rom the shelter of
the pillar, and now he crept forward. He was almost on her, and she
had heard nothing, seen nothing, but suddenly she felt him coming,
and turned. And as her eyes, full of fear in the first startled
consciousness of discovery, met his, he sprang at her, and pinioned her
arms to her side. But only for a moment. Fear fought with her, and by a
mighty effort she half shook herself free.

[Illustration: "Suddenly she felt him coming, and turned."]

Simpkins found himself struggling desperately now to regain his
advantage. Already his greater strength was telling, when the lamp
crashed over, leaving them in darkness, and he felt the blow of a heavy
body striking his back. Claws dug through his clothes, deep into his
flesh. Something was at his head now, biting and tearing, and the warm
blood was trickling down into his eyes. A stealthy paw reached round
for his throat. He could feel its silken surface passing over his bare
flesh, the unsheathing of its steel to strike, and, as it sank into
his throat, he seized it, loosening, to do this, his hold on Mrs.
Athelstone, quite careless of her in the pain and menace of that moment.

Still clutching the great black cat, though it bit and tore at his
hands, he gained his feet. In the darkness he could see nothing but two
blazing eyes, and not until the last spark died in them did his fingers
relax. Then, with a savage joy, he threw the limp body against the altar
of Isis, and turned to see what had become of Mrs. Athelstone. She lay
quite still where he had left her, a huddled heap of white upon the
floor.

Simpkins righted and lit the overturned lamp and lifted the unconscious
woman into a chair. There he bound her, wrapping her about with the
linen bandages, until she was quite helpless to move. The obsidian eyes
of the mummy seemed to follow him as he went about his task. Annoyed by
their steady regard, he threw a cloth over the face and sat down to wait
for the woman to come back to life.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

VII

Though her gown was torn and spotted with his blood, Mrs. Athelstone had
never looked more lovely. But Simpkins was quite unmoved by the sight of
her beauty. His infatuation for her, his personal interest in her even,
had puffed out in that moment when he had discovered in the mummied face
a likeness to Doctor Athelstone. He was regarding her now simply as
"material," and fixing in his mind each detail of her appear