"I know," laughed Guy. "My own experience is exactly the same. Why, only the other day I wanted to ring you up, and it took nearly half an hour."

As she stood there with the sunlight full upon her face she looked inexpressibly dainty and charming. Truly Guy Nicholson was a lucky man.

They were not actually engaged, it seemed, for he had not yet asked Shaw for her hand. Probably Guy hesitated because of the dark suspicion which had entered his mind.

I saw the love-light in her magnificent brown eyes, she stood laughing with him, while he took from his case a cigarette, tapped its end lightly, as is the habit of some men, and lit it.

A few moments later Shaw joined us, smiling merrily, and as he came up he clapped Guy on the back heartily, saying--

"You two fellows will stay and have dinner, won't you? I'm glad you are friends, as you ought to be."

"I really think I must go," I said. "It will take me hours to get home by train."

"Train! Why, Gray will drive you back, of course," he cried. "No, never mind about dressing. Asta will excuse us, and you'll stay."

So, having glanced at each other meaningly, we both accepted, and very soon were seated in the long handsome dining-room, where the table, laden with splendid old silver, was decorated tastefully with roses.

Wheaton served us with due stateliness, yet as I sat watching his grey clean-shaven face, I felt somehow that there was a strange mysterious craftiness in its expression, unusual in the countenance of a gentleman's servant. The manner in which he performed his service was, however, perfect. More than once, during the merry meal, I glanced across at Guy Nicholson, and wondered what were his thoughts.

Fortunately he betrayed nothing in his face, for he joked and laughed with his host, and praised the excellent claret which Wheaton had served with such dignity.

The girl had eyes only for her lover, while Shaw himself, seated at the head of the table, was full of fun and overflowing geniality. How very strange was the situation!

After dinner we took our coffee and liqueurs on the verandah, for the night was breathless and balmy, and the air full of the sweet scent of the flowers.

Then after a long gossip alone with Shaw, at half-past ten the car was ordered for me and came round to the front entrance.

Before leaving I managed to obtain a word alone with Nicholson.

"You'll come over and see me," I asked. "Now, don't disappoint me, will you?"

"No, I won't." Then he whispered quickly: "I told you that I had certain proofs. I've been upstairs. When I come I will show them to you. They will astound you, and they are fully corroborated by what I have noticed to-night. Perhaps it escaped you. Beware of Wheaton.

He's only been here six months, but I know something--have _seen_ something?"

And we shook hands and parted.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE EVIL OF THE TEN PLAGUES.

In the days that followed I was intensely anxious to visit Lydford Hall again, but I had received a warning note from Shaw, urging me not to do so without taking every precaution. I might be followed, for the danger of detection was not yet at an end.

Therefore I remained in eager expectancy of Guy's visit. He had vaguely promised to come over "in a day or two." But as a week pa.s.sed and I heard nothing from him, I wrote, and by return of post received a reply that he would motor over and lunch with me on Sunday.

"I have something of greatest importance to tell you," his letter concluded; "so I hope you can make it convenient to be in on that day."

I received the letter on Thursday morning, and at once replied that I would be at home. I would await his visit with keenest impatience.

The warm breathless days at Upton End pa.s.sed but slowly. Truth to tell, I found life there extremely dull. I had many friends in the neighbourhood, but they were mostly elderly persons, or angular girls of superior education. I had little in common with them, and already found myself longing to travel again.

More than once when smoking my lonely cigar before going to bed, I had taken out the mysterious cylinder from the big safe built in the wall of the library and held it in my hand pondering. What could be the Thing it contained--the thing which would amaze the world!

The weird story told to me by Shaw concerning it haunted me; yet what evil could its possession bring upon me? I had heard, of course, of authenticated stories of certain Egyptian mummies which have brought disaster and death to those who disturbed their long sleep; yet in my case I had become the unwilling agent of another.

On the night of receiving Nicholson's letter, after every one had retired, I was sitting as usual smoking, with the long window open to the verandah, for the air was close and oppressive. Outside the night was glorious, the moon shone brightly, and not a breath of wind stirred.

I opened the steel door in the wall by the fireplace, and from the safe took out the dead man's letter to me with the heavy cylinder. It was a curious fancy of mine to handle and examine it.

I read and re-read that letter traced by the hand of the man whom I had known as Arnold, but whose real name seemed most probably to have been Edgc.u.mbe. Then I read that strange letter threatening vengeance, and held in my hand the old copy of the newspaper which told the curious story of Lady Lettice Lancaster.

It was all mysterious, but surely most mysterious of all was that bronze cylinder. Why should the dead man have feared to expose its contents to the world?

Civilisation would be staggered by the revelation, it was declared.

What terrible secret of ages past could be therein contained? Why had the dead man called it a Thing? Was it really some living thing imprisoned in that strong unbreakable casing?

I carried it across to the green-shaded lamp upon my writing-table, and taking up a strong magnifying gla.s.s examined it closely, and at last determined that the welding by which it had been closed had been done ages ago. As far as I could detect it had never been opened. How, therefore, could Arnold have known what it contained?--unless the papyri that had been discovered with it had given an explanation.

Suddenly it occurred to me that the existence of any papyri of great interest would probably be known in the Egyptian Department of the British Museum. Therefore by inquiry there I might perhaps learn something. So I resolved, after Guy's visit, to run up to London and see one of the officials. As Arnold was an Egyptologist, he would, no doubt, be known and his discoveries noted.

I was holding the cylinder in my hand, carrying it across the room to replace it in the safe, when my eye caught a dark shadow thrown across the lawn. So quickly, however, did it disappear that I stood half inclined to believe it to exist only in my imagination. It seemed to be a long shadow, as though some person had crossed in the moonlight the high bank on the opposite side. Yet my collie, who would bark at the slightest sound in the night, lay near and uttered neither bark nor growl. I went out to the verandah and looked about me; but all was perfectly still. The world lay asleep beneath the great full moon.

For a few moments I stood puzzled. No intruder should be there at that hour. Yet the fact that Prince had not been disturbed rea.s.sured me, so I closed the window, locked the cylinder and the correspondence carefully in the safe, and then went upstairs to bed.

My room was directly over the library, and something prompted me to watch. So I extinguished my light and sat peering through the c.h.i.n.k between the blind and the window-sash. For nearly half an hour I waited, my eyes fixed upon the great wide, moonlit lawn.

Suddenly I saw the shadow again, plainly and distinctly--the dark silhouette pa.s.sed bade again.

It was probably a poacher from the wood beyond. I knew that my rabbits were being trapped with wires; therefore resolving to tell Johnson, the keeper, in the morning, I retired to bed.

Next day, among my letters, I found one from my solicitors, which made it necessary for me to go at once to London; and after doing my business in Bedford Row, I strolled along to the British Museum.

I had but little difficulty in discovering Professor Stewart, whose knowledge of Egyptology is probably the widest of any living man.

Without telling him too many details, I related the story I had heard of the finding of a bronze cylinder in the tomb of King Merenptah, and that certain papyri were discovered with it. Could he give me any information upon the subject.

"Well--a little," replied the tall, grey-bearded, bald-headed man, looking at me through his spectacles with great deliberation. "It is true, I believe, that an interesting cylinder of metal was found in the tomb of Merenptah, coeval with Moses, and with it were some fragments of papyri fairly well-preserved, but on examination they were found not to be of the nineteenth dynasty, as would have been expected."

"Who examined them?" I asked eagerly.

"I did myself, about two years ago, if I recollect aright," replied the Professor. "They were brought to me one day for my opinion by a man whose name I now forget. He was elderly, grey-bearded, and apparently possessed considerable knowledge of Egyptian subjects. He left them with me, so that I might decipher them, as he wished to compare his own decipher with mine. But, curiously enough, I have never seen him since.

The papyri I have still locked away, awaiting his return."

"Then they are here?" I cried eagerly.

"Certainly. Would you like to see them?"

I replied eagerly in the affirmative, and he left me for some minutes, returning with a big cardboard portfolio, which he opened, showing half a dozen pieces of brown crumbling paper-like substance covered with puzzling hieroglyphics. With them were several sheets of blue foolscap, upon which he had written his translation.

"Here is what the record contains," he said.