the advantage i possessed was dangerously minimised by my physical incapacity, but i hoped, given time, to get back some measure of strength. the great thing was to preserve my liberty until i had acquired force enough to use it. i speedily realised that i could not remain where i was, for belleville was making towards me and reflection would soon teach him that weakness would compel me to seek a prop for my support. but i feared to move lest the sound should betray my whereabouts. for the same reason i almost feared to breathe. i thought to myself, "oh, that he would fire again so that i could move elsewhere under cover of the noise."

once or twice he seemed to look me in the eye. he made a zigzag to my chair. there he paused and listened. i ceased to breathe. only six feet separated us. but impatience consumed him. "tell me where you are!" he growled, "or by the lord when i catch you i'll tear you limb from limb." i breathed while he spoke and ceased when he stopped.

"you can't escape me!" he snarled. "i've only[pg 276] to light my blue lamp and i'll find you in a minute. but if you put me to that trouble and make me waste my precious oil besides, well, look out, that's all!"

i clenched and unclenched my hands; the use of them was coming back to me.

"very well," said belleville. he passed my chair and stalked to the other end of the room, where he opened a cabinet. i moved slowly and painfully to the very centre of the room. then i stood stock still. belleville, returning, paused within a foot of me. he carried a bull's-eye lanthorn. this he put upon the table, and presently he struck a match. a moment later a round shaft of intense blue radiance shot across the room and marked a moon-shaped sphere on the wall. it began to flit along the wall, up and down from the very floor to the height of a man's chest, until it touched the corner. then it flashed back twice over the same path, and afterwards attacked the next wall. sooner or later it would be bound to encounter and, perhaps, discover me. but belleville was only a few feet off. perhaps if i sank down the shaft would pass over me without touching. at least i could try. suppressing a shriek of agony, i crouched upon my hands and knees. then came another thought. slowly and laboriously i began to crawl nearer and nearer to my enemy. the blue shaft was now shooting right over my head. i crept behind him and, breathing noiselessly, stood[pg 277] up. if i had possessed a tithe of my strength i might have reached out and caught his neck and strangled him with ease. but i dared not risk it. all on a sudden he uttered an oath. the lamp had gone out. "damn the thing!" he growled. putting down his revolver on the table, he opened the lamp and peered in at the smoking wick. we were now face to face and his cocked weapon lay within eighteen inches of my hand. i tried my fingers and found that they were reasonably supple. the blood was streaming through the puffy veins and vesicles. the operation hurt horribly; in fact, i was one mass of crude, raw, painful man flesh. but now i was full of hope and despite the muscular torments of returning animation i felt that my vigour was returning. belleville snuffed the wick and struck a match along the table. the head came off. he took another and rubbed it on the sole of his shoe, stooping slightly to do so. as he moved i reached out and twined my fingers round the hilt of his revolver. but i had not the strength to lift it up. i cannot paint the agony of that experience. i exerted every atom of my will, but my hand was like a putty puppet. tantalus never suffered torture half as keen. withdrawing my hand, i put the fingers in my mouth and sucked the still half-lifeless digits. meanwhile, the lamp flickered alight; belleville took up his revolver and resumed his task. i watched him hungrily. the blue shaft once more began to play and stab the[pg 278] walls. it darted hither and thither, like an incandescent elf, dancing up and down and round and round, and into every hole and cranny of the room. but it did not find me out, because moving round and round the table as belleville moved i always kept behind him. but this could not last for ever, and, indeed, the end came too soon. belleville uttered suddenly a savage curse and swung round full upon me. perhaps i had made some sound that had betrayed me to his nerve-strained senses. i do not know. he cried, "ha! at last," and fired point blank. the bullet whistled past my temple. the smoke of the discharge flamed blue in the rays of the lanthorn. i fell upon the table and thrust it like a ram with all my force against my adversary. he fired again and once more missed, but ere he could repeat his tactics the table struck him and the lanthorn fell. he staggered back and the lanthorn rolled underneath the table. i pushed the table forward and kicked the lanthorn with my foot. it went out. belleville, recovering his equilibrium, stood like an image peering straight at me and listening. yet he did not see me: and for the moment i was safe, for the table was between us. but the man had brains. judging swiftly where i was most likely to be, he gave an unexpected spring and vaulted clear across the obstacle. i had just time to step back ere he landed. he swung his arms about like flails, but failing immediately to find me, his ugly temper must needs[pg 279] flare up in curses. it was just what i needed to cover the sound of my movements. i evaded him and returned to the table, and then he knew not where i was. in a few moments he realised his folly and, once more relapsing into silence, he took up his lamp. but the oil had either been wasted or was exhausted. the wick refused to catch. he groaned out a blasphemous oath on this discovery, and rushed down to the cabinet, from which first he had procured the lanthorn. i followed him as swiftly as i could, having care to make no sound, and while he was filling the lamp with oil from a beautifully carven vase of solid gold egyptian ware of the fifteenth dynasty, i once more put my hand upon the hilt of his revolver, which he had momentarily laid upon the edge of the cabinet. but this time i found i could hold and use it, too. shadow-like, i caught it up and put my finger on the trigger. then i backed away a yard or two and leaned upon a case of glass and steel.

"belleville!" said i.

he started as though an adder had stung him, then seeing his pistol gone, he let both vase and lanthorn fall in his dismay and swung on heel to face my voice.

"it's my turn now," i muttered. "hands above your head—up, man, up—higher—higher!" he saw the muzzle pointing at his breast and sullenly obeyed. i made him walk backwards to the chair that formerly had prisoned me and sit in it. and[pg 280] then, the steel pressed to his ear to keep him still, i managed, with one hand, to pass a strap around his throat and buckle it. afterwards i similarly bound his wrists and ankles. when all was done i was so sore spent, so hideously full of weary pain, that i lay upon the floor and sank immediately into a troubled sleep. belleville woke me with his struggles to get free. somehow or other he had pryed himself on tiptoe backward, and the heavy chair, overbalancing, had dragged him over in its fall. that i had not heard, but the weight of iron and his own body was all curiously pressed upon one forearm, and the pain of it set him groaning like a wounded bull. the strangest thing of all was that this arm was free. somehow or other he had writhed it loose. after i had tied it up again i sat down to think what i should do. i was not, however, in the mood to sit in judgment on him then, for although much stronger from my sleep, the exertion hurt, and every pang i suffered was too powerful an advocate of vengeance to let me try the rascal soberly. i needed food and drink. not finding any in the room, i tried the door and after some short search, made out its fastening—a simple but clever slip of prodigious strength. i found the key to it in belleville's pocket. he was madly anxious to be made acquainted with his fate, but i turned a deaf ear to all his questions, and slipping out of the room, i slammed the door on his solicitations. i found myself in a long, blind [pg 281]passage, lighted with a single jet, with another padded door set in its farthest end. this opened to the same key as the first. it gave me egress on a second passage, which led by three right angles to a big velvet-draped arch and a bifurcated maze of broad-balconied corridors. here i saw the natural light of day for the first time in more than a week. ah! how i revelled in it. i stopped before an open window and peered forth on a walled courtyard and the blank, tall wall of a neighbouring mansion beyond. street sounds percolated to my ears. it was like coming back to life from the grave. drawing back from the window, after some deep, delicious moments, i looked to find my body and my hands and feet. but i could not see aught but vague, delusive shadows, though the sunbeams glistened on me. the phenomenon filled me with a new sense of marvel and uncertainty. i had to pinch myself to make sure i was not a disembodied phantom—such stuff as dreams are made of. yet i was real enough to touch, thank heaven. reassured, i made for the nearest door and softly tried it. within was a man's bedroom—belleville's, perhaps. it was untenanted. the next apartment was a sitting-room. it was also untenanted, but it contained a table, cover-spread for two. with a sigh of joy, i entered and hurried to the table. under the first cover was a cold partridge pie. i did not touch the others, but, lord, how i enjoyed that pie! i might have been a wolf—and then[pg 282] champagne! later, seduced by an open cigar-box on the mantel, i threw myself upon a lounge and lit a weed. in ten minutes i was my own man again, and almost comfortable, for the torments that had racked my wretched muscles on reawakening from their tethered lethargy, were disappearing fast. but i was not permitted longer rest. warned by a tap on the door, i had barely time to toss my cigar into the grate, when the door opened and a short, squat negro stepped into the room. he carried a salver of sweetmeats to the table; he stopped short and uttered a guttural exclamation of surprise. next instant he was joined by a companion, but no negro, an arab, a tall, thin arab, who was the living counterpart of the mummified corpse of ptahmes i had left in the laboratory, and of the mysterious scoundrel who had attempted my life in the cave temple at rakh, and at my camp on the banks of the nile. i was so utterly astounded that i wonder i did not shout out my amazement.

the negro spoke in arabic. "by allah, he has eaten and alone," he cried. "now tell me, ptahmes, how a man shall serve a master with so little feeling for his servants."

the arab stalked solemnly over to the table and eyed the ruined pie.

"he hungered. he ate. may his shadow increase," he drawled.

"for my part," retorted the nubian, with an ill-natured scowl, "his shadow may wither and i shall not grieve. it is impossible to please him."

[pg 283]

"his gold is good and hard and yellow and much," said the arab, in a sort of sing-song.

"add to that ill-got," replied the negro, "and i shall be an echo to your speech. natamkin tells me that the lady weeps still, though no more a prisoner, and he took her forth into his whirling babel town this morning. he has put a spell on her to deprive her of her gold."

"what matter if he shares it with his slaves?" demanded the arab.

"i fear him," said the nubian.

"i also," drawled the arab. "but guard your idle tongue uromi! he may be listening to us now."

the negro shuddered and made as if to hastily depart. but the arab laughed, and he stopped looking both angry and ashamed.

"allah!" he exclaimed, "you laugh, but you may have spoken true."

"ugh!" said the arab, "he has bigger fish to fry—the white man you enticed into the room of wonders dies to-day."

"you—know that, ptahmes!"

"ay—i am to help him to embalm the body. now i think of it, i wonder he has eaten. i was to stir the pot while he made merry with the lady over wine—the unbelieving dog. at one of the clock he ordered me to go to him. 'tis almost time."

"will you not fear to stay alone in that great room of magic, ptahmes?"

[pg 284]

"like enough, uromi, but i shall think me of the pay and work with tight-shut eyes till he returns."

"what has he promised you?"

"five pieces of gold, uromi. do you covet them?"

"i would not cross the threshold of that room for ten times five."

"you have a chicken's heart, uromi."

"and you a miser's gizzard."

the arab uttered a sardonic laugh. "get to your woman's work!" he sneered. "and clear those things away! you had better tell natamkin to serve the lady in her room!"

"and you—oh, great lord!" growled the nubian, with elephantine sarcasm.

the arab, however, did not trouble himself to answer. with a mien of princely dignity he stalked in silence to the door and vanished.

i said to myself, "there, without doubt, goes the man who, in the nick of time, released me from my bonds. he is my friend." the reflection gave me substantial satisfaction, for much against my will i had hitherto been compelled to ascribe my salvation to a supernatural agency. but now all was changed. without doubt the arab had been secretly watching over me, and when the time came he turned out the lights, rushed into the laboratory and unfastened my straps. afterwards, he had adroitly managed to escape before belleville could[pg 285] turn on the lights again. no doubt, too, this arab was the man of my dream, who had bargained with me to kill belleville when i got free, to destroy the mummy of ptahmes, the priest of amen-ra—and his papyri and steles. why he should have driven such a bargain i could not fathom. and why, moreover, he should have taken the trouble to impersonate the mummy and pretend he could not speak, i was also at a loss to understand. suddenly i remembered that the animated mummy of my dream had conversed with me in the tongue of ancient egypt per medium of a slate and had seemed not to understand modern arabic. also, his left hand had been removed—and this arab enjoyed the undiminished use of his. my head whirled at the contemplation of these essential contradictions. were they one and the same man or not? was it possible that belleville's arab servant could be a professor of the language of sesostris? and i recollected, too, how closely i had scrutinised the ghostly mummy's face and realised its utter deadness. the mystery, after all, was not to be as easily solved as my first warm flush of fancy had conceived. realising this, i put it out of mind and arose to address myself to the practical affair that lay before me. the nubian was in the act of quitting the room, laden with a heavy tray of dishes. i followed him out into the corridor and leisurely made back to the laboratory. i met nobody en route, but once inside the blind[pg 286] passage, which opened on my old prison chamber, i became aware that something had gone wrong. the air was heavy with the mysterious scent of the sarcophagus. moreover, the door of the laboratory which i had been careful to shut close was now ajar. instinctively, i slipped the key i had just used on the outer door, into my mouth and hurried softly up the passage. there a bewildering surprise awaited me. the laboratory was apparently untenanted by living beings. the mummy of ptahmes still lay upon the couch. the straps which had fastened belleville to the chair were all unfastened and belleville himself had disappeared. yet there were noises in the room, noises of footfalls and the tinkling of glass. presently i saw a large glass phial move quietly from a marble slab and stand poised in air. a second later the stopper, which had been laid beside it, sprang up, too, and settled neatly in the phial's mouth. then the bottle leaped up high into the air and settled, with mysterious precision, on a shelf. i stared at these wonders half-understanding, half-dazed. but soon i comprehended all. belleville's voice speaking in arabic came to me through the hush.

"that will do, i think. there only remains for us to steal upon him now and take him by surprise. serve me well in this, ptahmes, and i shall treble your reward."

"the man is of iron strength, master," answered the arab's voice. "it is true that we are two to[pg 287] one and he is unsuspicious, but i should like well to have a knife."

"nonsense," retorted belleville. "i cannot make steel invisible. we must needs trust to the sandbags. now lead on to the lady's room and take care from this moment that you make no sound."

on this i left the doorway and, slipping into the opposite corner, pressed flat against the wall. presently the door creaked open and i heard the noise of breathing. i followed it as gently as a shadow, halting sharply when i could not hear it or it grew too near. i was weaponless—for i had left belleville's revolver in the laboratory ere for the first time leaving it. but still, i dared not arm myself, for to have done so would have given my adversaries, sooner or later, a certain clue to my position; and my only hope of worsting them now consisted in preserving my absolute invisibility and at the same time knowing where, in the general sense, they were. my first great difficulty arose in the passage of the outer door. i dared not slip out with them, and since they locked it after them, i was forced to wait some time before i deemed it safe to open it again. thus, when i reached the outer passage there was absolutely nothing left to guide my steps. however, i hurried to the arch and thence looked forth along the bifurcated corridor. seeing and hearing nothing, i sank to the floor, and like an indian pressed my ear against[pg 288] the boards. one far-off panel a little later creaked distinctly. wood, though carpeted, is a fine sound conductor. this gave me the direction. hot foot i followed it. but soon i came to a corner and beyond a short, wide cul-de-sac, with three closed doors. here i stopped with straining ears and listened with a beating heart and bated breath. the conspirators were there, beyond the scope of doubt; and presently i knew the door they wished to pass. i saw the handle turn and heard a sigh. "locked," murmured a voice in english—then in arabic it breathed. "keep closely by me, ptahmes, hold my coat!" three sharp raps followed on the panels. a voice that thrilled me, asked within the room, "who is there?"

a voice, the cleverly twisted voice of belleville, answered in a sharp falsetto from without, "it is i, my dear young lady, sir philip lang."

the door was immediately opened and i saw the sad face of my sweetheart.

"sir philip!" she cried—then, seeing no one, she stopped, dismayed. of a sudden she uttered a shriek and fell back into the room, back, back, clasping her hands to her neck and struggling to cry out. i guessed the reason instantly—belleville had seized her by the throat. i sprang to her assistance, but paused again—by a miracle, in time—just across the threshold. miss ottley—i shall not, cannot call her mrs. belleville, though, indeed, she was—went spinning across the room,[pg 289] free, i saw. i slipped along the wall beside the lintel and waited, holding breath. what next? the door slammed and the bolt shot in answer to my question. then came a long silence. miss ottley stood beside the farthest wall, supporting herself on the back of a saddle-bag chair, a picture of horror and fear personified. i would have given all the world for liberty to soothe her fears, to take her in my arms and comfort her. but it was not to be. everything depended on my cunning and my silence. tearing my glances from her ashen face, i looked around the room. it was her bedroom. the bed occupied one corner. beside the canopy was an open window through which the light streamed in, striking full upon the door. against another wall stood a duchesse toilet table and a huge bemirrored clothes chest of carven ivory and ebony. the floor was covered with a thick pile carpet of dark crimson hue. the window curtains were of purple velvet. the bed's canopy of crimson silk. the walls were painted black and gold. it was, indeed, a mourning chamber.

"who is it—who is it?" gasped the white-faced, black-robed mourner. i glanced at her again and saw that one hand was pressed tightly to her side.

no answer coming, she repeated her demand with more composure. then a curious thing happened. a board creaked, and looking swiftly at the floor, i saw the imprint of a foot marked in the pile.[pg 290] it vanished and the pile sprang up again resiliently, but, twenty inches farther onward towards the girl, a second sole-shaped hollow formed itself and there remained. an instant's flashing search disclosed three others. i now knew for certain the position of my enemies, and with a wild heart-throb of joy i nerved myself for action. the shape of the footmarks showed me that both men faced the girl, and that they were standing about a yard apart. with two noiseless strides, i stepped behind the rearmost. then i stooped and seized a pair of hard, lean thighs and heaved a body up and sent it hurling through the air above the second set of footprints. "i've got you again, you dog!" i cried; then stepped back swift and noiseless to my former place. the trick was perfectly successful. silent, save for their heavy breathing and the trembling of their feet, the rascals writhed and stamped about the room, locked, doubtless, in a close embrace, although i could not see them. as for me, i slipped presently to a chair, caught it up, and guided by a sound, i brought it crashing down upon the head of one of them. there followed a heavy groan, then a dagger blade flashed out of nothingness and once, twice, thrice, it rose and fell. murder was being done before my eyes, but i had only half a mind to stay it, and indeed, before i could the knife had vanished into mist again, and all to be seen was a dark flow of scarlet fluid that welled in air and sank upon the carpet.[pg 291] i waited spellbound. which was alive—which was dead?

belleville's voice put the question at rest suddenly. "well done, ptahmes," he gasped in arabic. "he had me throttled when you struck. you shall have fifty pounds for this day's work."

"thanks, good master." i returned and edged towards his voice. but at that moment miss ottley fell in a swoon, and death could hardly have availed to keep me from her side. with a bound i was across the room, and in another second she was in my arms.

belleville must have seen, but thinking me the arab, instead of chiding, he commended me. "carry her to the laboratory," he commanded. "i'll follow with this carrion. we must dispose of it. nay, wait. i'll go first. damn him, how he bleeds!" he added in english. then a little later, "he is wonderfully light for so tall and strong a man."

by then he must have had the arab's body in his arms. i heard heavy footfalls stamping to the door. carrying my burden, i followed them. the door opened and we both passed out. i hated the thought of taking my sweetheart to that room of horror, but i could not bear to leave her where she had been so terrified, to recover by herself. and in the next place i did not dare to let belleville even for a moment out of my reach. he would soon be bound to discover his mistake and then the fight would be renewed with the advantage all on[pg 292] his side, since he was armed with a weapon, which, it was evident, he could conceal till the time came for using it. prudence demanded that i should seize and disarm belleville before his suspicions became excited. prudence also demanded that i should leave my sweetheart somewhere on the journey. but i could not bring myself to do the latter, her face so near to mine, her breath upon my lips. that is why i went to the laboratory, and why i took her with me.