslittle mirth, "we are accustomed to laugh at this mediævalterminology; but by what other can we speak of the activities ofFerrara?"

"Sometimes I think that we are the victims of a common madness, " saidhis son, raising his hand to his head in a manner almost pathetic. 

"We are the victims of a common enemy, " replied his father sternly. "He employs weapons which, often enough, in this enlightened age ofours, have condemned poor souls, as sane as you or I, to the madhouse!Why, in God's name, " he cried with a sudden excitement, "does sciencepersistently ignore all those laws which cannot be examined in thelaboratory! Will the day never come when some true man of scienceshall endeavour to explain the movements of a table upon which a ringof hands has been placed? Will no exact scientist condescend toexamine the properties of a _planchette_? Will no one do for thephenomena termed thought-forms, what Newton did for that of thefalling apple? Ah! Rob, in some respects, this is a darker age thanthose which bear the stigma of darkness. "

Silence fell for a few moments between them; then:

"One thing is certain, " said Robert Cairn, deliberately, "we are indanger!"

"In the greatest danger!"

"Antony Ferrara, realising that we are bent upon his destruction, ismaking a final, stupendous effort to compass ours. I know that youhave placed certain seals upon the windows of this house, and thatafter dusk these windows are never opened. I know that imprints, strangely like the imprints of _fiery hands_, may be seen at thismoment upon the casements of Myra's room, your room, my room, andelsewhere. I know that Myra's dreams are not ordinary, meaninglessdreams. I have had other evidence. I don't want to analyse thesethings; I confess that my mind is not capable of the task. I do noteven want to know the meaning of it all; at the present moment, I onlywant to know one thing: _Who is Antony Ferrara?_"

Dr. Cairn stood up, and turning, faced his son. 

"The time has come, " he said, "when that question, which you haveasked me so many times before, shall be answered. I will tell you allI know, and leave you to form your own opinion. For ere we go anyfurther, I assure you that I do not know for certain who he is!"

"You have said so before, sir. Will you explain what you mean?"

"When his adoptive father, Sir Michael Ferrara, " resumed the doctor, beginning to pace up and down the library--"when Sir Michael and Iwere in Egypt, in the winter of 1893, we conducted certain inquiriesin the Fayûm. We camped for over three months beside the MéydûmPyramid. The object of our inquiries was to discover the tomb of acertain queen. I will not trouble you with the details, which could beof no interest to anyone but an Egyptologist, I will merely say thatapart from the name and titles by which she is known to the ordinarystudent, this queen is also known to certain inquirers as theWitch-Queen. She was not an Egyptian, but an Asiatic. In short, shewas the last high priestess of a cult which became extinct at herdeath. Her secret mark--I am not referring to a cartouche or anythingof that kind--was a spider; it was the mark of the religion or cultwhich she practised. The high priest of the principal Temple of Ra, during the reign of the Pharaoh who was this queen's husband, was oneHortotef. This was his official position, but secretly he was also thehigh-priest of the sinister creed to which I have referred. The templeof this religion--a religion allied to Black Magic--was the Pyramid ofMéydûm. 

"So much we knew--or Ferrara knew, and imparted to me--but for anycorroborative evidence of this cult's existence we searched in vain. We explored the interior of the pyramid foot by foot, inch byinch--and found nothing. We knew that there was some other apartmentin the pyramid, but in spite of our soundings, measurements andlaborious excavations, we did not come upon the entrance to it. Thetomb of the queen we failed to discover, also, and therefore concludedthat her mummy was buried in the secret chamber of the pyramid. We hadabandoned our quest in despair, when, excavating in one of theneighbouring mounds, we made a discovery. "

He opened a box of cigars, selected one, and pushed the box towardshis son. Robert shook his head, almost impatiently, but Dr. Cairnlighted the cigar ere resuming:

"Directed, as I now believe, by a malignant will, we blundered uponthe tomb of the high priest--"

"You found his mummy?"

"We found his mummy--yes. But owing to the carelessness--and thefear--of the native labourers it was exposed to the sun andcrumpled--was lost. I would a similar fate had attended the other onewhich we found!"

"What, another mummy?"

"We discovered"--Dr. Cairn spoke very deliberately--"a certainpapyrus. The translation of this is contained"--he rested the point ofhis finger upon the writing-table--"in the unpublished book of SirMichael Ferrara, which lies here. That book, Rob, will never bepublished now! Furthermore, we discovered the mummy of a child--"

"A child. "

"A boy. Not daring to trust the natives, we removed it secretly atnight to our own tent. Before we commenced the task of unwrapping it, Sir Michael--the most brilliant scholar of his age--had proceeded sofar in deciphering the papyrus, that he determined to complete hisreading before we proceeded further. It contained directions forperforming a certain process. This process had reference to the mummyof the child. "

"Do I understand--?"

"Already, you are discrediting the story! Ah! I can see it! but let mefinish. Unaided, we performed this process upon the embalmed body ofthe child. Then, in accordance with the directions of that deadmagician--that accursed, malignant being, who thus had sought tosecure for himself a new tenure of evil life--we laid the mummy, treated in a certain fashion, in the King's Chamber of the MéydûmPyramid. It remained there for thirty days; from moon to moon--"

"You guarded the entrance?"

"You may assume what you like, Rob; but I could swear before any jury, that no one entered the pyramid throughout that time. Yet since wewere only human, we may have been deceived in this. I have only toadd, that when at the rising of the new moon in the ancient Sothicmonth of Panoi, we again entered the chamber, a living baby, some sixmonths old, perfectly healthy, solemnly blinked up at the lights whichwe held in our trembling hands!"

Dr. Cairn reseated himself at the table, and turned the chair so thathe faced his son. With the smouldering cigar between his teeth, hesat, a slight smile upon his lips. 

Now it was Robert's turn to rise and begin feverishly to pace thefloor. 

"You mean, sir, that this infant--which lay in thepyramid--was--adopted by Sir Michael?"

"Was adopted, yes. Sir Michael engaged nurses for him, reared him herein England, educating him as an Englishman, sent him to a publicschool, sent him to--"

"To Oxford! Antony Ferrara! What! Do you seriously tell me that thisis the history of Antony Ferrara?"

"On my word of honour, boy, that is all I know of Antony Ferrara. Isit not enough?"

"Merciful God! it is incredible, " groaned Robert Cairn. 

"From the time that he attained to manhood, " said Dr. Cairn evenly, "this adopted son of my poor old friend has passed from crime tocrime. By means which are beyond my comprehension, and which aloneserve to confirm his supernatural origin, he has acquired--knowledge. According to the Ancient Egyptian beliefs the _Khu_ (or magicalpowers) of a fully-equipped Adept, at the death of the body, couldenter into anything prepared for its reception. According to theseancient beliefs, then, the _Khu_ of the high priest Hortotef enteredinto the body of this infant who was his son, and whose mother was theWitch-Queen; and to-day in this modern London, a wizard of AncientEgypt, armed with the lost lore of that magical land, walks amongstus! What that lore is worth, it would be profitless for us to discuss, but that he possesses it--_all_ of it--I know, beyond doubt. The mostancient and most powerful magical book which has ever existed was the_Book of Thoth_. "

He walked across to a distant shelf, selected a volume, opened it at aparticular page, and placed it on his son's knees. 

"Read there!" he said, pointing. 

The words seemed to dance before the younger man's eyes, and this iswhat he read:

"To read two pages, enables you to enchant the heavens, the earth, theabyss, the mountains, and the sea; you shall know what the birds ofthe sky and the crawling things are saying ... And when the secondpage is read, if you are in the world of ghosts, you will grow againin the shape you were on earth.... "

"Heavens!" whispered Robert Cairn, "is this the writing of a madman?or can such things possibly be!" He read on:

"This book is in the middle of the river at Koptos, in an iron box--"

"An iron box, " he muttered--"an iron box. "

"So you recognise the iron box?" jerked Dr. Cairn. 

His son read on:

"In the iron box, is a bronze box; in the bronze box, is a sycamorebox; in the sycamore box, is an ivory and ebony box; in the ivory andebony box, is a silver box; in the silver box, is a golden box; and inthat is the book. It is twisted all round with snakes, and scorpions, and all the other crawling things.... "

"The man who holds the _Book of Thoth_, " said Dr. Cairn, breaking thesilence, "holds a power which should only belong to God. The creaturewho is known to the world as Antony Ferrara, holds that book--do youdoubt it?--therefore you know now, as I have known long enough, withwhat manner of enemy we are fighting. You know that, this time, it isa fight to the death--"

He stopped abruptly, staring out of the window. 

A man with a large photographic camera, standing upon the oppositepavement, was busily engaged in focussing the house!

"What is this?" muttered Robert Cairn, also stepping to the window. 

"It is a link between sorcery and science!" replied the doctor. "Youremember Ferrara's photographic gallery at Oxford?--the Zenana, youused to call it!--You remember having seen in his collectionphotographs of persons who afterwards came to violent ends?"

"I begin to understand!"

"Thus far, his endeavours to concentrate the whole of the evil forcesat his command upon this house have had but poor results: havingmerely caused Myra to dream strange dreams--clairvoyant dreams, instructive dreams, more useful to us than to the enemy; and havingresulted in certain marks upon the outside of the house adjoining thewindows--windows which I have sealed in a particular manner. Youunderstand?"

"By means of photographs he--concentrates, in some way, malignantforces upon certain points--"

"He focusses his will--yes! The man who can really control his will, Rob, is supreme, below the Godhead. Ferrara can almost do this now. Before he has become wholly proficient--"

"I understand, sir, " snapped his son grimly. 

"He is barely of age, boy, " Dr. Cairn said, almost in a whisper. "Inanother year, he would menace the world. Where are you going?"

He grasped his son's arm as Robert started for the door. 

"That man yonder--"

"Diplomacy, Rob!--Guile against guile. Let the man do his work, whichhe does in all innocence; _then_ follow him. Learn where his studio issituated, and, from that point, proceed to learn--"

"The situation of Ferrara's hiding-place?" cried his son, excitedly. "I understand! Of course; you are right, sir. "

"I will leave the inquiry in your hands, Rob. Unfortunately otherduties call me. "

CHAPTER XXIX

THE WIZARD'S DEN

Robert Cairn entered a photographer's shop in Baker Street. 

"You recently arranged to do views of some houses in the West End fora gentleman?" he said to the girl in charge. 

"That is so, " she replied, after a moment's hesitation. "We didpictures of the house of some celebrated specialist--for a magazinearticle they were intended. Do you wish us to do something similar?"

"Not at the moment, " replied Robert Cairn, smiling slightly. "I merelywant the address of your client. "

"I do not know that I can give you that, " replied the girl doubtfully, "but he will be here about eleven o'clock for proofs, if you wish tosee him. "

"I wonder if I can confide in you, " said Robert Cairn, looking thegirl frankly in the eyes. 

She seemed rather confused. 

"I hope there is nothing wrong, " she murmured. 

"You have nothing to fear, " he replied, "but unfortunately there _is_something wrong, which, however, I cannot explain. Will you promise menot to tell your client--I do not ask his name--that I have been here, or have been making any inquiries respecting him?"

"I think I can promise that, " she replied. 

"I am much indebted to you. "

Robert Cairn hastily left the shop, and began to look about him for alikely hiding-place from whence, unobserved, he might watch thephotographer's. An antique furniture dealer's, some little distancealong on the opposite side, attracted his attention. He glanced at hiswatch. It was half-past ten. 

If, upon the pretence of examining some of the stock, he could lingerin the furniture shop for half-an-hour, he would be enabled to getupon the track of Ferrara!

His mind made up, he walked along and entered the shop. For the nexthalf-an-hour, he passed from item to item of the collection displayedthere, surveying each in the leisurely manner of a connoisseur; butalways he kept a watch, through the window, upon the photographer'sestablishment beyond. 

Promptly at eleven o'clock a taxi cab drew up at the door, and from ita slim man alighted. He wore, despite the heat of the morning, anovercoat of some woolly material; and in his gait, as he crossed thepavement to enter the shop, there was something revoltinglyeffeminate; a sort of cat-like grace which had been noticeable in awoman, but which in a man was unnatural, and for some obscure reason, sinister. 

It was Antony Ferrara!

Even at that distance and in that brief time, Robert Cairn could seethe ivory face, the abnormal, red lips, and the long black eyes ofthis arch fiend, this monster masquerading as a man. He had much adoto restrain his rising passion; but, knowing that all depended uponhis cool action, he waited until Ferrara had entered thephotographer's. With a word of apology to the furniture dealer, hepassed quickly into Baker Street. Everything rested, now, upon hissecuring a cab before Ferrara came out again. Ferrara's cabman, evidently, was waiting for him. 

A taxi driver fortunately hailed Cairn at the very moment that hegained the pavement; and Cairn, concealing himself behind the vehicle, gave the man rapid instructions:

"You see that taxi outside the photographer's?" he said. 

The man nodded. 

"Wait until someone comes out of the shop and is driven off in it;then follow. Do not lose sight of the cab for a moment. When it drawsup, and wherever it draws up, drive right past it. Don't attractattention by stopping. You understand?"

"Quite, sir, " said the man, smiling slightly. And Cairn entered thecab. 

The cabman drew up at a point some little distance beyond, from whencehe could watch. Two minutes later Ferrara came out and was driven off. The pursuit commenced. 

His cab, ahead, proceeded to Westminster Bridge, across to the southside of the river, and by way of that commercial thoroughfare at theback of St. Thomas' Hospital, emerged at Vauxhall. Thence the pursuitled to Stockwell, Herne Hill, and yet onward towards Dulwich. 

It suddenly occurred to Robert Cairn that Ferrara was making in thedirection of Mr. Saunderson's house at Dulwich Common; the house inwhich Myra had had her mysterious illness, in which she had remaineduntil it had become evident that her safety depended upon her neverbeing left alone for one moment. 

"What can be his object?" muttered Cairn. 

He wondered if Ferrara, for some inscrutable reason, was about to callupon Mr. Saunderson. But when the cab ahead, having passed the park, continued on past the lane in which the house was situated, he beganto search for some other solution to the problem of Ferrara'sdestination. 

Suddenly he saw that the cab ahead had stopped. The driver of his owncab without slackening speed, pursued his way. Cairn crouched downupon the floor, fearful of being observed. No house was visible toright nor left, merely open fields; and he knew that it would beimpossible for him to delay in such a spot without attractingattention. 

Ferrara's cab passed:

"Keep on till I tell you to stop!" cried Cairn. 

He dropped the speaking-tube, and, turning, looked out through thelittle window at the back. 

Ferrara had dismissed his cab; he saw him entering a gate and crossinga field on the right of the road. Cairn turned again and took up thetube. 

"Stop at the first house we come to!" he directed. "Hurry!"

Presently a deserted-looking building was reached, a large stragglinghouse which obviously had no tenant. Here the man pulled up and Cairnleapt out. As he did so, he heard Ferrara's cab driving back by theway it had come. 

"Here, " he said, and gave the man half a sovereign, "wait for me. "

He started back along the road at a run. Even had he suspected that hewas followed, Ferrara could not have seen him. But when Cairn came uplevel with the gate through which Ferrara had gone, he slowed down andcrept cautiously forward. 

Ferrara, who by this time had reached the other side of the field, wasin the act of entering a barn-like building which evidently at sometime had formed a portion of a farm. As the distant figure, openingone of the big doors, disappeared within:

"The place of which Myra has been dreaming!" muttered Cairn. 

Certainly, viewed from that point, it seemed to answer, externally, tothe girl's description. The roof was of moss-grown red tiles, andCairn could imagine how the moonlight would readily find accessthrough the chinks which beyond doubt existed in the weather-wornstructure. He had little doubt that this was the place dreamt of, orseen clairvoyantly, by Myra, that this was the place to which Ferrarahad retreated in order to conduct his nefarious operations. 

It was eminently suited to the purpose, being entirely surrounded byunoccupied land. For what ostensible purpose Ferrara has leased it, hecould not conjecture, nor did he concern himself with the matter. Thepurpose for which actually he had leased the place was sufficientlyevident to the man who had suffered so much at the hands of thismodern sorcerer. 

To approach closer would have been indiscreet; this he knew; and hewas sufficiently diplomatic to resist the temptation to obtain anearer view of the place. He knew that everything depended uponsecrecy. Antony Ferrara must not suspect that his black laboratory wasknown. Cairn decided to return to Half-Moon Street without delay, fully satisfied with the result of his investigation. 

He walked rapidly back to where the cab waited, gave the man hisfather's address, and, in three-quarters of an hour, was back inHalf-Moon Street. 

Dr. Cairn had not yet dismissed the last of his patients; Myra, accompanied by Miss Saunderson, was out shopping; and Robert foundhimself compelled to possess his soul in patience. He paced restlesslyup and down the library, sometimes taking a book at random, scanningits pages with unseeing eyes, and replacing it without having formedthe slightest impression of its contents. He tried to smoke; but hispipe was constantly going out, and he had littered the hearth untidilywith burnt matches, when Dr. Cairn suddenly opened the library door, and entered. 

"Well?" he said eagerly. 

Robert Cairn leapt forward. 

"I have tracked him, sir!" he cried. "My God! while Myra was atSaunderson's, she was almost next door to the beast! His den is in afield no more than a thousand yards from the garden wall--fromSaunderson's orchid-houses!"

"He is daring, " muttered Dr. Cairn, "but his selection of that siteserved two purposes. The spot was suitable in many ways; and we wereleast likely to look for him next-door, as it were. It was a movecharacteristic of the accomplished criminal. "

Robert Cairn nodded. 

"It is the place of which Myra dreamt, sir. I have not the slightestdoubt about that. What we have to find out is at what times of the dayand night he goes there--"

"I doubt, " interrupted Dr. Cairn, "if he often visits the place duringthe day. As you know, he has abandoned his rooms in Piccadilly, but Ihave no doubt, knowing his sybaritic habits, that he has some otherpalatial place in town. I have been making inquiries in severaldirections, especially in--certain directions--"

He paused, raising his eyebrows, significantly. 

"Additions to the Zenana!" inquired Robert. 

Dr. Cairn nodded his head grimly. 

"Exactly, " he replied. "There is not a scrap of evidence upon which, legally, he could be convicted; but since his return from Egypt, Rob, he has added other victims to the list!"

"The fiend!" cried the younger man, "the unnatural fiend!"

"Unnatural is the word; he is literally unnatural; but many women findhim irresistible; he is typical of the unholy brood to which hebelongs. The evil beauty of the Witch-Queen sent many a soul toperdition; the evil beauty of her son has zealously carried on thework. "

"What must we do?"

"I doubt if we can do anything to-day. Obviously the early morning isthe most suitable time to visit his den at Dulwich Common. "

"But the new photographs of the house? There will be another attemptupon us to-night. "

"Yes, there will be another attempt upon us, to-night, " said thedoctor wearily. "This is the year 1914; yet, here in Half-Moon Street, when dusk falls, we shall be submitted to an attack of a kind to whichmankind probably has not been submitted for many ages. We shall becalled upon to dabble in the despised magical art; we shall be calledupon to place certain seals upon our doors and windows; to protectourselves against an enemy, who, like Eros, laughs at locks and bars. "

"Is it possible for him to succeed?"

"Quite possible, Rob, in spite of all our precautions. I feel in myvery bones that to-night he will put forth a supreme effort. "

A bell rang. 

"I think, " continued the doctor, "that this is Myra. She must get allthe sleep she can, during the afternoon; for to-night I havedetermined that she, and you, and I, must not think of sleep, but mustremain together, here in the library. We must not lose sight of oneanother--you understand?"

"I am glad that you have proposed it!" cried Robert Cairn eagerly, "I, too, feel that we have come to a critical moment in the contest. "

"To-night, " continued the doctor, "I shall be prepared to take certainsteps. My preparations will occupy me throughout the rest of to-day. "

CHAPTER XXX

THE ELEMENTAL

At dusk that evening, Dr. Cairn, his son, and Myra Duquesne mettogether in the library. The girl looked rather pale. 

An odour of incense pervaded the house, coming from the doctor'sstudy, wherein he had locked himself early in the evening, issuinginstructions that he was not to be disturbed. The exact nature of thepreparations which he had been making, Robert Cairn was unable toconjecture; and some instinct warned him that his father would notwelcome any inquiry upon the matter. He realised that Dr. Cairnproposed to fight Antony Ferrara with his own weapons, and now, whensomething in the very air of the house seemed to warn them of atremendous attack impending, that the doctor, much against his will, was entering the arena in the character of a practical magician--acharacter new to him, and obviously abhorrent. 

At half-past ten, the servants all retired in accordance With Dr. Cairn's orders. From where he stood by the tall mantel-piece, RobertCairn could watch Myra Duquesne, a dainty picture in her simpleevening-gown, where she sat reading in a distant corner, her delicatebeauty forming a strong contrast to the background of sombre volumes. Dr. Cairn sat by the big table, smoking, and apparently listening. Astrange device which he had adopted every evening for the past week, he had adopted again to-night--there were little white seals, bearinga curious figure, consisting in interlaced triangles, upon the insidesof every window in the house, upon the doors, and even upon thefire-grates. 

Robert Cairn at another time might have thought his father mad, childish, thus to play at wizardry; but he had had experiences whichhad taught him to recognise that upon such seemingly trivial matters, great issues might turn, that in the strange land over the Border, there were stranger laws--laws which he could but dimly understand. There he acknowledged the superior wisdom of Dr. Cairn; and did notquestion it. 

At eleven o'clock a comparative quiet had come upon Half-Moon Street. The sound of the traffic had gradually subsided, until it seemed tohim that the house stood, not in the busy West End of London, butisolated, apart from its neighbours; it seemed to him an abode, markedout and separated from the other abodes of man, a house enveloped inan impalpable cloud, a cloud of evil, summoned up and directed by thewizard hand of Antony Ferrara, son of the Witch-Queen. 

Although Myra pretended to read, and Dr. Cairn, from his fixedexpression, might have been supposed to be pre-occupied, in point offact they were all waiting, with nerves at highest tension, for theopening of the attack. In what form it would come--whether it would bevague moanings and tappings upon the windows, such as they had alreadyexperienced, whether it would be a phantasmal storm, a clap ofphenomenal thunder--they could not conjecture, if the enemy wouldattack suddenly, or if his menace would grow, threatening from afaroff, and then gradually penetrating into the heart of the garrison. 

It came, then, suddenly and dramatically. 

Dropping her book, Myra uttered a piercing scream, and with eyesglaring madly, fell forward on the carpet, unconscious!

Robert Cairn leapt to his feet with clenched fists. His father stoodup so rapidly as to overset his chair, which fell crashingly upon thefloor. 

Together they turned and looked in the direction in which the girl hadbeen looking. They fixed their eyes upon the drapery of the librarywindow--which was drawn together. The whole window was luminous asthough a bright light shone outside, but luminous, as though thatlight were the light of some unholy fire!

Involuntarily they both stepped back, and Robert Cairn clutched hisfather's arm convulsively. 

The curtains seemed to be rendered transparent, as if some powerfulray were directed upon them; the window appeared through them as arectangular blue patch. Only two lamps were burning in the library, that in the corner by which Myra had been reading, and the greenshaded lamp upon the table. The best end of the room by the window, then, was in shadow, against which this unnatural light shonebrilliantly. 

"My God!" whispered Robert Cairn--"that's Half-Moon Street--outside. There can be no light--"

He broke off, for now he perceived the Thing which had occasioned thegirl's scream of horror. 

In the middle of the rectangular patch of light, a grey shape, butpartially opaque, moved--shifting, luminous clouds about it--wastaking form, growing momentarily more substantial!

It had some remote semblance of a man; but its unique characteristicwas its awful _greyness_. It had the greyness of a rain cloud, yetrather that of a column of smoke. And from the centre of the dimlydefined head, two eyes--balls of living fire--glared out into theroom!

Heat was beating into the library from the window--physical heat, asthough a furnace door had been opened ... And the shape, ever growingmore palpable, was moving forward towards them--approaching--the heatevery instant growing greater. 

It was impossible to look at those two eyes of fire; it was almostimpossible to move. Indeed Robert Cairn was transfixed in such horroras, in all his dealings with the monstrous Ferrara, he had never knownbefore. But his father, shaking off the dread which possessed himalso, leapt at one bound to the library table. 

Robert Cairn vaguely perceived that a small group of objects, lookinglike balls of wax, lay there. Dr. Cairn had evidently been preparingthem in the locked study. Now he took them all up in his left hand, and confronted the Thing--which seemed to be _growing_ into theroom--for it did not advance in the ordinary sense of the word. 

One by one he threw the white pellets into that vapoury greyness. Asthey touched the curtain, they hissed as if they had been thrown intoa fire; they melted; and upon the transparency of the drapings, asupon a sheet of gauze, showed faint streaks, where, melting, theytrickled down the tapestry. 

As he cast each pellet from his hand, Dr. Cairn took a step forward, and cried out certain words in a loud voice--words which Robert Cairnknew he had never heard uttered before, words in a language which someinstinct told him to be Ancient Egyptian. 

Their effect was to force that dreadful shape gradually to disperse, as a cloud of smoke might disperse when the fire which occasions it isextinguished slowly. Seven pellets in all he threw towards thewindow--and the seventh struck the curtains, now once more visible intheir proper form. 

The Fire Elemental had been vanquished!

Robert Cairn clutched his hair in a sort of frenzy. He glared at thedraped window, feeling that he was making a supreme effort to retainhis sanity. Had it ever looked otherwise? Had the tapestry ever fadedbefore him, becoming visible in a great light which had shone throughit from behind? Had the Thing, a Thing unnameable, indescribable, stood there?

He read his answer upon the tapestry. 

Whitening streaks showed where the pellets, melting, had trickled downthe curtain!

"Lift Myra on the settee!"

It was Dr. Cairn speaking, calmly, but in a strained voice. 

Robert Cairn, as if emerging from a mist, turned to the recumbentwhite form upon the carpet. Then, with a great cry, he leapt forwardand raised the girl's head. 

"Myra!" he groaned. "Myra, speak to me. "

"Control yourself, boy, " rapped Dr. Cairn, sternly; "she cannot speakuntil you have revived her! She has swooned--nothing worse. "

"And--"

"We have conquered!"

CHAPTER XXXI

THE BOOK OF THOTH

The mists of early morning still floated over the fields, when thesetwo, set upon strange business, walked through the damp grass to thedoor of the barn, where-from radiated the deathly waves which on theprevious night had reached them, or almost reached them, in thelibrary at Half-Moon Street. 

The big double doors were padlocked, but for this they had comeprovided. Ten minutes work upon the padlock sufficed--and Dr. Cairnswung wide the doors. 

A suffocating smell--the smell of that incense with which they had toooften come in contact, was wafted out to them. There was a dim lightinside the place, and without hesitation both entered. 

A deal table and chair constituted the sole furniture of the interior. A part of the floor was roughly boarded, and a brief examination ofthe boarding sufficed to discover the hiding place in which AntonyFerrara kept the utensils of his awful art. 

Dr. Cairn lifted out two heavy boards; and in a recess below lay anumber of singular objects. There were four antique lamps of mostpeculiar design; there was a larger silver lamp, which both of themhad seen before in various apartments occupied by Antony Ferrara. There were a number of other things which Robert Cairn could not havedescribed, had he been called upon to do so, for the reason that hehad seen nothing like them before, and had no idea of their nature orpurpose. 

But, conspicuous amongst this curious hoard, was a square iron box ofworkmanship dissimilar from any workmanship known to Robert Cairn. Itslid was covered with a sort of scroll work, and he was about to reachdown, in order to lift it out, when:

"Do not touch it!" cried the doctor--"for God's sake, do not touchit!"

Robert Cairn started back, as though he had seen a snake. Turning tohis father, he saw that the latter was pulling on a pair of whitegloves. As he fixed his eyes upon these in astonishment, he perceivedthat they were smeared all over with some white preparation. 

"Stand aside, boy, " said the doctor--and for once his voice shookslightly. "Do not look again until I call to you. Turn your headaside!"

Silent with amazement, Robert Cairn obeyed. He heard his father liftout the iron box. He heard him open it, for he had already perceivedthat it was not locked. Then quite distinctly, he heard him close itagain, and replace it in the _cache_. 

"Do not turn, boy!" came a hoarse whisper. 

He did not turn, but waited, his heart beating painfully, for whatshould happen next. 

"Stand aside from the door, " came the order, "and when I have goneout, do not look after me. I will call to you when it is finished. "

He obeyed, without demur. 

His father passed him, and he heard him walking through the damp grassoutside the door of the barn. There followed an intolerable interval. From some place, not very distant, he could hear Dr. Cairn moving, hear the chink of glass upon glass, as though he were pouring outsomething from a stoppered bottle. Then a faint acrid smell was waftedto his nostrils, perceptible even above the heavy odour of the incensefrom the barn. 

"Relock the door!" came the cry. 

Robert Cairn reclosed the door, snapped the padlock fast, and began tofumble with the skeleton keys with which they had come provided. Hediscovered that to reclose the padlock was quite as difficult as toopen it. His hands were trembling too; he was all anxiety to see whathad taken place behind him. So that when at last a sharp click told ofthe task accomplished, he turned in a flash and saw his father placingtufts of grass upon a charred patch from which a faint haze of smokestill arose. He walked over and joined him. 

"What have you done, sir?"

"I have robbed him of his armour, " replied the doctor, grimly. Hisface was very pale, his eyes were very bright. "I have destroyed the_Book of Thoth_!"

"Then, he will be unable--"

"He will still be able to summon his dreadful servant, Rob. Havingsummoned him once, he can summon him again, but--"

"Well, sir?"

"He cannot control him. "

"Good God!"

 * * * * *

That night brought no repetition of the uncanny attack; and in thegrey half light before the dawn, Dr. Cairn and his son, themselveslike two phantoms, again crept across the field to the barn. 

The padlock hung loose in the ring. 

"Stay where you are, Rob!" cautioned the doctor. 

He gently pushed the door open--wider--wider--and looked in. There wasan overpowering odour of burning flesh. He turned to Robert, and spokein a steady voice. 

"The brood of the Witch-Queen is extinct!" he said. 

 * * * * *

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

THE MYSTERY OF DR. FU-MANCHUTHE DEVIL DOCTORTHE SI-FAN MYSTERIESTHE YELLOW CLAWEXPLOITS OF CAPT. O'HAGANTALES OF SECRET EGYPTTHE ROMANCE OF SORCERY

 * * * * *