out of horses' hoofs,
into one of the little air-holes I have described, managed to raise the
heavy crystal lid sufficiently to enable us to force a piece of wood
between it and the top. The rest was easy, for the hinges being of
crystal had not corroded. In two minutes it was open.

From the chest came an overpowering spicy odour, and with it a veritable
breath of warm air before which we recoiled a little. Bickley took a
pocket thermometer which he had at hand and glanced at it. It marked a
temperature of 82 degrees in the sepulchre. Having noted this, he thrust
it into the coffin between the crystal wall and its occupant. Then we
went out and waited a little while to give the odours time to dissipate,
for they made the head reel.

After five minutes or so we returned and examined the thermometer. It
had risen to 98 degrees, the natural temperature of the human body.

"What do you make of that if the man is dead?" he whispered.

I shook my head, and as we had agreed, set to helping him to lift the
body from the coffin. It was a good weight, quite eleven stone I should
say; moreover, it was not stiff, for the hip joints bent. We got it out
and laid it on a blanket we had spread on the floor of the sepulchre.
Whilst I was thus engaged I saw something that nearly caused me to loose
my hold from astonishment. Beneath the head, the centre of the back and
the feet were crystal boxes about eight inches square, or rather crystal
blocks, for in them I could see no opening, and these boxes emitted a
faint phosphorescent light. I touched one of them and found that it was
quite warm.

"Great heavens!" I exclaimed, "here's magic."

"There's no such thing," answered Bickley in his usual formula. Then an
explanation seemed to strike him and he added, "Not magic but radium
or something of the sort. That's how the temperature was kept up. In
sufficient quantity it is practically indestructible, you see. My word!
this old gentleman knew a thing or two."

Again we waited a little while to see if the body begun to crumble on
exposure to the air, I taking the opportunity to make a rough sketch of
it in my pocket-book in anticipation of that event. But it did not; it
remained quite sound.

"Here goes," said Bickley. "If he should be alive, he will catch cold in
his lungs after lying for ages in that baby incubator, as I suppose he
has done. So it is now or never."

Then bidding me hold the man's right arm, he took the sterilized