Tales of Secret Egypt Read online

  II

  THE DEATH-RING OF SNEFERU

  I

  The orchestra had just ceased playing; and, taking advantage of thelull in the music, my companion leaned confidentially forward,shooting suspicious glances all around him, although there was nothingabout the well-dressed after-dinner throng filling Shepheard's thatnight to have aroused misgiving in the mind of a cinema anarchist.

  "I have a very big thing in view," he said, speaking in a huskywhisper. "I shall be one up on you, Kernaby, if I pull it off."

  He glanced sideways, in the manner of a pantomime brigand, at a partyof New York tourists, our immediate neighbors, and from them to anelderly peer with whom I was slightly acquainted and who, in additionto his being stone deaf, had never noticed anything in his life, muchless attempted so fatiguing an operation as intrigue.

  "Indeed," I commented; and rang the bell with the purpose in view ofordering another cooling beverage.

  True, I might be the Egyptian representative of a Birminghamcommercial enterprise, but I did not gladly suffer the society ofthis individual, whose only claim to my acquaintance lay in the factthat he was in the employ of a rival house. My lack of interestpalpably disappointed him; but I thought little of the man's qualitiesas a connoisseur and less of his company. His name was Theo Bishop andI fancy that his family was associated with the tanning industry.I have since thought more kindly of poor Bishop, but at the time ofwhich I write nothing could have pleased me better than his suddendissolution.

  Perhaps unconsciously I had allowed my boredom to become rudelyapparent; for Bishop slightly turned his head aside, and--

  "Right-o, Kernaby," he said; "I know you think I am an ass, so wewill say no more about it. Another cocktail?"

  And now I became conscience-stricken; for mingled with thedisappointment in Bishop's tone and manner was another note. Vaguelyit occurred to me that the man was yearning for sympathy of some kind,that he was bursting to unbosom himself, and that the vanity of asuccessful rival was by no means wholly responsible. I have sinceplaced that ambiguous note and recognized it for a note of tragedy.But at the time I was deaf to its pleading.

  We chatted then for some while longer on indifferent topics, Bishopbeing, as I have indicated, a man difficult to offend; when, havingcorrespondence to deal with, I retired to my own room. I suppose Ihad been writing for about an hour, when a servant came to announcea caller. Taking an ordinary visiting-card from the brass salver,I read--

  ABU TABAH.

  No title preceded the name, no address followed, but I became aware ofsomething very like a nervous thrill as I stared at the name of myvisitor. Personality is one of the profoundest mysteries of our being.Of the person whose card I held in my hand I knew little, practicallynothing; his actions, if at times irregular, had never been wantonlyviolent; his manner was gentle as that of a mother to a baby and hissingular reputation among the natives I thought I could afford toignore; for the Egyptian, like the Celt, with all his naturalendowments, is yet a child at heart. Therefore I cannot explain why,sitting there in my room in Shepheard's Hotel, I knew and recognized,at the name of Abu Tabah, the touch of fear.

  "I will see him downstairs," I said.

  Then, as the servant was about to depart, recognizing that I had madea concession to that strange sentiment which the Imam Abu Tabah hadsomehow inspired in me--

  "No," I added; "show him up here to my room."

  A few moments later the man returned again, carrying the brass salver,upon which lay a sealed envelope. I took it up in surprise, notingthat it was one belonging to the hotel, and, ere opening it--

  "Where is my visitor?" I said in Arabic.

  "He regrets that he cannot stay," replied the man; "but he sends youthis letter."

  Greatly mystified, I dismissed the servant and tore open the envelope.Inside, upon a sheet of hotel notepaper I found this remarkablemessage--

  KERNABY PASHA--

  There are reasons why I cannot stay to see you personally, but I would have you believe that this warning is dictated by nothing but friendship. Grave peril threatens. It is associated with the hieroglyphic--

 

  If you would avert it, and if you value your life, avoid all contact with anything bearing this figure.

  ABU TABAH.

  The mystery deepened. There had been something incongruous about themodern European visiting-card used by this representative of Islam,this living illustration of the _Arabian Nights_; now, hisincomprehensible "warning" plunged me back again into the mediaevalOrient to which he properly belonged. Yet I knew Abu Tabah, for allhis romantic aspect, to be eminently practical, and I could not credithim with descending to the methods of melodrama.

  As I studied the precise wording of the note, I seemed to see the slimfigure of its author before me, black-robed, white-turbaned, andurbane, his delicate ivory hands crossed and resting upon the head ofthe ebony cane without which I had never seen him. Almost, I succumbedto a sort of subjective hallucination; Abu Tabah became a veritablepresence, and the poetic beauty of his face struck me anew, as, fixingupon me his eyes, which were like the eyes of a gazelle, he spoke thestrange words cited above, in the pure and polished English which heheld at command, and described in the air, with a long nervousforefinger, the queer device which symbolized the Ancient Egyptiangod, Set, the Destroyer.

  Of course, it was the aura of a powerful personality, clinging even tothe written message; but there was something about the impression madeupon me which argued for the writer's sincerity.

  That Abu Tabah was some kind of agent, recognized--at any rateunofficially--by the authorities, I knew or shrewdly surmised; but theexact nature of his activities, and how he reconciled them with hisreligious duties, remained profoundly mysterious. The episode hadrendered further work impossible, and I descended to the terrace, withno more definite object in view than that of finding a quiet cornerwhere I might meditate in the congenial society of my briar, and atthe same time seek inspiration from the ever-changing throng in theSharia Kamel Pasha.

  I had scarcely set my foot upon the terrace, however, ere a hand waslaid upon my arm. Turning quickly I recognized, in the dusk, Hassanes-Sugra, for many years a trusted employee of the BritishArchaeological Society.

  His demeanor was at once excited and furtive, and I recognized withsomething akin to amazement that he, also, had a story to unfold. Imentally catalogued this eventful evening "the night of strangeconfidences."

  Seated at a little table on the deserted balcony (for the evening wasvery chilly) and directly facing the shop of Philip, the dealer inArab woodwork, Hassan es-Sugra told his wonder tale; and as he told itI knew that Fate had cast me, willy-nilly, for a part in some comedyupon which the curtain had already risen here in Cairo, and whereofthe second act should be played in perhaps the most ancient settingwhich the hand of man has builded. As the narrative unrolled itselfbefore me, I perceived wheels within wheels; I was wholly absorbed,yet half incredulous.

  "... When the professor abandoned work on the pyramid, Kernaby Pasha,"he said, bending eagerly forward and laying his muscular brown handupon my sleeve, "it was not because there was no more to learnthere."

  "I am aware of this, O Hassan," I interrupted, "it was in order thatthey might carry on the work at the Pyramid of Illahun, which resultedin a find of jewelery almost unique in the annals of Egyptology."

  "Do I not know all this!" exclaimed Hassan impatiently; "and was notmine the hand that uncovered the golden uraeus? But the work projectedat the Pyramid of Meydum was never completed, and I can tell you why."

  I stared at him through the gloom; for I had already some idearespecting the truth of this matter.

  "It was that the men, over two hundred of them, refused to enter thepassage again," he whispered dramatically, "it was because misfortuneand disaster visited more than one who had penetrated to a certainplace therein." He bent further forward. "The Pyramid of Meydum is thehome of a powerful _Efreet_, Kernaby Pasha! But I who was the la
st toleave it, know what is concealed there. In a certain place, low downin the corner of the King's Chamber, is a ring of gold, bearing acartouche. It is the royal ring of the Pharaoh who built the pyramid."

  He ceased, watching me intently. I did not doubt Hassan's word, for Ihad always counted him a man of integrity; but there was much that wasobscure and much that was mysterious in his story.

  "Why did you not bring it away?" I asked.

  "I feared to touch it, Kernaby Pasha; it is an evil talisman. Untilto-day I have feared to speak of it."

  "And to-day!"

  Hassan extended his hands, palms upward.

  "I am threatened with the loss of my house," he said simply, "if I donot find a certain sum of money within a period of twelve days."

  I sat resting my chin on my hand and staring into the face of Hassanes-Sugra. Could it be that from superstitious motives such a treasurehad indeed been abandoned? Could it be that Fate had delivered intomy hands a relic so priceless as the signet-ring of Sneferu, one ofthe earliest Memphite Pharaohs? Since I had recently incurred thedispleasure of my principals, Messrs. Moses, Murphy & Co., ofBirmingham, the mere anticipation of such a "find" was sufficient toraise my professional enthusiasm to white heat, and in those fewmoments of silence I had decided upon instant action.

  "Meet me at Rikka Station, to-morrow morning at nine o'clock," I said,"and arrange for donkeys to carry us to the pyramid."

  II

  On my arrival at Rikka, and therefore at the very outset of myinquiry, I met with what one slightly prone to superstition mighthave regarded as an unfortunate omen. A native funeral was passingout of the town amid the wailing of women and the chanting by the_Yemeneeyeh_, of the Profession of the Faith, with its queermonotonous cadences, a performance which despite its familiarity inthe Near East never failed to affect me unpleasantly. By the token ofthe _tarbush_ upon the bier, I knew that this was a man who was beinghurried to his lonely resting-place on the fringe of the desert.

  As the procession wound its way out across the sands, I saw to theremoval of my baggage and joined Hassan es-Sugra, who awaited me bythe wooden barrier. I perceived immediately that something was wrongwith the man; he was palpably laboring under the influence of somestrong excitement, and his dark eyes regarded me almost fearfully.He was muttering to himself like one suffering from an over-indulgencein _Hashish_, and I detected the words "_Allahu akbar!_" (God is mostgreat) several times repeated.

  "What ails you, Hassan, my friend?" I said; and noting how his gazepersistently returned to the melancholy procession wending its waytowards the little Moslem cemetery:--"Was the dead man some relationof yours?"

  "No, no, Kernaby Pasha," he muttered gutturally, and moistened hislips with his tongue; "I was but slightly acquainted with him."

  "Yet you are much disturbed."

  "Not at all, Kernaby Pasha," he assured me; "not in the slightest."

  By which familiar formula I knew that Hassan es-Sugra would concealfrom me the cause of his distress, and therefore, since I had noappetite for further mysteries, I determined to learn it from anothersource.

  "See to the loading of the donkey," I directed him--for three sleeklittle animals were standing beside him, patiently awaiting the toilof the day.

  Hassan setting about the task with a cheerful alacrity obviouslyartificial, I approached the native station master, with whom I wasacquainted, and put to him a number of questions respecting hisimportant functions--in which I was not even mildly interested. But tothe Oriental mind a direct inquiry is an affront, almost an insult;and to have inquired bluntly the name of the deceased and the mannerof his death would have been the best way to have learned nothingwhatever about the matter. Therefore having discussed in detail theslothful incompetence of Arab ticket collectors and the lazy conditionand innate viciousness of Egyptian porters as a class, I mentionedincidentally that I had observed a funeral leaving Rikka.

  The station master (who was bursting to talk about this very matter,but who would have declined on principle to do so had I definitelyquestioned him) now unfolded to me the strange particulars respectingthe death of one, Ahmed Abdulla, who had been a retired dragomanthough some time employed as an excavator.

  "He rode out one night upon his white donkey," said my informant, "andno man knows whither he went. But it is believed, Kernaby Pasha, thatit was to the Haram el-Kaddab" (the False Pyramid)--extending his handto where, beyond the belt of fertility, the tomb of Sneferu up-rearedits three platforms from the fringe of the desert. "To enter thepyramid even in day time is to court misfortune; to enter at night isto fall into the hands of the powerful _Efreet_ who dwells there. Hisdonkey returned without him, and therefore search was made for AhmedAbdulla. He was found the next day"--again the long arm shot outtowards the desert--"dead upon the sands, near the foot of thepyramid."

  I looked into the face of the speaker; beyond doubt he was in deadlyearnest.

  "Why should Ahmed Abdulla have wanted to visit such a place at night?"I asked.

  My acquaintance lowered his voice, muttered "_Saham Allah fee 'adooed--din!_" (May God transfix the enemies of the religion) and touchedhis forehead, his mouth, and his breast with the iron ring which hewore.

  "There is a great treasure concealed there, Kernaby Pasha," hereplied; "a treasure hidden from the world in the days of Suleymanthe Great, sealed with his seal, and guarded by the servants of GannIbn-Gann."

  "So you think the guardian _ginn_ killed Ahmed Abdulla?"

  The station master muttered invocations, and--

  "There are things which may not be spoken of," he said; "but those whosaw him dead say that he was terrible to look upon. A great _Welee_, aman of wisdom famed throughout Egypt, has been summoned to avert theevil; for if the anger of the _ginn_ is aroused they may visit themost painful and unfortunate penalties upon all Rikka...."

  Half an hour later I set out, having confidentially informed thestation master that I sought to obtain a fine turquoise necklet whichI knew to be in the possession of the Sheikh of Meydum. Little did Isuspect how it was written that I should indeed visit the house of thevenerable Sheikh. Out through the fields of young green corn, the palmgroves and the sycamore orchards I rode, Hassan plodding silentlybehind me and leading the donkey who bore the baggage. Curious eyeswatched our passage, from field, doorway, and _shaduf_; but nothing ofnote marked our journey save the tremendous heat of the sun at noon,beneath which I knew myself a fool to travel.

  I camped on the western side of the pyramid, but well clear of themarshes, which are the home of countless wild-fowl. I had no idea howlong it would take me to extract the coveted ring from itshiding-place (which Hassan had closely described to me); and,remembering the speculative glances of the villagers, I had nointention of exposing myself against the face of the pyramid untildusk should have come to cloak my operations.

  Hassan es-Sugra, whose new taciturnity was remarkable and whosebehavior was distinguished by an odd disquiet, set out with his gun toprocure our dinner, and I mounted the sandy slope on the southwest ofthe pyramid, where from my cover behind a mound of rubbish, I studiedthrough my field-glasses the belt of vegetation marking the course ofthe Nile. I could detect no sign of surveillance, but in view of thefact that the smuggling of relics out of Egypt is a punishable offencemy caution was dictated by wisdom.

  We dined excellently, Hassan the Silent and I, upon quail, tinnedtomatoes, fresh dates, bread, and Vichy-water (to which in my own casewas added a stiff three fingers of whisky).

  When the newly risen moon cast an ebon shadow of the Pyramid ofSneferu upon the carpet of the sands, I made my way around the angleof the ancient building towards the mound on the northern side wherebyone approaches the entrance. Three paces from the shadow's edge, Ipaused, transfixed, because of that which confronted me.

  Outlined against the moon-bright sky upon a ridge of the desert behindand to the north of the great structure, stood the motionless figureof a man!

  For a moment I thought that my mind had conjur
ed up this phantasmalwatcher, that he was a thing of moon-magic and not of flesh and blood.But as I stood regarding him, he moved, seemed to raise his head, thenturned and disappeared beyond the crest.

  How long I remained staring at the spot where he had been I know not;but I was aroused from my useless contemplation by the jingling ofcamel bells. The sound came from behind me, stealing sweetly throughthe stillness from a great distance. I turned in a flash, whipped outmy glasses and searched the remote fringe of the Fayum. Statelyacross the jeweled curtain of the night moved a caravan, blacklymarked against that wondrous background. Three walking figures Icounted, three laden donkeys, and two camels. Upon the first of thecamels a man was mounted, upon the second was a _shibreeyeh_, a sortof covered litter, which I knew must conceal a woman. The caravanpassed out of sight into the palm grove which conceals the village ofMeydum.

  I returned my glasses to their case, and stood for some moments deepin reflection; then I descended the slope, to the tiny encampmentwhere I had left Hassan es-Sugra. He was nowhere to be seen; andhaving waited some ten minutes I grew impatient, and raising my voice:

  "Hassan!" I cried; "Hassan es-Sugra!"

  No answer greeted me, although in the desert stillness the call musthave been audible for miles. A second and a third time I called hisname ... and the only reply was the shrill note of a pyramid bat thatswooped low above my head; the vast solitude of the sands swallowed upmy voice and the walls of the Tomb of Sneferu mocked me with theirecho, crying eerily:

  "Hassan! Hassan es-Sugra.... Hassan!..."

  III

  This mysterious episode affected me unpleasantly, but did not divertme from my purpose: I succeeded in casting out certain demons ofsuperstition who had sought to lay hold upon me; and a prolongedscrutiny of the surrounding desert somewhat allayed my fears of humansurveillance. For my visit to the chamber in the heart of the ancientbuilding I had arrayed myself in rubber-soled shoes, an old pair ofdrill trousers, and a pyjama jacket. A Colt repeater was in my hippocket, and, in addition to several instruments which I thought mightbe useful in extracting the ring from its setting, I carried apowerful electric torch.

  Seated on the threshold of the entrance, fifty feet above the desertlevel, I cast a final glance backward towards the Nile valley, then,the lighted torch carried in my jacket pocket, I commenced the descentof the narrow, sloping passage. Periodically, when some cranny betweenthe blocks offered a foothold, I checked my progress, and inspectedthe steep path below for snake tracks.

  Some two hundred and forty feet of labored, descent discovered me ina sort of shallow cavern little more than a yard high and partly hewnout of the living rock which formed the foundation of the pyramid.In this place I found the heat to be almost insufferable, and the smellof remote mortality which assailed my nostrils from the sand-strewnfloor threatened to choke me. For five minutes or more I lay there,bathed in perspiration, my nerves at high tension, listening for theslightest sound within or without. I cannot pretend that I wasentirely master of myself. The stuff that fear is made of seemed torise from the ancient dust; and I had little relish for the secondpart of my journey, which lay through a long horizontal passage rarelyexceeding fourteen inches in height. The mere memory of that finalcrawl of forty feet or so is sufficient to cause me to perspireprofusely; therefore let it suffice that I reached the end of thesecond passage, and breathing with difficulty the deathful, poisonousatmosphere of the place, found myself at the foot of the rugged shaftwhich gives access to the King's Chamber. Resting my torch upon aconvenient ledge, I climbed up, and knew myself to be in one of theoldest chambers fashioned by human handiwork.

  The journey had been most exhausting, but, allowing myself only a fewmoments' rest, I crossed to the eastern corner of the place anddirected a ray of light upon the crevice which, from Hassan'sdescription, I believed to conceal the ring. His account having beendetailed, I experienced little difficulty in finding the cavity; butin the very moment of success the light of the torch grew dim ... andI recognized with a mingling of chagrin and fear that it was burnt outand that I had no means of recharging it.

  Ere the light expired, I had time to realize two things: that thecavity was empty ... and that someone or something was approaching thefoot of the shaft along the horizontal passage below!

  Strictly though I have schooled my emotions, my heart was beating ina most uncomfortable fashion, as, crouching near the edge of the shaft,I watched the red glow fade from the delicate filament of the lamp.Retreat was impossible; there is but one entrance to the pyramid; andthe darkness which now descended upon me was indescribable; itpossessed horrific qualities; it seemed palpably to enfold me like thewings of some monstrous bat. The air of the King's Chamber I found tobe almost unbearable, and it was no steady hand with which I grippedmy pistol.

  The sounds of approach continued. The suspense was becomingintolerable--when, into the Memphian gloom below me, there suddenlyintruded a faint but ever-growing light. Between excitement andinsufficient air, I regarded suffocation as imminent. Then, out intoview beneath me, was thrust a slim ivory hand which held an electricpocket lamp. Fascinatedly I watched it, saw it joined by its fellow,then observed a white-turbaned head and a pair of black-robedshoulders follow. In my surprise I almost dropped the weapon whichI held. The new arrival now standing upright and raising his head,I found myself looking into the face of _Abu Tabah_!

  "To Allah, the Great, the Compassionate, be all praise that I havefound you alive," he said simply.

  He exhibited little evidence of the journey which I had found sofatiguing, but an expression strongly like that of real anxiety restedupon his ascetic face.

  "If life is dear to you," he continued, "answer me this, KernabyPasha; have you found the ring?"

  "I have not," I replied; "my lamp failed me; but I think the ring isgone."

  And now, as I spoke the words, the strangeness of his question camehome to me, bringing with it an acute suspicion.

  "What do you know of this ring, O my friend?" I asked.

  Abu Tabah shrugged his shoulders.

  "I know much that is evil," he replied; "and because you doubt thepurity of my motives, all that I have learned you shall learn also;for Allah the Great, the Merciful, this night has protected you fromdanger and spared you a frightful death. Follow me, Kernaby Pasha,in order that these things may be made manifest to you."

  IV

  A pair of fleet camels were kneeling at the foot of the slope belowthe entrance to the pyramid, and having recovered somewhat from theeffect of the fatiguing climb out from the King's Chamber--

  "It might be desirable," I said, "that I adopt a more suitable raimentfor camel riding?"

  Abu Tabah slowly shook his head in that dignified manner which neverdeserted him. He had again taken up his ebony walking-stick and wasnow resting his crossed hands upon it and regarding me with hisstrange, melancholy eyes.

  "To delay would be unwise," he replied. "You have mercifully beenspared a painful and unfortunate end (all praise to Him who avertedthe peril); but the ring, which bears an ancient curse, is gone: forme there is no rest until I have found and destroyed it."

  He spoke with a solemn conviction which bore the seal of verity.

  "Your destructive theory may be perfectly sound," I said; "but as oneprofessionally interested in relics of the past, I feel called upon toprotest. Perhaps before we proceed any further you will enlighten merespecting this most obscure matter. Can you inform me, for example,what became of Hassan es-Sugra?"

  "He observed my approach from a distance, and fled, being a man oflittle virtue. Respecting the other matters you shall be fullyenlightened, to-night. The white camel is for you."

  There was a gentle finality in his manner to which I succumbed. Myfeelings towards this mysterious being had undergone a slight change;and whilst I cannot truthfully say that I loved him as a brother,a certain respect for Abu Tabah was taking possession of my mind. Ibegan to understand his reputation with the natives; beyond doubt hisuncanny wisd
om was impressive; his lofty dignity awed. And no man isat his best arrayed in canvas shoes, very dirty drill trousers, anda pyjama jacket.

  As I had anticipated, the village of Meydum proved to be ourdestination, and the gait of the magnificent creatures upon which wewere mounted was exhausting. I shall always remember that moonlightride across the desert to the palm groves of Meydum. I entered thehouse of the Sheikh with misgivings; for my attire fell short of theideal to which every representative of protective Britain looks up,but often fails to realize.

  In a _mandarah_, part of it inlaid with fine mosaic and boasting apretty fountain, I was presented to the imposing old man who wasevidently the host of Abu Tabah. Ere taking my seat upon the _diwan_,I shed my canvas shoes, in accordance with custom, accepted a pipe anda cup of excellent coffee, and awaited with much curiosity the nextdevelopment. A brief colloquy between Abu Tabah and the Sheikh, at thefurther end of the apartment resulted in the disappearance of theSheikh and the approach of my mysterious friend.

  "Because, although you are not a Moslem, you are a man of culture andunderstanding," said Abu Tabah, "I have ordered that my sister shallbe brought into your presence."

  "That is exceedingly good of you," I said, but indeed I knew it to bean honor which spoke volumes at once for Abu Tabah's enlightenment andgood opinion of myself.

  "She is a virgin of great beauty," he continued; "and the excellenceof her mind exceeds the perfection of her person."

  "I congratulate you," I answered politely, "upon the possession of asister in every way so desirable."

  Abu Tabah inclined his head in a characteristic gesture of gentlecourtesy.

  "Allah has indeed blessed my house," he admitted; "and because yourmind is filled with conjectures respecting the source of certaininformation which you know me to possess, I desire that the mattershall be made clear to you."

  How I should have answered this singular man I know not; but as hespoke the words, into the _mandarah_ came the Sheikh, followed by agirl robed and veiled entirely in white. With gait slow and gracefulshe approached the _diwan_. She wore a white _yelek_ so closelywrapped about her that it concealed the rest of her attire, and awhite _tarbar_, or head-veil, decorated with gold embroidery, almostentirely concealed her hair, save for one jet-black plait in whichlittle gold ornaments were entwined and which hung down on the left ofher forehead. A white _yashmak_ reached nearly to her feet, which wereclad in little red leather slippers.

  As she approached me I was impressed, not so much with the details ofher white attire, nor with the fine lines of a graceful figure whichthe gossamer robe quite failed to conceal, but with her wonderfulgazelle-like eyes, which wore uncannily like those of her brother,save that their bordering of _kohl_ lent them an appearance of beinglarger and more luminous.

  No form of introduction was observed; with modestly lowered eyes thegirl saluted me and took her seat upon a heap of cushions before asmall coffee table set at one end of the _diwan_. The Sheikh, seatedhimself beside me, and Abu Tabah, with a reed pen, wrote somethingrapidly on a narrow strip of paper. The Sheikh clapped his hands, aman entered bearing a brazier containing live charcoal, and, havingplaced it upon the floor, immediately withdrew. The _diwan_ waslighted by a lantern swung from the ceiling, and its light, pouringfully down upon the white figure of the girl, and leaving the otherpersons and objects in comparative shadow, produced a picture whichI am unlikely to forget.

  Amid a tense silence, Abu Tabah took from a box upon the table someresinous substance. This he sprinkled upon the fire in the brazier;and the girl extending a small hand and round soft arm across thetable, he again dipped his pen in the ink and drew upon the upturnedpalm a rough square which he divided into nine parts, writing in eachan Arabic figure. Finally, in the centre he poured a small drop ofink, upon which, in response to words rapidly spoken, the girl fixedan intent gaze.

  Into the brazier Abu Tabah dropped one by one fragments of the paperupon which he had written what I presumed to be a form of invocation.Immediately, standing between the smoking brazier and the girl, hecommenced a subdued muttering. I recognized that I was about to betreated to an exhibition of _darb el-mendel_, Abu Tabah beingevidently a _sahhar_, or adept in the art called _er-roohanee_. Savefor this indistinct muttering, no other sound disturbed the silence ofthe apartment, until suddenly the girl began to speak Arabic and in asweet but monotonous voice.

  "Again I see the ring," she said, "a hand is holding it before me.The ring bears a green scarab, upon which is written the name of aking of Egypt.... The ring is gone. I can see it no more."

  "Seek it," directed Abu Tabah in a low voice, and threw more incenseupon the fire. "Are you seeking it?"

  "Yes," replied the girl, who now began to tremble violently, "I am ina low passage which slopes downwards so steeply that I am afraid."

  "Fear nothing," said Abu Tabah; "follow the passage."

  With marvelous fidelity the girl described the passage and the shaftleading to the King's Chamber in the Pyramid of Meydum. She describedthe cavity in the wall where once (if Hassan es-Sugra was worthy ofcredence) the ring had been concealed.

  "There is a freshly made hole in the stonework," she said. "Thepicture has gone; I am standing in some dark place and the same handagain holds the ring before me."

  "Is it the hand of an Oriental," asked Abu Tabah, "or of a European?"

  "It is the hand of a European. It has disappeared; I see a funeralprocession winding out from Rikka into the desert."

  "Follow the ring," directed Abu Tabah, a queer, compelling note in hisvoice.

  Again he sprinkled perfume upon the fire and--

  "I see a Pharaoh upon his throne," continued the monotonous voice,"upon the first finger of his left hand he wears the ring with thegreen scarab. A prisoner stands before him in chains; a woman pleadswith the king, but he is deaf to her. He draws the ring from hisfinger and hands it to one standing behind the throne--one who has avery evil face. Ah!..."

  The girl's voice died away in a low wail of fear or horror. But--

  "What do you see?" demanded Abu Tabah.

  "The death-ring of Pharaoh!" whispered the soft voice tremulously; "itis the death-ring!"

  "Return from the past to the present," ordered Abu Tabah. "Where isthe ring now?"

  He continued his weird muttering, whilst the girl, who still shudderedviolently, peered again into the pool of ink. Suddenly--

  "I see a long line of dead men," she whispered, speaking in a kind ofchant; "they are of all the races of the East, and some are swathed inmummy wrappings; the wrappings are sealed with the death-ring ofPharaoh. They are passing me slowly, on their way across the desertfrom the Pyramid of Meydum to a narrow ravine where a tent is erected.They go to summon one who is about to join their company...."

  I suppose the suffocating perfume of the burning incense was chieflyresponsible, but at this point I realized that I was becoming dizzyand that immediate departure into a cooler atmosphere was imperative.Quietly, in order to avoid disturbing the seance, I left the_mandarah_. So absorbed were the three in their weird performance thatmy departure was apparently unnoticed. Out in the coolness of the palmgrove I soon recovered. I doubt if I possess the temperament whichenables one to contemplate with equanimity a number of dead menpromenading in their shrouds.

  V

  "The truth is now wholly made manifest," said Abu Tabah; "therevelation is complete."

  Once more I was mounted upon the white camel and the mysterious _imam_rode beside me upon its fellow, which was of less remarkable color.

  "I hear your words," I replied.

  "The poor Ahmed Abdulla," he continued, "who was of little wisdom,knew, as Hassan es-Sugra knew, of the hidden ring; for he was one ofthose who fled from the pyramid refusing to enter it again. Greedspoke to him, however, and he revealed the secret to a certainEnglishman, called Bishop, contracting to aid him in recovering thering."

  At last enlightenment was mine ... and it brought in its train adreadful premonition.


  "Something I knew of the peril," said Abu Tabah, "but not, at first,all. The Englishman I warned, but he neglected my warning. AlreadyAhmed Abdulla was dead, having been despatched by his employer to thepyramid; and the people of Rikka had sent for me. Now, by means knownto you, I learned that evil powers threatened your life also, in whatform I knew not at that time save that the sign of Set had beenrevealed to me in conjunction with your death."

  I shuddered.

  "That the secret of the pyramid was a Pharaoh's ring I did not learnuntil later; but now it is made manifest that the thing of power isthe death-ring of Sneferu...."

  The huge bulk of the Pyramid of Meydum loomed above us as he spoke thewords, for we were nearly come to our destination; and its proximityoccasioned within me a physical chill. I do not think an open checkfor a thousand pounds would have tempted me to enter the place again.The death-ring of Sneferu possessed uncomfortable and supernaturalproperties. So far as I was aware, no example of such a ring (the_lettre de cachet_ of the period) was included in any known collection.One dating much after Sneferu, and bearing the cartouche of Apepi II(one of the Hyksos, or Shepherd Kings) came to light late in thenineteenth century; it was reported to be the ring which, traditionally,Joseph wore as emblematical of the power vested in him by Pharaoh.Sir Gaston Maspero and other authorities considered it to be a forgeryand it vanished from the ken of connoisseurs. I never learned by whatfirm it was manufactured.

  A mile to the west of the pyramid we found Theo Bishop's encampment.I thought it to be deserted--until I entered the little tent....

  An oil-lamp stood upon a wooden box; and its rays made yellow the faceof the man stretched upon the camp-bed. My premonition was realized;Bishop must have entered the pyramid less than an hour ahead of me;he it was who had stood upon the mound, silhouetted against the sky,when I had first approached the slope. He had met with the fate ofAhmed Abdulla.

  He had been dead for at least two hours, and by the token of certainhideous glandular swellings, I knew that he had met his end by thebite of an Egyptian viper.

  "Abu Tabah!" I cried, my voice hoarsely unnatural--"the _recess_ inthe King's Chamber is a viper's nest!"

  "You speak wisdom, Kernaby Pasha; the viper is the servant of the_ginn_."

  Upon the third finger of his swollen right hand Bishop wore the ringof ghastly history; and the mysterious significance of the Sign of Setbecame apparent. For added to the usual cartouche of the Pharaoh wasthe symbol of the god of destruction, thus:

  We buried him deeply, piling stones upon the grave, that the jackalsof the desert might never disturb the last holder of the death-ring ofSneferu.