I
had no evidence to produce against him which the courts would not scorn
and ridicule. The attempt to convict him of the murder he had confessed
to me, would only result in branding me in all men's eyes as a lunatic. He would meanwhile be at liberty to go abroad to work his evil will
upon the world. He would very soon revenge himself upon me, and destroy
me in the same diabolically ingenious fashion, perhaps, in which he had
killed poor Weldon. And Miss Ottley would then be at his mercy, with
no man living to defend her. She might continue to resist him for a
time, but in the end a man so unscrupulous and implacably determined
would be sure to have his way. Able to make himself invisible--as I
believed he could--he might as a last resort rob her of her honour and
so bend her proud spirit to his wish. It was this thought that finally
determined me. I looked up and said quietly to the patient, waiting
Arab: "Ptahmes, son of Mery, son of Hap, once High Priest of Amen-Ra,
but now I know not what--I swear by the King of Earth and Heaven to
destroy the stele and papyri unread if I shall find them, to burn your
body and scatter the ashes, and to kill your enemy and mine." The dark, fixed, corpse-like face of the Arab turned forthwith from
me. He pressed the slate to his bosom with the stump of his left
wrist and with the right hand rubbed out the hieroglyphic writing. He
then glided over to the table and replaced the slate. I followed his
movements with the most passionate attention, expecting him to return
and immediately release me from my bonds. But he did no such thing. In
the contrary, he moved slowly forward to the great sarcophagus and to
my great astonishment I saw him climb over the edge and repose himself
within the tomb. Presently he had entirely vanished from my sight. I
could hardly credit my eyes. What was the meaning of his strange act? I waited for a few minutes, but he did not reappear. Then I called out
his name aloud: "Ptahmes! Ptahmes!" Nothing answered me. I racked my brains to string together an imploring sentence in the
ancient tongue of Egypt, and having fashioned one, I cried it forth
in tones of passionate entreaty, by turns commanding and beseeching
him to keep his pledge. And not once or twice, but a hundred times,
did I address him in these ways. But I might as well have cried out
to the stars. My efforts were all unavailing, and at length, wearied
out with them, I desisted and abandoned my remaining energy to the
bitter task of reactionary self-reviling. I caustically informed myself
that my brain had gone wandering. Thus until I was hot all over with
shame. Then in a more kindly spirit I cast about for excuses to salve
my intellectual vanity. I ascribed the whole wild dream that I had
dreamed to the blow my poor head had received last night. But all the
while, deep at heart, I did not believe I had dreamed. I pretended to,
in order to make sure that I still possessed a critical, scientific
faculty. But I did not believe it really. I could not. And this fact
is one more proof to me that faith in all its forms depends more upon
feeling than intellectual conviction. Chapter XXVI

A Pleasant Chat With a Murderer


I awoke so much refreshed and free from pain that I must have slept for
many hours. Belleville was pinching my shoulder. His black-visaged face
was curiously bilious-looking, and puffy purple hollows underhung his
eyes. "You didn't sleep thus on the banks of the Nile," he muttered, with a
sick man's frown. "You were wakeful enough then. One would think you
had been drugged." "Indeed," said I. "But I had need to be wakeful then." "Who set on the light," he demanded. "I swear I left you in dark. Who
has been here?" "Your Arab," I replied. "He swept out the room and gave me a drink. Then he climbed into the sarcophagus yonder, and unless he went away
while I slept, there you'll find him." The rascal looked perfectly astounded. "My Arab!" he repeated, staring
sharply into my eyes. Then of a sudden he turned and simply rushed over
to the big lead coffin. Stooping over the edge, he peeped into the
interior and seemed to be shifting something with his hands. His back
was all I saw, but it moved to and fro, and he strained on tiptoe. When
he stood up his face was scarlet and his eyes were troubled. "Swept the
room, you said, and gave you a drink?" he muttered half to himself. With that he took to examining the floor, crawling on hands and knees. His peregrinations took him behind me, and what he did there or found
there I do not know; but he rapped out an oath and I heard him pacing
up and down, swearing in an angry undertone. So five minutes passed,
then he stalked into my view and showed me a very troubled and a very
angry countenance. "You asked my Arab for a drink?" he cried. "I did," said I. "In English?" "What else?" "Did he answer you?" "In the kindliest fashion possible. He assuaged my thirst." "Blast him!" cried Belleville, all of a tremble with rage. "The villain
has been tricking me. Like enough I've loosed a force I'll yet have to
reckon with." "I don't comprehend," said I. "Nor need you," he rapped back. "Shut your mouth till I address you or
I'll cut your prying tongue out." The rascal was beside himself, that
was evident. And since I was quite at his mercy I thought it best to
do his bidding. He clapped a hand to his head and rushed once more to
the sarcophagus. He glared over the edge for a minute, then turned and
flung out his arms. "For two pins I'd do it now," he gasped. "Cut him
to pieces and burn the parts. It's doubtful if I'll ever get more good
out of him. But if I do that I'll kill the chance. And yet he's played
me false already. Been laughing in his sleeve at me! But no--he can't
have meant hurt or he'd have freed the prisoner. As easy that as fetch
him a drink. No doubt he was asked. Yet he's not to be trusted now,
that is evident. I'll have to gaol him, too. Let's see!" He crossed the room and caught hold of the lid of the sarcophagus; but
do what he could he was unable to shift it. I regarded his efforts
with a deal of secret amusement. He emerged from the struggle panting
and with disordered dress, and his temper in a molten glow. But he was
not beaten. Leaving the lid alone, he wheeled a big lounge over to the
sarcophagus and, tipping it on edge, heaved it up athwart the mouth. Then he piled everything of weight he could find atop of the lounge and
soon he had built up a pyramid which would have taken a Hercules to
shift, if shut up in the sarcophagus beneath. It was then that I began
to feel I had been a notable fool in telling Belleville anything about
the "Arab." But it was little use crying over spilt milk. His labours over, the rascal sank into a chair before me, and began
fanning his hot face with a piece of cardboard. "Now for our business," he presently observed. "You've probably come to
some decision, Pinsent. I wait to hear it." "Well," I said, "the thing is in a nutshell.