The Vanishing Man

by R. Austin Freeman

  CHAPTER XVIII

  JOHN BELLINGHAM

  The next few days were a very nightmare of horror and gloom. Of course,I repudiated my acceptance of the decree of banishment that Ruth hadpassed upon me. I was her friend, at least, and in time of peril myplace was at her side. Tacitly--though thankfully enough, poorgirl!--she had recognised the fact and made me once more free of thehouse.

  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 original reports of the disappearance were reprinted with suchcomments as made me 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, and evenessaying to skirmish with Miss Oman. But this last experiment was a deadfailure; and when she had suddenly broken down in a stream of brilliantrepartee to weep hysterically on my breast, I abandoned the attempt anddid 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, and evenshe 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 humour 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 grey 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, just asthe evening consultations were beginning and the surgery was filled withwaiting patients, Polton appeared with a note, which he insisted, to theindignation of Adolphus, on delivering into my own hands. It was fromThorndyke, 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 there arecertain expressions in the letter which make Dr. Norbury suspect that heis referring to John Bellingham.

  "I want you to bring Mr. and Miss Bellingham to my chambers this eveningat 8.30, to meet Dr. Norbury and talk over this letter; and in view ofthe 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 that thisGordian knot might be cut; that the deliverance might come before it wastoo late. I wrote a hasty note in reply 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 practice 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 putting uptheir shutters; lights were beginning to twinkle in parlour windows; asolemn hymn arose in the old Moravian chapel, and its echoes stole outthrough the dark entry that opens into the court under the archway.

  Here was Mr. Finneymore (a man of versatile gifts, with a leaningtowards 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 out thegas in his little saloon; the greengrocer was emerging with a cigarettein his mouth and an aster in his button-hole, and a group of childrenwere 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 the strangephenomenon of an old-world hamlet with its ancient population lingeringin the very heart of the noisy city; an island of peace set in an oceanof 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 sombre black cloak 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 to come,and I did not urge him. He is really very ill. This dreadful suspensewill 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, andI yearned 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 us witha smiling salutation, Mr. Finneymore removed his pipe and raised hiscap, receiving a gracious bow from Ruth in return, and then we passedthrough the covered way into Fetter Lane, where my companion paused andlooked about her.

  "What are you looking for?" I asked.

  "The detective," she answered quietly. "It would be a pity if the poorman should mis
s me after waiting so long. However, I don't see him"; andshe turned away towards Fleet Street. It was an unpleasant surprise tome that her sharp eyes had 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 of thecircumstances Norbury seems to think that he is referring to your UncleJohn. Of course, if this should turn out to be really the case, it wouldset everything straight; so Thorndyke was anxious that you and yourfather 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 an imbecile,which he certainly was not--when his dead body has actually been found?"

  "But," I suggested lamely, "there may be some mistake. It may not be hisbody 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 useless todelude ourselves. Every known fact points to the certainty that it ishis body. John Bellingham is dead: there can be no doubt of that. And toeveryone except his unknown murderer and one or two of my own loyalfriends, it must seem that his death lies at my door. I realised fromthe beginning that the suspicion lay between George Hurst and me; andthe finding of the ring fixes it definitely on me. I am only surprisedthat 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 confidentattitude, 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. It ismost 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.

  "Apologise to our friends," it ran, "for the slight change of programme.Norbury is anxious that I should get my experiments over before theDirector returns, so as to save discussion. He has asked me to beginto-night and says he will see Mr. and Miss Bellingham here, at theMuseum. Please bring them along at once. The hall porters are instructedto admit you and bring you to us. I think some matters of importance maytranspire at the interview.--J.E.T."

  * * * * *

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

  "Of course I don't," she replied. "I am rather pleased. We have so manyassociations with the dear old Museum, haven't we?" She looked at me fora moment with a strange and touching wistfulness and then turned todescend the stone stairs.

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

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

  "I can only answer you rather vaguely," I replied. "Their object, Ibelieve, is to ascertain whether the penetrability of organic substancesby the X-rays becomes altered by age; whether, for instance, an ancientblock of wood is more or less transparent to the rays than a new blockof the same 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 be ofsome value in legal practice--as in demonstrating a new seal on an olddocument, for instance. But I don't know whether Thorndyke has anythingdefinite in view; I only know that the preparations have been on a mostportentous 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 trays,each 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 mighty closeabout the use of the apparatus all the same. I wonder if we shall seeanything of the experiments, when we get there. This is Museum Street,isn't it?"

  "Yes." As she spoke, she lifted the flap of one of the little windows inthe 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 to inspectits solitary passenger, we drew up at the Museum gates. Thegate-porter, who seemed to expect us, ushered us up the drive to thegreat 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 had firsttrodden its steps together: through the Central Saloon, the MediaevalRoom 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 and vanishedin the twinkling of an eye. Hideous idols with round, staring eyesstarted forth from the darkness, glared at us for an instant and weregone. Grotesque masks, suddenly revealed by the shimmering light, tookon the semblance of demon faces that seemed to mow and gibber at us aswe passed. As for the life-sized models--realistic enough bydaylight--their aspect was positively alarming; for the moving light andshadow endowed them with life and movement, so that they seemed to watchus furtively, to lie in wait and to hold themselves in readiness tosteal out and follow us. The illusion evidently affected Ruth as well asme, for she drew nearer to m
e 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 centre 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 on tiptoewith 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 grey-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 room werethe two large trays that I had seen in the workshop, now mounted ontrestles and each fitted with a rubber drain-tube leading down to abucket. At the farther end of the room the sinister shape of the gallowsreared itself aloft in the gloom; only now I could see that it was not agallows at all. For affixed to the top cross-bar was a large,bottomless glass basin, inside which was a glass bulb that glowed with astrange green light; and in the heart of the bulb a bright 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 Crookes tube,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? Istrained my eyes, peering into the gloom at the foot of the gallows, butthough I could make out an elongated object lying on the floor directlyunder the bulb, I could not resolve the dimly seen shape into anythingrecognisable. Presently, however, Dr. Norbury supplied the clue.

  "I am rather surprised," said he, "that you chose so composite an objectas a mummy to begin on. I should have thought that a simpler object,such as a coffin or a wooden figure, would have been more instructive."

  "In some ways it would," replied Thorndyke, "but the variety ofmaterials that the mummy gives us has its advantages. I hope your fatheris 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 stayed withus 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 long namethat 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, you shallsee the letter presently and judge for yourself. We mustn't introduceirrelevant topics while the experiment is in progress, must we, Doctor?"

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

  The green light vanished from the bulb, the hum of the interrupter sweptdown an octave or two and died away. Then Thorndyke and Dr. Norbury rosefrom their chairs and went towards the mummy, which they lifted tenderlywhile Polton drew from beneath it what presently turned out to be a hugeblack-paper envelope. The single glow-lamp was switched off, leaving theroom in total darkness, until there burst out suddenly a brightorange-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. Unlikean 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 craned overthe tray with the keenest curiosity.

  The developer was evidently a very slow one. For fully half a minute nochange could be seen in the uniform surface. Then, gradually, almostinsensibly, the marginal portion began to darken, leaving the outline ofthe mummy in pale relief. The change, once started, proceeded apace.Darker and darker grew the margin of the paper until from slaty grey ithad turned to black; and still the shape of the mummy, now in strongrelief, remained an elongated patch of bald white. But not for long.Presently the white shape began to be tinged with grey, and, as thecolour deepened, there grew out of it a paler form that seemed to stealout of the enshrouding grey like an apparition, spectral, awesome,mysterious. The skeleton was coming into view.

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

  The grey shadow of the cartonnage, the wrappings and the flesh wasfading away into the black background and the white skeleton stood outin sharp contrast. And it certainly was a rather 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 are anymetallic objects. I have three more papers in the envelope."

  The white shape of the skeleton now began to grey 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 of thebreast 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 waiting afew seconds, he switched on one of the glow-lamps, and as the flood oflight fell on the photograph, he added: "You see we haven't quite lostthe 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 she hadturned 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 him to ask 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 the Museum. This mummy ought to be unrolled. Do youthink 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 greyish one is probably filledwith tin."

  "
Very interesting," said Dr. Norbury. "_Very_ interesting! And what doyou 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. It isthe Utchat--the Eye of Horus--or Osiris, if you prefer to call it so.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 a gildeddevice. And I should say further that the tattooing is done invermilion, as carbon tattooing would 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 knee-caps."

  "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 a treasurehe was giving us! How I wish he could have known! How I wish he couldhave 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 awhile in silence. Then, in a faint voice, heasked: "How do you suggest that John Bellingham's body came to beinside that cartonnage?"

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

  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. I haveseen John Bellingham's dentist and obtained particulars from hiscase-book. There were in all five teeth that had been filled. The rightupper wisdom-tooth, the molar next to it, and the second lower molar onthe left side, had all extensive gold fillings. You can see them allquite plainly in the skiagraph. The left lower lateral incisor had avery small gold filling, which you can see as a nearly circular whitedot. In addition to these, a filling of tin amalgam had been insertedwhile the deceased was abroad, in the second left upper bicuspid, therather grey spot that we have already noticed. These would, bythemselves, furnish ample means of identification. But in addition,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 Bennet, 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 may take it that the identification is beyond all doubtor 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 up the next negative to show it."

  Dr. Norbury drew his breath in sharply through his teeth. "This is agruesome business, Doctor," said he. "A terrible business. Awkward forour people, too. By the way, what is our position in the matter? Whatsteps 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 had betterwrite 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 he isnot now. You are forgetting the conditions of clause two. That clausesets forth the conditions under which Godfrey Bellingham shall inheritthe bulk of the estate and become the co-executor; and those conditionsare: 'that the body of the testator shall be deposited in someauthorised place for the reception of the bodies of the dead, situatewithin the boundaries of, or appertaining to some place of worshipwithin, the parish of St. George, Bloomsbury, and St. Giles in theFields or St. Andrew above the Bars and St. George the Martyr.' NowEgyptian mummies are the bodies of the dead, and this Museum is anauthorised place for their reception; and this building is situatewithin the boundaries of the parish of St. George, Bloomsbury. Thereforethe provisions of clause two have been duly carried out and thereforeGodfrey Bellingham is the principal beneficiary under the will, and theco-executor, in accordance with the wishes of the testator. Is thatquite clear?"

  "Perfectly," said Dr. Norbury; "and a most astonishing coincidence--but,my dear young lady, had you not better sit down? You are looking veryill."

  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 has beena tremendous climax to all the trials that she has borne so bravely. Goout with Berkeley," he added gently, laying his hand on her shoulder,"and sit down while we develop the other negatives. You mustn't breakdown now, you know, when the storm has passed and the sun is beginningto shine." He held the door open, and as we passed out his face softenedinto a smile of infinite kindness. "You won't mind my locking you out,"said he; "this is a photographic dark-room at present."

  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 sky-lights. We walked on slowly, herarm linked in mine, and for a while neither of us spoke. The great roomswere very silent and peaceful and solemn. The hush, the stillness, themystery of the hal
f-seen forms in the cases around, were all in harmonywith the deeply-felt sense of a great deliverance that filled ourhearts.

  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 from theworld of shadows to tell us of this awful thing. But, O God! what arelief it is!" She caught her breath in one or two quick sobs andpressed my hand passionately.

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

  "I can't realise 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 softfoot-falls, through the wide doorway into the second room. The vagueshapes of the mummy-cases standing erect in the wall-cases, loomed outdim and gigantic, silent watchers keeping their vigil with the memoriesof untold centuries locked in their shadowy breasts. They were anawesome company. Reverend survivors from a vanished world, they lookedout from the gloom of their abiding-place, but with no shade of menaceor of malice in their silent presence; rather with a solemn benison onthe fleeting 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 it 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 I drewher 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! Thesorrow 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 thatworshipped her utterly. Henceforth no sorrows could hurt us, nomisfortunes 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 to marktheir passage. The turning of a key and the opening of a door aroused usfrom our dream of perfect happiness. Ruth raised her head to listen, andour lips met for one brief moment. Then, with a silent greeting to thefriend who had looked on our grief and witnessed our final happiness, weturned and retraced our steps quickly, filling the great, empty roomswith 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--I shouldbe 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, whowill 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 a manof strong emotions and would probably be somewhat overcome by the suddenchange of fortune and the news of his brother's tragic death.

  "In that case," said Thorndyke, "I will bespeak your services. Will yougo on and wait for me at my chambers, when you have seen Miss Bellinghamhome?"

  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, at least, in a vastly different frame of mind. The party broke up atthe entrance gates, and as Thorndyke wished my companion "Good night,"she held his hand and looked up in his face with swimming eyes.

  "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-bye! 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 the town.I looked at my companion as the lights of the street shone into the cab,and was astonished at the transformation. The pallor of her cheek hadgiven place to a rosy pink; the hardness, the tension, the haggardself-repression that had aged her face, were all gone, and the girlishsweetness that had so bewitched me in the early days of our love hadstolen back. Even the dimple was there when the sweeping lashes liftedand her eyes met mine in a smile of infinite tenderness. Little was saidon that brief journey. It was happiness enough to sit, hand clasped inhand, and know that our time of trial was past; that no cross of Fatecould 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-bye" 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 be positivelyfrantic to see you; because I shall have told him, you know. And,remember, that it is you who have brought us this great deliverance.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-bye. 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.