He also asked after
his daughter, and thanked me warmly for my services. Soon afterwards he
dropped off into a tranquil slumber, and I spent the remainder of my
watch reading a _Review_. As I was not very tired I gave Miss Ottley
grace, and it was a quarter to one when I awakened her. She came out
looking as fresh as a rose, her cheeks scarlet from their plunge in
cool water and consequent towelling. She invited me to use her couch,
but I declined, and sought my accustomed corner. I slept like the
dead--for (I subsequently discovered) just about an hour. But then I
awoke choking and gasping for breath. I had an abominable sensation of
strong fingers clutched about my throat. At first all was dark before
me. But struggling afoot, the shadows receded from my eyes, and I saw
the lamp--a second afterwards, Miss Ottley. She stood with her back
against the further wall of the chamber, her hands outstretched as if
to repel an impetuous opponent; and her face was cast in an expression
of unutterable terror. "Miss Ottley!" I cried. She uttered a strangled scream, then staggered towards me. "Oh! thank
God--you were too strong--for him," she gasped. "He tried to kill
you--and I could not move nor cry." "Who?" I demanded. "The--the shadow." She caught my arms and gripped them with hysterical
vigour. I forced her to sit down and hurried to her father. He was sleeping
like a babe. I thought of the asphyxiating sensation I had experienced
and stepped gently to my sleeping corner. Kneeling down, I struck a
match. The flame burned steadily. Not carbonic acid gas then at all
events; but I tried the whole room to make sure, also the interior of
the sarcophagus, but without result. So far baffled, I stood up and
thought. What agency had been at work to disturb us? I made a tour of
the walls and examined the stones of their construction one by one. It seemed just possible that there might be a secret entrance to the
chamber; and some robber Arab acquainted with it might be employing
it for evil ends. But I was forced to abandon that idea like the
other. And no one had entered through the pylon, for the dust about
the doorway was absolutely impressionless. What then? I turned to Miss
Ottley. She was watching me with evidently painful expectation, her
hands tightly clasped. "What made you think the shadow wished to kill me?" I inquired. "I saw its face." "Oh! it has a face now, eh?" "The face of a devil; and long thin hands. It fastened them about your
throat." "My dear girl." "Don't be a fool," she retorted stormily; "what aroused you? Did you
hear me call?" I was confounded. "Very good," I said, "I admit the hands at least, for
the nonce, for truly I was half strangled. But what do you infer?" "Can human creatures make themselves invisible at will?" "My good Miss Ottley, no. But they can run away." "Do you want to see the shadow's face?" "Yes." "Then look on the lid of the sarcophagus and see its portrait in a
gentle mood." "Ptahmes!" I cried. "Ay, Ptahmes," she said slowly. "We are haunted by his spirit." I sat down on the edge of the sarcophagus and lit a cigarette. "I am quite at a present loss to explain my throttling," I observed,
"but that is the only mystery. I reject your shadow with the contempt
that it deserves. What you saw was some wandering Arab who hopped in
here without troubling to tread through the dust in the doorway and who
departed in the same fashion. Pish! There, too, is the mystery of my
throttling solved." "Perhaps," said she, "indeed I hope so." She was still trembling in
spasms. "Are you minded for the experiment?" I asked. "What is it?" "I wish to drive this foolish fancy from your mind." I took out my
revolver and showed it to her. "Spirits are said to love the dark best. Let us put out the lamp. It's their element. How, then, can we better
tempt old Ptahmes from his tomb?" I wound up with a laugh. "I can
promise him a warm reception." Miss Ottley shivered and grew if possible paler than before. But her
pride was equal to the challenge. "Very well," she said. I drew up a stool near hers, put out the lamp and sat down. When my
cigarette had burned out the darkness was blacker than the blackest
ebony. "An idea runs in my head that spirits respond most surely to silent
wooers," I murmured. "But I have no experience. Have you?" "N-no," said Miss Ottley. The poor girl was shivering with fear and too proud to admit it. I
sought about for a pretext to comfort her and found one presently. "Don't they join hands at a séance?" I inquired. "I--I--t-think so," said Miss Ottley. "Well, then." Our hands encountered. Hers was pitifully cold. I enclosed it firmly in
my left and held it on my knee. She sighed but ever so softly, trying
to prevent my hearing it. Thereafter we were silent for very long,
listening to the sick man's quiet breathing. No other sound was to be
heard. But soon Miss Ottley's hand grew warm, and the fingers twined
around mine. It felt a nice good little hand. It was very small, yet
firm and silken-smooth, and it possessed a strange electric quality. It made mine tingle--a distinctly pleasurable sensation. I fell into a
dreamy mood and I think I must have indulged in forty winks, when all
of a sudden Miss Ottley's hand aroused me. Her fingers were gripping
mine with the force of a vice. She was breathing hard. "What is it?" I whispered. "There is some--presence in the room," she gasped. "Don't you feel it?" [Illustration: The Living Mummy

Three paces off a man's face glowered at us

_Face Page 48_]

And as I live, I did. I struck a match and sprang afoot. Three
paces off a man's face glowered at us in the fitful glimmer of the
lucifer. Its characteristics were so unusual that it is not possible
ever to forget them. The eyes were large, dark and singularly dull. They were set at an extraordinary distance apart in the skull, six
inches, I should say, at least. But the head, though abnormally broad
thereabouts, tapered to a point in the chin and was cone-shaped above
the wide receding temples. The cheek bones were high and prominent. They shone in the match light almost white in contrast with the dark
skin of the more shaded portions of the countenance. The nose was
long and aquiline, but the nostrils were broad and compressed at the
base, pointing at negroid ancestry. The mouth, wide and thin-lipped,
was tightly shut. The chin was long, sharp and hairless. The ears were
bat-shaped. Recovering from my first shock of amazement, I addressed the intruder
in Arabic. "What are you doing here? What do you want?" I cried. He did not answer. Enraged, I started forward and hit out from the
shoulder. Striking air. The match went out. I lit another. The man had
vanished. I relighted the lamp and carefully examined the chamber. But
our visitor had not left the slightest sign of his intrusion. I shook my head and went over to Miss Ottley. She was leaning against
the wall with her eyes shut, her bosom heaving painfully. I touched her and she started--suppressing a shriek.