A few minutes later the thing was done, and I had signed my name to the atrocious expressions of his demand. To transcribe them I am too ashamed.
"What now?" I asked.
"The last scene in the last act," said he, as he put the letter in his pocket. "I may tell you that I intend always to keep your body by me—for her to look at—if she ever shows a mind to mutiny."
"In spirits?" I questioned.
"The embalming oil of the princes of old Egypt. I found the receipt in Ptahmes' tomb," he answered. "I propose to convert you into a mummy."
With that he took off his hat and coat, rolled up his sleeves and put on a huge oil-skin apron. "I'll not kill you till the last moment necessary," he observed. "In fact, you'll be half-mummy before you die; I have a curiosity to discover if the process of substitution is painful. I rather think it must be."
He moved over as he spoke to the sarcophagus and began to shift the objects that sealed up the mouth. It took him some minutes to do so, and as he put down the couch, last of all, one of the castors crashed upon his toe. He cursed the misfortune like a madman and danced about the floor on one foot like a dervish, winding up by striking me brutally with closed fist on the lips. That gave him back his self-control.
"I'll teach you to laugh at me," he growled. Then he returned to his work and stooping over the great coffin he hauled out the lifeless mummy that had rested there so long. For an instant I glimpsed the strange dead features of the dust of Ptahmes which so strikingly resembled the effigy carven on the lid of the sarcophagus and also the Arab who had twice in Egypt attempted to destroy me. Then Belleville carelessly threw the thing upon the couch; and traversed the room to where stood three glass jars filled with a dark viscous fluid. One by one he rolled these on end across the floor till all three stood beside the coffin. Afterwards he disappeared behind my chair, returning soon, his head covered with a long breathing mask. I watched him—one may guess with what passionate attention. He unscrewed the stopper of the nearest jar, seized the thing bodily in his arms and poured out the contents into the sarcophagus. A curious cloud-like steam arose that hazed the prospect, but soon it dissipated. The air was filled with the perfume I had first smelt in the cave temple of the Hill of Rakh. But it was not altogether overpowering. It made my pulses throb and brought a great rush of blood to my head and hands and feet much as would the scent of amyl nitrate. But it did not take away my senses. Belleville, protected by his mask, was in no way affected. He quickly unstoppered the second jar, and added its contents to the first. Then he turned and approached me, taking off his helmet as he came. The action apprised me that the wonderful perfume had almost died away. There was now a healthy and stimulating odour in the room that resembled boiling tar. Evidently the two jars had contained different chemicals. A loud, seething, bubbling sound was plainly to be heard; it came from the sarcophagus.
Belleville sat down and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "We must give the stuff ten minutes to mix," he said and, taking out his watch, he glanced at the time. "It's twenty past eleven," he remarked. "You'll begin to mummify at the half hour precisely, Pinsent, so if you are a religious man you'd best compose your soul in prayer."