Then again, just think; it was men who embalmed her. They didn’t
have women’s rights or lady doctors in ancient Egypt, my dear! And
besides,” he went on more freely, seeing that she was accepting his
argument, if not yielding to it, “we men are accustomed to such things. Corbeck and I have unrolled a hundred mummies; and there were as many
women as men amongst them. Doctor Winchester in his work has had to
deal with women as well of men, till custom has made him think nothing
of sex. Even Ross has in his work as a barrister...”  He stopped
suddenly. “You were going to help too!” she said to me, with an indignant look. I said nothing; I thought silence was best. Mr. Trelawny went on
hurriedly; I could see that he was glad of interruption, for the part
of his argument concerning a barrister’s work was becoming decidedly
weak:

“My child, you will be with us yourself. Would we do anything which
would hurt or offend you? Come now! be reasonable! We are not at a
pleasure party. We are all grave men, entering gravely on an
experiment which may unfold the wisdom of old times, and enlarge human
knowledge indefinitely; which may put the minds of men on new tracks of
thought and research. An experiment,” as he went on his voice
deepened, “which may be fraught with death to any one of us—to us all! We know from what has been, that there are, or may be, vast and unknown
dangers ahead of us, of which none in the house today may ever see the
end. Take it, my child, that we are not acting lightly; but with all
the gravity of deeply earnest men! Besides, my dear, whatever feelings
you or any of us may have on the subject, it is necessary for the
success of the experiment to unswathe her. I think that under any
circumstances it would be necessary to remove the wrappings before she
became again a live human being instead of a spiritualised corpse with
an astral body. Were her original intention carried out, and did she
come to new life within her mummy wrappings, it might be to exchange a
coffin for a grave! She would die the death of the buried alive! But
now, when she has voluntarily abandoned for the time her astral power,
there can be no doubt on the subject.”

Margaret’s face cleared. “All right, Father!” she said as she kissed
him. “But oh! it seems a horrible indignity to a Queen, and a woman.”

I was moving away to the staircase when she called me:

“Where are you going?”  I came back and took her hand and stroked it as
I answered:

“I shall come back when the unrolling is over!”  She looked at me long,
and a faint suggestion of a smile came over her face as she said:

“Perhaps you had better stay, too! It may be useful to you in your
work as a barrister!”  She smiled out as she met my eyes:  but in an
instant she changed. Her face grew grave, and deadly white. In a far
away voice she said:

“Father is right! It is a terrible occasion; we need all to be serious
over it. But all the same—nay, for that very reason you had better
stay, Malcolm! You may be glad, later on, that you were present
tonight!”

My heart sank down, down, at her words; but I thought it better to say
nothing. Fear was stalking openly enough amongst us already! By this time Mr. Trelawny, assisted by Mr. Corbeck and Doctor
Winchester, had raised the lid of the ironstone sarcophagus which
contained the mummy of the Queen. It was a large one; but it was none
too big. The mummy was both long and broad and high; and was of such
weight that it was no easy task, even for the four of us, to lift it
out. Under Mr. Trelawny’s direction we laid it out on the table
prepared for it. Then, and then only, did the full horror of the whole thing burst upon
me! There, in the full glare of the light, the whole material and
sordid side of death seemed staringly real. The outer wrappings, torn
and loosened by rude touch, and with the colour either darkened by dust
or worn light by friction, seemed creased as by rough treatment; the
jagged edges of the wrapping-cloths looked fringed; the painting was
patchy, and the varnish chipped. The coverings were evidently many,
for the bulk was great. But through all, showed that unhidable human
figure, which seems to look more horrible when partially concealed than
at any other time. What was before us was Death, and nothing else. All the romance and sentiment of fancy had disappeared. The two elder
men, enthusiasts who had often done such work, were not disconcerted;
and Doctor Winchester seemed to hold himself in a business-like
attitude, as if before the operating-table. But I felt low-spirited,
and miserable, and ashamed; and besides I was pained and alarmed by
Margaret’s ghastly pallor. Then the work began. The unrolling of the mummy cat had prepared me
somewhat for it; but this was so much larger, and so infinitely more
elaborate, that it seemed a different thing. Moreover, in addition to
the ever present sense of death and humanity, there was a feeling of
something finer in all this. The cat had been embalmed with coarser
materials; here, all, when once the outer coverings were removed, was
more delicately done. It seemed as if only the finest gums and spices
had been used in this embalming. But there were the same surroundings,
the same attendant red dust and pungent presence of bitumen; there was
the same sound of rending which marked the tearing away of the
bandages. There were an enormous number of these, and their bulk when
opened was great. As the men unrolled them, I grew more and more
excited. I did not take a part in it myself; Margaret had looked at me
gratefully as I drew back. We clasped hands, and held each other hard. As the unrolling went on, the wrappings became finer, and the smell
less laden with bitumen, but more pungent. We all, I think, began to
feel it as though it caught or touched us in some special way. This,
however, did not interfere with the work; it went on uninterruptedly. Some of the inner wrappings bore symbols or pictures. These were done
sometimes wholly in pale green colour, sometimes in many colours; but
always with a prevalence of green. Now and again Mr. Trelawny or Mr.
Corbeck would point out some special drawing before laying the bandage
on the pile behind them, which kept growing to a monstrous height. At last we knew that the wrappings were coming to an end. Already the
proportions were reduced to those of a normal figure of the manifest
height of the Queen, who was more than average height. And as the end
drew nearer, so Margaret’s pallor grew; and her heart beat more and
more wildly, till her breast heaved in a way that frightened me. Just as her father was taking away the last of the bandages, he
happened to look up and caught the pained and anxious look of her pale
face. He paused, and taking her concern to be as to the outrage on
modesty, said in a comforting way:

“Do not be uneasy, dear! See! there is nothing to harm you. The Queen
has on a robe.—Ay, and a royal robe, too!”

The wrapping was a wide piece the whole length of the body.