It is
surmounted by a crown of jet-black hair that has recently been cut. It tapers like a cone above the temples and again like an inverted
cone from the cheek bones to the chin. The nose is long and hooked
like the beak of an eagle. The eyes are closed; I cannot see them. But
they are almond shaped and set far apart in the skull. The mouth is
shrivelled and almost shapeless. The chin is long and pointed. The skin
is dark brown, almost black. It looks unhealthy. The body is clothed
in ordinary European garments. One arm is fastened in a sling. The
chest is, underneath the clothes, swathed in bandages. On the feet
are fastened rubber shoes, on the soles of which are particles of
fresh-dried mud. That is all." "Proceed!" said Miss Ottley. "There are living people in the room, are
there not?" "Two," replied the medium after a short pause. "One is seated before
the table poring over a torn piece of papyrus. Beside him on the table
is a dictionary of hieroglyphics to which he constantly refers. He is
a big, thick-set man with black eyes, strongly marked features, and a
black bushy beard. In his hand is a pen. He writes with this pen upon
the paper before him. He is engaged in translating the papyrus. Ha! he
stops. He is looking up at his companion. He is speaking." "What does he say?" "He says, 'I cannot altogether reconcile our subject's statements
with the records, Ottley. Either in his long sleep his memory has
somewhat failed him, or in his sleep he has learnt more than he knew
before. It is most annoying; we shall have to question him again.' The
other--a little old man, with white hair and very bright small grey
eyes--replies, 'You are too damned pernicketty, Doctor. Haven't we the
formula, and hasn't it nobly stood the test of practical experience? What more do you want? Your infernal curiosity would ruin everything if
I let you have your way. Once for all I tell you that Ptahmes belongs
to me, not to you. Damn your science! You've had enough out of him. I'll not allow him to be used again except for my purposes. He has
disappointed me with the elixir. Well, he'll have to atone by making
me the richest man in the universe. I'll not be satisfied till every
shilling in the world belongs to me--every shilling--every shilling.' The little man is now laughing like a lunatic. The big man watches him
with a frown, bending his big black brows together. 'But you fool!' he says very angrily, 'do you forget that these things here--' he
points to the body of Ptahmes--'will soon wear out? Every time that
you drive it to work the friction sheds into dust a portion of its
matter. Is it not better to use its brain than its body? Remember that
we cannot repair his tissues. Unless we make absolutely certain of the
composition of the invisible oil while we have the chance, we may be
left stranded in the end. His body is of secondary importance after
all. It serves you now, but you can just as well serve yourself by
using the oil and doing your own dirty business. But the thing is to
make sure of learning how to replenish the oil when our stock gives
out. That is the all-important matter. And that is why his brain is of
paramount interest to me, and should be to you.' "The little man says,--'I won't have it, I tell you, we know enough!' The big man replies,--'Be sensible, Ottley! Remember he lost five
pounds in weight yesterday! He is melting away before our eyes. Come! I'll make you a proposal. Let me do what I like with Ptahmes and I'll
take his place for your money-making purposes. I'll be the ghost of
the Stock Exchange and find out all you want to know. Now, what can be
fairer than that?' "The little man is biting his lip. He seems to be thinking," (there was
a pause in the narration). Presently Navarro went on. "The little man
speaks again; he says:--'That is all very well, Doctor, but you know
as well as I do--that you intend to use Ptahmes to destroy your rival. You haven't the courage to do it yourself.' The big man answers very
quickly, 'And are you brave enough to tackle Pinsent? Yet his existence
threatens all our plans. I firmly believe he has a notion of our ideas
already. He is no fool and an adept at putting two and two together. Do you suppose he hasn't guessed at the reason of the success of your
enormous transactions on 'Change?' The little man grinds his teeth. 'Curse him!' he shouts. 'Curse him to Hell!' The big man smiles. 'With
all my heart,' he says, 'may he rot there for ever and ever! But all
this proves to us how careful we should be of the waning strength of
our magician. Remember the last time he tried odds with Pinsent on the
Nile he got all the worst of the encounter. Three broken ribs! It's
true we are more advanced in knowledge since then, and now we can make
him quite invisible. But all the same we cannot afford to trifle with
the strength of our subject, considering the two great tasks before
him.' --Ah!----"

The last expression was a groan. The medium moved restlessly, then
groaned again. "Proceed! I command you!" said Miss Ottley in a trembling voice. But Navarro for a third time groaned, and he began to struggle on the
couch. "Oh, God! he is waking up!" cried the girl. "Hold his hands tightly,
Frankfort. He must tell us more! He must, he must!" But Navarro with a sudden spasmodic writhe and twist, broke away and
sat erect. He was shaking like a man in an ague, and he began to pant
and groan like a wounded animal. Miss Ottley gasped "Too late!" and wrung her hands. I handed the medium a glass of water, but he was trembling too
violently to take it of himself. He spilt half the contents on his
knee. I forced the rest into his mouth. It revived him. A little later
he stood up. He was bathed in perspiration, and looked sick. But he
rejected all offers of assistance. He seemed to be very angry. He
declared that we had treated him most cruelly, and that we might have
killed him. He would not be appeased, and he went off in the care of a
footman filled with petulant resentment and mouthing stupid threats. It may have been a pose, part of his "business" intended for effect to
impress his clients;--probably it was. But I am not sure. He certainly
seemed to be in a highly over-wrought, nervous condition; he could not
easily have affected that. After he had gone we all sat back in our chairs and stared at one
another. Nobody was in the least haste to speak; we had so much to
think about; and it was plain that "Fancy"--"Well, I never!" and
ejaculations of that ilk did not even begin to meet the conversational
demands of the occasion. Lady Helen was the first to speak. She said, "Well, I am trying hard to be an ideal hostess and not ask
any questions that might seem impertinent. But will someone tell me, is
it Sir Robert Ottley and Dr. Belleville who are making preparations
for Dr. Pinsent's funeral.