“I see a Pharaoh upon his throne,” continued the monotonous voice, “upon the first finger of his left hand he wears the ring with the green scarab. A prisoner stands before him in chains; a woman pleads with the king, but he is deaf to her. He draws the ring from his finger and hands it to one standing behind the throne—one who has a very evil face. Ah!...”
The girl’s voice died away in a low wail of fear or horror. But—
“What do you see?” demanded Abû Tabâh.
“The death-ring of Pharaoh!” whispered the soft voice tremulously; “it is the death-ring!”
“Return from the past to the present,” ordered Abû Tabâh. “Where is the ring now?”
He continued his weird muttering, whilst the girl, who still shuddered violently, peered again into the pool of ink. Suddenly—
“I see a long line of dead men,” she whispered, speaking in a kind of chant; “they are of all the races of the East, and some are swathed in mummy wrappings; the wrappings are sealed with the death-ring of Pharaoh. They are passing me slowly, on their way across the desert from the Pyramid of Méydûm to a narrow ravine where a tent is erected. They go to summon one who is about to join their company....”
I suppose the suffocating perfume of the burning incense was chiefly responsible, but at this point I realized that I was becoming dizzy and that immediate departure into a cooler atmosphere was imperative. Quietly, in order to avoid disturbing the séance, I left the mandarah. So absorbed were the three in their weird performance that my departure was apparently unnoticed. Out in the coolness of the palm grove I soon recovered. I doubt if I possess the temperament which enables one to contemplate with equanimity a number of dead men promenading in their shrouds.
V
“The truth is now wholly made manifest,” said Abû Tabâh; “the revelation is complete.”