The Eye of Osiris Page 18

  CHAPTER XVIII

  JOHN BELLINGHAM

  The next few days were a very nightmare of horror and gloom. Ofcourse, I repudiated my acceptance of the decree of banishment thatRuth had passed upon me. I was her friend, at least, and in time ofperil my place was at her side. Tacitly--though thankfully enough,poor girl!--she had recognized the fact and made me once more free ofthe house.

  For there was no disguising the situation. Newspaper boys yelled thenews up and down Fleet Street from morning to night; soul-shakingposters grinned on gaping crowds; and the newspapers fairly wallowed inthe "Shocking details."

  It is true that no direct accusations were made; but the originalreports of the disappearance were reprinted with such comments as mademe gnash my teeth with fury.

  The wretchedness of those days will live in my memory until my dyingday. Never can I forget the dread that weighed me down, the horriblesuspense, the fear that clutched at my heart as I furtively scanned theposters in the streets. Even the wretched detectives who prowled aboutthe entrances to Nevill's Court became grateful to my eyes, for,embodying as they did the hideous menace that hung over my dear lady,their presence at least told me that the blow had not yet fallen.Indeed, we came, after a time, to exchange glances of mutualrecognition, and I thought that they seemed to be sorry for her and forme, and had no great liking for their task. Of course, I spent most ofmy leisure at the old house, though my heart ached more there thanelsewhere; and I tried, with but poor success, I fear, to maintain acheerful, confident manner, cracking my little jokes as of old, andeven essaying to skirmish with Miss Oman. But this last experiment wasa dead failure; and when she had suddenly broken down in a stream ofbrilliant repartee to weep hysterically on my breast, I abandoned theattempt and did not repeat it.

  A dreadful gloom had settled down upon the old house. Poor Miss Omancrept silently but restlessly up and down the ancient stairs with dimeyes and a tremulous chin, or moped in her room with a parliamentarypetition (demanding, if I remember rightly, the appointment of a femalejudge to deal with divorce and matrimonial causes) which lay on hertable languidly awaiting signatures that never came. Mr. Bellingham,whose mental condition at first alternated between furious anger andabsolute panic, was fast sinking into a state of nervous prostrationthat I viewed with no little alarm. In fact the only reallyself-possessed person in the entire household was Ruth herself, andeven she could not conceal the ravages of sorrow and suspense andovershadowing peril. Her manner was almost unchanged; or rather, Ishould say, she had gone back to that which I had first known--quiet,reserved, taciturn, with a certain bitter humor showing through herunvarying amiability. When she and I were alone, indeed, her reservemelted away and she was all sweetness and gentleness. But it wrung myheart to look at her, to see how, day by day, she grew ever more thinand haggard; to watch the growing pallor of her cheek; to look into hersolemn gray eyes, so sad and tragic and yet so brave and defiant offate.

  It was a terrible time; and through it all the dreadful questionshaunted me continually: When will the blow fall? What is it that thepolice are waiting for? And when they do strike, what will Thorndykehave to say?

  So things went on for four dreadful days. But on the fourth day, justas the evening consultations were beginning and the surgery was filledwith waiting patients, Polton appeared with a note, which he insisted,to the indignation of Adolphus, on delivering into my own hands. Itwas from Thorndyke, and was to the following effect:

  "_I learn from Dr. Norbury that he has recently heard from HerrLederbogen, of Berlin--a learned authority on Oriental antiquities--whomakes some reference to an English Egyptologist whom he met in Viennaabout a year ago. He cannot recall the Englishman's name, but thereare certain expressions in the letter which make Dr. Norbury suspectthat he is referring to John Bellingham._

  "_I want you to bring Mr. and Miss Bellingham to my chambers thisevening at 8.30, to meet Dr. Norbury and talk over his letter; and inview of the importance of the matter, I look to you not to fail me._"

  A wave of hope and relief swept over me. It was still possible thatthis Gordian knot might be cut; that the deliverance might come beforeit was too late. I wrote a hasty note to Thorndyke and another toRuth, making the appointment; and having given them both to the trustyPolton, returned somewhat feverishly to my professional duties. To myprofound relief, the influx of patients ceased, and the practise sankinto its accustomed torpor; whereby I was able without base andmendacious subterfuge to escape in good time to my tryst.

  It was near upon eight o'clock when I passed through the archway intoNevill's Court. The warm afternoon light had died away, for the summerwas running out apace. The last red glow of the setting sun had fadedfrom the ancient roofs and chimney stacks, and down in the narrow courtthe shades of evening had begun to gather in nooks and corners. I wasdue at eight, and, as it still wanted some minutes to the hour, Isauntered slowly down the court, looking reflectively on the familiarscene and the well-known friendly faces.

  The day's work was drawing to a close. The little shops were puttingup their shutters; lights were beginning to twinkle in parlor windows;a solemn hymn arose in the old Moravian chapel, and its echoes stoleout through the dark entry that opens into the court under the archway.

  Here was Mr. Finneymore (a man of versatile gifts, with a leaningtoward paint and varnish) sitting, white-aproned and shirt-sleeved, ona chair in his garden, smoking his pipe with a complacent eye on hisdahlias. There at an open window a young man, with a brush in his handand another behind his ear, stood up and stretched himself while anolder lady deftly rolled up a large map. The barber was turning outthe gas in his little saloon; the greengrocer was emerging with acigarette in his mouth and an aster in his buttonhole, and a group ofchildren were escorting the lamplighter on his rounds.

  All these good, homely folk were Nevill's Courtiers of the genuinebreed; born in the court, as had been their fathers before them forgenerations. And of such to a great extent was the population of theplace. Miss Oman herself claimed aboriginal descent and so did thesweet-faced Moravian lady next door--a connection of the famous LaTrobes of the old Conventicle, whose history went back to the GordonRiots; and as to the gentleman who lived in the ancienttimber-and-plaster house at the bottom of the court, it was reportedthat his ancestors had dwelt in that very house since the days of Jamesthe First.

  On these facts I reflected as I sauntered down the court, on thestrange phenomenon of an old-world hamlet with its ancient populationlingering in the very heart of the noisy city; an island of peace setin an ocean of unrest, an oasis in a desert of change and ferment.

  My meditations brought me to the shabby gate in the high wall, and as Iraised the latch and pushed it open, I saw Ruth standing at the door ofthe house talking to Miss Oman. She was evidently waiting for me, forshe wore her somber black coat and hat and a black veil, and when shesaw me she came out, closing the door after her, and holding out herhand.

  "You are punctual," said she. "St. Dunstan's clock is striking now."

  "Yes," I answered. "But where is your father?"

  "He has gone to bed, poor old dear. He didn't feel well enough tocome, and I did not urge him. He is really very ill. This dreadfulsuspense will kill him if it goes on much longer."

  "Let us hope it won't," I said, but with little conviction, I fear, inmy tone.

  It was harrowing to see her torn by anxiety for her father, and Iyearned to comfort her. But what was there to say? Mr. Bellingham wasbreaking up visibly under the stress of the terrible menace that hungover his daughter, and no words of mine could make the fact lessmanifest.

  We walked silently up the court. The lady at the window greeted uswith a smiling salutation, Mr. Finneymore removed his pipe and raisedhis cap, receiving a gracious bow from Ruth in return, and then wepassed through the covered way into Fetter Lane, where my companionpaused and looked about her.

  "What are you looking for?" I asked.

  "The detective," she ans
wered quietly. "It would be a pity if the poorman should miss me after waiting so long. However, I don't see him."And she turned away toward Fleet Street. It was an unpleasant surprizeto me that her sharp eyes detected the secret spy upon her movements;and the dry, sardonic tone of her remark pained me too, recalling, asit did, the frigid self-possession that had so repelled me in the earlydays of our acquaintance. And yet I could not but admire the coolunconcern with which she faced her horrible peril.

  "Tell me a little more about this conference," she said, as we walkeddown Fetter Lane. "Your note was rather more concise than lucid; but Isuppose you wrote it in a hurry."

  "Yes, I did. And I can't give you any details now. All I know is thatDoctor Norbury has had a letter from a friend of his in Berlin, anEgyptologist, as I understand, named Lederbogen, who refers to anEnglish acquaintance of his and Norbury's whom he saw in Vienna about ayear ago. He cannot remember the Englishman's name, but from some ofthe circumstances Norbury seems to think that he is referring to yourUncle John. Of course, if this should turn out to be really the case,it would set everything straight; so Thorndyke was anxious that you andyour father should meet Norbury and talk it over."

  "I see," said Ruth. Her tone was thoughtful but by no meansenthusiastic.

  "You don't seem to attach much importance to the matter," I remarked.

  "No. It doesn't seem to fit the circumstances. What is the use ofsuggesting that poor Uncle John is alive--and behaving like animbecile, which he certainly was not--when his dead body has actuallybeen found?"

  "But," I suggested lamely, "there may be some mistake. It may not behis body after all."

  "And the ring?" she asked, with a bitter smile.

  "That may be just a coincidence. It was a copy of a well-known form ofantique ring. Other people may have had copies made as well as youruncle. Besides," I added with more conviction, "we haven't seen thering. It may not be his at all."

  She shook her head. "My dear Paul," she said quietly, "it is uselessto delude ourselves. Every known fact points to the certainty that itis his body. John Bellingham is dead: there can be no doubt of that.And to every one except his unknown murderer and one or two of my ownloyal friends, it must seem that his death lies at my door. I realizedfrom the beginning that the suspicion lay between George Hurst and me;and the finding of the ring fixes it definitely on me. I am onlysurprised that the police have made no move yet."

  The quiet conviction of her tone left me for a while speechless withhorror and despair. Then I recalled Thorndyke's calm, even confident,attitude, and I hastened to remind her of it.

  "There is one of your friends," I said, "who is still undismayed.Thorndyke seems to anticipate no difficulties."

  "And yet," she replied, "he is ready to consider a forlorn hope likethis. However, we shall see."

  I could think of nothing more to say, and it was in gloomy silence thatwe pursued our way down Inner Temple Lane and through the dark entriesand tunnel-like passages that brought us out, at length, by theTreasury.

  "I don't see any light in Thorndyke's chambers," I said, as we crossedKing's Bench Walk; and I pointed out the row of windows all dark andblank.

  "No; and yet the shutters are not closed. He must be out."

  "He can't be after making an appointment with you and your father. Itis most mysterious. Thorndyke is so, very punctilious about hisengagements."

  The mystery was solved, when we reached the landing, by a slip of paperfixed by a tack on the iron-bound "oak."

  "A note for P. B. is on the table," was the laconic message: on readingwhich I inserted my key, swung the heavy door outward, and opened thelighter inner door. The note was lying on the table and I brought itout to the landing to read by the light of the staircase lamp.

  "_Apologize to our friends,_" it ran, "_for the slight change ofprogramme. Norbury is anxious that I should get my experiments overbefore the Director returns, so as to save discussion. He has asked meto begin to-night and says he will see Mr. and Miss Bellingham here, atthe Museum. Please bring them along at once. I think some matters ofimportance may transpire at the interview--J. E. T._"

  "I hope you don't mind," I said apologetically, when I had read thenote to Ruth.

  "Of course I don't," she replied. "I am rather pleased. We have somany associations with the dear old Museum, haven't we?" She looked atme for a moment with a strange and touching wistfulness and then turnedto descend the stone stairs.

  At the Temple gate I hailed a hansom, and we were soon speedingwestward and north to the soft twinkle of the horse's bell.

  "What are these experiments that Doctor Thorndyke refers to?" she askedpresently.

  "I can only answer you vaguely," I replied. "Their object, I believe,is to ascertain whether the penetrability of organic substances by theX-rays becomes altered by age; whether, for instance, an ancient blockof wood is more or less transparent to the rays than a new block of thesame size."

  "And of what use would the knowledge be, if it were obtained?"

  "I can't say. Experiments are made to obtain knowledge without regardto its utility. The use appears when the knowledge has been acquired.But in this case, if it should be possible to determine the age of anyorganic substance by its reaction to X-rays, the discovery might befound of some value in legal practise--as in demonstrating a new sealon an old document, for instance. But I don't know whether Thorndykehas anything definite in view; I only know that the preparations havebeen on a most portentous scale."

  "How do you mean?"

  "In regard to size. When I went into the workshop yesterday morning, Ifound Polton erecting a kind of portable gallows about nine feet high,and he had just finished varnishing a pair of enormous wooden trayseach over six feet long. It looked as if he and Thorndyke werecontemplating a few private executions with subsequent post-mortems onthe victims."

  "What a horrible suggestion!"

  "So Polton said, with his quaint, crinkly smile. But he was mightyclose about the use of the apparatus all the same. I wonder if weshall see anything of the experiments, when we get there. This isMuseum Street, isn't it?"

  "Yes." As she spoke, she lifted the flap of one of the little windowsin the back of the cab and peered out. Then, closing it with a quiet,ironic smile, she said:

  "It is all right; he hasn't missed us. It will be quite a nice littlechange for him."

  The cab swung round into Great Russell Street, and, glancing out as itturned, I saw another hansom following; but before I had time toinspect its solitary passenger, we drew up at the Museum gates.

  The gate porter, who seemed to expect us, ushered us up the drive tothe great portico and into the Central Hall, where he handed us over toanother official.

  "Doctor Norbury is in one of the rooms adjoining the Fourth EgyptianRoom," the latter stated in answer to our inquiries: and, providinghimself with a wire-guarded lantern, he prepared to escort us thither.

  Up the great staircase, now wrapped in mysterious gloom, we passed insilence with bitter-sweet memories of that day of days when we hadfirst trodden its steps together; through the Central Saloon, theMedieval Room and the Asiatic Saloon, and so into the long range of theEthnographical Galleries.

  It was a weird journey. The swaying lantern shot its beams abroad intothe darkness of the great, dim galleries, casting instantaneous flasheson the objects in the cases, so that they leaped into being andvanished in the twinkling of an eye. Hideous idols with round, staringeyes started forth from the darkness, glared at us for an instant andwere gone. Grotesque masks, suddenly revealed by the shimmering light,took on the semblance of demon faces that seemed to mow and gibber atus as we passed. As for the life-sized models--realistic enough bydaylight--their aspect was positively alarming; for the moving lightand shadow endowed them with life and movement, so that they seemed towatch us furtively, to lie in wait and to hold themselves in readinessto steal out and follow us. The illusion evidently affected Ruth aswell as me, for she drew neare
r to me and whispered:

  "These figures are quite startling. Did you see that Polynesian? Ireally felt as if he were going to spring out on us."

  "They are rather uncanny," I admitted, "but the danger is over now. Weare passing out of their sphere of influence."

  We came out on a landing as I spoke and then turned sharply to the leftalong the North Gallery, from the center of which we entered the FourthEgyptian Room.

  Almost immediately, a door in the opposite wall opened; a peculiar,high-pitched humming sound became audible, and Jervis came out ontiptoe with his hand raised.

  "Tread as lightly as you can," he said. "We are just making anexposure."

  The attendant turned back with his lantern, and we followed Jervis intothe room from whence he had come. It was a large room, and littlelighter than the galleries, for the single glow-lamp that burned at theend where we entered left the rest of the apartment in almost completeobscurity. We seated ourselves at once on the chairs that had beenplaced for us, and, when the mutual salutations had been exchanged, Ilooked about me. There were three people in the room besides Jervis:Thorndyke, who sat with his watch in his hand, a gray-headed gentlemanwhom I took to be Dr. Norbury, and a smaller person at the dim fartherend--undistinguishable, but probably Polton. At our end of the roomwere the two large trays that I had seen in the workshop, now mountedon trestles and each fitted with a rubber drain-tube leading down to abucket. At the farther end of the room the sinister shape of thegallows reared itself aloft in the gloom; only now I could see that itwas not a gallows at all. For affixed to the top cross-bar was alarge, bottomless glass basin, inside which was a glass bulb thatglowed with a strange green light; and in the heart of the bulb abright spot of red.

  It was all clear enough so far. The peculiar sound that filled the airwas the hum of the interrupter; the bulb was, of course, a Crookestube, and the red spot inside it, the glowing red-hot disc of theanti-cathode. Clearly an X-ray photograph was being made; but of what?I strained my eyes, peering into the gloom at the foot of the gallows,but though I could make out an elongated object lying on the floordirectly under the bulb, I could not resolve the dimly seen shape intoanything recognizable. Presently, however, Dr. Norbury supplied theclue.

  "I am rather surprized," said he, "that you chose so composite anobject as a mummy to begin on. I should have thought that a simplerobject, such as a coffin or a wooden figure, would have been moreinstructive."

  "In some ways it would," replied Thorndyke, "but the variety ofmaterials that the mummy gives us has its advantages. I hope yourfather is not ill, Miss Bellingham."

  "He is not at all well," said Ruth, "and we agreed that it was betterfor me to come alone. I knew Herr Lederbogen quite well. He stayedwith us for a time when he was in England."

  "I trust," said Dr. Norbury, "that I have not troubled you for nothing.Herr Lederbogen speaks of 'our erratic English friend with the longname that I can never remember,' and it seemed to me that he might bereferring to your uncle."

  "I should hardly have called my uncle erratic," said Ruth.

  "No, no. Certainly not," Dr. Norbury agreed hastily. "However, youshall see the letter presently and judge for yourself. We mustn'tintroduce irrelevant topics while the experiment is in progress, mustwe, Doctor?"

  "You had better wait until we have finished," said Thorndyke, "becauseI am going to turn out the light. Switch off the current, Polton."

  The green light vanished from the bulb, the hum of the interrupterswept down an octave or two and died away. Then Thorndyke and Dr.Norbury rose from their chairs and went toward the mummy, which theylifted tenderly while Polton drew from beneath it what presently turnedout to be a huge black paper envelope. The single glow-lamp wasswitched off, leaving the room in total darkness until there burst outsuddenly a bright orange red light immediately above one of the trays.

  We all gathered round to watch, as Polton--the high priest of thesemysteries--drew from the black envelope a colossal sheet of bromidepaper, laid it carefully in the tray and proceeded to wet it with alarge brush which he had dipped in a pail of water.

  "I thought you always used plates for this kind of work," said Dr.Norbury.

  "We do, by preference; but a six-foot plate would be impossible, so Ihad a special paper made to the size."

  There is something singularly fascinating in the appearance of adeveloping photograph; in the gradual, mysterious emergence of thepicture from the blank, white surface of plate or paper. But askiagraph, or X-ray photograph, has a fascination all its own. Unlikethe ordinary photograph, which yields a picture of things already seen,it gives a presentment of objects hitherto invisible; and hence, whenPolton poured the developer on the already wet paper, we all cranedover the tray with the keenest curiosity.

  The developer was evidently a very slow one. For fully half a minuteno change could be seen in the uniform surface. Then, gradually,almost insensibly, the marginal portion began to darken, leaving theoutline of the mummy in pale relief. The change, once started,proceeded apace. Darker and darker grew the margin of the paper untilfrom slaty gray it had turned to black; and still the shape of themummy, now in strong relief, remained an enlongated patch of baldwhite. But not for long. Presently the white shape began to be tingedwith gray, and, as the color deepened, there grew out of it a palerform that seemed to steal out of the enshrouding gray like anapparition, spectral, awesome, mysterious. The skeleton was cominginto view.

  "It is rather uncanny," said Dr. Norbury. "I feel as if I wereassisting at some unholy rite. Just look at it now!"

  The gray shadow of the cartonnage, the wrappings and the flesh wasfading away into the background and the white skeleton stood out insharp contrast. And it certainly was rather a weird spectacle.

  "You'll lose the bones if you develop much farther," said Dr. Norbury.

  "I must let the bones darken," Thorndyke replied, "in case there areany metallic objects. I have three more papers in the envelope."

  The white shape of the skeleton now began to gray over and, as Dr.Norbury had said, its distinctness became less and yet less. Thorndykeleaned over the tray with his eyes fixed on a point in the middle ofthe breast and we all watched him in silence. Suddenly he rose. "Now,Polton," he said sharply; "get the hypo on as quickly as you can."

  Polton, who had been waiting with his hand on the stop-cock of thedrain-tube, rapidly ran off the developer into the bucket and floodedthe paper with the fixing solution.

  "Now we can look at it at our leisure," said Thorndyke. After waitinga few seconds, he switched on one of the glow-lamps, and as the floodof light fell on the photograph, he added: "You see we haven't quitelost the skeleton."

  "No." Dr. Norbury put on a pair of spectacles and bent down over thetray; and at this moment I felt Ruth's hand touch my arm, lightly atfirst, and then with a strong nervous grasp; and I could feel that herhand was trembling. I looked round at her anxiously and saw that shehad turned deathly pale.

  "Would you rather go out into the gallery?" I asked; for the room withits tightly shut windows was close and hot.

  "No," she replied quietly. "I will stay here. I am quite well." Butstill she kept hold of my arm.

  Thorndyke glanced at her keenly and then looked away as Dr. Norburyturned to ask him a question.

  "Why is it, think you, that some of the teeth show so much whiter thanothers?"

  "I think the whiteness of the shadows is due to the presence of metal,"Thorndyke replied.

  "Do you mean that the teeth have metal fillings?" asked Dr. Norbury.

  "Yes."

  "Really! This is very interesting. The use of gold stoppings--andartificial teeth, too--by the ancient Egyptians is well known, but wehave no examples in this Museum. This mummy ought to be unrolled. Doyou think all those teeth are filled with the same metal? They are notequally white."

  "No," replied Thorndyke. "Those teeth that are perfectly white areundoubtedly filled with gold, but that grayish one is proba
bly filledwith tin."

  "Very interesting," said Dr. Norbury. "_Very_ interesting! And whatdo you make of that faint mark across the chest, near the top of thesternum?"

  It was Ruth who answered his question.

  "It is the Eye of Osiris!" she exclaimed in a hushed voice.

  "Dear me!" exclaimed Dr. Norbury, "so it is. You are quite right. Itis the Utchat--the Eye of Horus--or Osiris, if you prefer to call itso. That, I presume, will be a gilded device on some of the wrappings."

  "No; I should say it is a tattoo mark. It is too indefinite for agilded device. And I should say further that the tattooing is done invermilion, as carbon tattooing could cast no visible shadow."

  "I think you must be mistaken about that," said Dr. Norbury, "but weshall see, if the Director allows us to unroll the mummy. By the way,those little objects in front of the knees are metallic, I suppose?"

  "Yes, they are metallic. But they are not in front of the knees; theyare in the knees. They are pieces of silver wire which have been usedto repair fractured kneecaps."

  "Are you sure of that?" exclaimed Dr. Norbury, peering at the littlewhite marks with ecstasy; "because if you are, and if these objects arewhat you say they are, the mummy of Sebek-hotep is an absolutely uniquespecimen."

  "I am quite certain of it," said Thorndyke.

  "Then," said Dr. Norbury, "we have made a discovery, thanks to yourinquiring spirit. Poor John Bellingham! He little knew what atreasure he was giving us! How I wish he could have known! How I wishhe could have been here with us to-night!"

  He paused once more to gaze in rapture at the photograph. And thenThorndyke, in his quiet, impassive way, said:

  "John Bellingham is here, Doctor Norbury. This is John Bellingham."

  Dr. Norbury started back and stared at Thorndyke in speechlessamazement.

  "You don't mean," he exclaimed, after a long pause, "that this mummy isthe body of John Bellingham!"

  "I do indeed. There is no doubt of it."

  "But it is impossible! The mummy was here in the gallery a full threeweeks before he disappeared."

  "Not so," said Thorndyke. "John Bellingham was last seen alive by youand Mr. Jellicoe on the fourteenth of October, more than three weeksbefore the mummy left Queen Square. After that date he was never seenalive or dead by any person who knew him and could identify him."

  Dr. Norbury reflected a while in silence. Then, in a faint voice, heasked:

  "How do you suggest that John Bellingham's body came to be inside thatcartonnage?"

  "I think Mr. Jellicoe is the most likely person to be able to answerthat question," Thorndyke replied dryly.

  There was another interval of silence, and then Dr. Norbury askedsuddenly:

  "But what do you suppose has become of Sebek-hotep? The realSebek-hotep, I mean?"

  "I take it," said Thorndyke, "that the remains of Sebek-hotep, or atleast a portion of them, are at present lying in the Woodford mortuaryawaiting an adjourned inquest."

  As Thorndyke made this statement a flash of belated intelligence,mingled with self-contempt, fell on me. Now that the explanation wasgiven, how obvious it was! And yet I, a competent anatomist andphysiologist and actually a pupil of Thorndyke's, had mistaken thoseancient bones for the remains of a recent body!

  Dr. Norbury considered the last statement for some time in evidentperplexity. "It is all consistent enough, I must admit," said he, atlength, "and yet--are you quite sure there is no mistake? It seems soincredible."

  "There is no mistake, I assure you," Thorndyke answered. "To convinceyou, I will give you the facts in detail. First, as to the teeth. Ihave seen John Bellingham's dentist and obtained particulars from hiscase-book. There were in all five teeth that had been filled. Theright upper wisdom tooth, the molar next to it, and the second lowermolar on the left side, had all extensive gold fillings. You can seethem all quite plainly in the skiagraph. The lower left lateralincisor had a very small gold filling, which you can see as a nearlycircular white dot. In addition to these, a filling of tin amalgam hadbeen inserted while the deceased was abroad, in the second left upperbicuspid, the rather gray spot that we have already noticed. Thesewould, by themselves, furnish ample means of identification. But inaddition, there is the tattooed device of the Eye of Osiris----"

  "Horus," murmured Dr. Norbury.

  "Horus, then--in the exact locality in which it was borne by thedeceased and tattooed, apparently, with the same pigment. There are,further, the suture wires in the knee-caps; Sir Morgan Bennett, havinglooked up the notes of the operation, informs me that he introducedthree suture wires into the left patella and two into the right; whichis what the skiagraph shows. Lastly, the deceased had an old Pott'sfracture on the left side. It is not very apparent now, but I saw itquite distinctly just now when the shadows of the bones were whiter. Ithink that you make [Transcriber's note: may?] take it that theidentification is beyond all doubt or question."

  "Yes," agreed Dr. Norbury, with gloomy resignation, "it sounds, as yousay, quite conclusive. Well, well, it is a most horrible affair. Poorold John Bellingham! it looks uncommonly as if he had met with foulplay. Don't you think so?"

  "I do," replied Thorndyke. "There was a mark on the right side of theskull that looked rather like a fracture. It was not very clear, beingat the side, but we must develop the negative to show it."

  Dr. Norbury drew his breath in sharply through his teeth. "This is agruesome business, Doctor," said he. "A terrible business. Awkwardfor our people, too. By the way, what is our position in the matter?What steps ought we to take?"

  "You should give notice to the coroner--I will manage the police--andyou should communicate with one of the executors of the will."

  "Mr. Jellicoe?"

  "No, not Mr. Jellicoe, under the peculiar circumstances. You hadbetter write to Mr. Godfrey Bellingham."

  "But I rather understood that Mr. Hurst was the co-executor," said Dr.Norbury.

  "He is, surely, as matters stand," said Jervis.

  "Not at all," replied Thorndyke. "He _was_ as matters _stood_; but heis not now. You are forgetting the condition of clause two. Thatclause sets forth the conditions under which Godfrey Bellingham shallinherit the bulk of the estate and become the co-executor and thoseconditions are: 'that the body of the testator shall be deposited insome authorized place for the reception of the bodies of the dead,situate within the boundaries of, or appertaining to some place ofworship within, the parish of St. George, Bloomsbury, and St. Giles inthe Fields, or St. Andrew above the Bars and St. George the Martyr.'Now Egyptian mummies are bodies of the dead, and this Museum is anauthorized place for their reception; and this building is situatewithin the boundaries of the parish of St. George, Bloomsbury.Therefore the provisions of clause two have been duly carried out andtherefore Godfrey Bellingham is the principal beneficiary under thewill, and the co-executor, in accordance with the wishes of thetestator. Is that quite clear?"

  "Perfectly," said Dr. Norbury; "and a most astonishingcoincidence--but, my dear young lady, had you not better sit down? Youare looking very ill."

  He glanced anxiously at Ruth, who was pale to the lips and was nowleaning heavily on my arm.

  "I think, Berkeley," said Thorndyke, "you had better take MissBellingham out into the gallery, where there is more air. This hasbeen a tremendous climax to all the trials she has borne so bravely.Go out with Berkeley," he added gently, laying his hand on hershoulder, "and sit down while we develop the other negatives. Youmustn't break down now, you know, when the storm has passed and the sunis beginning to shine." He held the door open and as we passed out hisface softened into a smile of infinite kindness. "You won't mind mylocking you out," said he; "this is a photographic dark-room atpresent."

  The key grated in the lock and we turned away into the dim gallery. Itwas not quite dark, for a beam of moonlight filtered in here and therethrough the blinds that covered the skylights. We walked on slowly,her arm linked in mine, and for a wh
ile neither of us spoke. The greatrooms were very silent and peaceful and solemn. The hush, thestillness, the mystery of the half-seen forms in the cases around, wereall in harmony with the deeply-felt sense of a great deliverance thatfilled our hearts.

  We had passed through into the next room before either of us broke thesilence. Insensibly our hands had crept together, and as they met andclasped with mutual pressure, Ruth exclaimed: "How dreadful and tragicit is! Poor, poor Uncle John! It seems as if he had come back fromthe world of shadows to tell us of this awful thing. But, O God! whata relief it is!"

  She caught her breath in one or two quick sobs and pressed my handpassionately.

  "It is over, dearest," I said. "It is gone for ever. Nothing remainsbut the memory of your sorrow and your noble courage and patience."

  "I can't realize it yet," she murmured. "It has been like a frightful,interminable dream."

  "Let us put it away," said I, "and think only of the happy life that isopening."

  She made no reply, and only a quick catch in her breath, now and again,told of the long agony that she had endured with such heroic calm.

  We walked on slowly, scarcely disturbing the silence with our softfootfalls, through the wide doorway into the second room. The vagueshapes of mummy-cases standing erect in the wall-cases, loomed out dimand gigantic, silent watchers keeping their vigil with the memories ofuntold centuries locked in their shadowy breasts. They were an awesomecompany. Reverend survivors from a vanished world, they looked outfrom the gloom of their abiding-place, but with no shade of menace orof malice in their silent presence; rather with a solemn benison on thefleeting creatures of to-day.

  Half-way along the room a ghostly figure, somewhat aloof from itscompanions, showed a dim, pallid blotch where its face would have been.With one accord we halted before it.

  "Do you know who this is, Ruth?" I asked.

  "Of course I do," she answered. "It is Artemidorus."

  We stood, hand in hand, facing the mummy, letting our memories fill inthe vague silhouette with its well-remembered details. Presently Idrew her nearer to me and whispered:

  "Ruth! do you remember when we last stood here?"

  "As if I could ever forget!" she answered passionately. "Oh, Paul!The sorrow of it! The misery! How it wrung my heart to tell you!Were you very unhappy when I left you?"

  "Unhappy! I never knew, until then, what real heart-breaking sorrowwas. It seemed as if the light had gone out of my life for ever. Butthere was just one little spot of brightness left."

  "What was that?"

  "You made me a promise, dear--a solemn promise; and I felt--at least Ihoped--that the day would come, if I only waited patiently, when youwould be able to redeem it."

  She crept closer to me and yet closer, until her head nestled on myshoulder and her soft cheek lay against mine.

  "Dear heart," I whispered, "is it now? Is the time fulfilled?"

  "Yes, dearest," she murmured softly. "It is now--and for ever."

  Reverently I folded her in my arms; gathered her to the heart thatworshiped her utterly. Henceforth no sorrows could hurt us, nomisfortune vex; for we should walk hand in hand on our earthlypilgrimage and find the way all too short.

  Time, whose sands run out with such unequal swiftness for the just andthe unjust, the happy and the wretched, lagged, no doubt, with thetoilers in the room that we had left. But for us its golden grainstrickled out apace, and left the glass empty before we had begun tomark their passage. The turning of a key and the opening of a dooraroused us from our dream of perfect happiness. Ruth raised her headto listen, and our lips met for one brief moment. Then, with a silentgreeting to the friend who had looked on our grief and witnessed ourfinal happiness, we turned and retraced our steps quickly, filling thegreat empty rooms with chattering echoes.

  "We won't go back into the dark-room--which isn't dark now," said Ruth.

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "Because--when I came out I was very pale; and I'm--well, I don't thinkI am very pale now. Besides, poor Uncle John is in there--and--Ishould be ashamed to look at him with my selfish heart overflowing withhappiness."

  "You needn't be," said I. "It is the day of our lives and we have aright to be happy. But you shan't go in, if you don't wish to," and Iaccordingly steered her adroitly past the beam of light that streamedfrom the open door.

  "We have developed four negatives," said Thorndyke, as he emerged withthe others, "and I am leaving them in the custody of Doctor Norbury,who will sign each when they are dry, as they may have to be put inevidence. What are you going to do?"

  I looked at Ruth to see what she wished.

  "If you won't think me ungrateful," said she, "I should rather be alonewith my father to-night. He is very weak, and----"

  "Yes, I understand," I said hastily. And I did. Mr. Bellingham was aman of strong emotions and would probably be somewhat overcome by thesudden change of fortune and the news of his brother's tragic death.

  "In that case," said Thorndyke, "I will bespeak your services. Willyou go on and wait for me at my chambers, when you have seen MissBellingham home?"

  I agreed to this, and we set forth under the guidance of Dr. Norbury(who carried an electric lamp) to return by the way we had come; two ofus, as least, in a vastly different frame of mind. The party broke upat the entrance gates, and as Thorndyke wished my companion"Good-night," she held his hand and looked up in his face with swimmingeyes.

  "I haven't thanked you, Doctor Thorndyke," she said, "and I don't feelthat I ever can. What you have done for me and my father is beyond allthanks. You have saved his life and you have rescued me from the mosthorrible ignominy. Good-by! and God bless you!"

  The hansom that bowled along eastward--at most unnecessary speed--boretwo of the happiest human beings within the wide boundaries of thetown. I looked at my companion as the lights of the street shone intothe cab, and was astonished at the transformation. The pallor of hercheek had given place to a rosy pink; the hardness, the tension, thehaggard self-repression that had aged her face, were all gone, and thegirlish sweetness that had so bewitched me in the early days of ourlove had stolen back. Even the dimple was there when the sweepinglashes lifted and her eyes met mine in a smile of infinite tenderness.

  Little was said on that brief journey. It was happiness enough to sit,hand clasped in hand, and know that our time of trial was past; that nocross of Fate could ever part us now.

  The astonished cabman set us down, according to instructions, at theentrance to Nevill's Court, and watched us with open mouth as wevanished into the narrow passage. The court had settled down for thenight, and no one marked our return; no curious eye looked down on usfrom the dark house-front as we said "Good-by," just inside the gate.

  "You will come and see us to-morrow, dear, won't you?" she asked.

  "Do you think it possible that I could stay away, then?"

  "I hope not, but come as early as you can. My father will bepositively frantic to see you; because I shall have told him, you know.And, remember, that it is you who have brought us this greatdeliverance. Good-night, Paul."

  "Good-night, sweetheart."

  She put up her face frankly to be kissed and then ran up to the ancientdoor; whence she waved me a last good-by. The shabby gate in the wallclosed behind me and hid her from my sight; but the light of her lovewent with me and turned the dull street into a path of glory.