ld look after these myself," she
explained. "Careless hands would soon ruin this case." And she touched
the gilt mummy beside her writing-table affectionately. "She was a
queen, Nefruari, daughter of the King of Ethiopia. They called her 'the
good and glorious woman.'"

"And this--this black boy?" questioned Simpkins respectfully. "Looks as
if he might have lived during the eighteenth dynasty." He had not been
poring over volumes on Ancient Egypt for two nights without knowing a
thing or two about black mummies.

"Quite right, Simpkins," Mrs. Athelstone replied, evidently pleased by
his interest and knowledge. "He was Amosis, a king of the eighteenth
dynasty, and Nefruari's husband. A big, powerful man!"

"What a bully cigarette brand he'd make!" thought Simpkins, and aloud
he added:

"They must have been a fine-looking pair."

"Indeed, yes," was the earnest answer, and so they moved about the hall,
she explaining, he listening and questioning, until at last they stood
before the black altar in the west and the veil of velvet. Simpkins saw
that there was an inscription carved in the basalt, and, drawing nearer,
slowly spelled out:

TIBI
VNA QVE
ES OMNIA
DEA ISIS

"And what's behind the curtain?" he began, turning toward Mrs.
Athelstone.

"The truth, of course. But remember," and her tone was half serious,
"none but an adept may look behind the veil and live."

"The truth is my long suit," returned Simpkins mendaciously. "So I'll
take a chance." As he spoke, the heavy velvet fell aside and disclosed
a statue of a woman carved in black marble. It stood on a pedestal of
bronze, overlaid with silver, and above and behind were hangings of
blue-gray silk. A brilliant ray of light beat down on it. Glancing up,
Simpkins saw that it shone from a crescent moon in the arched ceiling
above the altar. Then his eyes came back to the statue. There was
something so lifelike in the pose of the figure, something so winning in
the smile of the face, something so alluring in the outstretched arms,
that he involuntarily stepped nearer.

"And now that you've seen Isis, what do you think of her?" asked Mrs.
Athelstone, breaking the momentary silence.

"She's the real thing--the naked truth, sure enough," returned Simpkins
with a grin.

"It _is_ a wonderful statue!" was the literal answer. "There's no
other like it in the world. Doctor Athelstone found it near Thebes, and