s, first to where the fragmentary head lay, then to the
torn body.

Something about the latter electrified him. He leaped from the couch and
seized an end of the linen that bound the mummy. He pulled, and the
linen unwound. He curiously surveyed something at his feet. It was a
tightly rolled wad of excelsior. The swathing of linen--he had unwound
it to where the hands should have been folded on the breast--had
enclosed excelsior.

Dazedly he looked into the empty case. Upon one of the new boards he saw
marked with the careless brush of some shipping-clerk, "Watkins & Co.,
Hartford, Conn."

Again, as with the unstable lilac-bushes, his world spun about him; it
drew in and darkened. He had the sensation of a grain of dust sucked
down a vast black funnel.

Outside the quiet room, the city went on its ruthless, noisy way. In
there where dynasties had fallen and a monarch lay prone, a spotted dog
sporting with a _papier-mache_ something, came suddenly on a cold hand
flung out on the rug. Nap instantly forsook the sham for the real,
deserted the head of Ram-tah, and laved Bean's closed eyes with a
lolloping pink tongue.

XIV

The next morning at eight-thirty the door of the steam-heated apartment
resounded to sharp knocking. There being no response, the knocking was
repeated and prolonged. Retreating footsteps were heard in the hallway.
Five minutes later a key rattled in the door and Cassidy entered,
followed by the waster.

Bean was discovered in a flowered dressing-gown gazing open-eyed at the
shut door of a closet. He sat on the couch and one of his arms clasped a
sleeping dog. The floor was littered with wisps of excelsior.

"My word, old top, had to have the chap let me into your diggin's you
know. You were sleeping like the dead." The waster was bustling and
breezy.

"Busy," said Bean. He arose and went into the hall where Cassidy stood.

"He _would_ have in," explained Cassidy. "Say th' wor-r-d if he's no
frind, an' he'll have out agin. I'll put him so. 'T would not be a
refined thing to do, but nicissary if needed."

"'S all right," said Bean. "Friend of mine." He closed the door on
Cassidy.

Inside, he found the waster interestedly poking with his stick at a
roundish object on the floor.

"Dog's been at it," explained the waster brightly. "What's the idea?
Private theatricals?"

"Yes," said Bean, "private theatricals," and resumed his place on the
couch, staring dully at the closet door.