“Old Pharoah was a fine old fellow,” said Max, “but I’d rather be an American citizen than——”
“A mummy.”
That was no echo.
It was a human voice.
Max could stand no more.
His eyes seemed like coals of fire, his brain was burning, his lips were parched.
“Oh, God! I am dying!” he gasped, as he fell on the floor, scattering the dust of centuries and causing the tomb to be filled with a cloud, suffocating and unpleasant.
When he recovered consciousness he was still lying on the floor, but his head rested on Girzilla’s knee, and she was fanning him with a palm leaf which she had brought in with her.
“You silly boy, did I frighten you?”
“Was it you who said ‘a mummy?’”