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." "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?" "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
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 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 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.