“‘Behold! As Ra, the Sun-god, liveth! Whosoever seeketh to desecrate this tomb dieth! Whosoever toucheth this body to remove it dieth! On earth death is his portion! In the underworld annihilation is his destiny! In the Hidden Name of Amen, king of gods, this curse remaineth, yea, so long as Ra, the Sun-god, endureth!’
“You see, Clem! It is not to be wondered at that those men died so suddenly, or that the curator, who likewise handled mummy No. 49, himself succumbed. It proves, without the shadow of a doubt, that the curse of the Conjurers of Amen did endure. Sesen can tell you....”
“Steven, please lie down and stop talking. Don’t worry about things. Try to compose yourself.”
As I sank dutifully back upon the pillows, I was aware of a soft and deliciously cool hand which gently pressed my throbbing head. A smiling face bent over me.
My bewildered eyes wandered from a trim little white cap to a spotless white dress and shoes, White canvas shoes!
“Where are her pretty gilded sandals?” thought I.
I tried to speak to her. I even made an effort to catch the soothing hand at my forehead.
At this the white figure vanished, and in its place, stood Braintree, the Seaforth’s doctor.
“Great Scott, I have it. I am in the hospital! That was Susan....”
“That’s just where you are, Steven. And I must ask you not to excite yourself about it. Here you are and here you have been for some time. Tribe, Dunn and I have slaved over you and won out, at last.