



Produced by Mary Glenn Krause, Martin Pettit and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) [Illustration:

The Living Mummy

I swear by the King of Heaven & of Earth--

_Frontispiece_   _Page 244_]




_The_ Living Mummy

BY
AMBROSE PRATT

_With Four Illustrations in Color by_
LOUIS D. FANCHER

[Illustration: Decoration]

_SECOND EDITION_

NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS


Copyright, 1910, by FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

_All rights reserved_

[Illustration: Logo _February, 1910_]




THE LIVING MUMMY




CONTENTS

CHAPTER                                       PAGE
     I. CONCERNING THE SON OF HAP                1

    II. A PATIENT OF THE DESERT                 13

   III. TWO LIES                                25

    IV. THE SARCOPHAGUS'S PERFUME               29

     V. THE SHADOW IN THE CAVE                  42

    VI. ENTER DOCTOR BELLEVILLE                 53

   VII. THE ONE GODDESS                         62

  VIII. OTTLEY SHOWS HIS HAND                   75

    IX. A COOL DEFIANCE                         90

     X. THE CAPTURE OF THE COFFIN               96

    XI. GOOD-BYE TO THE NILE                   104

   XII. THE MEETING                            111

  XIII. HUBBARD IS JEALOUS                     124

   XIV. THE PUSHFUL MAN                        131

    XV. A QUAINT LOVE PACT                     138

   XVI. LADY HELEN PRESCRIBES FOR HER HUSBAND  145

  XVII. THE SÉANCE                             155

 XVIII. THE UNSEEN                             173

   XIX. THE FIRST VICTIM                       184

    XX. LADY HELEN'S MEDICINE OPERATES         193

   XXI. HUBBARD'S PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE           204

  XXII. THE DEAD HAND                          211

 XXIII. I SET OUT FOR THE EAST                 220

  XXIV. THE GIN IS SPRUNG                      226

   XXV. THE MUMMY TALKS                        238

  XXVI. A PLEASANT CHAT WITH A MURDERER        246

 XXVII. UNBOUND                                262

XXVIII. THE STRUGGLE IN THE CHAMBER            275

  XXIX. SAVED BY FIRE                          293

   XXX. THE LAST                               305




THE LIVING MUMMY




Chapter I

Concerning the Son of Hap


I was hard at work in my tent. I had almost completed translating
the inscription of a small stele of Amen-hotep III, dated B. C.,
1382, which with my own efforts I had discovered, and I was feeling
wonderfully self-satisfied in consequence, when of a sudden I heard a
great commotion without. Almost immediately the tent flap was lifted,
and Migdal Abu's black face appeared. He looked vastly excited for an
Arab, and he rolled his eyes horribly. "What do you want?" I demanded
irritably. "Did I not tell you I was not to be disturbed?" He bent almost double. "Excellency--a white sheik has come riding on an
ass, and with him a shameless female, also white." "The dickens!" I exclaimed, for I had not seen a European for nine
weeks. Migdal Abu advanced with hand outstretched. "Excellency, he would have
me give you this." I took "this," and swore softly underbreath at the humourless
pomposity of my unknown countryman. It was a pasteboard
carte-de-visite. And we--in the heart of the Libyan desert! With a laugh I looked at the thing and read his name--"Sir Robert
Ottley." "What!" I said, then sprang a-foot. Ottley the great Egyptologist. Ottley the famous explorer. Ottley the eminent decipherer of cuneiform
inscriptions. Ottley the millionaire whose prodigality in the cause of
learning had in ten short years more than doubled the common stock of
knowledge of the history of the Shepherd kings of the Nile. I had been
longing since a lad to meet him, and now he had come unasked to see me
out on the burning sands of Yatibiri. Trembling with excitement, I caught up a jacket, and hardly waiting to
thrust my arms into the sleeves, rushed out of the tent. Before me, sitting on an ass that was already sound asleep, despite a
plague of flies that played about its eyes, was a little bronze-faced,
grizzled old man attired from head to foot in glistening white duck
and wearing on his head an enormous pith helmet. My Arabs, glad of an
excuse to cease work, squatted round him in a semi-circle. "Sir Robert Ottley!" I cried. "A thousand welcomes." "You are very good," he drawled. "I presume you are Dr. Pinsent." "At your service." He stooped a little forward and offered me his hand. "Will you not dismount?" I asked. "Thank you, no. I have come to ask a favour." Then he glanced round him
and began deliberately to count my Arabs. I surveyed him in blank astonishment. He possessed a large hawk-like
nose, a small thin-lipped mouth and little eyes twinkling under brows
that beetled. "Twelve, and two of them are good for nothing; mere weeds," said Sir
Robert. Then he turned to me with a smile. "You will forgive me?" he asked,
adding quickly, "but then Arabs are cattle. There was no personal
reflection." "A cup of coffee," I suggested. "The sun is dreadful. It would refresh
you." "The sun is nothing," he replied, "and I have work to do. I am camped
on the southern slope of the Hill of Rakh. It is twelve miles. I have
found the tomb for which I have been searching seven years. I thought I
had enough Arabs. I was mistaken." "You may have the use of mine and welcome," I observed. He gave a queer little bow. "He gives twice who gives quickly. The
sarcophagus is in a rock hole forty feet beneath the level of the
desert. I simply must have it up to-night." "They shall start at once, and I shall go with them; I am as strong
as six," I replied. Then I shouted some orders to Migdal Abu. When I
turned it was to gasp. A woman had materialised from the sunbeams. I
had completely forgotten that Sir Robert had a female companion. All
my eyes had been for him. I swung off my hat and stammered some tardy
words of welcome and invitation. Sir Robert interrupted me. "My daughter--Dr. Pinsent," he drawled in
slow, passionless tones. "My daughter does not require any refreshment,
thank you, Doctor." "I am too excited," said a singularly sweet voice. "Father's discovery
has put me into a fever. I really could not eat, and coffee would choke
me. But if you could give me a little water." I rushed into my tent and returned with a brimming metal cup. "The
Arabs have broken all my glass ware," I said apologetically. She lifted her veil and our eyes met. She was lovely. She smiled and
showed a set of dazzling teeth. The incisors were inlaid with gold. I
remarked the fact in a sort of self-defensive panic, for the truth is
I am a shy idiot with pretty women. Thank goodness she was thirsty and
did not notice my confusion. Two minutes afterwards I was mounted on
my donkey, and we were off on the long tramp to the Hill of Rakh, the
Arabs trailing behind us in a thin ill-humoured line.