Navarro sighed. "I see a large room," he began. "It is half library, half laboratory. One part of it is filled with racks of books and parchments. At the other end is a dispensary made up of shelves containing jars of different oils and phials filled with drugs. In the middle of the room is a table spread with maps and papyri. The papyri are inscribed with hieroglyphics. Beside the table, standing on two steel trestles, is a large sarcophagus of lead and iron lined with silver. The lid is propped against the wall near by. It is ornamented with the leaden cast of a man. An inscription states that this man is Ptahmes, a high priest of Amen-Ra. His body was once enclosed within the sarcophagus. It is now, however, reclining on a couch at a little distance from the table——"
"Describe it!" said Miss Ottley.
"It is apparently the body of a man of latter middle age. It is of great proportions. It is almost seven feet in length. But the body is very lank and shrunken and ill nourished. The head is of extraordinary shape and dimensions. It is very large and long, and broad. It is surmounted by a crown of jet-black hair that has recently been cut. It tapers like a cone above the temples and again like an inverted cone from the cheek bones to the chin. The nose is long and hooked like the beak of an eagle. The eyes are closed; I cannot see them. But they are almond shaped and set far apart in the skull. The mouth is shrivelled and almost shapeless. The chin is long and pointed. The skin is dark brown, almost black. It looks unhealthy. The body is clothed in ordinary European garments. One arm is fastened in a sling. The chest is, underneath the clothes, swathed in bandages. On the feet are fastened rubber shoes, on the soles of which are particles of fresh-dried mud. That is all."
"Proceed!" said Miss Ottley. "There are living people in the room, are there not?"
"Two," replied the medium after a short pause. "One is seated before the table poring over a torn piece of papyrus. Beside him on the table is a dictionary of hieroglyphics to which he constantly refers. He is a big, thick-set man with black eyes, strongly marked features, and a black bushy beard. In his hand is a pen. He writes with this pen upon the paper before him. He is engaged in translating the papyrus. Ha! he stops. He is looking up at his companion. He is speaking."
"What does he say?"
"He says, 'I cannot altogether reconcile our subject's statements with the records, Ottley. Either in his long sleep his memory has somewhat failed him, or in his sleep he has learnt more than he knew before. It is most annoying; we shall have to question him again.' The other—a little old man, with white hair and very bright small grey eyes—replies, 'You are too damned pernicketty, Doctor. Haven't we the formula, and hasn't it nobly stood the test of practical experience? What more do you want? Your infernal curiosity would ruin everything if I let you have your way. Once for all I tell you that Ptahmes belongs to me, not to you. Damn your science! You've had enough out of him. I'll not allow him to be used again except for my purposes. He has disappointed me with the elixir. Well, he'll have to atone by making me the richest man in the universe. I'll not be satisfied till every shilling in the world belongs to me—every shilling—every shilling.' The little man is now laughing like a lunatic. The big man watches him with a frown, bending his big black brows together. 'But you fool!' he says very angrily, 'do you forget that these things here—' he points to the body of Ptahmes—'will soon wear out? Every time that you drive it to work the friction sheds into dust a portion of its matter. Is it not better to use its brain than its body? Remember that we cannot repair his tissues. Unless we make absolutely certain of the composition of the invisible oil while we have the chance, we may be left stranded in the end. His body is of secondary importance after all. It serves you now, but you can just as well serve yourself by using the oil and doing your own dirty business. But the thing is to make sure of learning how to replenish the oil when our stock gives out. That is the all-important matter. And that is why his brain is of paramount interest to me, and should be to you.'
"The little man says,—'I won't have it, I tell you, we know enough!' The big man replies,—'Be sensible, Ottley! Remember he lost five pounds in weight yesterday! He is melting away before our eyes. Come! I'll make you a proposal. Let me do what I like with Ptahmes and I'll take his place for your money-making purposes. I'll be the ghost of the Stock Exchange and find out all you want to know. Now, what can be fairer than that?'
"The little man is biting his lip. He seems to be thinking," (there was a pause in the narration). Presently Navarro went on. "The little man speaks again; he says:—'That is all very well, Doctor, but you know as well as I do—that you intend to use Ptahmes to destroy your rival. You haven't the courage to do it yourself.' The big man answers very quickly, 'And are you brave enough to tackle Pinsent? Yet his existence threatens all our plans. I firmly believe he has a notion of our ideas already. He is no fool and an adept at putting two and two together. Do you suppose he hasn't guessed at the reason of the success of your enormous transactions on 'Change?' The little man grinds his teeth. 'Curse him!' he shouts. 'Curse him to Hell!' The big man smiles. 'With all my heart,' he says, 'may he rot there for ever and ever! But all this proves to us how careful we should be of the waning strength of our magician. Remember the last time he tried odds with Pinsent on the Nile he got all the worst of the encounter. Three broken ribs! It's true we are more advanced in knowledge since then, and now we can make him quite invisible. But all the same we cannot afford to trifle with the strength of our subject, considering the two great tasks before him.'—Ah!——"