"And you a miser's gizzard."
The Arab uttered a sardonic laugh. "Get to your woman's work!" he sneered. "And clear those things away! You had better tell Natamkin to serve the lady in her room!"
"And you—oh, great Lord!" growled the Nubian, with elephantine sarcasm.
The Arab, however, did not trouble himself to answer. With a mien of princely dignity he stalked in silence to the door and vanished.
I said to myself, "There, without doubt, goes the man who, in the nick of time, released me from my bonds. He is my friend." The reflection gave me substantial satisfaction, for much against my will I had hitherto been compelled to ascribe my salvation to a supernatural agency. But now all was changed. Without doubt the Arab had been secretly watching over me, and when the time came he turned out the lights, rushed into the laboratory and unfastened my straps. Afterwards, he had adroitly managed to escape before Belleville could turn on the lights again. No doubt, too, this Arab was the man of my dream, who had bargained with me to kill Belleville when I got free, to destroy the mummy of Ptahmes, the Priest of Amen-Ra—and his papyri and steles. Why he should have driven such a bargain I could not fathom. And why, moreover, he should have taken the trouble to impersonate the mummy and pretend he could not speak, I was also at a loss to understand. Suddenly I remembered that the animated mummy of my dream had conversed with me in the tongue of Ancient Egypt per medium of a slate and had seemed not to understand modern Arabic. Also, his left hand had been removed—and this Arab enjoyed the undiminished use of his. My head whirled at the contemplation of these essential contradictions. Were they one and the same man or not? Was it possible that Belleville's Arab servant could be a professor of the language of Sesostris? And I recollected, too, how closely I had scrutinised the ghostly mummy's face and realised its utter deadness. The mystery, after all, was not to be as easily solved as my first warm flush of fancy had conceived. Realising this, I put it out of mind and arose to address myself to the practical affair that lay before me. The Nubian was in the act of quitting the room, laden with a heavy tray of dishes. I followed him out into the corridor and leisurely made back to the laboratory. I met nobody en route, but once inside the blind passage, which opened on my old prison chamber, I became aware that something had gone wrong. The air was heavy with the mysterious scent of the sarcophagus. Moreover, the door of the laboratory which I had been careful to shut close was now ajar. Instinctively, I slipped the key I had just used on the outer door, into my mouth and hurried softly up the passage. There a bewildering surprise awaited me. The laboratory was apparently untenanted by living beings. The mummy of Ptahmes still lay upon the couch. The straps which had fastened Belleville to the chair were all unfastened and Belleville himself had disappeared. Yet there were noises in the room, noises of footfalls and the tinkling of glass. Presently I saw a large glass phial move quietly from a marble slab and stand poised in air. A second later the stopper, which had been laid beside it, sprang up, too, and settled neatly in the phial's mouth. Then the bottle leaped up high into the air and settled, with mysterious precision, on a shelf. I stared at these wonders half-understanding, half-dazed. But soon I comprehended all. Belleville's voice speaking in Arabic came to me through the hush.
"That will do, I think. There only remains for us to steal upon him now and take him by surprise. Serve me well in this, Ptahmes, and I shall treble your reward."
"The man is of iron strength, master," answered the Arab's voice. "It is true that we are two to one and he is unsuspicious, but I should like well to have a knife."
"Nonsense," retorted Belleville. "I cannot make steel invisible. We must needs trust to the sandbags. Now lead on to the lady's room and take care from this moment that you make no sound."
On this I left the doorway and, slipping into the opposite corner, pressed flat against the wall. Presently the door creaked open and I heard the noise of breathing. I followed it as gently as a shadow, halting sharply when I could not hear it or it grew too near. I was weaponless—for I had left Belleville's revolver in the laboratory ere for the first time leaving it. But still, I dared not arm myself, for to have done so would have given my adversaries, sooner or later, a certain clue to my position; and my only hope of worsting them now consisted in preserving my absolute invisibility and at the same time knowing where, in the general sense, they were. My first great difficulty arose in the passage of the outer door. I dared not slip out with them, and since they locked it after them, I was forced to wait some time before I deemed it safe to open it again. Thus, when I reached the outer passage there was absolutely nothing left to guide my steps. However, I hurried to the arch and thence looked forth along the bifurcated corridor. Seeing and hearing nothing, I sank to the floor, and like an Indian pressed my ear against the boards. One far-off panel a little later creaked distinctly. Wood, though carpeted, is a fine sound conductor. This gave me the direction. Hot foot I followed it. But soon I came to a corner and beyond a short, wide cul-de-sac, with three closed doors. Here I stopped with straining ears and listened with a beating heart and bated breath. The conspirators were there, beyond the scope of doubt; and presently I knew the door they wished to pass. I saw the handle turn and heard a sigh. "Locked," murmured a voice in English—then in Arabic it breathed. "Keep closely by me, Ptahmes, hold my coat!" Three sharp raps followed on the panels. A voice that thrilled me, asked within the room, "Who is there?"
A voice, the cleverly twisted voice of Belleville, answered in a sharp falsetto from without, "It is I, my dear young lady, Sir Philip Lang."