The devil proposed to make his innocent victim a murderess. I saw his
purpose, and with every atom of my strength I groaned. It was the only
warning I could send. But I had played right into Belleville's hands. "Hear him implore you!" cried Belleville. "Oh! I can't, I can't," she wailed. "'Tis only a spirit--and it's the only way," he protested warmly. Miss Ottley swung around suddenly and drove the dagger at his heart,
but he had been expecting it. He caught her wrist and laughed. Then all
my anguish recommenced. In the midst of it, made desperate, the girl
leaned right across the bed and struck. The blade glanced down upon a
rib and deeply pierced my side. Providence, surely, had directed the
blow. She withdrew the dagger, then screamed aloud to see it dripping
with blood. Belleville caught her in his arms and bore her roughly
back. He bent her body on a table until she was as helpless as a dove,
then took the blade and drew the horrid thing across her lips; so they
were carmined with my blood. "By this and this you'll remember you are mine," he said, and kissed
her lips till his were bloody, too. Then the two stared deep into each
other's eyes. "I've killed his body; you, his soul," said Belleville. "We're well
mated, you and I. There--I've no longer any fear you'll hurt yourself. You'll be henceforth too much afraid of him to die." He let her go, and stood away from her. She swayed erect, then came
forward till she stood beside me. I held my very breath for fear that
she would hear. I don't know why. "It is all a trick--a cruel, devilish trick. There's nothing there!" said the girl, her bosom heaving as she spoke. Belleville laughed like a hyena. "Feel--if you dare!" he cried. But she took him at his word. Her hands went out and, guided by a dark
blotch which, as afterwards I learned she saw, she put them on my wound
and drew them swiftly back ensanguined. Then horror settled on her like
a black cloud on a mountain top. She turned about with one loud gasping
sigh and sank down in a lifeless heap at Belleville's feet. Soon afterwards I swooned, too, from pain and loss of blood. When I
awoke my wound was neatly bandaged, and I was once more seated in my
chair. Belleville sat opposite smoking a cigar. He was dressed very smartly
in a frock suit and a tall hat was set jauntily on his brow. He wore a
geranium in his buttonhole. His face was wreathed in smiles. A bottle
of champagne was set before him on a table and he sipped at a glass
with an air of triumphant good-humour. I found that I could speak; my gag had been removed. "Water!" I implored him. He started, then pressed forward with his glass. "Where the devil is
your mouth?" he said. He could not see me, that was plain. "Here!" said I. "Water." "It is my wedding morn--and you shall toast me in wine or go
thirsting," he rapped out. Then he found my lips and I drank life into my veins. I have never
tasted draught one-half so glorious. "I was married less than an hour ago," he said, "at a registrar's
office. She's no longer Miss Ottley, Pinsent." I was silent. "Do you hear me, man?" he demanded. "I hear," I answered. He nodded his head and smiled. "I suppose you are wondering why you're
still alive, eh?" "You'll die when I die," I muttered wearily. "You are afraid to kill
me, that is why." "Bosh!" he flashed back. "I have a better reason far. To-morrow she
will be my wife indeed--a maid no longer--Pinsent. It was worth keeping
you alive to gloat on that." "Oh! I see." "But you don't see everything, Pinsent. She insists upon seeing your
body to-day in order to be sure that you are dead." "Ah!" "She still has a lingering doubt that I have tricked her, and she has
sworn on the cross that unless I produce your corpse for her inspection
she will take her own life rather than--you can guess what, Pinsent." "Yes--I can guess." "So you see the time draws nigh for you to die." "God only knows." The villain frowned. "But before you go you must do something for me." "And that?" "You must write her a letter telling her that your only hope of soul
resurrection and salvation lies in her obeying me. She now considers me
a dangerous magician, but I want her to regard me as a sort of deity." "I will not do it, Belleville. You ought to know me better by this." "I think you will," said he. "That is if you really care for her. You
see it will save her a lot of--let's call it inconvenience. With such a
weapon as your message I can rule her kindly. But rule her in any case
I shall. If you deny me I'll gag you this moment so you can't make a
sound, then I'll bring her here and beat her as I would a dog. How will
you like that?" "I'll write the letter," I said huskily. A few minutes later the thing was done, and I had signed my name to
the atrocious expressions of his demand. To transcribe them I am too
ashamed. "What now?" I asked. "The last scene in the last act," said he, as he put the letter in
his pocket. "I may tell you that I intend always to keep your body by
me--for her to look at--if she ever shows a mind to mutiny." "In spirits?" I questioned. "The embalming oil of the princes of old Egypt. I found the receipt in
Ptahmes' tomb," he answered. "I propose to convert you into a mummy." With that he took off his hat and coat, rolled up his sleeves and put
on a huge oil-skin apron. "I'll not kill you till the last moment
necessary," he observed. "In fact, you'll be half-mummy before you
die; I have a curiosity to discover if the process of substitution is
painful. I rather think it must be." He moved over as he spoke to the sarcophagus and began to shift the
objects that sealed up the mouth. It took him some minutes to do so,
and as he put down the couch, last of all, one of the castors crashed
upon his toe. He cursed the misfortune like a madman and danced
about the floor on one foot like a dervish, winding up by striking
me brutally with closed fist on the lips. That gave him back his
self-control. "I'll teach you to laugh at me," he growled. Then he returned to his
work and stooping over the great coffin he hauled out the lifeless
mummy that had rested there so long. For an instant I glimpsed the
strange dead features of the dust of Ptahmes which so strikingly
resembled the effigy carven on the lid of the sarcophagus and also the
Arab who had twice in Egypt attempted to destroy me. Then Belleville
carelessly threw the thing upon the couch; and traversed the room to
where stood three glass jars filled with a dark viscous fluid. One by
one he rolled these on end across the floor till all three stood beside
the coffin. Afterwards he disappeared behind my chair, returning soon,
his head covered with a long breathing mask. I watched him--one may
guess with what passionate attention. He unscrewed the stopper of the
nearest jar, seized the thing bodily in his arms and poured out the
contents into the sarcophagus. A curious cloud-like steam arose that
hazed the prospect, but soon it dissipated.