| CHAPTER | PAGE | |
| I. | Concerning the Son of Hap | [1] |
| II. | A Patient of the Desert | [13] |
| III. | Two Lies | [25] |
| IV. | The Sarcophagus's Perfume | [29] |
| V. | The Shadow in the Cave | [42] |
| VI. | Enter Doctor Belleville | [53] |
| VII. | The One Goddess | [62] |
| VIII. | Ottley Shows His Hand | [75] |
| IX. | A Cool Defiance | [90] |
| X. | The Capture of the Coffin | [96] |
| XI. | Good-bye to the Nile | [104] |
| XII. | The Meeting | [111] |
| XIII. | Hubbard Is Jealous | [124] |
| XIV. | The Pushful Man | [131] |
| XV. | A Quaint Love Pact | [138] |
| XVI. | Lady Helen Prescribes for Her Husband | [145] |
| XVII. | The Séance | [155] |
| XVIII. | The Unseen | [173] |
| XIX. | The First Victim | [184] |
| XX. | Lady Helen's Medicine Operates | [193] |
| XXI. | Hubbard's Philosophy of Life | [204] |
| XXII. | The Dead Hand | [211] |
| XXIII. | I Set Out for the East | [220] |
| XXIV. | The Gin Is Sprung | [226] |
| XXV. | The Mummy Talks | [238] |
| XXVI. | A Pleasant Chat with a Murderer | [246] |
| XXVII. | Unbound | [262] |
| XXVIII. | The Struggle in the Chamber | [275] |
| XXIX. | Saved by Fire | [293] |
| XXX. | The Last | [305] |
THE LIVING MUMMY
Chapter I Concerning the Son of Hap
I was hard at work in my tent. I had almost completed translating the inscription of a small stele of Amen-hotep III, dated B. C., 1382, which with my own efforts I had discovered, and I was feeling wonderfully self-satisfied in consequence, when of a sudden I heard a great commotion without. Almost immediately the tent flap was lifted, and Migdal Abu's black face appeared. He looked vastly excited for an Arab, and he rolled his eyes horribly. "What do you want?" I demanded irritably. "Did I not tell you I was not to be disturbed?"
He bent almost double. "Excellency—a white sheik has come riding on an ass, and with him a shameless female, also white."
"The dickens!" I exclaimed, for I had not seen a European for nine weeks.
Migdal Abu advanced with hand outstretched. "Excellency, he would have me give you this."
I took "this," and swore softly underbreath at the humourless pomposity of my unknown countryman. It was a pasteboard carte-de-visite. And we—in the heart of the Libyan desert!