I rose to my feet as unsteadily as though leaving a bed of long illness. "Before I answer your question, what have you discovered?" I asked, sinking into a comfortable arm-chair.
"In the first place, I have partially translated the hieroglyphics, and, in the second place, I have removed the top of the leopard's head."
"How could you possibly translate the hieroglyphics in so short a time?" was my incredulous inquiry.
"Well, you have slept for over four hours, and I have, moreover, been engaged upon the inscriptions of this particular period for nearly a year now."
"You don't mean to state that this couch dates back to the time of Hatshepsu?"
"There can be little doubt of it^ The inscription contains as romantic a love-story as the heart of a modern novelist could desire."
"Wait a moment, Bode!" I cried. "Does it correspond to the following?" And I related the incidents of my extraordinary dream as I have already set them forth.
He remained silent for a moment at the end of my narrative, his eyes dreamily closed. Then, rising to his feet, he bent over the head of the couch. "Yes," he said slowly, "there is a narrow Channel from the mouth of the leopard that presumably communicates with the hollow at the base."
He paused, then added irrelevantly: "The rock temple at Deir-el-Bahari."
"Right, Bode!" I cried, in sudden excitement. "It was the temple at Deir-el-Bahari! I understand now why the scene seemed vaguely familiar. But how do you account for the leopard-priesthood being established there?"
"A secret cult, consisting of priests ostensibly following other creeds. You have undoubtedly witnessed the punishment of Neothys, a beautiful priestess of the mystic goddess, who is never named in the inscriptions, but of whom the white leopard is emblematic. This Neothys had a lover, one Neremid, a captain of the warriors, and their trysting-place was in the very shadows of Hatshepsu's temple at Deir-el-Bahari. He used to await her coming in a boat upon the river. But one night she was followed. Neremid died by the hand of Thi, chief of the temple-guard, and Neothys was dealt with by the high-priest."
"What was the meaning of the extraordinary experiment I witnessed in my dream?"
"The man in the red robe was undoubtedly Karpusa, whom I believe to have been the last high-priest of the cult. I have previously encountered this singular personality in the course of my investigations; and his knowledge of the 'unknown' appears to have exceeded the credible. According to the inscription upon the couch, Karpusa wrecked vengeance upon Neothys by denying her immortality for all ages."
"I fail to follow."
Maurice Bode manipulated the head of the leopard in some way so that the top came off in his hand. Inserting a finger and a thumb into the aperture, he drew forth a small ball of sparkling crystal. "Examine that," he said, handing it to me.
It was no larger than a full-sized walnut, but had all the brilliancy of a precious gem. I was gazing into its changeful depths when an idea occurred to me — an idea that caused me to return the thing with a shudder of revulsion.
"You do not, surely, suggest—" I began.
"I suggest nothing," said Bode; "but by way of an experiment I propose acting thus."
Raising the crystal above his head, he dashed it with all his force on to the marble hearth. I had just time to observe that it was shattered, when the electric light went out.
Dense fumes seemed to fill the room, and there was a buzzing in my ears. Then suddenly I caught my breath and listened; for it appeared to me that I had detected the sound of a low, clear voice — singing. Before I could determine whether it were imaginary or otherwise, the sound died away and the electric lamps became relighted.
There was a faint blue vapour in the air. Bode was standing on the other side of the room, and his tense attitude betrayed him.
"You heard it?" I inquired.
"I heard something," he replied. "The extinction of the electric light was highly instructive." Seeing me about to speak again, "I have no theory," he said. "The only one that can cover all the facts is too incredible to be entertained."
"I wanted to ask you what you make of the sudden death of Professor Bayton and M'Quown."
"Again I have no theory. We should, however, remember that the incidents you mention, though singular, do not justify us — with our present inadequate knowledge of the circumstances under which they occurred — in placing them outside the province of coincidence. But I may mention that when I endeavoured to arouse you this evening, I at first failed to do so. It was not until I treated you as a hypnotised subject, and employed the usual means of restoring consciousness after hypnosis, that you revived."
The Mystery of the Fabulous Lamp
They lived in what had been described as an "artistic apartment." Bram always referred to it as a "walk down." Lorna was delighted with it.
If you happened to be passing a reconstructed New York brownstone house between Lexington and Third Avenue, at night, and if the shades weren't drawn, looking down you had a glimpse of the living-room, lit by a lamp with a square shade of plaited straw which gave out a pleasant glow.
You saw chairs upholstered in golden brown, an olive-green bookcase, painted by Lorna and well-stocked with books. Some modern light maple furniture. A small buffet of English walnut, decorated with a Wedgwood salad bowl (wedding present), displayed a few pieces of good crystal.
Four steps led down to a tiny forecourt and a blue door with bright brass fittings. Two sky-blue windows boxes were filled with geraniums. Bram had always suspected that the blue door stood for $10 a month on the rent. The boxes Lorna had decorated.
But a sense of happy contentment crept over him when he halted at the top of the steps that evening and surveyed this little home — his and Lorna's.
He had his key ready, but Lorna had heard his footsteps. The blue door opened as if by magic.
"Darling!" she cried, as she broke away from his arms. "I bought a lamp, second-hand. It cost $20."
Bram stifled a groan. He adored his pretty wife. She was a gay companion and a practical housekeeper; but two months of marriage had proved her to be, also, a fanatical interior decorator.
"Our budget's getting low, honey."
"I know, Bram. But I simply couldn't stand the flying saucer any longer!"
The flying saucer was a standard ceiling fixture — a dull glass bowl — supplied by the landlord in the entrance foyer of their apartment, and Lorna hated it.
"Oh, Bram," she said, clinging to him. "You've never regretted what we did?"
Bram grabbed her, held her hard.
At the time Lorna came along and changed his way of life, Bram had saved up $2,000 and had planned to put it into the publishing business where he was a promising junior editor. This would have meant postponing their marriage for at least a year, and Bram hadn't hesitated for a moment. He had chosen Lorna, and the $2,000 had gone to set them up in their little apartment.
"Don't be cross with me, darling!" Lorna drew back, turned his gaze. "Look!"
Bram looked.
An Arab brass lamp with panels of coloured glass hung where the flying saucer had been.
The effect was remarkable. Their nine-foot square hall, walls and ceiling bathed in subdued coloured rays, resembled the end of a rainbow. An enlarged snap of Bram in uniform on a camel in front of the Sphinx had taken on the violet hue of an Egyptian afterglow. The coffee table was bathed in mysterious golden light. The long, narrow settee lurked in deep blue shadows.