initial commit of ebook 17020HEADmain

37 files changed, 8290 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/17020-8.txt b/17020-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..906058f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2563 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The False Gods, by George Horace Lorimer
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The False Gods
+
+
+Author: George Horace Lorimer
+
+
+
+Release Date: November 6, 2005  [eBook #17020]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FALSE GODS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by David Garcia and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/) from page images
+generously made available by the Kentuckiana Digital Library
+(http://kdl.kyvl.org/)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 17020-h.htm or 17020-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/2/17020/17020-h/17020-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/2/17020/17020-h.zip)
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through the Electronic
+      Text Collection of the Kentuckiana Digital Library. See
+      http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts;xc=1&idno=B92-232-31280846&view=toc
+
+
+
+
+
+THE FALSE GODS
+
+by
+
+GEORGE HORACE LORIMER
+
+Author of "Letters from a Self-made Merchant to His Son"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration: "Then ... the arms crushed him against the stone breast."]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+D. Appleton and Company
+New York
+1906
+
+Copyright, 1906, by George Horace Lorimer
+Copyright, 1906, by D. Appleton and Company
+Entered at Stationer's Hall, London
+Published April, 1906
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+To A.V.L.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                  PAGE
+
+     I.                                              1
+
+    II.                                             11
+
+   III.                                             21
+
+    IV.                                             33
+
+     V.                                             39
+
+    VI.                                             51
+
+   VII.                                             59
+
+  VIII.                                             69
+
+    IX.                                             77
+
+     X.                                             81
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                FACING
+                                                  PAGE
+
+  "Then ... the arms crushed him
+   against the stone breast"           _Frontispiece_
+
+  "'Aw, fergit it'"                                  4
+
+  "'She's the Real Thing'"                          24
+
+  "Suddenly she felt him coming, and turned"        56
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+THE FALSE GODS
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+It was shortly after ten o'clock one morning when Ezra Simpkins, a
+reporter from the _Boston Banner_, entered the Oriental Building,
+that dingy pile of brick and brownstone which covers a block on Sixth
+Avenue, and began to hunt for the office of the Royal Society of
+Egyptian Exploration and Research. After wandering through a labyrinth
+of halls, he finally found it on the second floor. A few steps farther
+on, a stairway led down to one of the side entrances; for the building
+could be entered from any of the four bounding streets.
+
+Simpkins regarded knocking on doors and sending in cards as formalities
+which served merely to tempt people of a retiring disposition to lie, so
+when he walked into the waiting-room and found it deserted, he passed
+through it quickly and opened the door beyond. But if he had expected
+this manoeuver to bring him within easy distance of the person whom
+he was seeking, he was disappointed. He had simply walked into a small
+outer office. A self-sufficient youth of twelve, who was stuffed into
+a be-buttoned suit, was its sole occupant.
+
+"Hello, bub!" said Simpkins to this Cerberus of the threshold. "Mrs.
+Athelstone in?" and he drew out his letter of introduction; for he had
+instantly decided to use it in place of a card, as being more likely to
+gain him admittance.
+
+"Aw, fergit it," the youth answered with fine American independence.
+"I'll let youse know when your turn comes, an' youse can keep your
+ref'rences till you're asked for 'em," and he surveyed Simpkins with
+marked disfavor.
+
+The reporter made no answer and asked no questions. Until that moment he
+had not known that he had a turn, but if he had, he did not propose to
+lose it by any foolish slip. So he settled down in his chair and began
+to turn over his assignment in his mind.
+
+That Simpkins had come over to New York was due to the conviction of
+his managing editor, Mr. Naylor, that a certain feature which had been
+shaping up in his head would possess a peculiar interest if it could be
+"led" with a few remarks by Mrs. Athelstone. Though her husband, the
+Rev. Alfred W.R. Athelstone, was a Church of England clergyman, whose
+interest in Egyptology had led him to accept the presidency of the
+American branch of the Royal Society, she was a leader among the
+Theosophists. And now that the old head of the cult was dead, it was
+rumored that Mrs. Athelstone had announced the reincarnation of Madame
+Blavatsky in her own person. This in itself was a good "story," but it
+was not until a second rumor reached Naylor's ears that his newspaper
+soul was stirred to its yellowest depths. For there was in Boston an
+association known as the American Society for the Investigation of
+Ancient Beliefs, which was a rival of the Royal Society in its good work
+of laying bare with pick and spade the buried mysteries along the Nile.
+And this rivalry, which was strong between the societies and bitter
+between their presidents, became acute in the persons of their
+secretaries, both of whom were women. Madame Gianclis, who served the
+Boston Society, boasted Egyptian blood in her veins, a claim which Mrs.
+Athelstone, who acted as secretary for her husband's society, politely
+conceded, with the qualification that some ancestor of her rival had
+contributed a dash of the Senegambian as well.
+
+[Illustration: "'Aw, fergit it.'"]
+
+This remark, duly reported to Madame Gianclis, had not put her in a
+humor to concede Madame Blavatsky's soul, or any part of it, to Mrs.
+Athelstone. Promptly on hearing of her pretensions, so rumor had it,
+the Boston woman had announced the reincarnation of Theosophy's high
+priestess in herself. And Boston believers were inclined to accept her
+view, as it was difficult for them to understand how any soul with
+liberty of action could deliberately choose a New York residence.
+
+Now, all these things had filtered through to Naylor from those just
+without the temple gates, for whatever the quarrels of the two societies
+and their enemies, they tried to keep them to themselves. They had had
+experience with publicity and had found that ridicule goes hand in hand
+with it in this iconoclastic age. But out of these rumors, unconfirmed
+though they were, grew a vision in Naylor's brain--a vision of a
+glorified spread in the _Sunday Banner's_ magazine section. Under
+a two-page "head," builded cunningly of six sizes of type, he saw
+ravishingly beautiful pictures of Madame Gianclis and Mrs. Athelstone,
+and hovering between them the materialized, but homeless, soul of Madame
+Blavatsky, trying to make choice of an abiding-place, the whole
+enlivened and illuminated with much "snappy" reading matter.
+
+Now, Simpkins was the man to make a managing editor's dreams come true,
+so Naylor rubbed the lamp for him and told him what he craved. But the
+reporter's success in life had been won by an ability to combine much
+extravagance of statement in the written with great conservatism in
+the spoken word. Early in his experience he had learned that Naylor's
+optimism, though purely professional, entailed unpleasant consequences
+on the reporter who shared it and then betrayed some too generous trust;
+so he absolutely refused to admit that there was any basis for it now.
+
+"You know she won't talk to reporters," he protested. "Those New York
+boys have joshed that whole bunch so they're afraid to say their prayers
+out loud. Then she's English and dead swell, and that combination's hard
+to open, unless you have a number in the Four Hundred, and then it ain't
+refined to try. I can make a pass at her, but it'll be a frost for me."
+
+"Nonsense! You must make her talk, or manage to be around while some one
+else does," Naylor answered, waving aside obstacles with the noble scorn
+of one whose business it is to set others to conquer them. "I want a
+good snappy interview, understand, and descriptions for some red-hot
+pictures, if you can't get photos. I'm going to save the spread in the
+Sunday magazine for that story, and you don't want to slip up on the
+Athelstone end of it. That hall is just what the story needs for a
+setting. Get in and size it up."
+
+"You remember what happened to that _Courier_ man who got in?"
+ventured Simpkins.
+
+"I believe I did hear something about a _Courier_ man's being
+snaked out of a closet and kicked downstairs. Served him right.
+_Very_ coarse work. Very coarse work _indeed_. There's a better
+way and you'll find it." There was something unpleasantly significant in
+his voice, as he terminated the interview by swinging around to his desk
+and picking up a handful of papers, which warned the reporter that he
+had gone the limit.
+
+Simpkins had heard of the hall, for it had been written up just after
+Doctor Athelstone, who was a man of some wealth, had assembled in it his
+private collection of Egyptian treasures. But he knew, too, that it had
+become increasingly difficult to penetrate since Mrs. Athelstone had
+been made the subject of some entertaining, but too imaginative, Sunday
+specials. Still, now that he had properly magnified the difficulties
+of the undertaking to Naylor, that the disgrace of defeat might be
+discounted or the glory of achievement enhanced, he believed that he
+knew a way to gain access to the hall and perhaps to manage a talk with
+Mrs. Athelstone herself. His line of thought started him for Cambridge,
+where he had a younger brother whom he was helping through Harvard.
+
+As a result of this fraternal visit, Simpkins minor cut the classes of
+Professor Alexander Blackburn, the eminent archæologist, for the next
+week, and went to his other lectures by back streets. For the kindly
+professor had given him a letter, introducing him to Mrs. Athelstone as
+a worthy young student with a laudable thirst for that greater knowledge
+of Egyptian archæology, ethnology and epigraphy which was to be gained
+by an inspection of her collection. And it was the possession of this
+letter which influenced Simpkins major to take the smoking car and to
+sit up all night, conning an instructive volume on Ancient Egypt,
+thereby acquiring much curious information, and diverting two dollars of
+his expense money to the pocket in which he kept his individual cash
+balance.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+For five minutes the decorous silence of the anteroom was unbroken.
+Then the door of the inner office swung open and closed behind a
+dejected-looking young man, and the boy, without so much as asking
+for a card, preceded the secretly-elated Simpkins into the hall.
+
+They had stepped from the present into the past. Simpkins found himself
+looking between a double row of pillars, covered with hieroglyphics in
+red and black, to an altar of polished black basalt, guarded on either
+side by stone sphinxes. Behind it, straight from the lofty ceiling, fell
+a veil of black velvet, embroidered with golden scarabæi, and fringed
+with violet. The approach, a hundred paces or more, was guarded by
+twoscore mummies in black cases, standing upright along the pillars.
+
+"Watcher gawkin' at?" demanded the youth, grinning up at the staring
+Simpkins. "Lose dat farmer-boy face or it's back to de ole homestead
+for youse. Her royal nibs ain't lookin' for no good milker."
+
+"Oh, I'm just rubbering to see where the goat's kept," the reporter
+answered, trying to assume a properly metropolitan expression. "Suppose
+I'll have to take the third degree before I can get out of here."
+
+The youth started noiselessly across the floor, and Simpkins saw that
+he wore sandals. His own heavy walking boots rang loudly on the flagged
+floors and woke the echoes in the vaulted ceiling. He began to tread on
+tiptoe, as one moves in a death-chamber.
+
+And that was what this great room was: a charnel-house filled with
+the spoil of tombs and temples. The dim light fluttered down from
+quaint, triangular windows, set with a checker-work of brick-red and
+saffron-colored panes about a central design, a scarlet heart upon a
+white star, and within that a black scarabæus. The white background of
+the walls threw into relief the angular figures on the frieze, scenes
+from old Egyptian life: games, marriages, feasts and battles, painted
+in the crude colors of early art. Between were paneled pictures of the
+gods, monstrous and deformed deities, half men, half beasts; and the
+dado, done in black, pictured the funeral rites of the Egyptians, with
+explanatory passages from the ritual of the dead. Rudely-sculptured
+bas-reliefs and intaglios, torn from ancient mastabas, were set over
+windows and doors, and stone colossi of kings and gods leered and
+threatened from dusky corners. Sarcophagi of black basalt, red porphyry
+and pink-veined alabaster, cunningly carved, were disposed as they had
+been found in the pits of the dead, with the sepulchral vases and the
+hideous wooden idols beside them.
+
+The descriptions of the place had prepared Simpkins for something out
+of the ordinary, but nothing like this; and he looked about him with
+wonder in his eyes and a vague awe at his heart, until he found himself
+standing in the corner of the hall to the right of the black altar in
+the west. Two sarcophagi, one of basalt, the other of alabaster, were
+placed at right angles to the walls, partially inclosing a small space.
+Within this inclosure, bowed over a stone table, sat a woman, writing.
+At either end of the table a mummy case, one black, the other gilt,
+stood upright. The boy halted just outside this singular private office,
+and the woman rose and came toward them.
+
+Simpkins had never read Virgil, but he knew the goddess by her walk. She
+was young--not over thirty--and tall and stately. Her gown was black,
+some soft stuff which clung about her, and a bunch of violets at her
+waist made the whole corner faintly sweet. Her features were regular,
+but of a type strange to Simpkins, the nose slightly aquiline, the lips
+full and red--vividly so by contrast to the clear white of the skin--and
+the forehead low and straight. Black hair waved back from it, and was
+caught up by the coils of a golden asp, from whose lifted head two
+rubies gleamed. Doubtless a woman would have pronounced her gown absurd
+and her way of wearing her hair an intolerable affectation. But it was
+effective with the less discriminating animal--instantly so with
+Simpkins.
+
+And then she raised her eyes and looked at him. To the first glance they
+were dusky eyes, deep and fathomless, changing swiftly to the blue-black
+of the northern skies on a clear winter night, and flashing out sharp
+points of light, like star-rays. He knew that in that glance he had been
+weighed, gauged and classed, and, though he was used to questioning
+Governors and Senators quite unabashed and unafraid, he found himself
+standing awkward and ill-at-ease in the presence of this woman.
+
+Had she addressed him in Greek or Egyptian, he would have accepted it as
+a matter of course. But when she did speak it was in the soft, clear
+tones of a well-bred Englishwoman, and what she said was commonplace
+enough.
+
+"I suppose you've called to see about the place?" she asked.
+
+"Ye-es," stammered Simpkins, but with wit enough to know that he had
+come at an opportune moment. If there were a place, decidedly he had
+called to see about it.
+
+"Who sent you?" she continued, and he understood that he was not there
+in answer to a want advertisement.
+
+"Professor Blackburn." And he presented his letter and went on, with
+a return of his glibness: "You see, I've been working my way through
+Harvard--preparing for the ministry--Congregationalist. Found I'd have
+to stop and go to work regularly for a while before I could finish. So
+I've come over here, where I can attend the night classes at Columbia at
+the same time. And as I'm interested in Egyptology, and had heard a good
+deal about your collection, I got that letter to you. Thought you might
+know some one in the building who wanted a man, as work in a place like
+this would be right in my line. Of course, if you're looking for any
+one, I'd like to apply for the place." And he paused expectantly.
+
+"I see. You want to be a Dissenting minister, and you're working for
+your education. Very creditable of you, I'm sure. And you're a stranger
+in New York, you say?"
+
+"Utter," returned Simpkins.
+
+Mrs. Athelstone proceeded to question him at some length about his
+qualifications. When he had satisfied her that he was competent to
+attend to the easy, clerical work of the office and to care for the
+more valuable articles in the hall, things which she did not care to
+leave to the regular cleaners, she concluded:
+
+"I'm disposed to give you a trial, Mr. Simpkins, but I want you to
+understand that under no circumstances are you to talk about me or
+your work outside the office. I've been so hunted and harried by
+reporters----" And her voice broke. "What I want above all else is
+a clerk that I can trust."
+
+The assurance which Simpkins gave in reply came harder than all the lies
+he had told that morning, and, some way, none of them had slipped out
+so smoothly as usual. He was a fairly truthful and tender-hearted man
+outside his work, but in it he had accustomed himself to regard men and
+women in a purely impersonal way, and their troubles and scandals simply
+as material. To his mind, nothing was worth while unless it had a news
+value; and nothing was sacred that had. But he was uneasily conscious
+now that he was doing a deliberately brutal thing, and for the first
+time he felt that regard for a subject's feelings which is so fatal to
+success in certain branches of the new journalism. But he repressed
+the troublesome instinct, and when Mrs. Athelstone dismissed him a few
+minutes later, it was with the understanding that he should report the
+next morning, ready for work.
+
+He stopped for a moment in the ante-chamber on the way out; for the
+bright light blinded him, and there were red dots before his eyes. He
+felt a little subdued, not at all like the self-confident man who had
+passed through the oaken door ten minutes before. But nothing could long
+repress the exuberant Simpkins, and as he started down the stairway to
+the street he was exclaiming to himself:
+
+"Did you butt in, Simp., old boy, or were you pushed?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+At nine o'clock the next morning Simpkins presented himself at the
+Society's office, and a few minutes later he found himself in the
+fascinating presence of Mrs. Athelstone. He soon grasped the details of
+his simple duties, and then, like a lean, awkward mastiff, padded along
+at her heels while she moved about the hall and pointed out the things
+which would be under his care.
+
+"If I were equal to it, I should 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
+took a good deal of pride in arranging this shrine. The device _is_
+clever; the parting of the veil you see, makes the light shine down on
+the statue, and it dies out when I close it--so"; and, as she pulled a
+cord, the veil fell before the statue and the light melted away.
+
+[Illustration: "'She's the Real Thing.'"]
+
+"Aren't you initiating the neophyte rather early?" a man's voice asked
+at Simpkins' elbow, and, as he turned to see who it was, Mrs. Athelstone
+explained: "This is our new clerk, Mr. Simpkins; Doctor Brander is our
+treasurer, and our acting president while my husband's away. He left a
+few days ago for a little rest." And Mrs. Athelstone turned back to her
+desk.
+
+Simpkins instantly decided to dislike the young clergyman beside him. He
+was tall and athletic-looking, but with a slight stoop, that impressed
+the reporter as a physical assumption of humility which the handsome
+face, with its faintly sneering lines and bold eyes, contradicted. But
+he acknowledged Brander's offhand "How d'ye do?" in a properly
+deferential manner, and listened respectfully to a few careless
+sentences of instructions.
+
+For the rest of the morning, Simpkins mechanically addressed circulars
+appealing for funds to carry on the good work of the Society, while his
+mind was busy trying to formulate a plan by which he could get Mrs.
+Athelstone to tell what she knew about the whereabouts of Madame
+Blavatsky's soul. He felt, with the accurate instinct of one used to
+classing the frailties of flesh and blood according to their worth in
+columns, that those devices which had so often led women to confide
+to him the details of the particular sensation that he was working up
+would avail him nothing here. "You simply haven't got her Bertillon
+measurements, Simp.," he was forced to admit, after an hour of fruitless
+thinking. "You'll have to trust in your rabbit's foot."
+
+But if Mrs. Athelstone was a new species to him, the office boy was not.
+He knew that youth down to the last button on his jacket. He knew, too,
+that an office boy often whiles away the monotonous hours by piecing
+together the president's secrets from the scraps in his waste-basket.
+So at the noon hour he slipped out after Buttons, caught him as he was
+disappearing up a near-by alley in a cloud of cigarette smoke, like the
+disreputable little devil that he was, and succeeded in establishing
+friendly and even familiar relations with him.
+
+It was not, however, until late in the afternoon, when he was called
+into the ante-chamber to discover the business of a caller, that he
+improved the opportunity to ask the youth some leading questions.
+
+"Suppose you open up mornings?" he began carelessly.
+
+"Naw; Mrs. A. does. She bunks here."
+
+"How?"
+
+"In a bed. She's got rooms in de buildin'. That door by Booker T. leads
+to 'em."
+
+"Booker T.? Oh, sure! The brunette statue. And that other door--the one
+to the left. Where does that go?"
+
+"Into Brander's storeroom. He sells mummies on de side."
+
+"Does, eh? Curious business!" commented Simpkins. "Seems to rub it into
+_you_ pretty hard. And stuck on himself! Don't seem able to spit
+without ringing his bell for some one to see him do it. Guess you'd have
+to have four legs to satisfy _him_, all right."
+
+"Say, dat duck ain't on de level," the grievance for which Simpkins had
+been probing coming to the surface.
+
+"Holds out on what he collects? Steals?"
+
+"Sure t'ing--de loidies," and the boy lowered his voice; "he's dead
+stuck on Mrs. A."
+
+"Oh! nonsense," commented Simpkins, an invitation to continue in his
+voice. "She's a married woman."
+
+"Never min', I'm tellin' youse; an dat's just where de stink comes in.
+Ain't I seen 'im wid my own eyes a-makin' goo-goos at 'er. An' wasn't
+there rough house for fair goin' on in dere last mont', just before de
+Doc. made his get-away? He tumbled to somethin', all right, all right,
+or why don't he write her? Say, I don't expect _him_ back in no
+hurry. He's hived up in South Dakote right now, an' she's in trainin'
+for alimony, or my name's Dennis Don'tknow."
+
+"Does look sort of funny," Simpkins replied, sympathetic, but not too
+interested. "When was it Doc. left? Last week?"
+
+"Last week, not; more'n a mont' ago, an' he ain't peeped since, for I've
+skinned every mail dat's come in, an' not a picture-postal, see?"
+
+"That isn't very affectionate of Doc., but I wouldn't mention it to any
+one else; it might get you into trouble," was Simpkins' comment. "You
+better--Holy, jumping Pharaoh! what a husky pussy!" As he spoke a big
+black cat, with blinking, tawny eyes, sprang from the floor and curled
+itself up on the youth's desk. "Where'd that----"
+
+A snarl interrupted the question; for the temptation to pull the cat's
+tail had proved too strong for the boy. Bowed over his desk in a fit of
+laughter at the result, he did not see the door behind him open, but
+Simpkins did. And he saw Mrs. Athelstone, her eyes blazing, spring into
+the room, seize the youth by the collar and shake him roughly.
+
+"You nasty little brute!" she cried. "How dared you do that to a----"
+And then catching sight of Simpkins, she dropped the frightened boy back
+into his chair.
+
+"I can't stand cruelty to animals," she explained, panting a little from
+her effort. "If anything of this sort happens again, I'll discharge you
+on the spot," she added to the boy.
+
+"Shame!" Simpkins echoed warmly. "Didn't know what was up or I'd have
+stopped him."
+
+"I'm sure of it," she answered graciously, and, stooping, she picked up
+the now purring cat and left the room.
+
+Simpkins followed her back to his desk and went on with his addressing,
+but he had something worth thinking about now. Not for nothing had he
+been educated in that newspaper school which puts two and two together
+and makes six. And by the time he was through work for the day and back
+in his room at the hotel, he had his result. He embodied it in this
+letter to Naylor:
+
+
+  _Dear Mr. Naylor_:
+
+  I am in the employ of Mrs. Athelstone. How I managed it is a yarn
+  that will keep till I get back. [He meant until he could invent the
+  story which would reflect the most credit on his ingenuity, for
+  though he knew that the whole thing had been a piece of luck he had
+  no intention of cheapening himself with Naylor by owning as much.]
+  I had intended to return to Boston to-night, but I'm on the track of
+  real news, a lovely stink, something much bigger than the Sunday story.
+  There's a sporting parson, quite a swell, in the office here who's gone
+  on Mrs. A., and I'm inclined to hope she is on him. Anyway, the Doc.
+  left in a hurry after some sort of a row over a month ago, and hasn't
+  written a line to his wife since. She's as cool as a cucumber about it
+  and handed me a hot one right off the bat about poor old Doc.'s having
+  gone away for a rest _a few days ago_. I've drawn cards and am going
+  to sit in the game, unless you wire me to come home, for I smell a large,
+  fat, front-page exclusive, which will jar the sensitive slats of some of
+  our first families both here and in dear old London.
+
+    Yours,
+      SIMPKINS.
+
+
+He hesitated a few minutes before he mailed the letter. He really did
+not want to do anything to involve _her_ in a scandal, but, after
+all, it was simply anticipating the inevitable, and--he pulled himself
+up short and put the letter in the box. He could not afford any mawkish
+sentiment in this.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+Simpkins received a monosyllabic telegram from Naylor, instructing him
+to "stay," but after working in the Society's office for another three
+days he was about ready to give up all hope of getting at the facts.
+Some other reason, he scarcely knew what, kept him on. Perhaps it was
+Mrs. Athelstone herself. For though he appreciated how ridiculous his
+infatuation was, he found a miserable pleasure in merely being near her.
+And she was pleased with her new clerk, amused at what she called his
+quaint Americanisms, and if she noticed his too unrepressed admiration
+for her, she smiled it aside. It was something to which she was
+accustomed, an involuntary tribute which most men who saw her often
+rendered her.
+
+She never referred, even indirectly, to her husband, but Simpkins,
+as he watched her move about the hall, divined that he was often in
+her thoughts. And there was another whom he watched--Brander; for he
+felt certain now that the acting president's interest in his handsome
+secretary was not purely that of the Egyptologist. And though there was
+nothing but a friendly courtesy in her manner toward him, Simpkins knew
+his subject well enough to understand that, whatever her real feelings
+were, she was far too clever to be tripped into betraying them to him.
+"She doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve--if she has a heart," he
+decided.
+
+He was trying to make up his mind to force things to some sort of a
+crisis, one morning, when Mrs. Athelstone called him to her desk and
+said rather sharply:
+
+"You've been neglecting your work, Simpkins. Isis looks as if she hadn't
+been dusted since you came."
+
+This was the fact. Simpkins never passed the black altar without a
+backward glance, as if he were fearful of an attack from behind. And he
+had determined that nothing should tempt him to a tête-à-tête with the
+statue behind the veil. But having so senseless, so cowardly a feeling
+was one thing, and letting Mrs. Athelstone know it another. So he only
+replied:
+
+"I'm very sorry; afraid I have been a little careless about the statue."
+And taking up a soft cloth, he walked toward the altar.
+
+It was quite dark behind the veil; so dark that he could see nothing at
+first. But after the moment in which his eyes grew accustomed to the
+change, he made out the vague lines of the statue in the faint light
+from above. He set to work about the pedestal, touching it gingerly at
+first, then more boldly. At length he looked up into the face, blurred
+in the half-light.
+
+When he had finished with the pedestal he pulled himself up between the
+outstretched arms, and perhaps a trifle hurriedly now, as he saw the
+face more distinctly, began to pass the cloth over the arms and back.
+
+Then, quick as the strike of a snake, the arms crushed him against the
+stone breast. He could not move; he could not cry out; he could not
+breathe. The statue, seen from the level of the pedestal, had changed
+its whole expression. Hate glowed in its eyes; menace lived in every
+line of its face. The arms tightened slowly, inexorably; then, as
+quickly as they had closed, unclasped; and Simpkins half-slid, half-fell
+to the floor.
+
+When the breath came back into his lungs and he found himself unharmed,
+he choked back the cry on his lips, for in that same moment a suspicion
+floated half-formed through his brain. He forced himself to climb up on
+the pedestal again, and made a careful inspection of the statue--but
+from behind this time.
+
+The arms were metal, enameled to the smoothness of the body, and
+jointed, though the joints were almost invisible. The statue was one of
+those marvelous creations of the ancient priests, and once, no doubt, it
+had stood behind the veil in some Egyptian temple to tempt and to punish
+the curiosity of the neophyte.
+
+Though Simpkins could find no clew to the mechanism of the statue, he
+determined that he had sprung it with his feet, and that during his
+struggles a lucky kick had touched the spring which relaxed the arms.
+"Did any one beside himself know their strength?" he asked himself, as
+he stepped out into the hall again. Mrs. Athelstone was bent over her
+desk writing; Brander was yawning over a novel in his corner, and
+neither paid any attention to him. So he busied himself going over the
+mummy-cases, and by the time he had worked around to the two beside Mrs.
+Athelstone he had himself well in hand, outwardly. But he was still so
+shaken internally that he knocked the black case rather roughly as he
+dusted.
+
+"What way is that to treat a king?" demanded Mrs. Athelstone; and the
+anger in her voice was so real that Simpkins, startled, blundered out:
+
+"I really meant no disrespect. Very careless of me, I'm sure." He looked
+so distressed that Mrs. Athelstone's anger melted into a delicious
+little laugh, as she answered:
+
+"Really, Simpkins, you musn't be so bungling. These mummies are
+priceless." And she got up and made a careful inspection of the case.
+
+Simpkins, rather crestfallen, went back to his desk and began to address
+circulars, his brain busy with the shadow which had crept into it. But
+there was nothing to make it more tangible, everything to dispel it,
+and he was forced to own as much. "It's a lovely little cozy corner,"
+was his final conclusion; "but keep out of it, Simp., old boy. These
+mechanical huggers are great stuff, but they're too strong for a fellow
+that's been raised on Boston girls."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration ]
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+Mrs. Athelstone was not in the office when he came down the next
+day--she had gone to Washington on the Society's affairs, Brander
+said--and so he moped about, finding the place dreary without her
+brightening presence. In fact, when Brander went out, he slipped into
+the sunlit ante-chamber, for companionship, he told himself; but in his
+heart he knew that he did not want to be alone with that thing behind
+the altar. He had satisfactorily explained its mechanism to himself, but
+there was something else about it which he could not explain.
+
+Naylor had telegraphed that very morning: "Get story. Come home. What do
+you think you're doing?" and he tried to make up his mind to end the
+whole affair by taking the night train to Boston. But he hated to go
+back empty-handed from a four days' assignment. Besides, though he knew
+himself a fool for it, he wanted to see Mrs. Athelstone once more.
+
+So it happened that he was lingering on in the outer office when the
+postman threw the afternoon mail on the desk. Simpkins was alone at the
+moment, and he ran over the letters carelessly until he came to one
+addressed to Brander in Mrs. Athelstone's writing. The blue card of the
+palace car company was in a corner of the envelope.
+
+"Why the deuce is she writing that skunk before she's well out of town?"
+he thought, scanning the envelope with jealous eyes. Then he held it up
+to the light, but the thick paper told nothing of what was within.
+Frowning, he laid the letter down, fingered it, withdrew his itching
+hand, hesitated, and finally put it in his pocket.
+
+Simpkins went straight from the office to his hotel, for, though he
+told himself that the letter contained some instructions which Mrs.
+Athelstone had forgotten to give Brander before leaving, he was anxious
+to see just how those instructions were worded. Alone in his little
+room, he ripped open the letter and ran over its two pages with
+bewilderment growing in his face. He finished by throwing it down on
+the table and exclaiming helplessly: "Well, I'll be damned!"
+
+The first sheet, without beginning or ending, contained only a line in
+Mrs. Athelstone's handwriting, reading: "I had to leave in such a hurry
+that I missed seeing you."
+
+There was not an intelligible word on the second sheet; it was simply a
+succession of scrawls and puerile outline pictures, such as a child
+might have drawn.
+
+To Simpkins' first aggrieved feeling that his confidence had been
+abused, the certainty that he had stumbled on something of importance
+quickly succeeded. He concluded a second and more careful scrutiny of
+the letter with the exclamation, "Cipher! all right, all right," and,
+after a third, he jumped up excitedly and rushed off to Columbia
+University.
+
+An hour later, Professor Ashmore, whose well-known work on "Hieratic
+Writings" is so widely accepted an authority on that fascinating
+subject, looked across to Simpkins, who for some minutes had been
+sitting quietly in a corner of his study, and observed dryly:
+
+"This is a queer jumble of hieroglyphics and hieratic writing, and is
+not, I should judge," and his eyes twinkled, "of any great antiquity."
+
+"Quite right, Professor," Simpkins assented cheerfully. "The lady who
+wrote it is interested in Egyptology, and is trying to have a little fun
+with me."
+
+"If I may judge from the letter, she seems to be interested in you as
+well," the professor went on smilingly. "In fact, it appears to
+be--ahem--a love-letter."
+
+"Eh! What?" exclaimed Simpkins, suddenly serious, "Let's have it."
+
+"Well, roughly, it goes something like this: 'My heart's dearest, my
+sun, my Nile duck--the hours are days without thee, the days an æon. The
+gods be thanked that this separation is not for long. For apart from
+thee I have no life. That thing that I have to do is about done. May the
+gods guard thee and the all-mother protect thee. I embrace thee: I kiss
+thine eyes and thy lips.' That's a fair translation, though one or two
+of the hieroglyphics are susceptible of a slightly different rendering;
+but the sense would not be materially affected by the change," the
+Professor concluded.
+
+His words fell on inattentive ears; for Simpkins was sitting stunned
+under the revelation of the letter. Now that he had his story, he knew
+that he had not wanted it.
+
+But he roused himself when he became conscious that the professor was
+peering at him curiously over the top of his glasses, and said:
+
+"Pretty warm stuff, eh! Good josh! Great girl! Ought to know her. She's
+daft on this Egyptian business."
+
+"Her letter is perhaps a trifle er--impulsive," the professor answered.
+"But she combines the ancient and the modern charmingly. I congratulate
+you."
+
+"Thanks, Professor," Simpkins answered awkwardly, and took his leave.
+
+Once in the street, he plunged along, head down. It was worse than he
+had suspected. He had felt all along that the boy's surmises about
+Brander were correct; now he knew that his suspicions of Mrs. Athelstone
+were well founded. But he would keep her from that hypocrite, that hawk,
+that--murderer! Simpkins stopped short at the intrusion of that word.
+It had come without logic or reason, but he knew now that it had been
+shaping in his head for two days past. And once spoken, it began to
+justify itself. There was the motive, clear, distinct and proven; there
+were the means and the man.
+
+Next morning Simpkins was earlier than usual at the Oriental Building,
+where he found the youth waiting for Brander to come and open up the
+inner office.
+
+"Parson's late, eh?" he threw out by way of greeting.
+
+"Always is," was the surly answer. "He's de 'rig'nal seven sleepers."
+
+"Puts you behind with your cleaning, eh?"
+
+"Naw; youse ought to know I don't do no cleanin'."
+
+"You don't? I thought you tended to Mrs. Athelstone's rooms and--Mr.
+Brander's storeroom."
+
+"Aw, go wan. I'm no second girl, an' de storeroom's never cleaned.
+Dere's nothin' to clean but a lot of stones an' bum mummies an' such."
+
+"Brander can't sell much stuff; I never see anything being shipped."
+
+"Oh! I don't know! We sent a couple of embammed dooks to Chicago last
+week."
+
+"And last month?"
+
+"Search me; I only copped out me job here last mont'; but seems as if
+his whiskers did say dere was somethin' doin'." And just then Mr.
+Brander came along.
+
+Simpkins had found out what he wanted to know, and he decided that he
+must bring his plans to a head at once. Mrs. Athelstone was expected
+back the next day; he must search the storeroom that very night.
+If--well, he thought he could spoil one scoundrel.
+
+He worked to good advantage during the day, and at nine o'clock that
+night, when he was back outside the Oriental Building, there were three
+new keys in his pocket.
+
+He unlocked the door noiselessly, tiptoed up the staircase, and gained
+the friendly blackness of the ante-chamber quite unobserved. The
+watchman was half a block away, sitting by the only street entrance kept
+open at night.
+
+Simpkins took off his shoes and found his sandals without striking a
+light, and then felt his way to the door leading into the hall. The knob
+rattled a little under his hand. All that evening he had been nerving
+himself to go in there alone and in the dark, but now he could have
+turned and run like a country boy passing a graveyard at night.
+
+The hall was not utterly black, as he had expected. Light from the
+electric lamps without flickered through the stained-glass windows.
+Ghastly rays of yellow played over the painted faces on the walls and
+lit up the gilded features of the mummy by Mrs. Athelstone's desk. There
+were crimson spots, like blotches of blood, on the veil of Isis. And all
+about were moving shadows, creeping forward stealthily, falling back
+slowly, as the light without flared up or died down.
+
+Step by step Simpkins advanced on the black altar, his muscles rigid,
+his nerves quivering, his eyes staring straight ahead, as a child stares
+into the dark for some awful shape which it fears to see, yet dares not
+leave unseen. Once past that altar he would be safe at the door of the
+storeroom.
+
+How his heart was beating! He was almost at it. Steady! A few steps now
+and he would gain the storeroom. Good God! What was that!
+
+In the blackness behind the altar two eyes flamed.
+
+Simpkins stopped; he was helpless to turn or to advance. Perhaps if he
+did not move, it would not. A moment he stood there, tense with terror,
+then--straight from the altar the thing flew at his throat. But quick as
+it was: the involuntary jerk of his arm upward was quicker, and it
+received the blow. Snarling, the thing fell to the floor, and leaped
+back into the darkness. It was Mrs. Athelstone's cat.
+
+So strong was Simpkins' revulsion of feeling, so great his relief, that
+he forgot the real cause of his terror, and sank down on the very steps
+of the altar, weakly exclaiming over and over again: "Only the cat! Only
+the cat! Great Scott! how it frightened me!"
+
+He had been sitting there for a few minutes when he heard a soft click,
+click, just to his right. Some one was turning a key in the door leading
+from Mrs. Athelstone's apartments. As he jumped to his feet, he heard a
+hand grasp the doorknob. He looked around for a hiding-place, ran a few
+steps from the altar, doubled like a baited rat, and dove into the
+blackness behind the veil of Isis. There had been no time to choose; for
+hardly was he safe under cover and peeping out from between the folds of
+the veil than the door swung open slowly.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+It was Mrs. Athelstone who came through the doorway. She was all in
+white, a soft, silken white, which floated about her like a cloud,
+drifting back from her bare arms and throat, and suggesting the rounded
+outlines of her limbs. Her black hair, braided, hung below her waist,
+and from her forehead the golden asp bound back the curls. Her arms were
+full of roses--yellow, white and red.
+
+For an uncertain moment she stood just within the hall, bathed in the
+light that shone through from her apartments. Then she closed the door
+and walked toward the veil. As she came through the shafts of light from
+the windows, her gown was stained with crimson spots. She was at the
+altar now, and Simpkins could no longer see her without changing his
+position. Stealthily he edged along, careless of the statue just behind
+him. As he parted the folds of the veil he saw that the altar was heaped
+with flowers. Just beyond, the light playing fantastically on her
+upturned face, stood Mrs. Athelstone.
+
+Simpkins closed the veil abruptly. There came to him the remembrance
+of the time when the boy had pulled the cat's tail, her anger and her
+curious exclamation; and again, the repetition of it in his case, when
+he had handled the mummy of Amosis roughly; and her affectation of
+Egyptian symbols as ornaments. "She's the simon-pure Blavatsky, all
+right," he concluded, as he pieced these things into what he had just
+seen. "All others are base imitations."
+
+The reporter had gathered from his little reading that behind these
+monstrous gods and this complex symbolism there was something near akin
+to Christianity in a few great essentials, and he understood how a woman
+of Mrs. Athelstone's temperament, engrossed in the study of these things
+and living in these surroundings, might be affected by them. Even he,
+shrewd, hard Yankee that he was, had felt the influence of the place,
+and there was that behind him then which made his heart beat quicker at
+the thought.
+
+When he looked out again Mrs. Athelstone was gone. He was impatient to
+get to his work in the storeroom; but first he peeped out again to make
+sure that she had returned to her room. She was still in the hall,
+walking about in the corner where she ordinarily worked. There was
+something methodical in her movements now that woke a new interest in
+Simpkins. "What the dickens can she be up to?" he thought.
+
+She had lit a lamp, and had shaded it, so that its rays were contracted
+in a circle on the floor. From a cupboard let into the wall she was
+taking bottles and brushes, a roll of linen bandages and some boxes of
+pigments. After laying these on the floor, she walked over to the big
+black mummy case by her table, and pushed until she had turned it around
+with its face to the wall.
+
+What heathen game was this? Simpkins' interest increased, and he poked
+his head out boldly from the sheltering veil.
+
+Mrs. Athelstone was standing directly in front of the case now, pulling
+and tugging in an effort to bring it down on her shoulders. Finally, she
+managed to tilt it toward her, and then, straining, she lowered it until
+it rested flat on the floor.
+
+"Sorry I couldn't have lent a hand," thought the gallant Simpkins; "the
+old buck must weigh a ton. Now what's she bothering around that passé,
+three-thousand-years-dead sport for?"
+
+Her back was toward him; so, cautious and catlike, he stole from behind
+the veil and glided to the shelter of a post not ten feet from her.
+He peered around it eagerly. Still panting from her efforts, she was on
+her knees beside the case, fumbling a key in the Yale lock, a curious
+anachronism which Simpkins, in his cleaning, had found on all the more
+valuable mummy cases.
+
+The lid was of sycamore wood, comparatively light, and she lifted it
+without trouble. Then the rays of the lamp shone full into the open
+case, and Simpkins looked over the shoulders of the kneeling woman at
+the mummy of a man who had stood full six feet in life. He stared long
+at the face, seeking in those shriveled features a reason for the horror
+which grew in him as he gazed, trying to build back into life again that
+thing which once had been a man. For there was something about it which
+seemed different from those Egyptians of whom he had read. Slowly the
+vaguely-familiar features filled out, until Simpkins saw--not the
+swarthy, low-browed face of an Egyptian king, but the ruddy, handsome
+face of an Englishman, and--at last he was sure, a face like that of a
+photograph in his pocket. And in that same moment there went through his
+mind a sentence from the curious picture letter: "_That thing that I
+have to do is about done._"
+
+Already, in his absorption, he had started out from 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 appearance, that
+he might the more effectively describe her in his story. And what a
+splendid one it was! The Blavatsky "spread," with the opportunity which
+it afforded to ridicule two rather well-known women--that was good
+stuff; the scandal which had unfolded as he worked--that was better
+still; but this "mysterious murder," with its novel features--this was
+the superlative of excellence in Yellow Journalism. "Talk about Teddy's
+luck," thought the reporter; "how about the luck of Simp., old boy?"
+
+He looked at his watch anxiously. He had plenty of time--the paper did
+not go to press until two. Relieved, he glanced toward Mrs. Athelstone
+again. How still she was! She was taking an unreasonably long time about
+coming to! The shadows in the room began to creep in on him again, and
+to oppress him with a vague fear, now that he was sitting inactive. He
+got up, but just then the woman stirred, and he settled down again.
+
+Slowly she recovered consciousness and looked about her. Her eyes sought
+out Simpkins last, and as they rested on him a flash of anger lit them
+up. Simpkins returned their stare unflinchingly. They had quite lost
+their power over him.
+
+"So you're a thief, Simpkins--and I thought you looked so honest," she
+began at last, contempt in her voice.
+
+"Not at all," Simpkins answered, relieved and grateful that she had only
+suspected him of being a thief, that there had been no tears, no
+pleadings, no hysterics; "I'm nothing of the sort. I'm just your clerk."
+
+"Then, what are you doing here at this time of night? And why did you
+attack me? Why have you bound me?"
+
+"I'll be perfectly frank, Mrs. Athelstone." (Simpkins always prefaced
+a piece of duplicity by asseverating his innocence of guile.) "I've
+blundered on something in there," and he motioned vaguely toward the
+coffin, "that is reason enough for binding you and turning you over
+to the police, sorry as I should be to take such a step."
+
+"And that something?"
+
+"The body of your husband."
+
+"You beastly little cad," began Mrs. Athelstone, anger flaming in her
+face again. Then she stopped short, and her expression went to one of
+terror.
+
+The change was not lost on Simpkins. "That's better," he said. "If a
+fellow has to condone murder to meet your standards of what's a perfect
+little gentleman, you can count me out. Now, just you make up your mind
+that repartee won't take us anywhere, and let's get down to cases. There
+may be, I believe there are, extenuating circumstances. Tell him the
+whole truth and you'll find Simp. your friend, cad or no cad."
+
+As he talked, Mrs. Athelstone regained her composure, and when he was
+through she asked calmly enough: "And because you've blundered on
+something you don't understand, something that has aroused your silly
+suspicions, you would turn me over to the police?"
+
+"It's not a silly suspicion, Mrs. Athelstone, but a cinch. I know your
+husband was murdered there," and he pointed to the altar. "And you're
+not innocent, though how guilty morally I'm not ready to say. There may
+be something behind it all to change my present determination; that
+depends on whether you care to talk to me, or would rather wait and take
+the third degree at headquarters."
+
+"But you really have made a frightful mistake," she protested, not
+angrily now, but rather soothingly.
+
+"Then I'll have to call an officer; perhaps he can set us straight." And
+he stood up.
+
+"Sit down," she implored. "Let me explain."
+
+"That's the way to talk; you'll find it'll do you good to loosen up,"
+and Simpkins sat down, exulting that he was not to miss the most
+striking feature of his story. Until it was on the wire for Boston, and
+the New York papers had gone to press, he had as little use for officers
+as Mrs. Athelstone. "Remember," he added, as he leaned back to listen,
+"that I know enough now to pick out any fancy work."
+
+"It's really absurdly simple. The cemented surface of this mummy had
+been damaged, as you can see"----Mrs. Athelstone began, but Simpkins
+broke in roughly:
+
+"Come, come, there's no use doping out any more of that stuff to me. I
+want the facts. Tell me how Doctor Athelstone was killed or the Tombs
+for yours." He was on his feet now, shaking his fist at the woman, and
+he noticed with satisfaction that she had shrunk back in her chair till
+the linen bandages hung loosely across her breast.
+
+"Yes--yes--I'll tell," was the trembling answer; "only do sit down," and
+then after a moment's pause, in which she seemed to be striving to
+compose herself, she began:
+
+"I, sir, was a queen, Nefruari, whom they called the good and glorious
+woman." And she threw back her head proudly and paused.
+
+This was better than he had dared hope. Yet it was what he had
+half-believed; she was quite mad. He felt relieved at this final proof
+of it. After all, it would have hurt him to send this woman to "the
+chair"; but there would be no condemned cell for her; only the madhouse.
+It might be harder for her; but it made it easier for him. He nodded a
+grave encouragement for her to continue.
+
+"This is my mummy," she went on, nodding toward the gilded case, "the
+shell from which my soul fled three thousand years ago. Since then it
+has been upon its wanderings, living in birds and beasts, that the will
+of Osiris might be done."
+
+Again she paused, pleased, apparently, with the respectful interest
+which Simpkins showed. And, indeed, he was interested; for his reading
+on early Egyptian beliefs enabled him to follow the current of her
+madness and to trace it back to its sources. So he nodded again, and she
+continued:
+
+"Through all these weary centuries, Amosis, my husband, has been with
+me, first as king--ah! those days in hundred-gated Thebes--and when at
+last my soul lodged in this body he found me out again. As boy and girl
+we loved, as man and woman we were married. And the days that followed
+were as happy as those old days when we ruled an empire. Not that we
+remembered then. The memory of it all but just came back to me two
+months ago."
+
+"Did you tell the Doctor about it?" asked Simpkins, in the wheedling
+tone of a physician asking a child to put out her tongue.
+
+"I tried to stir his memory gently, by careless hints, a word dropped
+here and there, recalling some bright triumph of his reign, some
+splendid battle, but there was no response. And so I waited, hoping that
+of itself his memory might quicken, as mine had."
+
+"Did Brander know anything about this--er--extraordinary swapping around
+of souls?"
+
+"Not then----" began the woman, but Simpkins cut her short by jumping to
+his feet with a cry of "What's that!" and his voice was sharp with fear.
+For in that silent second, while he waited for her answer, he had heard
+a noise out in the hall, the sound of stealthy feet behind the veil, and
+he had seen the woman's eyes gleam triumph.
+
+Again the terror that had mastered him an hour before leaped into life,
+and quakingly he faced the darkness. But he saw nothing--only the
+shifting shadows, the crimson blotches crawling on the veil, and the
+vague outlines of the coffined dead.
+
+He looked back to the woman. Her face was masklike. It must have
+been a fancy, a vibration of his own tense nerves. But none the less,
+he rearranged the light, that while its rays shone clear on Mrs.
+Athelstone, he might be in the shadow, and set his chair back close
+against the wall, that both the woman and the hall might be well in his
+eye. And when he sat down again one hand clutched tight the butt of a
+revolver.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+"You seem strangely disturbed, Simpkins," said Mrs. Athelstone quietly;
+but he fancied that there was a note of malicious pleasure in her voice.
+"Has anything happened to alarm you?"
+
+"I thought I heard a slight noise, as if something were moving behind
+me. Perhaps a mummy was breaking out of its case," he answered, but his
+voice was scarcely steady enough for the flippancy of his speech.
+
+"Hardly that," was the serious answer; "but it might have been my cat,
+Rameses."
+
+"Not unless it was Rameses II., because--well, it didn't sound like a
+cat," he wound up, guiltily conscious of his other reason for certainty
+on this point. "Perhaps Isis has climbed down from her pedestal to
+stretch herself," and he smiled, but his eyes were anxious, and he shot
+a furtive glance toward the veil.
+
+"It's hardly probable," was the calm reply.
+
+"What? Can't the thing use its legs as well as its arms?"
+
+"Ah! then you know----"
+
+"Yes; she reached for me when I was dusting her off, but I kicked harder
+than Doctor Athelstone, I suppose, and so touched the spring twice."
+
+"You beast!"
+
+"Well, let it go at that," Simpkins assented. "And let's hear the rest."
+He was burning with impatience to reach the end and get away, back to
+noisy, crowded Broadway.
+
+But Mrs. Athelstone answered nothing, only looked off toward the altar.
+It almost seemed as if she waited for something.
+
+"Go on," commanded Simpkins, stirred to roughness by his growing
+uneasiness.
+
+"You will not leave while yet you may?" and her tone doubled the threat
+of her words.
+
+"No, not till I've heard it all," he answered doggedly, and gripped
+the butt of his revolver tighter. But though he told himself that her
+changed manner, this new confidence, this sudden indifference to his
+going, was the freak of a madwoman, down deep he felt that it portended
+some evil thing for him, knew it, and would not go, could not go; for he
+dared not pass the ambushed terror of that altar.
+
+"You still insist?" the woman asked with rising anger. "So be it. Learn
+then the fate of meddlers, of dogs who dare to penetrate the mysteries
+of Isis."
+
+Simpkins took his eyes from her face and glanced mechanically toward
+the veil. But he looked back suddenly, and caught her signalling with a
+swift motion of her head to something in the darkness. There could be
+no mistake this time. And following her eyes he saw a form, black and
+shapeless, steal along to the nearest post.
+
+Revolver in hand, he leaped up and back, upsetting his chair. The thing
+remained hidden. He cleared the partitioning sarcophagus at a bound,
+and, sliding and backing, reached the centre of the hall, never for one
+instant taking his eyes from that post or lowering his revolver. Step by
+step, back between the pillars, he retreated, stumbling toward the door
+and safety.
+
+Half-way, he heard the woman hiss: "Stop him! Don't let him escape!" And
+he saw the thing dart from behind the post. In the uncontrollable
+madness of his fear he hurled, instead of firing, his revolver at it,
+and turned and ran.
+
+Tapping lightly on the flags behind, he heard swift feet. It was coming,
+it was gaining, but he was at the door, through it and had slammed it
+safely behind him. A leap, a bound, and he was through the ante-chamber,
+and, as the door behind him opened, he was slipping out into the
+passageway. He went down the stairs in great jumps. Thank God! he had
+left the street door unlocked. But already the sound of pursuit had
+stopped, and he reached the open air safely.
+
+Down the deserted street to Broadway he ran. There he hailed a cab and
+directed the driver to the telegraph office. Then he leaned back and
+looked at the garish lights, the passing cabs, the theatre crowds
+hurrying along home, laughing and chatting as if the world held no such
+horror as that which he had just escaped. That madwoman's words rang
+through his brain, drowning out the voices of the street; the tapping of
+those flying feet sounded in his ears above the rattle of the cab. That
+or this must be unreal; yet how far off both seemed!
+
+Gradually the rough jolting of the cab shook him back to a sense of his
+surroundings and their safety. He began to regain his nerve, and to busy
+himself knotting the strands of the story into a connected narrative.
+And when, a few minutes later, he handed a message to the manager of the
+telegraph office and demanded a clear wire into the _Banner_
+office, he was quite the old breezy Simpkins.
+
+Then, coat off, a cigar between his teeth, he sat down beside the
+operator and began to write his story, his flying fingers keeping time
+with the clicking instrument. He made no mention of the fears that had
+beset him in the hall and the manner of his exit from it. But there was
+enough and to spare of the dramatic in what he sent. After a sensational
+half-column of introduction, fitting the murder on Mrs. Athelstone, and
+enlarging on the certainty of one's sin finding one out, provided it
+were assisted by a _Banner_ reporter, he swung into the detailed
+story, dwelling on the woman's madness and sliding over the details of
+the murder as much as possible.
+
+Then he described how, for more than a month, Mrs Athelstone had labored
+over the body, hiding it days in the empty case and dragging it out
+nights, until she had finished it, with the exception of some detail
+about the head, into a faithful replica of the mummy of Amosis, the
+original of which she had no doubt burned. It all made a vivid story;
+for never had his imagination been in such working order, and never had
+it responded more generously to his demands upon it. About two in the
+morning he finished his third column and concluded his story with:
+
+"So this awful confession of madness and murder ended. I left the woman
+bound and helpless, sitting in her chair, her victim at her feet, to
+wait the coming of the police." Then he added to Naylor personally,
+"Going notify police headquarters now and go back to hall."
+
+Naylor, who had been reading the copy page by page as it came from the
+wire, and who, naturally, was taking a mere cold-blooded view of the
+case than Simpkins, telegraphed back:
+
+"What share did Brander have in actual murder? You don't bring that out
+in story."
+
+"Couldn't get it out of her," Simpkins sent back, truthfully enough.
+
+"Find out," was the answer. "Get back to hall quick. Brander may have
+looked in to help Mrs. A. with her night work while you were gone. Will
+hold enough men for an extra."
+
+Simpkins called a cab and started for police headquarters at breakneck
+speed, but on the way he stopped at Brander's rooms; for a miserable
+suspicion was growing in his brain. "If that really was Isis," he was
+thinking, "it's funny she didn't nail me before I got to the door, even
+with the start I had."
+
+On his representation that he had called on a matter of life and death,
+the janitor admitted him to Brander's rooms. They were empty, and the
+bed had not been slept in.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+It was just after three o'clock when Simpkins, an officer on either
+side, entered the Oriental Building again, and hurried up the stairs to
+the Society's office.
+
+There they were halted, for Simpkins had left his key sticking in
+the spring lock inside and slammed the door behind him, a piece of
+carelessness over which the officers were greatly exercised; for he had
+not confided to them that he had started off in a hurry. In the end,
+they sent the door crashing in with their shoulders and preceded
+Simpkins--and he was scrupulously polite about this--into the
+ante-chamber.
+
+There an incandescent lamp over the youth's desk gave them light and
+Simpkins momentary relief. The men used hard language when they found
+the second door in the same condition as the first, but Simpkins took
+their rating meekly. They tried their shoulders again, but the oak was
+stout and long withstood their assaults. When at last it yielded it gave
+way suddenly, and they all tumbled pell-mell into the hall. Simpkins
+jumped up with incredible agility, and was back in the lighted
+ante-chamber before the others had struggled to their feet. Suddenly
+they stopped swearing. They looked around them. Then they, too, stepped
+back into the ante-chamber.
+
+"Ain't there any way of lighting this place?" asked one of them rather
+sullenly.
+
+"Nothing but three incandescents over the desks," answered Simpkins.
+
+"Use your lantern then, Tom; come on now, young feller, and show us
+where this woman is," he said roughly, and he pushed Simpkins through
+the door.
+
+As the officers followed him, he fell back between them and linked
+his arms through theirs. And silently they advanced on the altar, a
+grotesque and rather unsteady trio, the bull's eyes on either side
+flashing ahead into the darkness.
+
+"The lamp's still burning," whispered Simpkins. They were far enough
+into the hall now to see the glow from it in the corner. "Flash your
+lights around those pillars, boys. There, over there!"
+
+The bull's eyes jumped about searching her out. "There! now! Hold
+still!" cried Simpkins as they focused on the chair.
+
+The black mummy lay as he had left it, the cloth still on the face, but
+the chair was empty. Straight to the veil the reporter ran, and pulled
+the cord. Light broke from above, and beat down on an altar heaped with
+dying roses and the statue of a woman, smiling. And at her feet there
+crouched a great black cat, that arched its back and snarled at
+Simpkins.
+
+Beyond, the lights were still burning in Mrs. Athelstone's apartment,
+but there was no one in the rooms. Some opened drawers in the bureau and
+the absence of her toilet articles from the table told of preparations
+for a hasty flight.
+
+They did not linger long over their examination of the rooms. But after
+replacing the broken doors as best they could and sealing them, they
+went out by the main entrance to question the watchman, whom they found
+dozing in his chair.
+
+Had he seen anything of Mrs. Athelstone? Sure; he'd called a cab for her
+about an hour ago and she'd driven off with her brother.
+
+"Her brother!" echoed Simpkins.
+
+"Yep," yawned the watchman; "you know him--parson--Doctor Brander.
+What's up?"
+
+"Nothing," Simpkins returned sourly, but to himself he added, "Oh,
+hell!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+Once in the street again, after a word of explanation to the watchman,
+the officers and Simpkins separated, they to report and send out an
+alarm for Mrs. Athelstone and Brander, he to call up his office before
+rejoining them. His exultation over his beat was keyed somewhat lower,
+now that he understood what Brander's real interest in Mrs. Athelstone
+was. Mentally, he wrung the neck of Buttons for not having known it;
+figuratively, he kicked himself for not having guessed it; literally, he
+damned his employers for their British reserve, their cool assumption
+that because he was their clerk he was not interested in their family
+affairs. "Cuss 'em for snobs," he wound up finally, a deep sense of his
+personal grievance stirring his sociable Yankee soul.
+
+Of course, this sickening brother and sister business wouldn't touch the
+main fact of the story, but it knocked the "love motive" and the "heart
+interest" higher than a kite, utterly ruining some of his prettiest bits
+of writing, besides letting him in for a call-down from Naylor. Still,
+the old man couldn't be very hard on him--he'd understand that some
+trifling little inaccuracies were bound to creep into a great big story
+like this, dug out and worked up by one man.
+
+At this more cheerful conclusion, a newsboy, crying his bundle of still
+damp papers, came along, and Simpkins hailed him eagerly. Standing under
+a lamp on the corner, skipping from front page to back, then from head
+to head inside, with an eye skilled to catch at a glance the stories
+which a loathed contemporary had that the _Banner_ had missed, he
+ran through the bunch. The _Sun_--not a line about Athelstone in
+it. Bully! The _American_--he was a little afraid of the _American_.
+Safe again. The _World_--Sam Blythe's humorous descriptive story of the
+convention led. He stopped to pity Sam and the New York papers, as he
+thought of the Boston newsboys, crying his magnificent beat, till all
+Washington Street rang with the glory of it. And he could see the
+fellows in Mrs. Atkinson's, letting their coffee grow cold as they
+devoured the _Banner_, stopping only here and there to call across
+to each other: "Good work, Simp., old boy! Great story!"
+
+Then--Simpkins turned the page. Accident--ten killed--bank
+robbed--caught--Mrs. Jones gets divorce.... What!
+
+
+      NOTED SCIENTIST SECURES IMPORTANT RIGHTS
+    DOCTOR ATHELSTONE ARRANGES FOR ROYAL SOCIETY
+           TO EXPLOIT RECENT DISCOVERIES
+
+
+Simpkins stuttered around for an exclamation; then looked up weakly.
+Instinct started him on the run for the nearest long-distance telephone,
+but before he had gone twenty feet he stopped. The paper was long since
+off press and distributed. He had no desire to know what Naylor was
+saying. He could not even guess. There are heights to which the
+imagination cannot aspire.
+
+Then came a faint ray of hope. That was an Associated Press dispatch--a
+late one probably. But if it had reached the New York papers in time to
+catch the edition, Naylor must have received it soon enough to kill his
+story. But even as this hope came it went. The news interest of the
+dispatch was largely local. Doubtless it had been sent out only to the
+New York papers.
+
+Simpkins forced himself to read the body of the message now, although he
+gagged over every line of it:
+
+
+  London, etc. Dr. Alfred W.R. Athelstone, well known in London as the
+  president of the American branch of the Royal Society of Egyptian
+  Exploration and Research, arrived here this morning and is stopping
+  at the Carlton. He announces that the Khedive has been graciously
+  pleased to grant to his society the sole right to excavate the tombs
+  recently discovered by one of its agents in the Karnak region. Doctor
+  Athelstone left home quietly some weeks ago, and held back any
+  announcement of the discoveries, which promise to be very important,
+  while the negotiations, now brought to a happy conclusion, were
+  pending. He sails for New York on the Campania tomorrow.
+
+
+"Do I go off half-cocked? Am I yellow? Is a pup yellow?" groaned
+Simpkins, and he started off aimlessly toward the park, fighting his
+Waterloo over again and counting up his losses. That foolish, foolish
+letter! Why had he soiled his fingers by opening it! Of course, that
+line which loomed so large and fine in his story, that pointed the
+impressive finger of Fate at Crime, "_That thing that I have to do is
+about done!_" referred to Doctor Athelstone's silly negotiations. The
+letter must have been from him. Now, who could have known that a grown
+man would indulge in such fool monkey-business as writing love-letters
+in hieroglyphics to his own wife?... And that blame black mummy. Back to
+darkest Africa for his! If any one ever said mummy to him there'd be
+murder done, all right. Oh, for the happy ignorance of those days when
+he knew nothing about Egypt except that it was the place from which the
+cigarettes came!... Brander, no doubt, had gone out to send a cablegram
+of congratulation to Doctor Athelstone, and while he was away the woman
+had started in to repair a crack in that precious old Amosis of hers.
+Perhaps the moths had got into him! "And she thought that I was crazy,
+and was stringing me along, waiting till the Nile Duck got back,"
+muttered the reporter, stopping short in his agony. "Oh! you're guessing
+good now, Simp., all right, because there's only one way to guess." And
+as he started along again he concluded: "Damn it! even the cat came
+back!"
+
+If there was one thing in all the world that Simpkins did not want to
+see it was a copy of the _Banner_ with that awful story of his
+staring out at him from the first page, headed and played up with all
+the brutal skill in handling type of which Naylor was a master; but he
+felt himself drawn irresistibly to the Grand Central Station, where the
+Boston papers would first be put on sale.
+
+Half an hour to wait. Gad! He could never go back and face Naylor!...
+Libel! Why, there wasn't money enough in the world to pay the damages
+the Athelstones would get against the paper. He'd take just one look at
+it and then catch the first train for Chicago. Perhaps he could get a
+job there digging sewers, or selling ribbons in Fields', or start a
+school of journalism. Any old thing, if they didn't nab him and put him
+in Bloomingdale before he could get away.... He made for the street
+again. He wouldn't look at the _Banner_. What malignant little
+devils the types were when they shouted your sins, not another fellow's,
+from the front page, or whispered them in a stage aside from some little
+paragraph in an obscure corner of the paper--a corner that the whole
+world looked into. Hell, he'd get out of the filthy business! Think of
+the light and frolicsome way in which he'd written up domestic scandals,
+the entertaining specials he'd turned out on unfaithful husbands, the
+snappy columns on unhappy wives, careless of the cost of his sensation
+in blood and tears! And now they'd write him up--Naylor would attend to
+that editorial himself, and do it in his most virtuous style--and brand
+him as a fakir, a liar, and a yellow dog.
+
+Simpkins was back at the news-stand again and there were the Boston
+papers. He snatched a _Banner_ from the top of the pile. No, he
+must have the wrong paper. He tore through it from front to back and
+then to front again, his heart bounding with joy. There was not a line
+of his story in it. They had received that Associated Press dispatch,
+after all. Yes, there it was, but oh, how differently it looked! It
+spelt damnation an hour ago, it meant salvation now.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After all, hadn't his mistake been a natural one? Hadn't he done his
+best for the paper? Wasn't it his duty to run down a lead like that?
+He'd made errors of judgment, perhaps, but he'd like to see the man who
+wouldn't have under the circumstances. Of course, mistakes would creep
+in occasionally and give innocent people the worst of it, but look at
+the good he'd done in his life by exposing scoundrels. How could he, how
+could any man, have acted differently who was loyal to his paper, whose
+first interests were the public good? If Naylor didn't appreciate a star
+man when he had him, he thought he knew an editor or two who did. Simp.,
+old boy, wasn't going to starve.... Starve? It had been hungry work, so
+he'd just step across to the Manhattan, get a bite of breakfast, and
+look up the trains to Boston.
+
+Naylor did know a good man when he had him, and likewise--quite as
+valuable a bit of knowledge--he knew when a man had had enough. So when
+Simpkins sat down that afternoon to tell him his experiences, he only
+smiled quizzically as the reporter wound up by asking, "Now, what do
+_you_ think?" and answered:
+
+"Well, for one thing, I think it did you a power of good to look behind
+that veil, because I reckon that for once in your life you've told me
+the truth as near as you know how."
+
+"No, but aside from this pleasant personal conclusion," persisted
+Simpkins, modestly shedding the compliment.
+
+"Well, I guess we won't bother with the Blavatsky story just now, but
+here's a clipping about a woman who's discovered what she calls soul
+aura--says we've got red, white and blue souls and all that sort of
+stuff. You're our soul expert now, so go over to the City Hall and ask
+the mayor and any politicians you meet what's the color of their souls.
+It ought to make a fair Sunday special." And Naylor swung around to his
+desk, for the city editor had just told him that the headless trunk of a
+woman had been picked up in the river--a find that promised a good
+story--and a newspaper man cannot waste time on yesterday.
+
+Simpkins' face fell. That he had not been assigned to find the head was,
+he knew, the beginning of his punishment. But as he walked down the
+dingy hall to the street his step became more buoyant, and once in the
+open air he started off eager and smiling. For a good opening sentence
+was already shaping in his head, and as he stepped into the City Hall he
+was repeating to himself:
+
+"Yesterday, when the Mayor was asked, 'What is the color of your soul?'
+he returned his stereotyped 'Nothing to give out on that subject,' and
+then added, 'But it would be violating no confidence to tell you that
+Boss Coonahan's is black.'"
+
+To Simpkins it had been given to lift the veil and to know the truth;
+yet he was back again serving the false gods.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+WHERE LOVE CONQUERS.
+
+
+The Reckoning.
+
+By Robert W. Chambers.
+
+
+The author's intention is to treat, in a series of four or five
+romances, that part of the war for independence which particularly
+affected the great landed families of northern New York, the Johnsons,
+represented by Sir William, Sir John, Guy Johnson, and Colonel Claus;
+the notorious Butlers, father and son, the Schuylers, Van Rensselaers,
+and others.
+
+The first romance of the series, Cardigan, was followed by the second,
+The Maid-at-Arms. The third, in order, is not completed. The fourth is
+the present volume.
+
+As Cardigan pretended to portray life on the baronial estate of Sir
+William Johnson, the first uneasiness concerning the coming trouble, the
+first discordant note struck in the harmonious councils of the Long
+House, so, in The Maid-at-Arms, which followed in order, the author
+attempted to paint a patroon family disturbed by the approaching rumble
+of battle. That romance dealt with the first serious split in the
+Iroquois Confederacy; it showed the Long House shattered though not
+fallen; the demoralization and final flight of the great landed families
+who remained loyal to the British Crown; and it struck the key-note to
+the future attitude of the Iroquois toward the patriots of the
+frontier--revenge for their losses at the battle of Oriskany--and ended
+with the march of the militia and continental troops on Saratoga.
+
+The third romance, as yet incomplete and unpublished, deals with the
+war-path and those who followed it led by the landed gentry of Tryon
+County; and ends with the first solid blow delivered at the Long House,
+and the terrible punishment of the Great Confederacy.
+
+The present romance, the fourth in chronological order, picks up the
+thread at that point.
+
+The author is not conscious of having taken any liberties with history
+in preparing a framework of facts for a mantle of romance.
+
+  Robert W. Chambers.
+
+  NEW YORK, _May 26, 1904_.
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+WORKS OF ROBERT W. CHAMBERS.
+
+
+IOLE
+
+Colored inlay on the cover, decorative borders, head-pieces, thumb-nail
+sketches, and tail-pieces. Frontispiece and three full-page
+illustrations. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.25.
+
+Does anybody remember the opera of The Inca, and that heart-breaking
+episode where the Court Undertaker, in a morbid desire to increase his
+professional skill, deliberately accomplishes the destruction of his
+middle-aged relatives in order to inter them for the sake of practice?
+
+If I recollect, his dismal confession runs something like this:
+
+  "It was in bleak November
+  When I slew them, I remember,
+  As I caught them unawares
+  Drinking tea in rocking-chairs."
+
+
+And so he talked them to death, the subject being "What Really Is Art?"
+Afterward he was sorry--
+
+    "The squeak of a door,
+    The creak of a floor,
+  My horrors and fears enhance;
+    And I wake with a scream
+    As I hear in my dream
+  The shrieks of my maiden aunts!"
+
+
+Now it is a very dreadful thing to suggest that those highly respectable
+pseudo-spinsters, the Sister Arts, supposedly cozily immune in their
+polygamous chastity (for every suitor for favor is popularly expected to
+be wedded to his particular art)--I repeat, it is very dreadful to
+suggest that these impeccable old ladies are in danger of being talked
+to death.
+
+But the talkers are talking and Art Nouveau rockers are rocking, and the
+trousers of the prophet are patched with stained glass, and it is a day
+of dinkiness and of thumbs.
+
+Let us find comfort in the ancient proverb: "Art talked to death shall
+rise again." Let us also recollect that "Dinky is as dinky does;" that
+"All is not Shaw that Bernards;" that "Better Yeates than Clever;" that
+words are so inexpensive that there is no moral crime in robbing Henry
+to pay James.
+
+Firmly believing all this, abjuring all atom-pickers, slab furniture,
+and woodchuck literature--save only the immortal verse:
+
+  "And there the wooden-chuck doth tread;
+    While from the oak trees' tops
+  The red, red squirrel on the head
+    The frequent acorn drops."
+
+
+Abjuring, as I say, dinkiness in all its forms, we may still hope that
+those cleanly and respectable spinsters, the Sister Arts, will continue
+throughout the ages, rocking and drinking tea unterrified by the
+million-tongued clamor in the back yard and below stairs, where thumb
+and forefinger continue the question demanded by intellectual
+exhaustion:
+
+"L'arr! Kesker say l'arr?"
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+THE MASTERPIECE OF A MASTER MIND.
+
+
+The Prodigal Son.
+
+By Hall Caine. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
+
+
+"The Prodigal Son" follows the lines of the Bible parable in the
+principal incidents, but in certain important particulars it departs
+from them. In a most convincing way, and with rare beauty, the story
+shows that Christ's parable is a picture of heavenly mercy, and not of
+human justice, and if it were used as an example of conduct among men it
+would destroy all social conditions and disturb accepted laws of
+justice. The book is full of movement and incident, and must appeal to
+the public by its dramatic story alone. The Prodigal Son at the close of
+the book has learned this great lesson, and the meaning of the parable
+is revealed to him. Neither success nor fame can ever wipe out the evil
+of the past. It is not from the unalterable laws of nature and life that
+forgiveness can be hoped for.
+
+"Since 'The Manxman' Hall Caine has written nothing so moving in its
+elements of pathos and tragedy, so plainly marked with the power to
+search the human heart and reveal its secret springs of strength and
+weakness, its passion and strife, so sincere and satisfying as 'The
+Prodigal Son.'"--_New York Times_.
+
+"It is done with supreme self-confidence, and the result is a work of
+genius."--_New York Evening Post_.
+
+"'The Prodigal Son' will hold the reader's attention from cover to
+cover."--_Philadelphia Record_.
+
+"This is one of Hall Caine's best novels--one that a large portion of
+the fiction-reading public will thoroughly enjoy."--_Chicago
+Record-Herald_.
+
+"It is a notable piece of fiction."--_Philadelphia Inquirer_.
+
+"In 'The Prodigal Son' Hall Caine has produced his greatest
+work.'--_Boston Herald_.
+
+"Mr. Caine has achieved a work of extraordinary merit, a fiction as
+finely conceived, as deftly constructed, as some of the best work of our
+living novelists."--_London Daily Mail_.
+
+"'The Prodigal Son' is indeed a notable novel; and a work that may
+certainly rank with the best of recent fiction...."--_Westminster
+Gazette_.
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+"A beautiful romance of the days of Robert Burns."
+
+
+Nancy Stair.
+
+A Novel. By Elinor Macartney Lane, author of "Mills of God."
+Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
+
+"With very much the grace and charm of Robert Louis Stevenson, the
+author of 'The Life of Nancy Stair' combines unusual gifts of narrative,
+characterization, color, and humor. She has also delicacy, dramatic
+quality, and that rare gift--historic imagination.
+
+"'The Life of Nancy Stair' is interesting from the first sentence to the
+last; the characters are vital and are, also, most entertaining company;
+the denouement unexpected and picturesque and cleverly led up to from
+one of the earliest chapters; the story moves swiftly and without a
+hitch. Robert Burns is neither idealized nor caricatured; Sandy, Jock,
+Pitcairn, Danvers Carmichael, and the Duke of Borthewicke are admirably
+relieved against each other, and Nancy herself as irresistible as she is
+natural. To be sure, she is a wonderful child, but then she manages to
+make you believe she was a real one. Indeed, reality and naturalness are
+two of the charms of a story that both reaches the heart and engages the
+mind, and which can scarcely fail to make for itself a large audience. A
+great deal of delightful talk and interesting incidents are used for the
+development of the story. Whoever reads it will advise everybody he
+knows to read it; and those who do not care for its literary quality
+cannot escape the interest of a love-story full of incident and
+atmosphere."
+
+"Powerfully and attractively written."--_Pittsburg Post_.
+
+"A story best described with the word 'charming.'"--_Washington Post_.
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+WIT, SPARKLING, SCINTILLATING WIT, IS THE ESSENCE OF
+
+
+Kate of Kate Hall,
+
+By Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler, whose reputation was made by her first
+book, "Concerning Isabel Carnaby," and enhanced by her last success,
+"Place and Power."
+
+"In 'Kate of Kate Hall,' by Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler, the question of
+imminent concern is the marriage of super-dainty, peppery-tempered Lady
+Katherine Clare, whose wealthy godmother, erstwhile deceased, has left
+her a vast fortune, on condition that she shall be wedded within six
+calendar months from date of the testator's death.
+
+"An easy matter, it would seem, for bonny Kate, notwithstanding her
+aptness at sharp repartee, is a morsel fit for the gods.
+
+"The accepted suitor appears in due time; but comes to grief at the last
+moment in a quarrel with Lady Kate over a kiss bestowed by her upon her
+godmother's former man of affairs and secretary. This incident she
+haughtily refuses to explain. Moreover, she shatters the bond of
+engagement, although but three weeks remain of the fatal six months. She
+would rather break stones on the road all day and sleep in a pauper's
+grave all night, than marry a man who, while professing to love her,
+would listen to mean and malicious gossips picked up by tell-tales in
+the servants' hall.
+
+"So the great estate is likely to be lost to Kate and her debt-ridden
+father, Lord Claverley. How it is conserved at last, and gloomy
+apprehension chased away by dazzling visions of material splendor--that
+is the author's well-kept secret, not to be shared here with a careless
+and indolent public."--_Philadelphia North American._
+
+"The long-standing reproach that women are seldom humorists seems in a
+fair way of passing out of existence. Several contemporary feminine
+writers have at least sufficient sense of humor to produce characters as
+deliciously humorous as delightful. Of such order is the Countess
+Claverley, made whimsically real and lovable in the recent book by Ellen
+Thorneycroft Fowler and A.L. Felkin, 'Kate of Kate Hall.'"--_Chicago
+Record-Herald._
+
+"'Kate of Kate Hall' is a novel in which Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler
+displays her brilliant abilities at their best. The story is well
+constructed, the plot develops beautifully, the incidents are varied and
+brisk, and the dialogue is deliciously clever."--_Rochester Democrat
+and Chronicle._
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LOVE. MYSTERY. VENICE.
+
+
+The Clock and the Key.
+
+By Arthur Henry Vesey. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
+
+This is a tale of a mystery connected with an old clock. The lover, an
+American man of means, is startled out of his sensuous, inactive life in
+Venice by his lady-love's scorn for his indolence. She begs of him to
+perform any task that will prove his persistence and worth. With the
+charm of Venice as a background, one follows the adventures of the lover
+endeavoring to read the puzzling hints of the old clock as to the
+whereabouts of the famous jewels of many centuries ago. After following
+many false clues the lover ultimately solves the mystery, triumphs over
+his rivals, and wins the girl.
+
+AMERICA.
+
+"For an absorbing story it would be hard to beat."--_Harper's
+Weekly._
+
+ENGLAND.
+
+"It will hold the reader till the last page."--_London Times._
+
+SCOTLAND.
+
+"It would hardly suffer by comparison with Poe's immortal 'Gold
+Bug.'"_--Glasgow Herald._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NORTH.
+
+"It ought to make a record."--_Montreal Sun._
+
+SOUTH.
+
+"It is as fascinating in its way as the Sherlock Holmes
+stories--charming--unique."--_New Orleans Picayune._
+
+EAST.
+
+"Don't fail to get it."--_New York Sun._
+
+WEST.
+
+"About the most ingeniously constructed bit of sensational fiction that
+ever made the weary hours speed."--_St. Paul Pioneer Press._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"If you want a thrilling story of intrigue and mystery, which will cause
+you to burn the midnight oil until the last page is finished, read 'The
+Clock and the Key.'"--_Milwaukee Wisconsin._
+
+"One of the most highly exciting and ingenious stories we have read for
+a long time is 'The Clock and the Key.'"--_London Mail._
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+A GOOD AUTOMOBILE STORY.
+
+
+Baby Bullet.
+
+By Lloyd Osbourne, Author of "The Motor-maniacs." Illustrated.
+12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
+
+This is the jolliest, most delightfully humorous love story that has
+been written in the last ten years. Baby Bullet is an "orphan
+automobile." It is all through the adoption of Baby Bullet by her
+travelling companion that a dear, sweet, human modern girl meets a very
+nice young man, and a double romance is begun and finished on an
+automobiling tour through England.
+
+"The story is smoothly written, full of action and healthful
+fun."--_Philadelphia Public Ledger._
+
+"'Baby Bullet' is without doubt the best written and most entertaining
+automobile story yet published. The most enjoyable feature of this book
+is its genuine, unforced humor, which finds expression not only in
+ludicrous situations, but in bright and spirited dialogue, keen
+observation and natural characterization.'--_St. Paul Dispatch._
+
+"Certain stories there are that a man fervently wishes he might claim as
+his own. Of these, 'Baby Bullet' is one."--_Baltimore Sun._
+
+"It is broad comedy, full of adventurous fun, clever and effective. The
+tale is fascinating from the start. The adventures of Baby Bullet are
+distinctly funny."--_New York Sun._
+
+"The characters are lightly drawn, but with great humor. It is a story
+that refreshes a tired brain and provokes a light heart."--_Chicago
+Tribune._
+
+"It is a most satisfying and humorous narrative."--_Indianapolis
+News._
+
+"One of the funniest scenes in recent fiction is the escape of the
+automobile party from the peroxide blonde who has answered their
+advertisement for a chaperon."--_San Francisco Chronicle._
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+A SPLENDID NEWSPAPER YARN.
+
+
+A Yellow Journalist.
+
+By Miriam Michelson, Author of "In the Bishop's Carriage," etc.
+Illustrated. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
+
+This novel has the true newspaper thrill in it from beginning to end.
+The intense desire to "cover" one's assignment completely and well is
+brought out in the midst of the melodramatic atmosphere in which a
+modern newspaper woman must live. The stories are all true to life, and
+mixed with the excitement there is a wealth of humor and pathos.
+
+"There is a dash about 'A Yellow Journalist' that exhilarates like a
+fresh breeze on a sharp winter morning."--_Chicago Record-Herald_.
+
+"The book is bright and entertaining."--_Minneapolis Tribune_.
+
+"There are just a few writers who have succeeded in reducing to paper
+the atmosphere of a newspaper office, and since the appearance of 'A
+Yellow Journalist,' Miriam Michelson must be numbered among
+them."--_The Bookman_.
+
+"Miss Michelson's work has found great favor. The stories contained in
+this book are characteristic."--_Philadelphia Public Ledger_.
+
+"Only one with the genuine journalistic instinct, who has agonized over
+a story and known the ecstacy of a 'beat' and the anguish of being beat,
+can write of news-gathering as Miss Michelson does. But she has other
+good qualities in addition to these--a good dramatic instinct, a piquant
+humor, and a knowledge of human nature. The fourteen chapters of 'A
+Yellow Journalist' are mighty interesting reading."--_Baltimore
+News_.
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FALSE GODS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 17020-8.txt or 17020-8.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/2/17020
+
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
diff --git a/17020-8.zip b/17020-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..93abfa3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-8.zip
diff --git a/17020-h.zip b/17020-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..def386b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h.zip
diff --git a/17020-h/17020-h.htm b/17020-h/17020-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1b0eb26
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/17020-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,3148 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd">
+<html>
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The False Gods, by George Horace Lorimer</title>
+<style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[*/
+    <!--
+    * { font-family: serif; }
+ body { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; }
+    p { text-indent:   1em;
+        margin-top:    .75em;
+        font-size:     100%;
+        text-align:    justify;
+        margin-bottom: .75em; }
+    h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; clear:both; }
+    hr.full { width: 100%; clear:both; }
+    .foot { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 85%; }
+    .poem { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left; }
+    .poem .stanza { margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; }
+    .poem p     { margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; }
+    .poem p.i2  { margin-left: 1.5em; }
+    .poem p.i4  { margin-left: 2.5em; }
+    .poem p.i6  { margin-left: 3.5em; }
+    .poem p.i11  { margin-left: 6.0em; }
+    .quote { margin-left: 6%; margin-right: 6%; text-indent: 0em; font-size: 90%; }
+    .figure { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 90%; }
+    center { padding: 0.8em;}
+    .center { text-align: center; }
+    .sc { font-variant: small-caps; }
+    .cap { float:left; clear:left; margin: 0.5em 1.5em .5em 0; padding: 0; }
+
+    .adwrap { font-size: 75%; margin: 0 2em 0 2em; padding: 1em; border: thin dashed gray;}
+    .adtop { border-color: black; border-style: double none double none;
+            text-align: center; font-weight: bold; }
+    .adbot { border-color: black; border-style: solid none solid none;
+            text-align: center; font-weight: bold; }
+    a { text-decoration: none; }
+    hr.pg { width: 100%;
+              margin-top: 0em;
+              margin-bottom: 0em;
+              border: solid black;
+              height: 5px; }
+    pre      {font-size: small;
+              font-family: courier, monospace; }
+
+/*]]>*/
+    // -->
+</style>
+</head>
+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The False Gods, by George Horace Lorimer</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: The False Gods</p>
+<p>Author: George Horace Lorimer</p>
+<p>Release Date: November 6, 2005  [eBook #17020]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FALSE GODS***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by David Garcia<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (<a href="https://www.pgdp.net/">https://www.pgdp.net/</a>)<br />
+    from page images generously made available by<br />
+    the Kentuckiana Digital Library
+    (<a href="http://kdl.kyvl.org/">http://kdl.kyvl.org/</a>)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="10" style="background-color: #ccccff;">
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+      Images of the original pages are available through the Electronic
+      Text Collection of the Kentuckiana Digital Library. See
+      <a href="http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts;xc=1&amp;idno=B92-232-31280846&amp;view=toc">
+      http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts;xc=1&amp;idno=B92-232-31280846&amp;view=toc</a>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="pg" />
+<div style="height: 6em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h1>
+    THE FALSE GODS
+</h1>
+<h2>
+GEORGE HORACE LORIMER
+</h2>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="image-0001"><!--IMG--></a>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ill-001.jpg" style="width:400px;" alt="Cover" />
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<a name="image-0002"><!--IMG--></a>
+<div class="figure" style="float:left;">
+<img src="images/ill-004.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<a name="image-0003"><!--IMG--></a>
+<div class="figure" style="float:right;">
+<img src="images/ill-005.png" alt="" />
+<h2>
+THE FALSE GODS
+</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<a name="image-0004"><!--IMG--></a>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ill-006.jpg" style="width:400px;"
+alt="&quot;Then ... the arms crushed him against the stone breast.&quot;" />
+<br />
+'Then ... the arms crushed him against the stone breast.'
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0001" id="h2H_4_0001"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h1>
+    THE FALSE GODS
+</h1>
+
+<h2>
+BY
+<br />
+GEORGE HORACE LORIMER
+</h2>
+
+<p class="center">
+Author of "Letters from a Self-made Merchant to His Son"
+</p>
+
+<a name="image-0005"><!--IMG--></a>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/colophon.png" alt="Eygptian Colophon" width="100" height="166" />
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 2em;"><br /><br /></div>
+
+<p class="center" style="font-size: 70%;">
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+<br />
+NEW YORK
+<br />
+1906
+</p>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<p class="center" style="font-size:70%;">
+  <span class="sc">Copyright, 1906, by George Horace Lorimer</span>
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p class="center" style="font-size:70%;">
+  <span class="sc">Copyright, 1906, by D. Appleton and Company</span>
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p class="center" style="font-size:70%;">
+Entered at Stationer's Hall, London
+</p>
+
+<div class="figure" style="float:left;">
+<p>
+<i>Published April, 1906</i>
+</p>
+<img src="images/ill-008.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div style="height: 2em; clear:both;"><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="image-0007"><!--IMG--></a>
+<div class="figure" style="float:right;">
+<img src="images/ill-009.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="center" style="clear:both;">
+To A.V.L.
+</p>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="image-0008"><!--IMG--></a>
+<div class="figure" style="float:left;">
+<img src="images/ill-010.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<table summary="Table of Contents" width="50%" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"
+style="height:567px; width:400px; background: url(images/ill-011.png);">
+<tr><td colspan="2" style="margin:0;padding:0;"><h2 style="padding:0; margin:200px 0 0 0;">CONTENTS</h2></td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="margin:0;padding:0;" valign="top">
+<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" align="center" style="margin:0 25% 0 25%;padding:0;" summary="Contents" >
+<tr><td colspan="2" style="text-align:right;"><span class="sc">page</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td style="text-align:center;" width="20%"><a href="#h2H_4_0003"> I.</a> </td><td style="text-align:right;" width="20%"> 1</td></tr>
+<tr><td style="text-align:center;"><a href="#h2H_4_0004"> II.</a> </td><td style="text-align:right;"> 11</td></tr>
+<tr><td style="text-align:center;"><a href="#h2H_4_0005"> III.</a> </td><td style="text-align:right;"> 21</td></tr>
+<tr><td style="text-align:center;"><a href="#h2H_4_0006"> IV.</a> </td><td style="text-align:right;"> 33</td></tr>
+<tr><td style="text-align:center;"><a href="#h2H_4_0007"> V.</a> </td><td style="text-align:right;"> 39</td></tr>
+<tr><td style="text-align:center;"><a href="#h2H_4_0008"> VI.</a> </td><td style="text-align:right;"> 51</td></tr>
+<tr><td style="text-align:center;"><a href="#h2H_4_0009"> VII.</a> </td><td style="text-align:right;"> 59</td></tr>
+<tr><td style="text-align:center;"><a href="#h2H_4_0010"> VIII.</a> </td><td style="text-align:right;"> 69</td></tr>
+<tr><td style="text-align:center;"><a href="#h2H_4_0011"> IX.</a> </td><td style="text-align:right;"> 77</td></tr>
+<tr><td style="text-align:center;"><a href="#h2H_4_0012"> X.</a> </td><td style="text-align:right;"> 81</td></tr>
+</table>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<a name="h2H_LIST" id="h2H_LIST"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="image-0010"></a>
+<table border="0" summary="" align="center"><tr><td>
+<div style="background: url(images/ill-012.png); width:400px; height:660px; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="List of Illustrations" >
+<tr><td colspan="3" height="140"></td></tr>
+<tr><td width="100"></td><td colspan="2"><h2>    LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2><hr /></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td><td><a href="#image-0004">"Then ... the arms crushed him against the stone breast."</a></td><td style="text-align:right;" valign="bottom"><i>Frontispiece</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td><td><a href="#image-0013">"'Aw, fergit it.'"</a></td><td style="text-align:right;" valign="bottom">4</td></tr>
+<tr><td></td><td><a href="#image-0018">"'She's the Real Thing.'"</a></td><td style="text-align:right;" valign="bottom">24</td></tr>
+<tr><td></td><td><a href="#image-0024">"Suddenly she felt him coming, and turned."</a></td><td style="text-align:right;" valign="bottom">56</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3" height="160"></td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="figure" style="float:right;">
+<img src="images/ill-013.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-head1.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h1>
+THE FALSE GODS
+</h1>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0003" id="h2H_4_0003"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 2em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+    I
+</h2>
+
+<img src="images/cap014.png" class="cap" alt="I" />
+<p style="text-indent: -1em;">
+t was shortly after ten o'clock one morning when Ezra Simpkins, a
+reporter from the <i>Boston Banner</i>, entered the Oriental Building,
+that dingy pile of brick and brownstone which covers a block on Sixth
+Avenue, and began to hunt for the office of the Royal Society of
+Egyptian Exploration and Research. After wandering through a labyrinth
+of halls, he finally found it on the second floor. A few steps farther
+on, a stairway led down to one of the side entrances; for the building
+could be entered from any of the four bounding streets.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins regarded knocking on doors and sending in cards as formalities
+which served merely to tempt people of a retiring disposition to lie, so
+when he walked into the waiting-room and found it deserted, he passed
+through it quickly and opened the door beyond. But if he had expected
+this man&oelig;uver to bring him within easy distance of the person whom
+he was seeking, he was disappointed. He had simply walked into a small
+outer office. A self-sufficient youth of twelve, who was stuffed into
+a be-buttoned suit, was its sole occupant.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hello, bub!" said Simpkins to this Cerberus of the threshold. "Mrs.
+Athelstone in?" and he drew out his letter of introduction; for he had
+instantly decided to use it in place of a card, as being more likely to
+gain him admittance.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Aw, fergit it," the youth answered with fine American independence.
+"I'll let youse know when your turn comes, an' youse can keep your
+ref'rences till you're asked for 'em," and he surveyed Simpkins with
+marked disfavor.
+</p>
+<p>
+The reporter made no answer and asked no questions. Until that moment he
+had not known that he had a turn, but if he had, he did not propose to
+lose it by any foolish slip. So he settled down in his chair and began
+to turn over his assignment in his mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+That Simpkins had come over to New York was due to the conviction of
+his managing editor, Mr. Naylor, that a certain feature which had been
+shaping up in his head would possess a peculiar interest if it could be
+"led" with a few remarks by Mrs. Athelstone. Though her husband, the
+Rev. Alfred W.R. Athelstone, was a Church of England clergyman, whose
+interest in Egyptology had led him to accept the presidency of the
+American branch of the Royal Society, she was a leader among the
+Theosophists. And now that the old head of the cult was dead, it was
+rumored that Mrs. Athelstone had announced the reincarnation of Madame
+Blavatsky in her own person. This in itself was a good "story," but it
+was not until a second rumor reached Naylor's ears that his newspaper
+soul was stirred to its yellowest depths. For there was in Boston an
+association known as the American Society for the Investigation of
+Ancient Beliefs, which was a rival of the Royal Society in its good work
+of laying bare with pick and spade the buried mysteries along the Nile.
+And this rivalry, which was strong between the societies and bitter
+between their presidents, became acute in the persons of their
+secretaries, both of whom were women. Madame Gianclis, who served the
+Boston Society, boasted Egyptian blood in her veins, a claim which Mrs.
+Athelstone, who acted as secretary for her husband's society, politely
+conceded, with the qualification that some ancestor of her rival had
+contributed a dash of the Senegambian as well.
+</p>
+<a name="image-0013"><!--IMG--></a>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ill-018.jpg" style="width:400px;"
+alt="&quot;'Aw, fergit it.'&quot;" />
+<br />
+"'Aw, fergit it.'"
+</div>
+<p>
+This remark, duly reported to Madame Gianclis, had not put her in a
+humor to concede Madame Blavatsky's soul, or any part of it, to Mrs.
+Athelstone. Promptly on hearing of her pretensions, so rumor had it,
+the Boston woman had announced the reincarnation of Theosophy's high
+priestess in herself. And Boston believers were inclined to accept her
+view, as it was difficult for them to understand how any soul with
+liberty of action could deliberately choose a New York residence.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now, all these things had filtered through to Naylor from those just
+without the temple gates, for whatever the quarrels of the two societies
+and their enemies, they tried to keep them to themselves. They had had
+experience with publicity and had found that ridicule goes hand in hand
+with it in this iconoclastic age. But out of these rumors, unconfirmed
+though they were, grew a vision in Naylor's brain&mdash;a vision of a
+glorified spread in the <i>Sunday Banner's</i> magazine section. Under
+a two-page "head," builded cunningly of six sizes of type, he saw
+ravishingly beautiful pictures of Madame Gianclis and Mrs. Athelstone,
+and hovering between them the materialized, but homeless, soul of Madame
+Blavatsky, trying to make choice of an abiding-place, the whole
+enlivened and illuminated with much "snappy" reading matter.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now, Simpkins was the man to make a managing editor's dreams come true,
+so Naylor rubbed the lamp for him and told him what he craved. But the
+reporter's success in life had been won by an ability to combine much
+extravagance of statement in the written with great conservatism in
+the spoken word. Early in his experience he had learned that Naylor's
+optimism, though purely professional, entailed unpleasant consequences
+on the reporter who shared it and then betrayed some too generous trust;
+so he absolutely refused to admit that there was any basis for it now.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You know she won't talk to reporters," he protested. "Those New York
+boys have joshed that whole bunch so they're afraid to say their prayers
+out loud. Then she's English and dead swell, and that combination's hard
+to open, unless you have a number in the Four Hundred, and then it ain't
+refined to try. I can make a pass at her, but it'll be a frost for me."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Nonsense! You must make her talk, or manage to be around while some one
+else does," Naylor answered, waving aside obstacles with the noble scorn
+of one whose business it is to set others to conquer them. "I want a
+good snappy interview, understand, and descriptions for some red-hot
+pictures, if you can't get photos. I'm going to save the spread in the
+Sunday magazine for that story, and you don't want to slip up on the
+Athelstone end of it. That hall is just what the story needs for a
+setting. Get in and size it up."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You remember what happened to that <i>Courier</i> man who got in?"
+ventured Simpkins.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I believe I did hear something about a <i>Courier</i> man's being
+snaked out of a closet and kicked downstairs. Served him right.
+<i>Very</i> coarse work. Very coarse work <i>indeed</i>. There's a better
+way and you'll find it." There was something unpleasantly significant in
+his voice, as he terminated the interview by swinging around to his desk
+and picking up a handful of papers, which warned the reporter that he
+had gone the limit.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins had heard of the hall, for it had been written up just after
+Doctor Athelstone, who was a man of some wealth, had assembled in it his
+private collection of Egyptian treasures. But he knew, too, that it had
+become increasingly difficult to penetrate since Mrs. Athelstone had
+been made the subject of some entertaining, but too imaginative, Sunday
+specials. Still, now that he had properly magnified the difficulties
+of the undertaking to Naylor, that the disgrace of defeat might be
+discounted or the glory of achievement enhanced, he believed that he
+knew a way to gain access to the hall and perhaps to manage a talk with
+Mrs. Athelstone herself. His line of thought started him for Cambridge,
+where he had a younger brother whom he was helping through Harvard.
+</p>
+<p>
+As a result of this fraternal visit, Simpkins minor cut the classes of
+Professor Alexander Blackburn, the eminent archæologist, for the next
+week, and went to his other lectures by back streets. For the kindly
+professor had given him a letter, introducing him to Mrs. Athelstone as
+a worthy young student with a laudable thirst for that greater knowledge
+of Egyptian archæology, ethnology and epigraphy which was to be gained
+by an inspection of her collection. And it was the possession of this
+letter which influenced Simpkins major to take the smoking car and to
+sit up all night, conning an instructive volume on Ancient Egypt,
+thereby acquiring much curious information, and diverting two dollars of
+his expense money to the pocket in which he kept his individual cash
+balance.
+</p>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-tail1.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0004" id="h2H_4_0004"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-head2.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>
+    II
+</h2>
+
+<img src="images/cap026.png" class="cap" alt="F" />
+<p style="text-indent: -1em;">
+or five minutes the decorous silence of the anteroom was unbroken.
+Then the door of the inner office swung open and closed behind a
+dejected-looking young man, and the boy, without so much as asking
+for a card, preceded the secretly-elated Simpkins into the hall.
+</p>
+<p>
+They had stepped from the present into the past. Simpkins found himself
+looking between a double row of pillars, covered with hieroglyphics in
+red and black, to an altar of polished black basalt, guarded on either
+side by stone sphinxes. Behind it, straight from the lofty ceiling, fell
+a veil of black velvet, embroidered with golden scarabæi, and fringed
+with violet. The approach, a hundred paces or more, was guarded by
+twoscore mummies in black cases, standing upright along the pillars.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Watcher gawkin' at?" demanded the youth, grinning up at the staring
+Simpkins. "Lose dat farmer-boy face or it's back to de ole homestead
+for youse. Her royal nibs ain't lookin' for no good milker."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I'm just rubbering to see where the goat's kept," the reporter
+answered, trying to assume a properly metropolitan expression. "Suppose
+I'll have to take the third degree before I can get out of here."
+</p>
+<p>
+The youth started noiselessly across the floor, and Simpkins saw that
+he wore sandals. His own heavy walking boots rang loudly on the flagged
+floors and woke the echoes in the vaulted ceiling. He began to tread on
+tiptoe, as one moves in a death-chamber.
+</p>
+<p>
+And that was what this great room was: a charnel-house filled with
+the spoil of tombs and temples. The dim light fluttered down from
+quaint, triangular windows, set with a checker-work of brick-red and
+saffron-colored panes about a central design, a scarlet heart upon a
+white star, and within that a black scarabæus. The white background of
+the walls threw into relief the angular figures on the frieze, scenes
+from old Egyptian life: games, marriages, feasts and battles, painted
+in the crude colors of early art. Between were paneled pictures of the
+gods, monstrous and deformed deities, half men, half beasts; and the
+dado, done in black, pictured the funeral rites of the Egyptians, with
+explanatory passages from the ritual of the dead. Rudely-sculptured
+bas-reliefs and intaglios, torn from ancient mastabas, were set over
+windows and doors, and stone colossi of kings and gods leered and
+threatened from dusky corners. Sarcophagi of black basalt, red porphyry
+and pink-veined alabaster, cunningly carved, were disposed as they had
+been found in the pits of the dead, with the sepulchral vases and the
+hideous wooden idols beside them.
+</p>
+<p>
+The descriptions of the place had prepared Simpkins for something out
+of the ordinary, but nothing like this; and he looked about him with
+wonder in his eyes and a vague awe at his heart, until he found himself
+standing in the corner of the hall to the right of the black altar in
+the west. Two sarcophagi, one of basalt, the other of alabaster, were
+placed at right angles to the walls, partially inclosing a small space.
+Within this inclosure, bowed over a stone table, sat a woman, writing.
+At either end of the table a mummy case, one black, the other gilt,
+stood upright. The boy halted just outside this singular private office,
+and the woman rose and came toward them.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins had never read Virgil, but he knew the goddess by her walk. She
+was young&mdash;not over thirty&mdash;and tall and stately. Her gown was black,
+some soft stuff which clung about her, and a bunch of violets at her
+waist made the whole corner faintly sweet. Her features were regular,
+but of a type strange to Simpkins, the nose slightly aquiline, the lips
+full and red&mdash;vividly so by contrast to the clear white of the skin&mdash;and
+the forehead low and straight. Black hair waved back from it, and was
+caught up by the coils of a golden asp, from whose lifted head two
+rubies gleamed. Doubtless a woman would have pronounced her gown absurd
+and her way of wearing her hair an intolerable affectation. But it was
+effective with the less discriminating animal&mdash;instantly so with
+Simpkins.
+</p>
+<p>
+And then she raised her eyes and looked at him. To the first glance they
+were dusky eyes, deep and fathomless, changing swiftly to the blue-black
+of the northern skies on a clear winter night, and flashing out sharp
+points of light, like star-rays. He knew that in that glance he had been
+weighed, gauged and classed, and, though he was used to questioning
+Governors and Senators quite unabashed and unafraid, he found himself
+standing awkward and ill-at-ease in the presence of this woman.
+</p>
+<p>
+Had she addressed him in Greek or Egyptian, he would have accepted it as
+a matter of course. But when she did speak it was in the soft, clear
+tones of a well-bred Englishwoman, and what she said was commonplace
+enough.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I suppose you've called to see about the place?" she asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ye-es," stammered Simpkins, but with wit enough to know that he had
+come at an opportune moment. If there were a place, decidedly he had
+called to see about it.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who sent you?" she continued, and he understood that he was not there
+in answer to a want advertisement.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Professor Blackburn." And he presented his letter and went on, with
+a return of his glibness: "You see, I've been working my way through
+Harvard&mdash;preparing for the ministry&mdash;Congregationalist. Found I'd have
+to stop and go to work regularly for a while before I could finish. So
+I've come over here, where I can attend the night classes at Columbia at
+the same time. And as I'm interested in Egyptology, and had heard a good
+deal about your collection, I got that letter to you. Thought you might
+know some one in the building who wanted a man, as work in a place like
+this would be right in my line. Of course, if you're looking for any
+one, I'd like to apply for the place." And he paused expectantly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I see. You want to be a Dissenting minister, and you're working for
+your education. Very creditable of you, I'm sure. And you're a stranger
+in New York, you say?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Utter," returned Simpkins.
+</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. Athelstone proceeded to question him at some length about his
+qualifications. When he had satisfied her that he was competent to
+attend to the easy, clerical work of the office and to care for the
+more valuable articles in the hall, things which she did not care to
+leave to the regular cleaners, she concluded:
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm disposed to give you a trial, Mr. Simpkins, but I want you to
+understand that under no circumstances are you to talk about me or
+your work outside the office. I've been so hunted and harried by
+reporters&mdash;&mdash;" And her voice broke. "What I want above all else is
+a clerk that I can trust."
+</p>
+<p>
+The assurance which Simpkins gave in reply came harder than all the lies
+he had told that morning, and, some way, none of them had slipped out
+so smoothly as usual. He was a fairly truthful and tender-hearted man
+outside his work, but in it he had accustomed himself to regard men and
+women in a purely impersonal way, and their troubles and scandals simply
+as material. To his mind, nothing was worth while unless it had a news
+value; and nothing was sacred that had. But he was uneasily conscious
+now that he was doing a deliberately brutal thing, and for the first
+time he felt that regard for a subject's feelings which is so fatal to
+success in certain branches of the new journalism. But he repressed
+the troublesome instinct, and when Mrs. Athelstone dismissed him a few
+minutes later, it was with the understanding that he should report the
+next morning, ready for work.
+</p>
+<p>
+He stopped for a moment in the ante-chamber on the way out; for the
+bright light blinded him, and there were red dots before his eyes. He
+felt a little subdued, not at all like the self-confident man who had
+passed through the oaken door ten minutes before. But nothing could long
+repress the exuberant Simpkins, and as he started down the stairway to
+the street he was exclaiming to himself:
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did you butt in, Simp., old boy, or were you pushed?"
+</p>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-tail2.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0005" id="h2H_4_0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-head1.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>
+    III
+</h2>
+
+<img src="images/cap036.png" class="cap" alt="A" />
+<p style="text-indent: -1em;">
+t nine o'clock the next morning Simpkins presented himself at the
+Society's office, and a few minutes later he found himself in the
+fascinating presence of Mrs. Athelstone. He soon grasped the details of
+his simple duties, and then, like a lean, awkward mastiff, padded along
+at her heels while she moved about the hall and pointed out the things
+which would be under his care.
+</p>
+<p>
+"If I were equal to it, I should 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.'"
+</p>
+<p>
+"And this&mdash;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.
+</p>
+<p>
+"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!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What a bully cigarette brand he'd make!" thought Simpkins, and aloud
+he added:
+</p>
+<p>
+"They must have been a fine-looking pair."
+</p>
+<p>
+"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:
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" align="center" width="33%" summary="Inscription">
+<tr><td colspan="2" style="text-align:center;">          TIBI </td></tr>
+<tr><td>    VNA        </td><td style="text-align:right;">  QVE </td></tr>
+<tr><td>    ES         </td><td style="text-align:right;">OMNIA </td></tr>
+<tr><td>    DEA        </td><td style="text-align:right;"> ISIS </td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>
+"And what's behind the curtain?" he began, turning toward Mrs.
+Athelstone.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The truth, of course. But remember," and her tone was half serious,
+"none but an adept may look behind the veil and live."
+</p>
+<p>
+"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.
+</p>
+<p>
+"And now that you've seen Isis, what do you think of her?" asked Mrs.
+Athelstone, breaking the momentary silence.
+</p>
+<p>
+"She's the real thing&mdash;the naked truth, sure enough," returned Simpkins
+with a grin.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It <i>is</i> a wonderful statue!" was the literal answer. "There's no
+other like it in the world. Doctor Athelstone found it near Thebes, and
+took a good deal of pride in arranging this shrine. The device <i>is</i>
+clever; the parting of the veil you see, makes the light shine down on
+the statue, and it dies out when I close it&mdash;so"; and, as she pulled a
+cord, the veil fell before the statue and the light melted away.
+</p>
+<a name="image-0018"><!--IMG--></a>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ill-040.jpg" style="width:400px;"
+alt="&quot;'She's the Real Thing.'&quot;" />
+<br />
+"'She's the Real Thing.'"
+</div>
+<p>
+"Aren't you initiating the neophyte rather early?" a man's voice asked
+at Simpkins' elbow, and, as he turned to see who it was, Mrs. Athelstone
+explained: "This is our new clerk, Mr. Simpkins; Doctor Brander is our
+treasurer, and our acting president while my husband's away. He left a
+few days ago for a little rest." And Mrs. Athelstone turned back to her
+desk.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins instantly decided to dislike the young clergyman beside him. He
+was tall and athletic-looking, but with a slight stoop, that impressed
+the reporter as a physical assumption of humility which the handsome
+face, with its faintly sneering lines and bold eyes, contradicted. But
+he acknowledged Brander's offhand "How d'ye do?" in a properly
+deferential manner, and listened respectfully to a few careless
+sentences of instructions.
+</p>
+<p>
+For the rest of the morning, Simpkins mechanically addressed circulars
+appealing for funds to carry on the good work of the Society, while his
+mind was busy trying to formulate a plan by which he could get Mrs.
+Athelstone to tell what she knew about the whereabouts of Madame
+Blavatsky's soul. He felt, with the accurate instinct of one used to
+classing the frailties of flesh and blood according to their worth in
+columns, that those devices which had so often led women to confide
+to him the details of the particular sensation that he was working up
+would avail him nothing here. "You simply haven't got her Bertillon
+measurements, Simp.," he was forced to admit, after an hour of fruitless
+thinking. "You'll have to trust in your rabbit's foot."
+</p>
+<p>
+But if Mrs. Athelstone was a new species to him, the office boy was not.
+He knew that youth down to the last button on his jacket. He knew, too,
+that an office boy often whiles away the monotonous hours by piecing
+together the president's secrets from the scraps in his waste-basket.
+So at the noon hour he slipped out after Buttons, caught him as he was
+disappearing up a near-by alley in a cloud of cigarette smoke, like the
+disreputable little devil that he was, and succeeded in establishing
+friendly and even familiar relations with him.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was not, however, until late in the afternoon, when he was called
+into the ante-chamber to discover the business of a caller, that he
+improved the opportunity to ask the youth some leading questions.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Suppose you open up mornings?" he began carelessly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Naw; Mrs. A. does. She bunks here."
+</p>
+<p>
+"How?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"In a bed. She's got rooms in de buildin'. That door by Booker T. leads
+to 'em."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Booker T.? Oh, sure! The brunette statue. And that other door&mdash;the one
+to the left. Where does that go?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Into Brander's storeroom. He sells mummies on de side."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Does, eh? Curious business!" commented Simpkins. "Seems to rub it into
+<i>you</i> pretty hard. And stuck on himself! Don't seem able to spit
+without ringing his bell for some one to see him do it. Guess you'd have
+to have four legs to satisfy <i>him</i>, all right."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Say, dat duck ain't on de level," the grievance for which Simpkins had
+been probing coming to the surface.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Holds out on what he collects? Steals?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Sure t'ing&mdash;de loidies," and the boy lowered his voice; "he's dead
+stuck on Mrs. A."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh! nonsense," commented Simpkins, an invitation to continue in his
+voice. "She's a married woman."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Never min', I'm tellin' youse; an dat's just where de stink comes in.
+Ain't I seen 'im wid my own eyes a-makin' goo-goos at 'er. An' wasn't
+there rough house for fair goin' on in dere last mont', just before de
+Doc. made his get-away? He tumbled to somethin', all right, all right,
+or why don't he write her? Say, I don't expect <i>him</i> back in no
+hurry. He's hived up in South Dakote right now, an' she's in trainin'
+for alimony, or my name's Dennis Don'tknow."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Does look sort of funny," Simpkins replied, sympathetic, but not too
+interested. "When was it Doc. left? Last week?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Last week, not; more'n a mont' ago, an' he ain't peeped since, for I've
+skinned every mail dat's come in, an' not a picture-postal, see?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That isn't very affectionate of Doc., but I wouldn't mention it to any
+one else; it might get you into trouble," was Simpkins' comment. "You
+better&mdash;Holy, jumping Pharaoh! what a husky pussy!" As he spoke a big
+black cat, with blinking, tawny eyes, sprang from the floor and curled
+itself up on the youth's desk. "Where'd that&mdash;&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+A snarl interrupted the question; for the temptation to pull the cat's
+tail had proved too strong for the boy. Bowed over his desk in a fit of
+laughter at the result, he did not see the door behind him open, but
+Simpkins did. And he saw Mrs. Athelstone, her eyes blazing, spring into
+the room, seize the youth by the collar and shake him roughly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You nasty little brute!" she cried. "How dared you do that to a&mdash;&mdash;"
+And then catching sight of Simpkins, she dropped the frightened boy back
+into his chair.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I can't stand cruelty to animals," she explained, panting a little from
+her effort. "If anything of this sort happens again, I'll discharge you
+on the spot," she added to the boy.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Shame!" Simpkins echoed warmly. "Didn't know what was up or I'd have
+stopped him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm sure of it," she answered graciously, and, stooping, she picked up
+the now purring cat and left the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins followed her back to his desk and went on with his addressing,
+but he had something worth thinking about now. Not for nothing had he
+been educated in that newspaper school which puts two and two together
+and makes six. And by the time he was through work for the day and back
+in his room at the hotel, he had his result. He embodied it in this
+letter to Naylor:
+</p>
+<p class="quote">
+  <i>Dear Mr. Naylor</i>:
+</p>
+<p class="quote">
+  I am in the employ of Mrs. Athelstone. How I managed it is a yarn
+  that will keep till I get back. [He meant until he could invent the
+  story which would reflect the most credit on his ingenuity, for
+  though he knew that the whole thing had been a piece of luck he had
+  no intention of cheapening himself with Naylor by owning as much.]
+  I had intended to return to Boston to-night, but I'm on the track of
+  real news, a lovely stink, something much bigger than the Sunday story.
+  There's a sporting parson, quite a swell, in the office here who's gone
+  on Mrs. A., and I'm inclined to hope she is on him. Anyway, the Doc.
+  left in a hurry after some sort of a row over a month ago, and hasn't
+  written a line to his wife since. She's as cool as a cucumber about it
+  and handed me a hot one right off the bat about poor old Doc.'s having
+  gone away for a rest <i>a few days ago</i>. I've drawn cards and am going
+  to sit in the game, unless you wire me to come home, for I smell a large,
+  fat, front-page exclusive, which will jar the sensitive slats of some of
+  our first families both here and in dear old London.
+</p>
+<p class="quote">
+    Yours,
+      <span class="sc">Simpkins</span>.
+</p>
+<p>
+He hesitated a few minutes before he mailed the letter. He really did
+not want to do anything to involve <i>her</i> in a scandal, but, after
+all, it was simply anticipating the inevitable, and&mdash;he pulled himself
+up short and put the letter in the box. He could not afford any mawkish
+sentiment in this.
+</p>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-tail1.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0006" id="h2H_4_0006"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-head2.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>
+    IV
+</h2>
+
+<img src="images/cap050.png" class="cap" alt="S" />
+<p style="text-indent: -1em;">
+impkins received a monosyllabic telegram from Naylor, instructing him
+to "stay," but after working in the Society's office for another three
+days he was about ready to give up all hope of getting at the facts.
+Some other reason, he scarcely knew what, kept him on. Perhaps it was
+Mrs. Athelstone herself. For though he appreciated how ridiculous his
+infatuation was, he found a miserable pleasure in merely being near her.
+And she was pleased with her new clerk, amused at what she called his
+quaint Americanisms, and if she noticed his too unrepressed admiration
+for her, she smiled it aside. It was something to which she was
+accustomed, an involuntary tribute which most men who saw her often
+rendered her.
+</p>
+<p>
+She never referred, even indirectly, to her husband, but Simpkins,
+as he watched her move about the hall, divined that he was often in
+her thoughts. And there was another whom he watched&mdash;Brander; for he
+felt certain now that the acting president's interest in his handsome
+secretary was not purely that of the Egyptologist. And though there was
+nothing but a friendly courtesy in her manner toward him, Simpkins knew
+his subject well enough to understand that, whatever her real feelings
+were, she was far too clever to be tripped into betraying them to him.
+"She doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve&mdash;if she has a heart," he
+decided.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was trying to make up his mind to force things to some sort of a
+crisis, one morning, when Mrs. Athelstone called him to her desk and
+said rather sharply:
+</p>
+<p>
+"You've been neglecting your work, Simpkins. Isis looks as if she hadn't
+been dusted since you came."
+</p>
+<p>
+This was the fact. Simpkins never passed the black altar without a
+backward glance, as if he were fearful of an attack from behind. And he
+had determined that nothing should tempt him to a tête-à-tête with the
+statue behind the veil. But having so senseless, so cowardly a feeling
+was one thing, and letting Mrs. Athelstone know it another. So he only
+replied:
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm very sorry; afraid I have been a little careless about the statue."
+And taking up a soft cloth, he walked toward the altar.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was quite dark behind the veil; so dark that he could see nothing at
+first. But after the moment in which his eyes grew accustomed to the
+change, he made out the vague lines of the statue in the faint light
+from above. He set to work about the pedestal, touching it gingerly at
+first, then more boldly. At length he looked up into the face, blurred
+in the half-light.
+</p>
+<p>
+When he had finished with the pedestal he pulled himself up between the
+outstretched arms, and perhaps a trifle hurriedly now, as he saw the
+face more distinctly, began to pass the cloth over the arms and back.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then, quick as the strike of a snake, the arms crushed him against the
+stone breast. He could not move; he could not cry out; he could not
+breathe. The statue, seen from the level of the pedestal, had changed
+its whole expression. Hate glowed in its eyes; menace lived in every
+line of its face. The arms tightened slowly, inexorably; then, as
+quickly as they had closed, unclasped; and Simpkins half-slid, half-fell
+to the floor.
+</p>
+<p>
+When the breath came back into his lungs and he found himself unharmed,
+he choked back the cry on his lips, for in that same moment a suspicion
+floated half-formed through his brain. He forced himself to climb up on
+the pedestal again, and made a careful inspection of the statue&mdash;but
+from behind this time.
+</p>
+<p>
+The arms were metal, enameled to the smoothness of the body, and
+jointed, though the joints were almost invisible. The statue was one of
+those marvelous creations of the ancient priests, and once, no doubt, it
+had stood behind the veil in some Egyptian temple to tempt and to punish
+the curiosity of the neophyte.
+</p>
+<p>
+Though Simpkins could find no clew to the mechanism of the statue, he
+determined that he had sprung it with his feet, and that during his
+struggles a lucky kick had touched the spring which relaxed the arms.
+"Did any one beside himself know their strength?" he asked himself, as
+he stepped out into the hall again. Mrs. Athelstone was bent over her
+desk writing; Brander was yawning over a novel in his corner, and
+neither paid any attention to him. So he busied himself going over the
+mummy-cases, and by the time he had worked around to the two beside Mrs.
+Athelstone he had himself well in hand, outwardly. But he was still so
+shaken internally that he knocked the black case rather roughly as he
+dusted.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What way is that to treat a king?" demanded Mrs. Athelstone; and the
+anger in her voice was so real that Simpkins, startled, blundered out:
+</p>
+<p>
+"I really meant no disrespect. Very careless of me, I'm sure." He looked
+so distressed that Mrs. Athelstone's anger melted into a delicious
+little laugh, as she answered:
+</p>
+<p>
+"Really, Simpkins, you musn't be so bungling. These mummies are
+priceless." And she got up and made a careful inspection of the case.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins, rather crestfallen, went back to his desk and began to address
+circulars, his brain busy with the shadow which had crept into it. But
+there was nothing to make it more tangible, everything to dispel it,
+and he was forced to own as much. "It's a lovely little cozy corner,"
+was his final conclusion; "but keep out of it, Simp., old boy. These
+mechanical huggers are great stuff, but they're too strong for a fellow
+that's been raised on Boston girls."
+</p>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-tail2.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0007" id="h2H_4_0007"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-head1.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>
+    V
+</h2>
+
+<img src="images/cap056.png" class="cap" alt="M" />
+<p style="text-indent: -1em;">
+rs. Athelstone was not in the office when he came down the next
+day&mdash;she had gone to Washington on the Society's affairs, Brander
+said&mdash;and so he moped about, finding the place dreary without her
+brightening presence. In fact, when Brander went out, he slipped into
+the sunlit ante-chamber, for companionship, he told himself; but in his
+heart he knew that he did not want to be alone with that thing behind
+the altar. He had satisfactorily explained its mechanism to himself, but
+there was something else about it which he could not explain.
+</p>
+<p>
+Naylor had telegraphed that very morning: "Get story. Come home. What do
+you think you're doing?" and he tried to make up his mind to end the
+whole affair by taking the night train to Boston. But he hated to go
+back empty-handed from a four days' assignment. Besides, though he knew
+himself a fool for it, he wanted to see Mrs. Athelstone once more.
+</p>
+<p>
+So it happened that he was lingering on in the outer office when the
+postman threw the afternoon mail on the desk. Simpkins was alone at the
+moment, and he ran over the letters carelessly until he came to one
+addressed to Brander in Mrs. Athelstone's writing. The blue card of the
+palace car company was in a corner of the envelope.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Why the deuce is she writing that skunk before she's well out of town?"
+he thought, scanning the envelope with jealous eyes. Then he held it up
+to the light, but the thick paper told nothing of what was within.
+Frowning, he laid the letter down, fingered it, withdrew his itching
+hand, hesitated, and finally put it in his pocket.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins went straight from the office to his hotel, for, though he
+told himself that the letter contained some instructions which Mrs.
+Athelstone had forgotten to give Brander before leaving, he was anxious
+to see just how those instructions were worded. Alone in his little
+room, he ripped open the letter and ran over its two pages with
+bewilderment growing in his face. He finished by throwing it down on
+the table and exclaiming helplessly: "Well, I'll be damned!"
+</p>
+<p>
+The first sheet, without beginning or ending, contained only a line in
+Mrs. Athelstone's handwriting, reading: "I had to leave in such a hurry
+that I missed seeing you."
+</p>
+<p>
+There was not an intelligible word on the second sheet; it was simply a
+succession of scrawls and puerile outline pictures, such as a child
+might have drawn.
+</p>
+<p>
+To Simpkins' first aggrieved feeling that his confidence had been
+abused, the certainty that he had stumbled on something of importance
+quickly succeeded. He concluded a second and more careful scrutiny of
+the letter with the exclamation, "Cipher! all right, all right," and,
+after a third, he jumped up excitedly and rushed off to Columbia
+University.
+</p>
+<p>
+An hour later, Professor Ashmore, whose well-known work on "Hieratic
+Writings" is so widely accepted an authority on that fascinating
+subject, looked across to Simpkins, who for some minutes had been
+sitting quietly in a corner of his study, and observed dryly:
+</p>
+<p>
+"This is a queer jumble of hieroglyphics and hieratic writing, and is
+not, I should judge," and his eyes twinkled, "of any great antiquity."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Quite right, Professor," Simpkins assented cheerfully. "The lady who
+wrote it is interested in Egyptology, and is trying to have a little fun
+with me."
+</p>
+<p>
+"If I may judge from the letter, she seems to be interested in you as
+well," the professor went on smilingly. "In fact, it appears to
+be&mdash;ahem&mdash;a love-letter."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Eh! What?" exclaimed Simpkins, suddenly serious, "Let's have it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, roughly, it goes something like this: 'My heart's dearest, my
+sun, my Nile duck&mdash;the hours are days without thee, the days an æon. The
+gods be thanked that this separation is not for long. For apart from
+thee I have no life. That thing that I have to do is about done. May the
+gods guard thee and the all-mother protect thee. I embrace thee: I kiss
+thine eyes and thy lips.' That's a fair translation, though one or two
+of the hieroglyphics are susceptible of a slightly different rendering;
+but the sense would not be materially affected by the change," the
+Professor concluded.
+</p>
+<p>
+His words fell on inattentive ears; for Simpkins was sitting stunned
+under the revelation of the letter. Now that he had his story, he knew
+that he had not wanted it.
+</p>
+<p>
+But he roused himself when he became conscious that the professor was
+peering at him curiously over the top of his glasses, and said:
+</p>
+<p>
+"Pretty warm stuff, eh! Good josh! Great girl! Ought to know her. She's
+daft on this Egyptian business."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Her letter is perhaps a trifle er&mdash;impulsive," the professor answered.
+"But she combines the ancient and the modern charmingly. I congratulate
+you."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thanks, Professor," Simpkins answered awkwardly, and took his leave.
+</p>
+<p>
+Once in the street, he plunged along, head down. It was worse than he
+had suspected. He had felt all along that the boy's surmises about
+Brander were correct; now he knew that his suspicions of Mrs. Athelstone
+were well founded. But he would keep her from that hypocrite, that hawk,
+that&mdash;murderer! Simpkins stopped short at the intrusion of that word.
+It had come without logic or reason, but he knew now that it had been
+shaping in his head for two days past. And once spoken, it began to
+justify itself. There was the motive, clear, distinct and proven; there
+were the means and the man.
+</p>
+<p>
+Next morning Simpkins was earlier than usual at the Oriental Building,
+where he found the youth waiting for Brander to come and open up the
+inner office.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Parson's late, eh?" he threw out by way of greeting.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Always is," was the surly answer. "He's de 'rig'nal seven sleepers."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Puts you behind with your cleaning, eh?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Naw; youse ought to know I don't do no cleanin'."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You don't? I thought you tended to Mrs. Athelstone's rooms and&mdash;Mr.
+Brander's storeroom."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Aw, go wan. I'm no second girl, an' de storeroom's never cleaned.
+Dere's nothin' to clean but a lot of stones an' bum mummies an' such."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Brander can't sell much stuff; I never see anything being shipped."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh! I don't know! We sent a couple of embammed dooks to Chicago last
+week."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And last month?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Search me; I only copped out me job here last mont'; but seems as if
+his whiskers did say dere was somethin' doin'." And just then Mr.
+Brander came along.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins had found out what he wanted to know, and he decided that he
+must bring his plans to a head at once. Mrs. Athelstone was expected
+back the next day; he must search the storeroom that very night.
+If&mdash;well, he thought he could spoil one scoundrel.
+</p>
+<p>
+He worked to good advantage during the day, and at nine o'clock that
+night, when he was back outside the Oriental Building, there were three
+new keys in his pocket.
+</p>
+<p>
+He unlocked the door noiselessly, tiptoed up the staircase, and gained
+the friendly blackness of the ante-chamber quite unobserved. The
+watchman was half a block away, sitting by the only street entrance kept
+open at night.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins took off his shoes and found his sandals without striking a
+light, and then felt his way to the door leading into the hall. The knob
+rattled a little under his hand. All that evening he had been nerving
+himself to go in there alone and in the dark, but now he could have
+turned and run like a country boy passing a graveyard at night.
+</p>
+<p>
+The hall was not utterly black, as he had expected. Light from the
+electric lamps without flickered through the stained-glass windows.
+Ghastly rays of yellow played over the painted faces on the walls and
+lit up the gilded features of the mummy by Mrs. Athelstone's desk. There
+were crimson spots, like blotches of blood, on the veil of Isis. And all
+about were moving shadows, creeping forward stealthily, falling back
+slowly, as the light without flared up or died down.
+</p>
+<p>
+Step by step Simpkins advanced on the black altar, his muscles rigid,
+his nerves quivering, his eyes staring straight ahead, as a child stares
+into the dark for some awful shape which it fears to see, yet dares not
+leave unseen. Once past that altar he would be safe at the door of the
+storeroom.
+</p>
+<p>
+How his heart was beating! He was almost at it. Steady! A few steps now
+and he would gain the storeroom. Good God! What was that!
+</p>
+<p>
+In the blackness behind the altar two eyes flamed.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins stopped; he was helpless to turn or to advance. Perhaps if he
+did not move, it would not. A moment he stood there, tense with terror,
+then&mdash;straight from the altar the thing flew at his throat. But quick as
+it was: the involuntary jerk of his arm upward was quicker, and it
+received the blow. Snarling, the thing fell to the floor, and leaped
+back into the darkness. It was Mrs. Athelstone's cat.
+</p>
+<p>
+So strong was Simpkins' revulsion of feeling, so great his relief, that
+he forgot the real cause of his terror, and sank down on the very steps
+of the altar, weakly exclaiming over and over again: "Only the cat! Only
+the cat! Great Scott! how it frightened me!"
+</p>
+<p>
+He had been sitting there for a few minutes when he heard a soft click,
+click, just to his right. Some one was turning a key in the door leading
+from Mrs. Athelstone's apartments. As he jumped to his feet, he heard a
+hand grasp the doorknob. He looked around for a hiding-place, ran a few
+steps from the altar, doubled like a baited rat, and dove into the
+blackness behind the veil of Isis. There had been no time to choose; for
+hardly was he safe under cover and peeping out from between the folds of
+the veil than the door swung open slowly.
+</p>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-tail1.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0008" id="h2H_4_0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-head2.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>
+    VI
+</h2>
+
+<img src="images/cap068.png" class="cap" alt="I" />
+<p style="text-indent: -1em;">
+t was Mrs. Athelstone who came through the doorway. She was all in
+white, a soft, silken white, which floated about her like a cloud,
+drifting back from her bare arms and throat, and suggesting the rounded
+outlines of her limbs. Her black hair, braided, hung below her waist,
+and from her forehead the golden asp bound back the curls. Her arms were
+full of roses&mdash;yellow, white and red.
+</p>
+<p>
+For an uncertain moment she stood just within the hall, bathed in the
+light that shone through from her apartments. Then she closed the door
+and walked toward the veil. As she came through the shafts of light from
+the windows, her gown was stained with crimson spots. She was at the
+altar now, and Simpkins could no longer see her without changing his
+position. Stealthily he edged along, careless of the statue just behind
+him. As he parted the folds of the veil he saw that the altar was heaped
+with flowers. Just beyond, the light playing fantastically on her
+upturned face, stood Mrs. Athelstone.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins closed the veil abruptly. There came to him the remembrance
+of the time when the boy had pulled the cat's tail, her anger and her
+curious exclamation; and again, the repetition of it in his case, when
+he had handled the mummy of Amosis roughly; and her affectation of
+Egyptian symbols as ornaments. "She's the simon-pure Blavatsky, all
+right," he concluded, as he pieced these things into what he had just
+seen. "All others are base imitations."
+</p>
+<p>
+The reporter had gathered from his little reading that behind these
+monstrous gods and this complex symbolism there was something near akin
+to Christianity in a few great essentials, and he understood how a woman
+of Mrs. Athelstone's temperament, engrossed in the study of these things
+and living in these surroundings, might be affected by them. Even he,
+shrewd, hard Yankee that he was, had felt the influence of the place,
+and there was that behind him then which made his heart beat quicker at
+the thought.
+</p>
+<p>
+When he looked out again Mrs. Athelstone was gone. He was impatient to
+get to his work in the storeroom; but first he peeped out again to make
+sure that she had returned to her room. She was still in the hall,
+walking about in the corner where she ordinarily worked. There was
+something methodical in her movements now that woke a new interest in
+Simpkins. "What the dickens can she be up to?" he thought.
+</p>
+<p>
+She had lit a lamp, and had shaded it, so that its rays were contracted
+in a circle on the floor. From a cupboard let into the wall she was
+taking bottles and brushes, a roll of linen bandages and some boxes of
+pigments. After laying these on the floor, she walked over to the big
+black mummy case by her table, and pushed until she had turned it around
+with its face to the wall.
+</p>
+<p>
+What heathen game was this? Simpkins' interest increased, and he poked
+his head out boldly from the sheltering veil.
+</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. Athelstone was standing directly in front of the case now, pulling
+and tugging in an effort to bring it down on her shoulders. Finally, she
+managed to tilt it toward her, and then, straining, she lowered it until
+it rested flat on the floor.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Sorry I couldn't have lent a hand," thought the gallant Simpkins; "the
+old buck must weigh a ton. Now what's she bothering around that passé,
+three-thousand-years-dead sport for?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Her back was toward him; so, cautious and catlike, he stole from behind
+the veil and glided to the shelter of a post not ten feet from her.
+He peered around it eagerly. Still panting from her efforts, she was on
+her knees beside the case, fumbling a key in the Yale lock, a curious
+anachronism which Simpkins, in his cleaning, had found on all the more
+valuable mummy cases.
+</p>
+<p>
+The lid was of sycamore wood, comparatively light, and she lifted it
+without trouble. Then the rays of the lamp shone full into the open
+case, and Simpkins looked over the shoulders of the kneeling woman at
+the mummy of a man who had stood full six feet in life. He stared long
+at the face, seeking in those shriveled features a reason for the horror
+which grew in him as he gazed, trying to build back into life again that
+thing which once had been a man. For there was something about it which
+seemed different from those Egyptians of whom he had read. Slowly the
+vaguely-familiar features filled out, until Simpkins saw&mdash;not the
+swarthy, low-browed face of an Egyptian king, but the ruddy, handsome
+face of an Englishman, and&mdash;at last he was sure, a face like that of a
+photograph in his pocket. And in that same moment there went through his
+mind a sentence from the curious picture letter: "<i>That thing that I
+have to do is about done.</i>"
+</p>
+<p>
+Already, in his absorption, he had started out from 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.
+</p>
+<a name="image-0024"><!--IMG--></a>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ill-074.jpg" style="width:400px;"
+alt="&quot;Suddenly she felt him coming, and turned.&quot;" />
+<br />
+"Suddenly she felt him coming, and turned."
+</div>
+<p>
+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.
+</p>
+<p>
+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.
+</p>
+<p>
+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.
+</p>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-tail2.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0009" id="h2H_4_0009"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-head1.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>
+    VII
+</h2>
+
+<img src="images/cap078.png" class="cap" alt="T" />
+<p style="text-indent: -1em;">
+hough 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 appearance, that
+he might the more effectively describe her in his story. And what a
+splendid one it was! The Blavatsky "spread," with the opportunity which
+it afforded to ridicule two rather well-known women&mdash;that was good
+stuff; the scandal which had unfolded as he worked&mdash;that was better
+still; but this "mysterious murder," with its novel features&mdash;this was
+the superlative of excellence in Yellow Journalism. "Talk about Teddy's
+luck," thought the reporter; "how about the luck of Simp., old boy?"
+</p>
+<p>
+He looked at his watch anxiously. He had plenty of time&mdash;the paper did
+not go to press until two. Relieved, he glanced toward Mrs. Athelstone
+again. How still she was! She was taking an unreasonably long time about
+coming to! The shadows in the room began to creep in on him again, and
+to oppress him with a vague fear, now that he was sitting inactive. He
+got up, but just then the woman stirred, and he settled down again.
+</p>
+<p>
+Slowly she recovered consciousness and looked about her. Her eyes sought
+out Simpkins last, and as they rested on him a flash of anger lit them
+up. Simpkins returned their stare unflinchingly. They had quite lost
+their power over him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"So you're a thief, Simpkins&mdash;and I thought you looked so honest," she
+began at last, contempt in her voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Not at all," Simpkins answered, relieved and grateful that she had only
+suspected him of being a thief, that there had been no tears, no
+pleadings, no hysterics; "I'm nothing of the sort. I'm just your clerk."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then, what are you doing here at this time of night? And why did you
+attack me? Why have you bound me?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'll be perfectly frank, Mrs. Athelstone." (Simpkins always prefaced
+a piece of duplicity by asseverating his innocence of guile.) "I've
+blundered on something in there," and he motioned vaguely toward the
+coffin, "that is reason enough for binding you and turning you over
+to the police, sorry as I should be to take such a step."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And that something?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The body of your husband."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You beastly little cad," began Mrs. Athelstone, anger flaming in her
+face again. Then she stopped short, and her expression went to one of
+terror.
+</p>
+<p>
+The change was not lost on Simpkins. "That's better," he said. "If a
+fellow has to condone murder to meet your standards of what's a perfect
+little gentleman, you can count me out. Now, just you make up your mind
+that repartee won't take us anywhere, and let's get down to cases. There
+may be, I believe there are, extenuating circumstances. Tell him the
+whole truth and you'll find Simp. your friend, cad or no cad."
+</p>
+<p>
+As he talked, Mrs. Athelstone regained her composure, and when he was
+through she asked calmly enough: "And because you've blundered on
+something you don't understand, something that has aroused your silly
+suspicions, you would turn me over to the police?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's not a silly suspicion, Mrs. Athelstone, but a cinch. I know your
+husband was murdered there," and he pointed to the altar. "And you're
+not innocent, though how guilty morally I'm not ready to say. There may
+be something behind it all to change my present determination; that
+depends on whether you care to talk to me, or would rather wait and take
+the third degree at headquarters."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But you really have made a frightful mistake," she protested, not
+angrily now, but rather soothingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then I'll have to call an officer; perhaps he can set us straight." And
+he stood up.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Sit down," she implored. "Let me explain."
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's the way to talk; you'll find it'll do you good to loosen up,"
+and Simpkins sat down, exulting that he was not to miss the most
+striking feature of his story. Until it was on the wire for Boston, and
+the New York papers had gone to press, he had as little use for officers
+as Mrs. Athelstone. "Remember," he added, as he leaned back to listen,
+"that I know enough now to pick out any fancy work."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's really absurdly simple. The cemented surface of this mummy had
+been damaged, as you can see"&mdash;&mdash;Mrs. Athelstone began, but Simpkins
+broke in roughly:
+</p>
+<p>
+"Come, come, there's no use doping out any more of that stuff to me. I
+want the facts. Tell me how Doctor Athelstone was killed or the Tombs
+for yours." He was on his feet now, shaking his fist at the woman, and
+he noticed with satisfaction that she had shrunk back in her chair till
+the linen bandages hung loosely across her breast.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;I'll tell," was the trembling answer; "only do sit down," and
+then after a moment's pause, in which she seemed to be striving to
+compose herself, she began:
+</p>
+<p>
+"I, sir, was a queen, Nefruari, whom they called the good and glorious
+woman." And she threw back her head proudly and paused.
+</p>
+<p>
+This was better than he had dared hope. Yet it was what he had
+half-believed; she was quite mad. He felt relieved at this final proof
+of it. After all, it would have hurt him to send this woman to "the
+chair"; but there would be no condemned cell for her; only the madhouse.
+It might be harder for her; but it made it easier for him. He nodded a
+grave encouragement for her to continue.
+</p>
+<p>
+"This is my mummy," she went on, nodding toward the gilded case, "the
+shell from which my soul fled three thousand years ago. Since then it
+has been upon its wanderings, living in birds and beasts, that the will
+of Osiris might be done."
+</p>
+<p>
+Again she paused, pleased, apparently, with the respectful interest
+which Simpkins showed. And, indeed, he was interested; for his reading
+on early Egyptian beliefs enabled him to follow the current of her
+madness and to trace it back to its sources. So he nodded again, and she
+continued:
+</p>
+<p>
+"Through all these weary centuries, Amosis, my husband, has been with
+me, first as king&mdash;ah! those days in hundred-gated Thebes&mdash;and when at
+last my soul lodged in this body he found me out again. As boy and girl
+we loved, as man and woman we were married. And the days that followed
+were as happy as those old days when we ruled an empire. Not that we
+remembered then. The memory of it all but just came back to me two
+months ago."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did you tell the Doctor about it?" asked Simpkins, in the wheedling
+tone of a physician asking a child to put out her tongue.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I tried to stir his memory gently, by careless hints, a word dropped
+here and there, recalling some bright triumph of his reign, some
+splendid battle, but there was no response. And so I waited, hoping that
+of itself his memory might quicken, as mine had."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did Brander know anything about this&mdash;er&mdash;extraordinary swapping around
+of souls?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Not then&mdash;&mdash;" began the woman, but Simpkins cut her short by jumping to
+his feet with a cry of "What's that!" and his voice was sharp with fear.
+For in that silent second, while he waited for her answer, he had heard
+a noise out in the hall, the sound of stealthy feet behind the veil, and
+he had seen the woman's eyes gleam triumph.
+</p>
+<p>
+Again the terror that had mastered him an hour before leaped into life,
+and quakingly he faced the darkness. But he saw nothing&mdash;only the
+shifting shadows, the crimson blotches crawling on the veil, and the
+vague outlines of the coffined dead.
+</p>
+<p>
+He looked back to the woman. Her face was masklike. It must have
+been a fancy, a vibration of his own tense nerves. But none the less,
+he rearranged the light, that while its rays shone clear on Mrs.
+Athelstone, he might be in the shadow, and set his chair back close
+against the wall, that both the woman and the hall might be well in his
+eye. And when he sat down again one hand clutched tight the butt of a
+revolver.
+</p>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-tail1.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0010" id="h2H_4_0010"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-head2.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>
+    VIII
+</h2>
+
+<img src="images/cap088.png" class="cap" alt="&quot;Y" />
+<p style="text-indent: -1em;">
+ou seem strangely disturbed, Simpkins," said Mrs. Athelstone quietly;
+but he fancied that there was a note of malicious pleasure in her voice.
+"Has anything happened to alarm you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I thought I heard a slight noise, as if something were moving behind
+me. Perhaps a mummy was breaking out of its case," he answered, but his
+voice was scarcely steady enough for the flippancy of his speech.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hardly that," was the serious answer; "but it might have been my cat,
+Rameses."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Not unless it was Rameses II., because&mdash;well, it didn't sound like a
+cat," he wound up, guiltily conscious of his other reason for certainty
+on this point. "Perhaps Isis has climbed down from her pedestal to
+stretch herself," and he smiled, but his eyes were anxious, and he shot
+a furtive glance toward the veil.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's hardly probable," was the calm reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What? Can't the thing use its legs as well as its arms?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ah! then you know&mdash;&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes; she reached for me when I was dusting her off, but I kicked harder
+than Doctor Athelstone, I suppose, and so touched the spring twice."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You beast!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, let it go at that," Simpkins assented. "And let's hear the rest."
+He was burning with impatience to reach the end and get away, back to
+noisy, crowded Broadway.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Mrs. Athelstone answered nothing, only looked off toward the altar.
+It almost seemed as if she waited for something.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Go on," commanded Simpkins, stirred to roughness by his growing
+uneasiness.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You will not leave while yet you may?" and her tone doubled the threat
+of her words.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, not till I've heard it all," he answered doggedly, and gripped
+the butt of his revolver tighter. But though he told himself that her
+changed manner, this new confidence, this sudden indifference to his
+going, was the freak of a madwoman, down deep he felt that it portended
+some evil thing for him, knew it, and would not go, could not go; for he
+dared not pass the ambushed terror of that altar.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You still insist?" the woman asked with rising anger. "So be it. Learn
+then the fate of meddlers, of dogs who dare to penetrate the mysteries
+of Isis."
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins took his eyes from her face and glanced mechanically toward
+the veil. But he looked back suddenly, and caught her signalling with a
+swift motion of her head to something in the darkness. There could be
+no mistake this time. And following her eyes he saw a form, black and
+shapeless, steal along to the nearest post.
+</p>
+<p>
+Revolver in hand, he leaped up and back, upsetting his chair. The thing
+remained hidden. He cleared the partitioning sarcophagus at a bound,
+and, sliding and backing, reached the centre of the hall, never for one
+instant taking his eyes from that post or lowering his revolver. Step by
+step, back between the pillars, he retreated, stumbling toward the door
+and safety.
+</p>
+<p>
+Half-way, he heard the woman hiss: "Stop him! Don't let him escape!" And
+he saw the thing dart from behind the post. In the uncontrollable
+madness of his fear he hurled, instead of firing, his revolver at it,
+and turned and ran.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tapping lightly on the flags behind, he heard swift feet. It was coming,
+it was gaining, but he was at the door, through it and had slammed it
+safely behind him. A leap, a bound, and he was through the ante-chamber,
+and, as the door behind him opened, he was slipping out into the
+passageway. He went down the stairs in great jumps. Thank God! he had
+left the street door unlocked. But already the sound of pursuit had
+stopped, and he reached the open air safely.
+</p>
+<p>
+Down the deserted street to Broadway he ran. There he hailed a cab and
+directed the driver to the telegraph office. Then he leaned back and
+looked at the garish lights, the passing cabs, the theatre crowds
+hurrying along home, laughing and chatting as if the world held no such
+horror as that which he had just escaped. That madwoman's words rang
+through his brain, drowning out the voices of the street; the tapping of
+those flying feet sounded in his ears above the rattle of the cab. That
+or this must be unreal; yet how far off both seemed!
+</p>
+<p>
+Gradually the rough jolting of the cab shook him back to a sense of his
+surroundings and their safety. He began to regain his nerve, and to busy
+himself knotting the strands of the story into a connected narrative.
+And when, a few minutes later, he handed a message to the manager of the
+telegraph office and demanded a clear wire into the <i>Banner</i>
+office, he was quite the old breezy Simpkins.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then, coat off, a cigar between his teeth, he sat down beside the
+operator and began to write his story, his flying fingers keeping time
+with the clicking instrument. He made no mention of the fears that had
+beset him in the hall and the manner of his exit from it. But there was
+enough and to spare of the dramatic in what he sent. After a sensational
+half-column of introduction, fitting the murder on Mrs. Athelstone, and
+enlarging on the certainty of one's sin finding one out, provided it
+were assisted by a <i>Banner</i> reporter, he swung into the detailed
+story, dwelling on the woman's madness and sliding over the details of
+the murder as much as possible.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then he described how, for more than a month, Mrs Athelstone had labored
+over the body, hiding it days in the empty case and dragging it out
+nights, until she had finished it, with the exception of some detail
+about the head, into a faithful replica of the mummy of Amosis, the
+original of which she had no doubt burned. It all made a vivid story;
+for never had his imagination been in such working order, and never had
+it responded more generously to his demands upon it. About two in the
+morning he finished his third column and concluded his story with:
+</p>
+<p>
+"So this awful confession of madness and murder ended. I left the woman
+bound and helpless, sitting in her chair, her victim at her feet, to
+wait the coming of the police." Then he added to Naylor personally,
+"Going notify police headquarters now and go back to hall."
+</p>
+<p>
+Naylor, who had been reading the copy page by page as it came from the
+wire, and who, naturally, was taking a mere cold-blooded view of the
+case than Simpkins, telegraphed back:
+</p>
+<p>
+"What share did Brander have in actual murder? You don't bring that out
+in story."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Couldn't get it out of her," Simpkins sent back, truthfully enough.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Find out," was the answer. "Get back to hall quick. Brander may have
+looked in to help Mrs. A. with her night work while you were gone. Will
+hold enough men for an extra."
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins called a cab and started for police headquarters at breakneck
+speed, but on the way he stopped at Brander's rooms; for a miserable
+suspicion was growing in his brain. "If that really was Isis," he was
+thinking, "it's funny she didn't nail me before I got to the door, even
+with the start I had."
+</p>
+<p>
+On his representation that he had called on a matter of life and death,
+the janitor admitted him to Brander's rooms. They were empty, and the
+bed had not been slept in.
+</p>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-tail2.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0011" id="h2H_4_0011"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-head1.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>
+    IX
+</h2>
+
+<img src="images/cap096.png" class="cap" alt="I" />
+<p style="text-indent: -1em;">
+t was just after three o'clock when Simpkins, an officer on either
+side, entered the Oriental Building again, and hurried up the stairs to
+the Society's office.
+</p>
+<p>
+There they were halted, for Simpkins had left his key sticking in
+the spring lock inside and slammed the door behind him, a piece of
+carelessness over which the officers were greatly exercised; for he had
+not confided to them that he had started off in a hurry. In the end,
+they sent the door crashing in with their shoulders and preceded
+Simpkins&mdash;and he was scrupulously polite about this&mdash;into the
+ante-chamber.
+</p>
+<p>
+There an incandescent lamp over the youth's desk gave them light and
+Simpkins momentary relief. The men used hard language when they found
+the second door in the same condition as the first, but Simpkins took
+their rating meekly. They tried their shoulders again, but the oak was
+stout and long withstood their assaults. When at last it yielded it gave
+way suddenly, and they all tumbled pell-mell into the hall. Simpkins
+jumped up with incredible agility, and was back in the lighted
+ante-chamber before the others had struggled to their feet. Suddenly
+they stopped swearing. They looked around them. Then they, too, stepped
+back into the ante-chamber.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ain't there any way of lighting this place?" asked one of them rather
+sullenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Nothing but three incandescents over the desks," answered Simpkins.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Use your lantern then, Tom; come on now, young feller, and show us
+where this woman is," he said roughly, and he pushed Simpkins through
+the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+As the officers followed him, he fell back between them and linked
+his arms through theirs. And silently they advanced on the altar, a
+grotesque and rather unsteady trio, the bull's eyes on either side
+flashing ahead into the darkness.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The lamp's still burning," whispered Simpkins. They were far enough
+into the hall now to see the glow from it in the corner. "Flash your
+lights around those pillars, boys. There, over there!"
+</p>
+<p>
+The bull's eyes jumped about searching her out. "There! now! Hold
+still!" cried Simpkins as they focused on the chair.
+</p>
+<p>
+The black mummy lay as he had left it, the cloth still on the face, but
+the chair was empty. Straight to the veil the reporter ran, and pulled
+the cord. Light broke from above, and beat down on an altar heaped with
+dying roses and the statue of a woman, smiling. And at her feet there
+crouched a great black cat, that arched its back and snarled at
+Simpkins.
+</p>
+<p>
+Beyond, the lights were still burning in Mrs. Athelstone's apartment,
+but there was no one in the rooms. Some opened drawers in the bureau and
+the absence of her toilet articles from the table told of preparations
+for a hasty flight.
+</p>
+<p>
+They did not linger long over their examination of the rooms. But after
+replacing the broken doors as best they could and sealing them, they
+went out by the main entrance to question the watchman, whom they found
+dozing in his chair.
+</p>
+<p>
+Had he seen anything of Mrs. Athelstone? Sure; he'd called a cab for her
+about an hour ago and she'd driven off with her brother.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Her brother!" echoed Simpkins.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yep," yawned the watchman; "you know him&mdash;parson&mdash;Doctor Brander.
+What's up?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Nothing," Simpkins returned sourly, but to himself he added, "Oh,
+hell!"
+</p>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-tail1.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0012" id="h2H_4_0012"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-head2.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>
+    X
+</h2>
+
+<img src="images/cap100.png" class="cap" alt="O" />
+<p style="text-indent: -1em;">
+nce in the street again, after a word of explanation to the watchman,
+the officers and Simpkins separated, they to report and send out an
+alarm for Mrs. Athelstone and Brander, he to call up his office before
+rejoining them. His exultation over his beat was keyed somewhat lower,
+now that he understood what Brander's real interest in Mrs. Athelstone
+was. Mentally, he wrung the neck of Buttons for not having known it;
+figuratively, he kicked himself for not having guessed it; literally, he
+damned his employers for their British reserve, their cool assumption
+that because he was their clerk he was not interested in their family
+affairs. "Cuss 'em for snobs," he wound up finally, a deep sense of his
+personal grievance stirring his sociable Yankee soul.
+</p>
+<p>
+Of course, this sickening brother and sister business wouldn't touch the
+main fact of the story, but it knocked the "love motive" and the "heart
+interest" higher than a kite, utterly ruining some of his prettiest bits
+of writing, besides letting him in for a call-down from Naylor. Still,
+the old man couldn't be very hard on him&mdash;he'd understand that some
+trifling little inaccuracies were bound to creep into a great big story
+like this, dug out and worked up by one man.
+</p>
+<p>
+At this more cheerful conclusion, a newsboy, crying his bundle of still
+damp papers, came along, and Simpkins hailed him eagerly. Standing under
+a lamp on the corner, skipping from front page to back, then from head
+to head inside, with an eye skilled to catch at a glance the stories
+which a loathed contemporary had that the <i>Banner</i> had missed, he
+ran through the bunch. The <i>Sun</i>&mdash;not a line about Athelstone in
+it. Bully! The <i>American</i>&mdash;he was a little afraid of the <i>American</i>.
+Safe again. The <i>World</i>&mdash;Sam Blythe's humorous descriptive story of the
+convention led. He stopped to pity Sam and the New York papers, as he
+thought of the Boston newsboys, crying his magnificent beat, till all
+Washington Street rang with the glory of it. And he could see the
+fellows in Mrs. Atkinson's, letting their coffee grow cold as they
+devoured the <i>Banner</i>, stopping only here and there to call across
+to each other: "Good work, Simp., old boy! Great story!"
+</p>
+<p>
+Then&mdash;Simpkins turned the page. Accident&mdash;ten killed&mdash;bank
+robbed&mdash;caught&mdash;Mrs. Jones gets divorce.... What!
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+NOTED SCIENTIST SECURES IMPORTANT RIGHTS <br />
+DOCTOR ATHELSTONE ARRANGES FOR ROYAL SOCIETY <br />
+TO EXPLOIT RECENT DISCOVERIES
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Simpkins stuttered around for an exclamation; then looked up weakly.
+Instinct started him on the run for the nearest long-distance telephone,
+but before he had gone twenty feet he stopped. The paper was long since
+off press and distributed. He had no desire to know what Naylor was
+saying. He could not even guess. There are heights to which the
+imagination cannot aspire.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then came a faint ray of hope. That was an Associated Press dispatch&mdash;a
+late one probably. But if it had reached the New York papers in time to
+catch the edition, Naylor must have received it soon enough to kill his
+story. But even as this hope came it went. The news interest of the
+dispatch was largely local. Doubtless it had been sent out only to the
+New York papers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins forced himself to read the body of the message now, although he
+gagged over every line of it:
+</p>
+<p class="quote">
+  London, etc. Dr. Alfred W.R. Athelstone, well known in London as the
+  president of the American branch of the Royal Society of Egyptian
+  Exploration and Research, arrived here this morning and is stopping
+  at the Carlton. He announces that the Khedive has been graciously
+  pleased to grant to his society the sole right to excavate the tombs
+  recently discovered by one of its agents in the Karnak region. Doctor
+  Athelstone left home quietly some weeks ago, and held back any
+  announcement of the discoveries, which promise to be very important,
+  while the negotiations, now brought to a happy conclusion, were
+  pending. He sails for New York on the Campania tomorrow.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Do I go off half-cocked? Am I yellow? Is a pup yellow?" groaned
+Simpkins, and he started off aimlessly toward the park, fighting his
+Waterloo over again and counting up his losses. That foolish, foolish
+letter! Why had he soiled his fingers by opening it! Of course, that
+line which loomed so large and fine in his story, that pointed the
+impressive finger of Fate at Crime, "<i>That thing that I have to do is
+about done!</i>" referred to Doctor Athelstone's silly negotiations. The
+letter must have been from him. Now, who could have known that a grown
+man would indulge in such fool monkey-business as writing love-letters
+in hieroglyphics to his own wife?... And that blame black mummy. Back to
+darkest Africa for his! If any one ever said mummy to him there'd be
+murder done, all right. Oh, for the happy ignorance of those days when
+he knew nothing about Egypt except that it was the place from which the
+cigarettes came!... Brander, no doubt, had gone out to send a cablegram
+of congratulation to Doctor Athelstone, and while he was away the woman
+had started in to repair a crack in that precious old Amosis of hers.
+Perhaps the moths had got into him! "And she thought that I was crazy,
+and was stringing me along, waiting till the Nile Duck got back,"
+muttered the reporter, stopping short in his agony. "Oh! you're guessing
+good now, Simp., all right, because there's only one way to guess." And
+as he started along again he concluded: "Damn it! even the cat came
+back!"
+</p>
+<p>
+If there was one thing in all the world that Simpkins did not want to
+see it was a copy of the <i>Banner</i> with that awful story of his
+staring out at him from the first page, headed and played up with all
+the brutal skill in handling type of which Naylor was a master; but he
+felt himself drawn irresistibly to the Grand Central Station, where the
+Boston papers would first be put on sale.
+</p>
+<p>
+Half an hour to wait. Gad! He could never go back and face Naylor!...
+Libel! Why, there wasn't money enough in the world to pay the damages
+the Athelstones would get against the paper. He'd take just one look at
+it and then catch the first train for Chicago. Perhaps he could get a
+job there digging sewers, or selling ribbons in Fields', or start a
+school of journalism. Any old thing, if they didn't nab him and put him
+in Bloomingdale before he could get away.... He made for the street
+again. He wouldn't look at the <i>Banner</i>. What malignant little
+devils the types were when they shouted your sins, not another fellow's,
+from the front page, or whispered them in a stage aside from some little
+paragraph in an obscure corner of the paper&mdash;a corner that the whole
+world looked into. Hell, he'd get out of the filthy business! Think of
+the light and frolicsome way in which he'd written up domestic scandals,
+the entertaining specials he'd turned out on unfaithful husbands, the
+snappy columns on unhappy wives, careless of the cost of his sensation
+in blood and tears! And now they'd write him up&mdash;Naylor would attend to
+that editorial himself, and do it in his most virtuous style&mdash;and brand
+him as a fakir, a liar, and a yellow dog.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins was back at the news-stand again and there were the Boston
+papers. He snatched a <i>Banner</i> from the top of the pile. No, he
+must have the wrong paper. He tore through it from front to back and
+then to front again, his heart bounding with joy. There was not a line
+of his story in it. They had received that Associated Press dispatch,
+after all. Yes, there it was, but oh, how differently it looked! It
+spelt damnation an hour ago, it meant salvation now.
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+After all, hadn't his mistake been a natural one? Hadn't he done his
+best for the paper? Wasn't it his duty to run down a lead like that?
+He'd made errors of judgment, perhaps, but he'd like to see the man who
+wouldn't have under the circumstances. Of course, mistakes would creep
+in occasionally and give innocent people the worst of it, but look at
+the good he'd done in his life by exposing scoundrels. How could he, how
+could any man, have acted differently who was loyal to his paper, whose
+first interests were the public good? If Naylor didn't appreciate a star
+man when he had him, he thought he knew an editor or two who did. Simp.,
+old boy, wasn't going to starve.... Starve? It had been hungry work, so
+he'd just step across to the Manhattan, get a bite of breakfast, and
+look up the trains to Boston.
+</p>
+<p>
+Naylor did know a good man when he had him, and likewise&mdash;quite as
+valuable a bit of knowledge&mdash;he knew when a man had had enough. So when
+Simpkins sat down that afternoon to tell him his experiences, he only
+smiled quizzically as the reporter wound up by asking, "Now, what do
+<i>you</i> think?" and answered:
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, for one thing, I think it did you a power of good to look behind
+that veil, because I reckon that for once in your life you've told me
+the truth as near as you know how."
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, but aside from this pleasant personal conclusion," persisted
+Simpkins, modestly shedding the compliment.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I guess we won't bother with the Blavatsky story just now, but
+here's a clipping about a woman who's discovered what she calls soul
+aura&mdash;says we've got red, white and blue souls and all that sort of
+stuff. You're our soul expert now, so go over to the City Hall and ask
+the mayor and any politicians you meet what's the color of their souls.
+It ought to make a fair Sunday special." And Naylor swung around to his
+desk, for the city editor had just told him that the headless trunk of a
+woman had been picked up in the river&mdash;a find that promised a good
+story&mdash;and a newspaper man cannot waste time on yesterday.
+</p>
+<p>
+Simpkins' face fell. That he had not been assigned to find the head was,
+he knew, the beginning of his punishment. But as he walked down the
+dingy hall to the street his step became more buoyant, and once in the
+open air he started off eager and smiling. For a good opening sentence
+was already shaping in his head, and as he stepped into the City Hall he
+was repeating to himself:
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yesterday, when the Mayor was asked, 'What is the color of your soul?'
+he returned his stereotyped 'Nothing to give out on that subject,' and
+then added, 'But it would be violating no confidence to tell you that
+Boss Coonahan's is black.'"
+</p>
+<p>
+To Simpkins it had been given to lift the veil and to know the truth;
+yet he was back again serving the false gods.
+</p>
+<div class="figure">
+<img src="images/ch-tail2.png" alt="" />
+</div>
+<div style="height: 4em; clear:both;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="adwrap">
+
+<p class="adtop">
+    WHERE LOVE CONQUERS.
+</p>
+<p style="font-size:150%; text-indent:0;">
+  The Reckoning.
+</p>
+<p>
+By <span class="sc">Robert W. Chambers</span>.
+</p>
+<p>
+The author's intention is to treat, in a series of four or five
+romances, that part of the war for independence which particularly
+affected the great landed families of northern New York, the Johnsons,
+represented by Sir William, Sir John, Guy Johnson, and Colonel Claus;
+the notorious Butlers, father and son, the Schuylers, Van Rensselaers,
+and others.
+</p>
+<p>
+The first romance of the series, Cardigan, was followed by the second,
+The Maid-at-Arms. The third, in order, is not completed. The fourth is
+the present volume.
+</p>
+<p>
+As Cardigan pretended to portray life on the baronial estate of Sir
+William Johnson, the first uneasiness concerning the coming trouble, the
+first discordant note struck in the harmonious councils of the Long
+House, so, in The Maid-at-Arms, which followed in order, the author
+attempted to paint a patroon family disturbed by the approaching rumble
+of battle. That romance dealt with the first serious split in the
+Iroquois Confederacy; it showed the Long House shattered though not
+fallen; the demoralization and final flight of the great landed families
+who remained loyal to the British Crown; and it struck the key-note to
+the future attitude of the Iroquois toward the patriots of the
+frontier&mdash;revenge for their losses at the battle of Oriskany&mdash;and ended
+with the march of the militia and continental troops on Saratoga.
+</p>
+<p>
+The third romance, as yet incomplete and unpublished, deals with the
+war-path and those who followed it led by the landed gentry of Tryon
+County; and ends with the first solid blow delivered at the Long House,
+and the terrible punishment of the Great Confederacy.
+</p>
+<p>
+The present romance, the fourth in chronological order, picks up the
+thread at that point.
+</p>
+<p>
+The author is not conscious of having taken any liberties with history
+in preparing a framework of facts for a mantle of romance.
+</p>
+
+<p style="text-align:right;">   <span class="sc">Robert W. Chambers</span>. </p>
+<p>
+<span class="sc">New York</span>, <i>May 26, 1904</i>.
+</p>
+<p class="adbot">
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+
+<div class="adwrap">
+
+<p class="adtop">
+    WORKS OF ROBERT W. CHAMBERS.
+</p>
+<p style="font-size:150%; text-indent:0;">
+IOLE
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Colored inlay on the cover, decorative borders, head-pieces, thumb-nail
+sketches, and tail-pieces. Frontispiece and three full-page
+illustrations. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.25.
+</p>
+<p>
+Does anybody remember the opera of The Inca, and that heart-breaking
+episode where the Court Undertaker, in a morbid desire to increase his
+professional skill, deliberately accomplishes the destruction of his
+middle-aged relatives in order to inter them for the sake of practice?
+</p>
+<p>
+If I recollect, his dismal confession runs something like this:
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">   "It was in bleak November </p>
+<p class="i2">   When I slew them, I remember, </p>
+<p class="i2">   As I caught them unawares </p>
+<p class="i2">   Drinking tea in rocking-chairs." </p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+And so he talked them to death, the subject being "What Really Is Art?"
+Afterward he was sorry&mdash;
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">     "The squeak of a door, </p>
+<p class="i4">     The creak of a floor, </p>
+<p class="i2">   My horrors and fears enhance; </p>
+<p class="i4">     And I wake with a scream </p>
+<p class="i4">     As I hear in my dream </p>
+<p class="i2">   The shrieks of my maiden aunts!" </p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+Now it is a very dreadful thing to suggest that those highly respectable
+pseudo-spinsters, the Sister Arts, supposedly cozily immune in their
+polygamous chastity (for every suitor for favor is popularly expected to
+be wedded to his particular art)&mdash;I repeat, it is very dreadful to
+suggest that these impeccable old ladies are in danger of being talked
+to death.
+</p>
+<p>
+But the talkers are talking and Art Nouveau rockers are rocking, and the
+trousers of the prophet are patched with stained glass, and it is a day
+of dinkiness and of thumbs.
+</p>
+<p>
+Let us find comfort in the ancient proverb: "Art talked to death shall
+rise again." Let us also recollect that "Dinky is as dinky does;" that
+"All is not Shaw that Bernards;" that "Better Yeates than Clever;" that
+words are so inexpensive that there is no moral crime in robbing Henry
+to pay James.
+</p>
+<p>
+Firmly believing all this, abjuring all atom-pickers, slab furniture,
+and woodchuck literature&mdash;save only the immortal verse:
+</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">   "And there the wooden-chuck doth tread; </p>
+<p class="i4">     While from the oak trees' tops </p>
+<p class="i2">   The red, red squirrel on the head </p>
+<p class="i4">     The frequent acorn drops." </p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+Abjuring, as I say, dinkiness in all its forms, we may still hope that
+those cleanly and respectable spinsters, the Sister Arts, will continue
+throughout the ages, rocking and drinking tea unterrified by the
+million-tongued clamor in the back yard and below stairs, where thumb
+and forefinger continue the question demanded by intellectual
+exhaustion:
+</p>
+<p>
+"L'arr! Kesker say l'arr?"
+</p>
+<p class="adbot">
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="adwrap">
+
+<p class="adtop">
+    THE MASTERPIECE OF A MASTER MIND.
+</p>
+<p style="font-size:150%; text-indent:0;">
+The Prodigal Son.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+By <span class="sc">Hall Caine</span>. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The Prodigal Son" follows the lines of the Bible parable in the
+principal incidents, but in certain important particulars it departs
+from them. In a most convincing way, and with rare beauty, the story
+shows that Christ's parable is a picture of heavenly mercy, and not of
+human justice, and if it were used as an example of conduct among men it
+would destroy all social conditions and disturb accepted laws of
+justice. The book is full of movement and incident, and must appeal to
+the public by its dramatic story alone. The Prodigal Son at the close of
+the book has learned this great lesson, and the meaning of the parable
+is revealed to him. Neither success nor fame can ever wipe out the evil
+of the past. It is not from the unalterable laws of nature and life that
+forgiveness can be hoped for.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Since 'The Manxman' Hall Caine has written nothing so moving in its
+elements of pathos and tragedy, so plainly marked with the power to
+search the human heart and reveal its secret springs of strength and
+weakness, its passion and strife, so sincere and satisfying as 'The
+Prodigal Son.'"&mdash;<i>New York Times</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It is done with supreme self-confidence, and the result is a work of
+genius."&mdash;<i>New York Evening Post</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'The Prodigal Son' will hold the reader's attention from cover to
+cover."&mdash;<i>Philadelphia Record</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+"This is one of Hall Caine's best novels&mdash;one that a large portion of
+the fiction-reading public will thoroughly enjoy."&mdash;<i>Chicago
+Record-Herald</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It is a notable piece of fiction."&mdash;<i>Philadelphia Inquirer</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+"In 'The Prodigal Son' Hall Caine has produced his greatest
+work.'&mdash;<i>Boston Herald</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mr. Caine has achieved a work of extraordinary merit, a fiction as
+finely conceived, as deftly constructed, as some of the best work of our
+living novelists."&mdash;<i>London Daily Mail</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'The Prodigal Son' is indeed a notable novel; and a work that may
+certainly rank with the best of recent fiction...."&mdash;<i>Westminster
+Gazette</i>.
+</p>
+<p class="adbot">
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="adwrap">
+
+<p class="adtop">
+    "A beautiful romance of the days of Robert Burns."
+</p>
+<p style="font-size:150%; text-indent:0;">
+Nancy Stair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A Novel. By <span class="sc">Elinor Macartney Lane</span>, author of "Mills of God."
+Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
+</p>
+<p>
+"With very much the grace and charm of Robert Louis Stevenson, the
+author of 'The Life of Nancy Stair' combines unusual gifts of narrative,
+characterization, color, and humor. She has also delicacy, dramatic
+quality, and that rare gift&mdash;historic imagination.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'The Life of Nancy Stair' is interesting from the first sentence to the
+last; the characters are vital and are, also, most entertaining company;
+the denouement unexpected and picturesque and cleverly led up to from
+one of the earliest chapters; the story moves swiftly and without a
+hitch. Robert Burns is neither idealized nor caricatured; Sandy, Jock,
+Pitcairn, Danvers Carmichael, and the Duke of Borthewicke are admirably
+relieved against each other, and Nancy herself as irresistible as she is
+natural. To be sure, she is a wonderful child, but then she manages to
+make you believe she was a real one. Indeed, reality and naturalness are
+two of the charms of a story that both reaches the heart and engages the
+mind, and which can scarcely fail to make for itself a large audience. A
+great deal of delightful talk and interesting incidents are used for the
+development of the story. Whoever reads it will advise everybody he
+knows to read it; and those who do not care for its literary quality
+cannot escape the interest of a love-story full of incident and
+atmosphere."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Powerfully and attractively written."&mdash;<i>Pittsburg Post</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+"A story best described with the word 'charming.'"&mdash;<i>Washington Post</i>.
+</p>
+<p class="adbot">
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="adwrap">
+
+<p class="adtop">
+    WIT, SPARKLING, SCINTILLATING WIT, IS THE ESSENCE OF
+</p>
+<p style="font-size:150%; text-indent:0;">
+Kate of Kate Hall,
+</p>
+<p>
+By <span class="sc">Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler</span>,
+<br />
+whose reputation was made by her first book, "Concerning Isabel
+Carnaby," and enhanced by her last success, "Place and Power."
+</p>
+<p>
+"In 'Kate of Kate Hall,' by Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler, the question of
+imminent concern is the marriage of super-dainty, peppery-tempered Lady
+Katherine Clare, whose wealthy godmother, erstwhile deceased, has left
+her a vast fortune, on condition that she shall be wedded within six
+calendar months from date of the testator's death.
+</p>
+<p>
+"An easy matter, it would seem, for bonny Kate, notwithstanding her
+aptness at sharp repartee, is a morsel fit for the gods.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The accepted suitor appears in due time; but comes to grief at the last
+moment in a quarrel with Lady Kate over a kiss bestowed by her upon her
+godmother's former man of affairs and secretary. This incident she
+haughtily refuses to explain. Moreover, she shatters the bond of
+engagement, although but three weeks remain of the fatal six months. She
+would rather break stones on the road all day and sleep in a pauper's
+grave all night, than marry a man who, while professing to love her,
+would listen to mean and malicious gossips picked up by tell-tales in
+the servants' hall.
+</p>
+<p>
+"So the great estate is likely to be lost to Kate and her debt-ridden
+father, Lord Claverley. How it is conserved at last, and gloomy
+apprehension chased away by dazzling visions of material splendor&mdash;that
+is the author's well-kept secret, not to be shared here with a careless
+and indolent public."&mdash;<i>Philadelphia North American.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+"The long-standing reproach that women are seldom humorists seems in a
+fair way of passing out of existence. Several contemporary feminine
+writers have at least sufficient sense of humor to produce characters as
+deliciously humorous as delightful. Of such order is the Countess
+Claverley, made whimsically real and lovable in the recent book by Ellen
+Thorneycroft Fowler and A.L. Felkin, 'Kate of Kate Hall.'"&mdash;<i>Chicago
+Record-Herald.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+"'Kate of Kate Hall' is a novel in which Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler
+displays her brilliant abilities at their best. The story is well
+constructed, the plot develops beautifully, the incidents are varied and
+brisk, and the dialogue is deliciously clever."&mdash;<i>Rochester Democrat
+and Chronicle.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="adbot">
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="adwrap">
+
+<p class="adtop">
+    LOVE. MYSTERY. VENICE.
+</p>
+<p style="font-size:150%; text-indent:0;">
+The Clock and the Key.
+</p>
+<p>
+By <span class="sc">Arthur Henry Vesey</span>. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
+</p>
+<p>
+This is a tale of a mystery connected with an old clock. The lover, an
+American man of means, is startled out of his sensuous, inactive life in
+Venice by his lady-love's scorn for his indolence. She begs of him to
+perform any task that will prove his persistence and worth. With the
+charm of Venice as a background, one follows the adventures of the lover
+endeavoring to read the puzzling hints of the old clock as to the
+whereabouts of the famous jewels of many centuries ago. After following
+many false clues the lover ultimately solves the mystery, triumphs over
+his rivals, and wins the girl.
+</p>
+<p>
+AMERICA.
+</p>
+<p>
+"For an absorbing story it would be hard to beat."&mdash;<i>Harper's
+Weekly.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+ENGLAND.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It will hold the reader till the last page."&mdash;<i>London Times.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+SCOTLAND.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It would hardly suffer by comparison with Poe's immortal 'Gold
+Bug.'"<i>&mdash;Glasgow Herald.</i>
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+NORTH.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It ought to make a record."&mdash;<i>Montreal Sun.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+SOUTH.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It is as fascinating in its way as the Sherlock Holmes
+stories&mdash;charming&mdash;unique."&mdash;<i>New Orleans Picayune.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+EAST.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Don't fail to get it."&mdash;<i>New York Sun.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+WEST.
+</p>
+<p>
+"About the most ingeniously constructed bit of sensational fiction that
+ever made the weary hours speed."&mdash;<i>St. Paul Pioneer Press.</i>
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+"If you want a thrilling story of intrigue and mystery, which will cause
+you to burn the midnight oil until the last page is finished, read 'The
+Clock and the Key.'"&mdash;<i>Milwaukee Wisconsin.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+"One of the most highly exciting and ingenious stories we have read for
+a long time is 'The Clock and the Key.'"&mdash;<i>London Mail.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="adbot">
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="adwrap">
+
+<p class="adtop">
+    A GOOD AUTOMOBILE STORY.
+</p>
+<p style="font-size:150%; text-indent:0;">
+Baby Bullet.
+</p>
+<p>
+By <span class="sc">Lloyd Osbourne</span>, Author of "The Motor-maniacs." Illustrated.
+12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
+</p>
+<p>
+This is the jolliest, most delightfully humorous love story that has
+been written in the last ten years. Baby Bullet is an "orphan
+automobile." It is all through the adoption of Baby Bullet by her
+travelling companion that a dear, sweet, human modern girl meets a very
+nice young man, and a double romance is begun and finished on an
+automobiling tour through England.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The story is smoothly written, full of action and healthful
+fun."&mdash;<i>Philadelphia Public Ledger.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+"'Baby Bullet' is without doubt the best written and most entertaining
+automobile story yet published. The most enjoyable feature of this book
+is its genuine, unforced humor, which finds expression not only in
+ludicrous situations, but in bright and spirited dialogue, keen
+observation and natural characterization.'&mdash;<i>St. Paul Dispatch.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+"Certain stories there are that a man fervently wishes he might claim as
+his own. Of these, 'Baby Bullet' is one."&mdash;<i>Baltimore Sun.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+"It is broad comedy, full of adventurous fun, clever and effective. The
+tale is fascinating from the start. The adventures of Baby Bullet are
+distinctly funny."&mdash;<i>New York Sun.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+"The characters are lightly drawn, but with great humor. It is a story
+that refreshes a tired brain and provokes a light heart."&mdash;<i>Chicago
+Tribune.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+"It is a most satisfying and humorous narrative."&mdash;<i>Indianapolis
+News.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+"One of the funniest scenes in recent fiction is the escape of the
+automobile party from the peroxide blonde who has answered their
+advertisement for a chaperon."&mdash;<i>San Francisco Chronicle.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="adbot">
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="adwrap">
+
+<p class="adtop">
+    A SPLENDID NEWSPAPER YARN.
+</p>
+<p style="font-size:150%; text-indent:0;">
+A Yellow Journalist.
+</p>
+<p>
+By <span class="sc">Miriam Michelson</span>, Author of "In the Bishop's Carriage," etc.
+Illustrated. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
+</p>
+<p>
+This novel has the true newspaper thrill in it from beginning to end.
+The intense desire to "cover" one's assignment completely and well is
+brought out in the midst of the melodramatic atmosphere in which a
+modern newspaper woman must live. The stories are all true to life, and
+mixed with the excitement there is a wealth of humor and pathos.
+</p>
+<p>
+"There is a dash about 'A Yellow Journalist' that exhilarates like a
+fresh breeze on a sharp winter morning."&mdash;<i>Chicago Record-Herald</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The book is bright and entertaining."&mdash;<i>Minneapolis Tribune</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+"There are just a few writers who have succeeded in reducing to paper
+the atmosphere of a newspaper office, and since the appearance of 'A
+Yellow Journalist,' Miriam Michelson must be numbered among
+them."&mdash;<i>The Bookman</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Miss Michelson's work has found great favor. The stories contained in
+this book are characteristic."&mdash;<i>Philadelphia Public Ledger</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Only one with the genuine journalistic instinct, who has agonized over
+a story and known the ecstacy of a 'beat' and the anguish of being beat,
+can write of news-gathering as Miss Michelson does. But she has other
+good qualities in addition to these&mdash;a good dramatic instinct, a piquant
+humor, and a knowledge of human nature. The fourteen chapters of 'A
+Yellow Journalist' are mighty interesting reading."&mdash;<i>Baltimore
+News</i>.
+</p>
+<p class="adbot">
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 6em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="pg" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FALSE GODS***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 17020-h.txt or 17020-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/2/17020">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/0/2/17020</a></p>
+<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.</p>
+
+<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.</p>
+
+
+
+<pre>
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+<a href="https://gutenberg.org/license">https://gutenberg.org/license)</a>.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's
+eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
+compressed (zipped), HTML and others.
+
+Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
+the old filename and etext number.  The replaced older file is renamed.
+VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
+new filenames and etext numbers.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">https://www.gutenberg.org</a>
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000,
+are filed in directories based on their release date.  If you want to
+download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular
+search system you may utilize the following addresses and just
+download by the etext year.
+
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a>
+
+    (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99,
+     98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90)
+
+EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are
+filed in a different way.  The year of a release date is no longer part
+of the directory path.  The path is based on the etext number (which is
+identical to the filename).  The path to the file is made up of single
+digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename.  For
+example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at:
+
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234
+
+or filename 24689 would be found at:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689
+
+An alternative method of locating eBooks:
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a>
+
+*** END: FULL LICENSE ***
+</pre>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/17020-h/images/cap014.png b/17020-h/images/cap014.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..82ffdac
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/cap014.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/cap026.png b/17020-h/images/cap026.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d148a8e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/cap026.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/cap036.png b/17020-h/images/cap036.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..071f32b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/cap036.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/cap050.png b/17020-h/images/cap050.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..436a772
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/cap050.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/cap056.png b/17020-h/images/cap056.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2183ddf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/cap056.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/cap068.png b/17020-h/images/cap068.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9f23926
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/cap068.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/cap078.png b/17020-h/images/cap078.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..80b13a8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/cap078.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/cap088.png b/17020-h/images/cap088.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9008367
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/cap088.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/cap096.png b/17020-h/images/cap096.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..99107aa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/cap096.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/cap100.png b/17020-h/images/cap100.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0aa0b25
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/cap100.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ch-head1.png b/17020-h/images/ch-head1.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0bb2595
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ch-head1.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ch-head2.png b/17020-h/images/ch-head2.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b565e46
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ch-head2.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ch-tail1.png b/17020-h/images/ch-tail1.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4070cb6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ch-tail1.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ch-tail2.png b/17020-h/images/ch-tail2.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2a39460
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ch-tail2.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/colophon.png b/17020-h/images/colophon.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..52bf56e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/colophon.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-001.jpg b/17020-h/images/ill-001.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..566697c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-001.jpg
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-004.png b/17020-h/images/ill-004.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2bf024e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-004.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-005.png b/17020-h/images/ill-005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..084deba
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-005.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-006.jpg b/17020-h/images/ill-006.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..018a813
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-006.jpg
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-008.png b/17020-h/images/ill-008.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c97d3f7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-008.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-009.png b/17020-h/images/ill-009.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5a87bca
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-009.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-010.png b/17020-h/images/ill-010.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..72e2730
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-010.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-011.png b/17020-h/images/ill-011.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bfd2a99
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-011.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-012.png b/17020-h/images/ill-012.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bad28d8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-012.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-013.png b/17020-h/images/ill-013.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f54a4da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-013.png
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-018.jpg b/17020-h/images/ill-018.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..68f3ba3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-018.jpg
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-040.jpg b/17020-h/images/ill-040.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f38a21d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-040.jpg
diff --git a/17020-h/images/ill-074.jpg b/17020-h/images/ill-074.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c221fce
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020-h/images/ill-074.jpg
diff --git a/17020.txt b/17020.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2476e16
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2563 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The False Gods, by George Horace Lorimer
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The False Gods
+
+
+Author: George Horace Lorimer
+
+
+
+Release Date: November 6, 2005  [eBook #17020]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FALSE GODS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by David Garcia and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/) from page images
+generously made available by the Kentuckiana Digital Library
+(http://kdl.kyvl.org/)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 17020-h.htm or 17020-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/2/17020/17020-h/17020-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/2/17020/17020-h.zip)
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through the Electronic
+      Text Collection of the Kentuckiana Digital Library. See
+      http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts;xc=1&idno=B92-232-31280846&view=toc
+
+
+
+
+
+THE FALSE GODS
+
+by
+
+GEORGE HORACE LORIMER
+
+Author of "Letters from a Self-made Merchant to His Son"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration: "Then ... the arms crushed him against the stone breast."]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+D. Appleton and Company
+New York
+1906
+
+Copyright, 1906, by George Horace Lorimer
+Copyright, 1906, by D. Appleton and Company
+Entered at Stationer's Hall, London
+Published April, 1906
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+To A.V.L.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                  PAGE
+
+     I.                                              1
+
+    II.                                             11
+
+   III.                                             21
+
+    IV.                                             33
+
+     V.                                             39
+
+    VI.                                             51
+
+   VII.                                             59
+
+  VIII.                                             69
+
+    IX.                                             77
+
+     X.                                             81
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                FACING
+                                                  PAGE
+
+  "Then ... the arms crushed him
+   against the stone breast"           _Frontispiece_
+
+  "'Aw, fergit it'"                                  4
+
+  "'She's the Real Thing'"                          24
+
+  "Suddenly she felt him coming, and turned"        56
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+THE FALSE GODS
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+It was shortly after ten o'clock one morning when Ezra Simpkins, a
+reporter from the _Boston Banner_, entered the Oriental Building,
+that dingy pile of brick and brownstone which covers a block on Sixth
+Avenue, and began to hunt for the office of the Royal Society of
+Egyptian Exploration and Research. After wandering through a labyrinth
+of halls, he finally found it on the second floor. A few steps farther
+on, a stairway led down to one of the side entrances; for the building
+could be entered from any of the four bounding streets.
+
+Simpkins regarded knocking on doors and sending in cards as formalities
+which served merely to tempt people of a retiring disposition to lie, so
+when he walked into the waiting-room and found it deserted, he passed
+through it quickly and opened the door beyond. But if he had expected
+this manoeuver to bring him within easy distance of the person whom
+he was seeking, he was disappointed. He had simply walked into a small
+outer office. A self-sufficient youth of twelve, who was stuffed into
+a be-buttoned suit, was its sole occupant.
+
+"Hello, bub!" said Simpkins to this Cerberus of the threshold. "Mrs.
+Athelstone in?" and he drew out his letter of introduction; for he had
+instantly decided to use it in place of a card, as being more likely to
+gain him admittance.
+
+"Aw, fergit it," the youth answered with fine American independence.
+"I'll let youse know when your turn comes, an' youse can keep your
+ref'rences till you're asked for 'em," and he surveyed Simpkins with
+marked disfavor.
+
+The reporter made no answer and asked no questions. Until that moment he
+had not known that he had a turn, but if he had, he did not propose to
+lose it by any foolish slip. So he settled down in his chair and began
+to turn over his assignment in his mind.
+
+That Simpkins had come over to New York was due to the conviction of
+his managing editor, Mr. Naylor, that a certain feature which had been
+shaping up in his head would possess a peculiar interest if it could be
+"led" with a few remarks by Mrs. Athelstone. Though her husband, the
+Rev. Alfred W.R. Athelstone, was a Church of England clergyman, whose
+interest in Egyptology had led him to accept the presidency of the
+American branch of the Royal Society, she was a leader among the
+Theosophists. And now that the old head of the cult was dead, it was
+rumored that Mrs. Athelstone had announced the reincarnation of Madame
+Blavatsky in her own person. This in itself was a good "story," but it
+was not until a second rumor reached Naylor's ears that his newspaper
+soul was stirred to its yellowest depths. For there was in Boston an
+association known as the American Society for the Investigation of
+Ancient Beliefs, which was a rival of the Royal Society in its good work
+of laying bare with pick and spade the buried mysteries along the Nile.
+And this rivalry, which was strong between the societies and bitter
+between their presidents, became acute in the persons of their
+secretaries, both of whom were women. Madame Gianclis, who served the
+Boston Society, boasted Egyptian blood in her veins, a claim which Mrs.
+Athelstone, who acted as secretary for her husband's society, politely
+conceded, with the qualification that some ancestor of her rival had
+contributed a dash of the Senegambian as well.
+
+[Illustration: "'Aw, fergit it.'"]
+
+This remark, duly reported to Madame Gianclis, had not put her in a
+humor to concede Madame Blavatsky's soul, or any part of it, to Mrs.
+Athelstone. Promptly on hearing of her pretensions, so rumor had it,
+the Boston woman had announced the reincarnation of Theosophy's high
+priestess in herself. And Boston believers were inclined to accept her
+view, as it was difficult for them to understand how any soul with
+liberty of action could deliberately choose a New York residence.
+
+Now, all these things had filtered through to Naylor from those just
+without the temple gates, for whatever the quarrels of the two societies
+and their enemies, they tried to keep them to themselves. They had had
+experience with publicity and had found that ridicule goes hand in hand
+with it in this iconoclastic age. But out of these rumors, unconfirmed
+though they were, grew a vision in Naylor's brain--a vision of a
+glorified spread in the _Sunday Banner's_ magazine section. Under
+a two-page "head," builded cunningly of six sizes of type, he saw
+ravishingly beautiful pictures of Madame Gianclis and Mrs. Athelstone,
+and hovering between them the materialized, but homeless, soul of Madame
+Blavatsky, trying to make choice of an abiding-place, the whole
+enlivened and illuminated with much "snappy" reading matter.
+
+Now, Simpkins was the man to make a managing editor's dreams come true,
+so Naylor rubbed the lamp for him and told him what he craved. But the
+reporter's success in life had been won by an ability to combine much
+extravagance of statement in the written with great conservatism in
+the spoken word. Early in his experience he had learned that Naylor's
+optimism, though purely professional, entailed unpleasant consequences
+on the reporter who shared it and then betrayed some too generous trust;
+so he absolutely refused to admit that there was any basis for it now.
+
+"You know she won't talk to reporters," he protested. "Those New York
+boys have joshed that whole bunch so they're afraid to say their prayers
+out loud. Then she's English and dead swell, and that combination's hard
+to open, unless you have a number in the Four Hundred, and then it ain't
+refined to try. I can make a pass at her, but it'll be a frost for me."
+
+"Nonsense! You must make her talk, or manage to be around while some one
+else does," Naylor answered, waving aside obstacles with the noble scorn
+of one whose business it is to set others to conquer them. "I want a
+good snappy interview, understand, and descriptions for some red-hot
+pictures, if you can't get photos. I'm going to save the spread in the
+Sunday magazine for that story, and you don't want to slip up on the
+Athelstone end of it. That hall is just what the story needs for a
+setting. Get in and size it up."
+
+"You remember what happened to that _Courier_ man who got in?"
+ventured Simpkins.
+
+"I believe I did hear something about a _Courier_ man's being
+snaked out of a closet and kicked downstairs. Served him right.
+_Very_ coarse work. Very coarse work _indeed_. There's a better
+way and you'll find it." There was something unpleasantly significant in
+his voice, as he terminated the interview by swinging around to his desk
+and picking up a handful of papers, which warned the reporter that he
+had gone the limit.
+
+Simpkins had heard of the hall, for it had been written up just after
+Doctor Athelstone, who was a man of some wealth, had assembled in it his
+private collection of Egyptian treasures. But he knew, too, that it had
+become increasingly difficult to penetrate since Mrs. Athelstone had
+been made the subject of some entertaining, but too imaginative, Sunday
+specials. Still, now that he had properly magnified the difficulties
+of the undertaking to Naylor, that the disgrace of defeat might be
+discounted or the glory of achievement enhanced, he believed that he
+knew a way to gain access to the hall and perhaps to manage a talk with
+Mrs. Athelstone herself. His line of thought started him for Cambridge,
+where he had a younger brother whom he was helping through Harvard.
+
+As a result of this fraternal visit, Simpkins minor cut the classes of
+Professor Alexander Blackburn, the eminent archaeologist, for the next
+week, and went to his other lectures by back streets. For the kindly
+professor had given him a letter, introducing him to Mrs. Athelstone as
+a worthy young student with a laudable thirst for that greater knowledge
+of Egyptian archaeology, ethnology and epigraphy which was to be gained
+by an inspection of her collection. And it was the possession of this
+letter which influenced Simpkins major to take the smoking car and to
+sit up all night, conning an instructive volume on Ancient Egypt,
+thereby acquiring much curious information, and diverting two dollars of
+his expense money to the pocket in which he kept his individual cash
+balance.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+For five minutes the decorous silence of the anteroom was unbroken.
+Then the door of the inner office swung open and closed behind a
+dejected-looking young man, and the boy, without so much as asking
+for a card, preceded the secretly-elated Simpkins into the hall.
+
+They had stepped from the present into the past. Simpkins found himself
+looking between a double row of pillars, covered with hieroglyphics in
+red and black, to an altar of polished black basalt, guarded on either
+side by stone sphinxes. Behind it, straight from the lofty ceiling, fell
+a veil of black velvet, embroidered with golden scarabaei, and fringed
+with violet. The approach, a hundred paces or more, was guarded by
+twoscore mummies in black cases, standing upright along the pillars.
+
+"Watcher gawkin' at?" demanded the youth, grinning up at the staring
+Simpkins. "Lose dat farmer-boy face or it's back to de ole homestead
+for youse. Her royal nibs ain't lookin' for no good milker."
+
+"Oh, I'm just rubbering to see where the goat's kept," the reporter
+answered, trying to assume a properly metropolitan expression. "Suppose
+I'll have to take the third degree before I can get out of here."
+
+The youth started noiselessly across the floor, and Simpkins saw that
+he wore sandals. His own heavy walking boots rang loudly on the flagged
+floors and woke the echoes in the vaulted ceiling. He began to tread on
+tiptoe, as one moves in a death-chamber.
+
+And that was what this great room was: a charnel-house filled with
+the spoil of tombs and temples. The dim light fluttered down from
+quaint, triangular windows, set with a checker-work of brick-red and
+saffron-colored panes about a central design, a scarlet heart upon a
+white star, and within that a black scarabaeus. The white background of
+the walls threw into relief the angular figures on the frieze, scenes
+from old Egyptian life: games, marriages, feasts and battles, painted
+in the crude colors of early art. Between were paneled pictures of the
+gods, monstrous and deformed deities, half men, half beasts; and the
+dado, done in black, pictured the funeral rites of the Egyptians, with
+explanatory passages from the ritual of the dead. Rudely-sculptured
+bas-reliefs and intaglios, torn from ancient mastabas, were set over
+windows and doors, and stone colossi of kings and gods leered and
+threatened from dusky corners. Sarcophagi of black basalt, red porphyry
+and pink-veined alabaster, cunningly carved, were disposed as they had
+been found in the pits of the dead, with the sepulchral vases and the
+hideous wooden idols beside them.
+
+The descriptions of the place had prepared Simpkins for something out
+of the ordinary, but nothing like this; and he looked about him with
+wonder in his eyes and a vague awe at his heart, until he found himself
+standing in the corner of the hall to the right of the black altar in
+the west. Two sarcophagi, one of basalt, the other of alabaster, were
+placed at right angles to the walls, partially inclosing a small space.
+Within this inclosure, bowed over a stone table, sat a woman, writing.
+At either end of the table a mummy case, one black, the other gilt,
+stood upright. The boy halted just outside this singular private office,
+and the woman rose and came toward them.
+
+Simpkins had never read Virgil, but he knew the goddess by her walk. She
+was young--not over thirty--and tall and stately. Her gown was black,
+some soft stuff which clung about her, and a bunch of violets at her
+waist made the whole corner faintly sweet. Her features were regular,
+but of a type strange to Simpkins, the nose slightly aquiline, the lips
+full and red--vividly so by contrast to the clear white of the skin--and
+the forehead low and straight. Black hair waved back from it, and was
+caught up by the coils of a golden asp, from whose lifted head two
+rubies gleamed. Doubtless a woman would have pronounced her gown absurd
+and her way of wearing her hair an intolerable affectation. But it was
+effective with the less discriminating animal--instantly so with
+Simpkins.
+
+And then she raised her eyes and looked at him. To the first glance they
+were dusky eyes, deep and fathomless, changing swiftly to the blue-black
+of the northern skies on a clear winter night, and flashing out sharp
+points of light, like star-rays. He knew that in that glance he had been
+weighed, gauged and classed, and, though he was used to questioning
+Governors and Senators quite unabashed and unafraid, he found himself
+standing awkward and ill-at-ease in the presence of this woman.
+
+Had she addressed him in Greek or Egyptian, he would have accepted it as
+a matter of course. But when she did speak it was in the soft, clear
+tones of a well-bred Englishwoman, and what she said was commonplace
+enough.
+
+"I suppose you've called to see about the place?" she asked.
+
+"Ye-es," stammered Simpkins, but with wit enough to know that he had
+come at an opportune moment. If there were a place, decidedly he had
+called to see about it.
+
+"Who sent you?" she continued, and he understood that he was not there
+in answer to a want advertisement.
+
+"Professor Blackburn." And he presented his letter and went on, with
+a return of his glibness: "You see, I've been working my way through
+Harvard--preparing for the ministry--Congregationalist. Found I'd have
+to stop and go to work regularly for a while before I could finish. So
+I've come over here, where I can attend the night classes at Columbia at
+the same time. And as I'm interested in Egyptology, and had heard a good
+deal about your collection, I got that letter to you. Thought you might
+know some one in the building who wanted a man, as work in a place like
+this would be right in my line. Of course, if you're looking for any
+one, I'd like to apply for the place." And he paused expectantly.
+
+"I see. You want to be a Dissenting minister, and you're working for
+your education. Very creditable of you, I'm sure. And you're a stranger
+in New York, you say?"
+
+"Utter," returned Simpkins.
+
+Mrs. Athelstone proceeded to question him at some length about his
+qualifications. When he had satisfied her that he was competent to
+attend to the easy, clerical work of the office and to care for the
+more valuable articles in the hall, things which she did not care to
+leave to the regular cleaners, she concluded:
+
+"I'm disposed to give you a trial, Mr. Simpkins, but I want you to
+understand that under no circumstances are you to talk about me or
+your work outside the office. I've been so hunted and harried by
+reporters----" And her voice broke. "What I want above all else is
+a clerk that I can trust."
+
+The assurance which Simpkins gave in reply came harder than all the lies
+he had told that morning, and, some way, none of them had slipped out
+so smoothly as usual. He was a fairly truthful and tender-hearted man
+outside his work, but in it he had accustomed himself to regard men and
+women in a purely impersonal way, and their troubles and scandals simply
+as material. To his mind, nothing was worth while unless it had a news
+value; and nothing was sacred that had. But he was uneasily conscious
+now that he was doing a deliberately brutal thing, and for the first
+time he felt that regard for a subject's feelings which is so fatal to
+success in certain branches of the new journalism. But he repressed
+the troublesome instinct, and when Mrs. Athelstone dismissed him a few
+minutes later, it was with the understanding that he should report the
+next morning, ready for work.
+
+He stopped for a moment in the ante-chamber on the way out; for the
+bright light blinded him, and there were red dots before his eyes. He
+felt a little subdued, not at all like the self-confident man who had
+passed through the oaken door ten minutes before. But nothing could long
+repress the exuberant Simpkins, and as he started down the stairway to
+the street he was exclaiming to himself:
+
+"Did you butt in, Simp., old boy, or were you pushed?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+At nine o'clock the next morning Simpkins presented himself at the
+Society's office, and a few minutes later he found himself in the
+fascinating presence of Mrs. Athelstone. He soon grasped the details of
+his simple duties, and then, like a lean, awkward mastiff, padded along
+at her heels while she moved about the hall and pointed out the things
+which would be under his care.
+
+"If I were equal to it, I should 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
+took a good deal of pride in arranging this shrine. The device _is_
+clever; the parting of the veil you see, makes the light shine down on
+the statue, and it dies out when I close it--so"; and, as she pulled a
+cord, the veil fell before the statue and the light melted away.
+
+[Illustration: "'She's the Real Thing.'"]
+
+"Aren't you initiating the neophyte rather early?" a man's voice asked
+at Simpkins' elbow, and, as he turned to see who it was, Mrs. Athelstone
+explained: "This is our new clerk, Mr. Simpkins; Doctor Brander is our
+treasurer, and our acting president while my husband's away. He left a
+few days ago for a little rest." And Mrs. Athelstone turned back to her
+desk.
+
+Simpkins instantly decided to dislike the young clergyman beside him. He
+was tall and athletic-looking, but with a slight stoop, that impressed
+the reporter as a physical assumption of humility which the handsome
+face, with its faintly sneering lines and bold eyes, contradicted. But
+he acknowledged Brander's offhand "How d'ye do?" in a properly
+deferential manner, and listened respectfully to a few careless
+sentences of instructions.
+
+For the rest of the morning, Simpkins mechanically addressed circulars
+appealing for funds to carry on the good work of the Society, while his
+mind was busy trying to formulate a plan by which he could get Mrs.
+Athelstone to tell what she knew about the whereabouts of Madame
+Blavatsky's soul. He felt, with the accurate instinct of one used to
+classing the frailties of flesh and blood according to their worth in
+columns, that those devices which had so often led women to confide
+to him the details of the particular sensation that he was working up
+would avail him nothing here. "You simply haven't got her Bertillon
+measurements, Simp.," he was forced to admit, after an hour of fruitless
+thinking. "You'll have to trust in your rabbit's foot."
+
+But if Mrs. Athelstone was a new species to him, the office boy was not.
+He knew that youth down to the last button on his jacket. He knew, too,
+that an office boy often whiles away the monotonous hours by piecing
+together the president's secrets from the scraps in his waste-basket.
+So at the noon hour he slipped out after Buttons, caught him as he was
+disappearing up a near-by alley in a cloud of cigarette smoke, like the
+disreputable little devil that he was, and succeeded in establishing
+friendly and even familiar relations with him.
+
+It was not, however, until late in the afternoon, when he was called
+into the ante-chamber to discover the business of a caller, that he
+improved the opportunity to ask the youth some leading questions.
+
+"Suppose you open up mornings?" he began carelessly.
+
+"Naw; Mrs. A. does. She bunks here."
+
+"How?"
+
+"In a bed. She's got rooms in de buildin'. That door by Booker T. leads
+to 'em."
+
+"Booker T.? Oh, sure! The brunette statue. And that other door--the one
+to the left. Where does that go?"
+
+"Into Brander's storeroom. He sells mummies on de side."
+
+"Does, eh? Curious business!" commented Simpkins. "Seems to rub it into
+_you_ pretty hard. And stuck on himself! Don't seem able to spit
+without ringing his bell for some one to see him do it. Guess you'd have
+to have four legs to satisfy _him_, all right."
+
+"Say, dat duck ain't on de level," the grievance for which Simpkins had
+been probing coming to the surface.
+
+"Holds out on what he collects? Steals?"
+
+"Sure t'ing--de loidies," and the boy lowered his voice; "he's dead
+stuck on Mrs. A."
+
+"Oh! nonsense," commented Simpkins, an invitation to continue in his
+voice. "She's a married woman."
+
+"Never min', I'm tellin' youse; an dat's just where de stink comes in.
+Ain't I seen 'im wid my own eyes a-makin' goo-goos at 'er. An' wasn't
+there rough house for fair goin' on in dere last mont', just before de
+Doc. made his get-away? He tumbled to somethin', all right, all right,
+or why don't he write her? Say, I don't expect _him_ back in no
+hurry. He's hived up in South Dakote right now, an' she's in trainin'
+for alimony, or my name's Dennis Don'tknow."
+
+"Does look sort of funny," Simpkins replied, sympathetic, but not too
+interested. "When was it Doc. left? Last week?"
+
+"Last week, not; more'n a mont' ago, an' he ain't peeped since, for I've
+skinned every mail dat's come in, an' not a picture-postal, see?"
+
+"That isn't very affectionate of Doc., but I wouldn't mention it to any
+one else; it might get you into trouble," was Simpkins' comment. "You
+better--Holy, jumping Pharaoh! what a husky pussy!" As he spoke a big
+black cat, with blinking, tawny eyes, sprang from the floor and curled
+itself up on the youth's desk. "Where'd that----"
+
+A snarl interrupted the question; for the temptation to pull the cat's
+tail had proved too strong for the boy. Bowed over his desk in a fit of
+laughter at the result, he did not see the door behind him open, but
+Simpkins did. And he saw Mrs. Athelstone, her eyes blazing, spring into
+the room, seize the youth by the collar and shake him roughly.
+
+"You nasty little brute!" she cried. "How dared you do that to a----"
+And then catching sight of Simpkins, she dropped the frightened boy back
+into his chair.
+
+"I can't stand cruelty to animals," she explained, panting a little from
+her effort. "If anything of this sort happens again, I'll discharge you
+on the spot," she added to the boy.
+
+"Shame!" Simpkins echoed warmly. "Didn't know what was up or I'd have
+stopped him."
+
+"I'm sure of it," she answered graciously, and, stooping, she picked up
+the now purring cat and left the room.
+
+Simpkins followed her back to his desk and went on with his addressing,
+but he had something worth thinking about now. Not for nothing had he
+been educated in that newspaper school which puts two and two together
+and makes six. And by the time he was through work for the day and back
+in his room at the hotel, he had his result. He embodied it in this
+letter to Naylor:
+
+
+  _Dear Mr. Naylor_:
+
+  I am in the employ of Mrs. Athelstone. How I managed it is a yarn
+  that will keep till I get back. [He meant until he could invent the
+  story which would reflect the most credit on his ingenuity, for
+  though he knew that the whole thing had been a piece of luck he had
+  no intention of cheapening himself with Naylor by owning as much.]
+  I had intended to return to Boston to-night, but I'm on the track of
+  real news, a lovely stink, something much bigger than the Sunday story.
+  There's a sporting parson, quite a swell, in the office here who's gone
+  on Mrs. A., and I'm inclined to hope she is on him. Anyway, the Doc.
+  left in a hurry after some sort of a row over a month ago, and hasn't
+  written a line to his wife since. She's as cool as a cucumber about it
+  and handed me a hot one right off the bat about poor old Doc.'s having
+  gone away for a rest _a few days ago_. I've drawn cards and am going
+  to sit in the game, unless you wire me to come home, for I smell a large,
+  fat, front-page exclusive, which will jar the sensitive slats of some of
+  our first families both here and in dear old London.
+
+    Yours,
+      SIMPKINS.
+
+
+He hesitated a few minutes before he mailed the letter. He really did
+not want to do anything to involve _her_ in a scandal, but, after
+all, it was simply anticipating the inevitable, and--he pulled himself
+up short and put the letter in the box. He could not afford any mawkish
+sentiment in this.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+Simpkins received a monosyllabic telegram from Naylor, instructing him
+to "stay," but after working in the Society's office for another three
+days he was about ready to give up all hope of getting at the facts.
+Some other reason, he scarcely knew what, kept him on. Perhaps it was
+Mrs. Athelstone herself. For though he appreciated how ridiculous his
+infatuation was, he found a miserable pleasure in merely being near her.
+And she was pleased with her new clerk, amused at what she called his
+quaint Americanisms, and if she noticed his too unrepressed admiration
+for her, she smiled it aside. It was something to which she was
+accustomed, an involuntary tribute which most men who saw her often
+rendered her.
+
+She never referred, even indirectly, to her husband, but Simpkins,
+as he watched her move about the hall, divined that he was often in
+her thoughts. And there was another whom he watched--Brander; for he
+felt certain now that the acting president's interest in his handsome
+secretary was not purely that of the Egyptologist. And though there was
+nothing but a friendly courtesy in her manner toward him, Simpkins knew
+his subject well enough to understand that, whatever her real feelings
+were, she was far too clever to be tripped into betraying them to him.
+"She doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve--if she has a heart," he
+decided.
+
+He was trying to make up his mind to force things to some sort of a
+crisis, one morning, when Mrs. Athelstone called him to her desk and
+said rather sharply:
+
+"You've been neglecting your work, Simpkins. Isis looks as if she hadn't
+been dusted since you came."
+
+This was the fact. Simpkins never passed the black altar without a
+backward glance, as if he were fearful of an attack from behind. And he
+had determined that nothing should tempt him to a tete-a-tete with the
+statue behind the veil. But having so senseless, so cowardly a feeling
+was one thing, and letting Mrs. Athelstone know it another. So he only
+replied:
+
+"I'm very sorry; afraid I have been a little careless about the statue."
+And taking up a soft cloth, he walked toward the altar.
+
+It was quite dark behind the veil; so dark that he could see nothing at
+first. But after the moment in which his eyes grew accustomed to the
+change, he made out the vague lines of the statue in the faint light
+from above. He set to work about the pedestal, touching it gingerly at
+first, then more boldly. At length he looked up into the face, blurred
+in the half-light.
+
+When he had finished with the pedestal he pulled himself up between the
+outstretched arms, and perhaps a trifle hurriedly now, as he saw the
+face more distinctly, began to pass the cloth over the arms and back.
+
+Then, quick as the strike of a snake, the arms crushed him against the
+stone breast. He could not move; he could not cry out; he could not
+breathe. The statue, seen from the level of the pedestal, had changed
+its whole expression. Hate glowed in its eyes; menace lived in every
+line of its face. The arms tightened slowly, inexorably; then, as
+quickly as they had closed, unclasped; and Simpkins half-slid, half-fell
+to the floor.
+
+When the breath came back into his lungs and he found himself unharmed,
+he choked back the cry on his lips, for in that same moment a suspicion
+floated half-formed through his brain. He forced himself to climb up on
+the pedestal again, and made a careful inspection of the statue--but
+from behind this time.
+
+The arms were metal, enameled to the smoothness of the body, and
+jointed, though the joints were almost invisible. The statue was one of
+those marvelous creations of the ancient priests, and once, no doubt, it
+had stood behind the veil in some Egyptian temple to tempt and to punish
+the curiosity of the neophyte.
+
+Though Simpkins could find no clew to the mechanism of the statue, he
+determined that he had sprung it with his feet, and that during his
+struggles a lucky kick had touched the spring which relaxed the arms.
+"Did any one beside himself know their strength?" he asked himself, as
+he stepped out into the hall again. Mrs. Athelstone was bent over her
+desk writing; Brander was yawning over a novel in his corner, and
+neither paid any attention to him. So he busied himself going over the
+mummy-cases, and by the time he had worked around to the two beside Mrs.
+Athelstone he had himself well in hand, outwardly. But he was still so
+shaken internally that he knocked the black case rather roughly as he
+dusted.
+
+"What way is that to treat a king?" demanded Mrs. Athelstone; and the
+anger in her voice was so real that Simpkins, startled, blundered out:
+
+"I really meant no disrespect. Very careless of me, I'm sure." He looked
+so distressed that Mrs. Athelstone's anger melted into a delicious
+little laugh, as she answered:
+
+"Really, Simpkins, you musn't be so bungling. These mummies are
+priceless." And she got up and made a careful inspection of the case.
+
+Simpkins, rather crestfallen, went back to his desk and began to address
+circulars, his brain busy with the shadow which had crept into it. But
+there was nothing to make it more tangible, everything to dispel it,
+and he was forced to own as much. "It's a lovely little cozy corner,"
+was his final conclusion; "but keep out of it, Simp., old boy. These
+mechanical huggers are great stuff, but they're too strong for a fellow
+that's been raised on Boston girls."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration ]
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+Mrs. Athelstone was not in the office when he came down the next
+day--she had gone to Washington on the Society's affairs, Brander
+said--and so he moped about, finding the place dreary without her
+brightening presence. In fact, when Brander went out, he slipped into
+the sunlit ante-chamber, for companionship, he told himself; but in his
+heart he knew that he did not want to be alone with that thing behind
+the altar. He had satisfactorily explained its mechanism to himself, but
+there was something else about it which he could not explain.
+
+Naylor had telegraphed that very morning: "Get story. Come home. What do
+you think you're doing?" and he tried to make up his mind to end the
+whole affair by taking the night train to Boston. But he hated to go
+back empty-handed from a four days' assignment. Besides, though he knew
+himself a fool for it, he wanted to see Mrs. Athelstone once more.
+
+So it happened that he was lingering on in the outer office when the
+postman threw the afternoon mail on the desk. Simpkins was alone at the
+moment, and he ran over the letters carelessly until he came to one
+addressed to Brander in Mrs. Athelstone's writing. The blue card of the
+palace car company was in a corner of the envelope.
+
+"Why the deuce is she writing that skunk before she's well out of town?"
+he thought, scanning the envelope with jealous eyes. Then he held it up
+to the light, but the thick paper told nothing of what was within.
+Frowning, he laid the letter down, fingered it, withdrew his itching
+hand, hesitated, and finally put it in his pocket.
+
+Simpkins went straight from the office to his hotel, for, though he
+told himself that the letter contained some instructions which Mrs.
+Athelstone had forgotten to give Brander before leaving, he was anxious
+to see just how those instructions were worded. Alone in his little
+room, he ripped open the letter and ran over its two pages with
+bewilderment growing in his face. He finished by throwing it down on
+the table and exclaiming helplessly: "Well, I'll be damned!"
+
+The first sheet, without beginning or ending, contained only a line in
+Mrs. Athelstone's handwriting, reading: "I had to leave in such a hurry
+that I missed seeing you."
+
+There was not an intelligible word on the second sheet; it was simply a
+succession of scrawls and puerile outline pictures, such as a child
+might have drawn.
+
+To Simpkins' first aggrieved feeling that his confidence had been
+abused, the certainty that he had stumbled on something of importance
+quickly succeeded. He concluded a second and more careful scrutiny of
+the letter with the exclamation, "Cipher! all right, all right," and,
+after a third, he jumped up excitedly and rushed off to Columbia
+University.
+
+An hour later, Professor Ashmore, whose well-known work on "Hieratic
+Writings" is so widely accepted an authority on that fascinating
+subject, looked across to Simpkins, who for some minutes had been
+sitting quietly in a corner of his study, and observed dryly:
+
+"This is a queer jumble of hieroglyphics and hieratic writing, and is
+not, I should judge," and his eyes twinkled, "of any great antiquity."
+
+"Quite right, Professor," Simpkins assented cheerfully. "The lady who
+wrote it is interested in Egyptology, and is trying to have a little fun
+with me."
+
+"If I may judge from the letter, she seems to be interested in you as
+well," the professor went on smilingly. "In fact, it appears to
+be--ahem--a love-letter."
+
+"Eh! What?" exclaimed Simpkins, suddenly serious, "Let's have it."
+
+"Well, roughly, it goes something like this: 'My heart's dearest, my
+sun, my Nile duck--the hours are days without thee, the days an aeon. The
+gods be thanked that this separation is not for long. For apart from
+thee I have no life. That thing that I have to do is about done. May the
+gods guard thee and the all-mother protect thee. I embrace thee: I kiss
+thine eyes and thy lips.' That's a fair translation, though one or two
+of the hieroglyphics are susceptible of a slightly different rendering;
+but the sense would not be materially affected by the change," the
+Professor concluded.
+
+His words fell on inattentive ears; for Simpkins was sitting stunned
+under the revelation of the letter. Now that he had his story, he knew
+that he had not wanted it.
+
+But he roused himself when he became conscious that the professor was
+peering at him curiously over the top of his glasses, and said:
+
+"Pretty warm stuff, eh! Good josh! Great girl! Ought to know her. She's
+daft on this Egyptian business."
+
+"Her letter is perhaps a trifle er--impulsive," the professor answered.
+"But she combines the ancient and the modern charmingly. I congratulate
+you."
+
+"Thanks, Professor," Simpkins answered awkwardly, and took his leave.
+
+Once in the street, he plunged along, head down. It was worse than he
+had suspected. He had felt all along that the boy's surmises about
+Brander were correct; now he knew that his suspicions of Mrs. Athelstone
+were well founded. But he would keep her from that hypocrite, that hawk,
+that--murderer! Simpkins stopped short at the intrusion of that word.
+It had come without logic or reason, but he knew now that it had been
+shaping in his head for two days past. And once spoken, it began to
+justify itself. There was the motive, clear, distinct and proven; there
+were the means and the man.
+
+Next morning Simpkins was earlier than usual at the Oriental Building,
+where he found the youth waiting for Brander to come and open up the
+inner office.
+
+"Parson's late, eh?" he threw out by way of greeting.
+
+"Always is," was the surly answer. "He's de 'rig'nal seven sleepers."
+
+"Puts you behind with your cleaning, eh?"
+
+"Naw; youse ought to know I don't do no cleanin'."
+
+"You don't? I thought you tended to Mrs. Athelstone's rooms and--Mr.
+Brander's storeroom."
+
+"Aw, go wan. I'm no second girl, an' de storeroom's never cleaned.
+Dere's nothin' to clean but a lot of stones an' bum mummies an' such."
+
+"Brander can't sell much stuff; I never see anything being shipped."
+
+"Oh! I don't know! We sent a couple of embammed dooks to Chicago last
+week."
+
+"And last month?"
+
+"Search me; I only copped out me job here last mont'; but seems as if
+his whiskers did say dere was somethin' doin'." And just then Mr.
+Brander came along.
+
+Simpkins had found out what he wanted to know, and he decided that he
+must bring his plans to a head at once. Mrs. Athelstone was expected
+back the next day; he must search the storeroom that very night.
+If--well, he thought he could spoil one scoundrel.
+
+He worked to good advantage during the day, and at nine o'clock that
+night, when he was back outside the Oriental Building, there were three
+new keys in his pocket.
+
+He unlocked the door noiselessly, tiptoed up the staircase, and gained
+the friendly blackness of the ante-chamber quite unobserved. The
+watchman was half a block away, sitting by the only street entrance kept
+open at night.
+
+Simpkins took off his shoes and found his sandals without striking a
+light, and then felt his way to the door leading into the hall. The knob
+rattled a little under his hand. All that evening he had been nerving
+himself to go in there alone and in the dark, but now he could have
+turned and run like a country boy passing a graveyard at night.
+
+The hall was not utterly black, as he had expected. Light from the
+electric lamps without flickered through the stained-glass windows.
+Ghastly rays of yellow played over the painted faces on the walls and
+lit up the gilded features of the mummy by Mrs. Athelstone's desk. There
+were crimson spots, like blotches of blood, on the veil of Isis. And all
+about were moving shadows, creeping forward stealthily, falling back
+slowly, as the light without flared up or died down.
+
+Step by step Simpkins advanced on the black altar, his muscles rigid,
+his nerves quivering, his eyes staring straight ahead, as a child stares
+into the dark for some awful shape which it fears to see, yet dares not
+leave unseen. Once past that altar he would be safe at the door of the
+storeroom.
+
+How his heart was beating! He was almost at it. Steady! A few steps now
+and he would gain the storeroom. Good God! What was that!
+
+In the blackness behind the altar two eyes flamed.
+
+Simpkins stopped; he was helpless to turn or to advance. Perhaps if he
+did not move, it would not. A moment he stood there, tense with terror,
+then--straight from the altar the thing flew at his throat. But quick as
+it was: the involuntary jerk of his arm upward was quicker, and it
+received the blow. Snarling, the thing fell to the floor, and leaped
+back into the darkness. It was Mrs. Athelstone's cat.
+
+So strong was Simpkins' revulsion of feeling, so great his relief, that
+he forgot the real cause of his terror, and sank down on the very steps
+of the altar, weakly exclaiming over and over again: "Only the cat! Only
+the cat! Great Scott! how it frightened me!"
+
+He had been sitting there for a few minutes when he heard a soft click,
+click, just to his right. Some one was turning a key in the door leading
+from Mrs. Athelstone's apartments. As he jumped to his feet, he heard a
+hand grasp the doorknob. He looked around for a hiding-place, ran a few
+steps from the altar, doubled like a baited rat, and dove into the
+blackness behind the veil of Isis. There had been no time to choose; for
+hardly was he safe under cover and peeping out from between the folds of
+the veil than the door swung open slowly.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+It was Mrs. Athelstone who came through the doorway. She was all in
+white, a soft, silken white, which floated about her like a cloud,
+drifting back from her bare arms and throat, and suggesting the rounded
+outlines of her limbs. Her black hair, braided, hung below her waist,
+and from her forehead the golden asp bound back the curls. Her arms were
+full of roses--yellow, white and red.
+
+For an uncertain moment she stood just within the hall, bathed in the
+light that shone through from her apartments. Then she closed the door
+and walked toward the veil. As she came through the shafts of light from
+the windows, her gown was stained with crimson spots. She was at the
+altar now, and Simpkins could no longer see her without changing his
+position. Stealthily he edged along, careless of the statue just behind
+him. As he parted the folds of the veil he saw that the altar was heaped
+with flowers. Just beyond, the light playing fantastically on her
+upturned face, stood Mrs. Athelstone.
+
+Simpkins closed the veil abruptly. There came to him the remembrance
+of the time when the boy had pulled the cat's tail, her anger and her
+curious exclamation; and again, the repetition of it in his case, when
+he had handled the mummy of Amosis roughly; and her affectation of
+Egyptian symbols as ornaments. "She's the simon-pure Blavatsky, all
+right," he concluded, as he pieced these things into what he had just
+seen. "All others are base imitations."
+
+The reporter had gathered from his little reading that behind these
+monstrous gods and this complex symbolism there was something near akin
+to Christianity in a few great essentials, and he understood how a woman
+of Mrs. Athelstone's temperament, engrossed in the study of these things
+and living in these surroundings, might be affected by them. Even he,
+shrewd, hard Yankee that he was, had felt the influence of the place,
+and there was that behind him then which made his heart beat quicker at
+the thought.
+
+When he looked out again Mrs. Athelstone was gone. He was impatient to
+get to his work in the storeroom; but first he peeped out again to make
+sure that she had returned to her room. She was still in the hall,
+walking about in the corner where she ordinarily worked. There was
+something methodical in her movements now that woke a new interest in
+Simpkins. "What the dickens can she be up to?" he thought.
+
+She had lit a lamp, and had shaded it, so that its rays were contracted
+in a circle on the floor. From a cupboard let into the wall she was
+taking bottles and brushes, a roll of linen bandages and some boxes of
+pigments. After laying these on the floor, she walked over to the big
+black mummy case by her table, and pushed until she had turned it around
+with its face to the wall.
+
+What heathen game was this? Simpkins' interest increased, and he poked
+his head out boldly from the sheltering veil.
+
+Mrs. Athelstone was standing directly in front of the case now, pulling
+and tugging in an effort to bring it down on her shoulders. Finally, she
+managed to tilt it toward her, and then, straining, she lowered it until
+it rested flat on the floor.
+
+"Sorry I couldn't have lent a hand," thought the gallant Simpkins; "the
+old buck must weigh a ton. Now what's she bothering around that passe,
+three-thousand-years-dead sport for?"
+
+Her back was toward him; so, cautious and catlike, he stole from behind
+the veil and glided to the shelter of a post not ten feet from her.
+He peered around it eagerly. Still panting from her efforts, she was on
+her knees beside the case, fumbling a key in the Yale lock, a curious
+anachronism which Simpkins, in his cleaning, had found on all the more
+valuable mummy cases.
+
+The lid was of sycamore wood, comparatively light, and she lifted it
+without trouble. Then the rays of the lamp shone full into the open
+case, and Simpkins looked over the shoulders of the kneeling woman at
+the mummy of a man who had stood full six feet in life. He stared long
+at the face, seeking in those shriveled features a reason for the horror
+which grew in him as he gazed, trying to build back into life again that
+thing which once had been a man. For there was something about it which
+seemed different from those Egyptians of whom he had read. Slowly the
+vaguely-familiar features filled out, until Simpkins saw--not the
+swarthy, low-browed face of an Egyptian king, but the ruddy, handsome
+face of an Englishman, and--at last he was sure, a face like that of a
+photograph in his pocket. And in that same moment there went through his
+mind a sentence from the curious picture letter: "_That thing that I
+have to do is about done._"
+
+Already, in his absorption, he had started out from 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 appearance, that
+he might the more effectively describe her in his story. And what a
+splendid one it was! The Blavatsky "spread," with the opportunity which
+it afforded to ridicule two rather well-known women--that was good
+stuff; the scandal which had unfolded as he worked--that was better
+still; but this "mysterious murder," with its novel features--this was
+the superlative of excellence in Yellow Journalism. "Talk about Teddy's
+luck," thought the reporter; "how about the luck of Simp., old boy?"
+
+He looked at his watch anxiously. He had plenty of time--the paper did
+not go to press until two. Relieved, he glanced toward Mrs. Athelstone
+again. How still she was! She was taking an unreasonably long time about
+coming to! The shadows in the room began to creep in on him again, and
+to oppress him with a vague fear, now that he was sitting inactive. He
+got up, but just then the woman stirred, and he settled down again.
+
+Slowly she recovered consciousness and looked about her. Her eyes sought
+out Simpkins last, and as they rested on him a flash of anger lit them
+up. Simpkins returned their stare unflinchingly. They had quite lost
+their power over him.
+
+"So you're a thief, Simpkins--and I thought you looked so honest," she
+began at last, contempt in her voice.
+
+"Not at all," Simpkins answered, relieved and grateful that she had only
+suspected him of being a thief, that there had been no tears, no
+pleadings, no hysterics; "I'm nothing of the sort. I'm just your clerk."
+
+"Then, what are you doing here at this time of night? And why did you
+attack me? Why have you bound me?"
+
+"I'll be perfectly frank, Mrs. Athelstone." (Simpkins always prefaced
+a piece of duplicity by asseverating his innocence of guile.) "I've
+blundered on something in there," and he motioned vaguely toward the
+coffin, "that is reason enough for binding you and turning you over
+to the police, sorry as I should be to take such a step."
+
+"And that something?"
+
+"The body of your husband."
+
+"You beastly little cad," began Mrs. Athelstone, anger flaming in her
+face again. Then she stopped short, and her expression went to one of
+terror.
+
+The change was not lost on Simpkins. "That's better," he said. "If a
+fellow has to condone murder to meet your standards of what's a perfect
+little gentleman, you can count me out. Now, just you make up your mind
+that repartee won't take us anywhere, and let's get down to cases. There
+may be, I believe there are, extenuating circumstances. Tell him the
+whole truth and you'll find Simp. your friend, cad or no cad."
+
+As he talked, Mrs. Athelstone regained her composure, and when he was
+through she asked calmly enough: "And because you've blundered on
+something you don't understand, something that has aroused your silly
+suspicions, you would turn me over to the police?"
+
+"It's not a silly suspicion, Mrs. Athelstone, but a cinch. I know your
+husband was murdered there," and he pointed to the altar. "And you're
+not innocent, though how guilty morally I'm not ready to say. There may
+be something behind it all to change my present determination; that
+depends on whether you care to talk to me, or would rather wait and take
+the third degree at headquarters."
+
+"But you really have made a frightful mistake," she protested, not
+angrily now, but rather soothingly.
+
+"Then I'll have to call an officer; perhaps he can set us straight." And
+he stood up.
+
+"Sit down," she implored. "Let me explain."
+
+"That's the way to talk; you'll find it'll do you good to loosen up,"
+and Simpkins sat down, exulting that he was not to miss the most
+striking feature of his story. Until it was on the wire for Boston, and
+the New York papers had gone to press, he had as little use for officers
+as Mrs. Athelstone. "Remember," he added, as he leaned back to listen,
+"that I know enough now to pick out any fancy work."
+
+"It's really absurdly simple. The cemented surface of this mummy had
+been damaged, as you can see"----Mrs. Athelstone began, but Simpkins
+broke in roughly:
+
+"Come, come, there's no use doping out any more of that stuff to me. I
+want the facts. Tell me how Doctor Athelstone was killed or the Tombs
+for yours." He was on his feet now, shaking his fist at the woman, and
+he noticed with satisfaction that she had shrunk back in her chair till
+the linen bandages hung loosely across her breast.
+
+"Yes--yes--I'll tell," was the trembling answer; "only do sit down," and
+then after a moment's pause, in which she seemed to be striving to
+compose herself, she began:
+
+"I, sir, was a queen, Nefruari, whom they called the good and glorious
+woman." And she threw back her head proudly and paused.
+
+This was better than he had dared hope. Yet it was what he had
+half-believed; she was quite mad. He felt relieved at this final proof
+of it. After all, it would have hurt him to send this woman to "the
+chair"; but there would be no condemned cell for her; only the madhouse.
+It might be harder for her; but it made it easier for him. He nodded a
+grave encouragement for her to continue.
+
+"This is my mummy," she went on, nodding toward the gilded case, "the
+shell from which my soul fled three thousand years ago. Since then it
+has been upon its wanderings, living in birds and beasts, that the will
+of Osiris might be done."
+
+Again she paused, pleased, apparently, with the respectful interest
+which Simpkins showed. And, indeed, he was interested; for his reading
+on early Egyptian beliefs enabled him to follow the current of her
+madness and to trace it back to its sources. So he nodded again, and she
+continued:
+
+"Through all these weary centuries, Amosis, my husband, has been with
+me, first as king--ah! those days in hundred-gated Thebes--and when at
+last my soul lodged in this body he found me out again. As boy and girl
+we loved, as man and woman we were married. And the days that followed
+were as happy as those old days when we ruled an empire. Not that we
+remembered then. The memory of it all but just came back to me two
+months ago."
+
+"Did you tell the Doctor about it?" asked Simpkins, in the wheedling
+tone of a physician asking a child to put out her tongue.
+
+"I tried to stir his memory gently, by careless hints, a word dropped
+here and there, recalling some bright triumph of his reign, some
+splendid battle, but there was no response. And so I waited, hoping that
+of itself his memory might quicken, as mine had."
+
+"Did Brander know anything about this--er--extraordinary swapping around
+of souls?"
+
+"Not then----" began the woman, but Simpkins cut her short by jumping to
+his feet with a cry of "What's that!" and his voice was sharp with fear.
+For in that silent second, while he waited for her answer, he had heard
+a noise out in the hall, the sound of stealthy feet behind the veil, and
+he had seen the woman's eyes gleam triumph.
+
+Again the terror that had mastered him an hour before leaped into life,
+and quakingly he faced the darkness. But he saw nothing--only the
+shifting shadows, the crimson blotches crawling on the veil, and the
+vague outlines of the coffined dead.
+
+He looked back to the woman. Her face was masklike. It must have
+been a fancy, a vibration of his own tense nerves. But none the less,
+he rearranged the light, that while its rays shone clear on Mrs.
+Athelstone, he might be in the shadow, and set his chair back close
+against the wall, that both the woman and the hall might be well in his
+eye. And when he sat down again one hand clutched tight the butt of a
+revolver.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+"You seem strangely disturbed, Simpkins," said Mrs. Athelstone quietly;
+but he fancied that there was a note of malicious pleasure in her voice.
+"Has anything happened to alarm you?"
+
+"I thought I heard a slight noise, as if something were moving behind
+me. Perhaps a mummy was breaking out of its case," he answered, but his
+voice was scarcely steady enough for the flippancy of his speech.
+
+"Hardly that," was the serious answer; "but it might have been my cat,
+Rameses."
+
+"Not unless it was Rameses II., because--well, it didn't sound like a
+cat," he wound up, guiltily conscious of his other reason for certainty
+on this point. "Perhaps Isis has climbed down from her pedestal to
+stretch herself," and he smiled, but his eyes were anxious, and he shot
+a furtive glance toward the veil.
+
+"It's hardly probable," was the calm reply.
+
+"What? Can't the thing use its legs as well as its arms?"
+
+"Ah! then you know----"
+
+"Yes; she reached for me when I was dusting her off, but I kicked harder
+than Doctor Athelstone, I suppose, and so touched the spring twice."
+
+"You beast!"
+
+"Well, let it go at that," Simpkins assented. "And let's hear the rest."
+He was burning with impatience to reach the end and get away, back to
+noisy, crowded Broadway.
+
+But Mrs. Athelstone answered nothing, only looked off toward the altar.
+It almost seemed as if she waited for something.
+
+"Go on," commanded Simpkins, stirred to roughness by his growing
+uneasiness.
+
+"You will not leave while yet you may?" and her tone doubled the threat
+of her words.
+
+"No, not till I've heard it all," he answered doggedly, and gripped
+the butt of his revolver tighter. But though he told himself that her
+changed manner, this new confidence, this sudden indifference to his
+going, was the freak of a madwoman, down deep he felt that it portended
+some evil thing for him, knew it, and would not go, could not go; for he
+dared not pass the ambushed terror of that altar.
+
+"You still insist?" the woman asked with rising anger. "So be it. Learn
+then the fate of meddlers, of dogs who dare to penetrate the mysteries
+of Isis."
+
+Simpkins took his eyes from her face and glanced mechanically toward
+the veil. But he looked back suddenly, and caught her signalling with a
+swift motion of her head to something in the darkness. There could be
+no mistake this time. And following her eyes he saw a form, black and
+shapeless, steal along to the nearest post.
+
+Revolver in hand, he leaped up and back, upsetting his chair. The thing
+remained hidden. He cleared the partitioning sarcophagus at a bound,
+and, sliding and backing, reached the centre of the hall, never for one
+instant taking his eyes from that post or lowering his revolver. Step by
+step, back between the pillars, he retreated, stumbling toward the door
+and safety.
+
+Half-way, he heard the woman hiss: "Stop him! Don't let him escape!" And
+he saw the thing dart from behind the post. In the uncontrollable
+madness of his fear he hurled, instead of firing, his revolver at it,
+and turned and ran.
+
+Tapping lightly on the flags behind, he heard swift feet. It was coming,
+it was gaining, but he was at the door, through it and had slammed it
+safely behind him. A leap, a bound, and he was through the ante-chamber,
+and, as the door behind him opened, he was slipping out into the
+passageway. He went down the stairs in great jumps. Thank God! he had
+left the street door unlocked. But already the sound of pursuit had
+stopped, and he reached the open air safely.
+
+Down the deserted street to Broadway he ran. There he hailed a cab and
+directed the driver to the telegraph office. Then he leaned back and
+looked at the garish lights, the passing cabs, the theatre crowds
+hurrying along home, laughing and chatting as if the world held no such
+horror as that which he had just escaped. That madwoman's words rang
+through his brain, drowning out the voices of the street; the tapping of
+those flying feet sounded in his ears above the rattle of the cab. That
+or this must be unreal; yet how far off both seemed!
+
+Gradually the rough jolting of the cab shook him back to a sense of his
+surroundings and their safety. He began to regain his nerve, and to busy
+himself knotting the strands of the story into a connected narrative.
+And when, a few minutes later, he handed a message to the manager of the
+telegraph office and demanded a clear wire into the _Banner_
+office, he was quite the old breezy Simpkins.
+
+Then, coat off, a cigar between his teeth, he sat down beside the
+operator and began to write his story, his flying fingers keeping time
+with the clicking instrument. He made no mention of the fears that had
+beset him in the hall and the manner of his exit from it. But there was
+enough and to spare of the dramatic in what he sent. After a sensational
+half-column of introduction, fitting the murder on Mrs. Athelstone, and
+enlarging on the certainty of one's sin finding one out, provided it
+were assisted by a _Banner_ reporter, he swung into the detailed
+story, dwelling on the woman's madness and sliding over the details of
+the murder as much as possible.
+
+Then he described how, for more than a month, Mrs Athelstone had labored
+over the body, hiding it days in the empty case and dragging it out
+nights, until she had finished it, with the exception of some detail
+about the head, into a faithful replica of the mummy of Amosis, the
+original of which she had no doubt burned. It all made a vivid story;
+for never had his imagination been in such working order, and never had
+it responded more generously to his demands upon it. About two in the
+morning he finished his third column and concluded his story with:
+
+"So this awful confession of madness and murder ended. I left the woman
+bound and helpless, sitting in her chair, her victim at her feet, to
+wait the coming of the police." Then he added to Naylor personally,
+"Going notify police headquarters now and go back to hall."
+
+Naylor, who had been reading the copy page by page as it came from the
+wire, and who, naturally, was taking a mere cold-blooded view of the
+case than Simpkins, telegraphed back:
+
+"What share did Brander have in actual murder? You don't bring that out
+in story."
+
+"Couldn't get it out of her," Simpkins sent back, truthfully enough.
+
+"Find out," was the answer. "Get back to hall quick. Brander may have
+looked in to help Mrs. A. with her night work while you were gone. Will
+hold enough men for an extra."
+
+Simpkins called a cab and started for police headquarters at breakneck
+speed, but on the way he stopped at Brander's rooms; for a miserable
+suspicion was growing in his brain. "If that really was Isis," he was
+thinking, "it's funny she didn't nail me before I got to the door, even
+with the start I had."
+
+On his representation that he had called on a matter of life and death,
+the janitor admitted him to Brander's rooms. They were empty, and the
+bed had not been slept in.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+It was just after three o'clock when Simpkins, an officer on either
+side, entered the Oriental Building again, and hurried up the stairs to
+the Society's office.
+
+There they were halted, for Simpkins had left his key sticking in
+the spring lock inside and slammed the door behind him, a piece of
+carelessness over which the officers were greatly exercised; for he had
+not confided to them that he had started off in a hurry. In the end,
+they sent the door crashing in with their shoulders and preceded
+Simpkins--and he was scrupulously polite about this--into the
+ante-chamber.
+
+There an incandescent lamp over the youth's desk gave them light and
+Simpkins momentary relief. The men used hard language when they found
+the second door in the same condition as the first, but Simpkins took
+their rating meekly. They tried their shoulders again, but the oak was
+stout and long withstood their assaults. When at last it yielded it gave
+way suddenly, and they all tumbled pell-mell into the hall. Simpkins
+jumped up with incredible agility, and was back in the lighted
+ante-chamber before the others had struggled to their feet. Suddenly
+they stopped swearing. They looked around them. Then they, too, stepped
+back into the ante-chamber.
+
+"Ain't there any way of lighting this place?" asked one of them rather
+sullenly.
+
+"Nothing but three incandescents over the desks," answered Simpkins.
+
+"Use your lantern then, Tom; come on now, young feller, and show us
+where this woman is," he said roughly, and he pushed Simpkins through
+the door.
+
+As the officers followed him, he fell back between them and linked
+his arms through theirs. And silently they advanced on the altar, a
+grotesque and rather unsteady trio, the bull's eyes on either side
+flashing ahead into the darkness.
+
+"The lamp's still burning," whispered Simpkins. They were far enough
+into the hall now to see the glow from it in the corner. "Flash your
+lights around those pillars, boys. There, over there!"
+
+The bull's eyes jumped about searching her out. "There! now! Hold
+still!" cried Simpkins as they focused on the chair.
+
+The black mummy lay as he had left it, the cloth still on the face, but
+the chair was empty. Straight to the veil the reporter ran, and pulled
+the cord. Light broke from above, and beat down on an altar heaped with
+dying roses and the statue of a woman, smiling. And at her feet there
+crouched a great black cat, that arched its back and snarled at
+Simpkins.
+
+Beyond, the lights were still burning in Mrs. Athelstone's apartment,
+but there was no one in the rooms. Some opened drawers in the bureau and
+the absence of her toilet articles from the table told of preparations
+for a hasty flight.
+
+They did not linger long over their examination of the rooms. But after
+replacing the broken doors as best they could and sealing them, they
+went out by the main entrance to question the watchman, whom they found
+dozing in his chair.
+
+Had he seen anything of Mrs. Athelstone? Sure; he'd called a cab for her
+about an hour ago and she'd driven off with her brother.
+
+"Her brother!" echoed Simpkins.
+
+"Yep," yawned the watchman; "you know him--parson--Doctor Brander.
+What's up?"
+
+"Nothing," Simpkins returned sourly, but to himself he added, "Oh,
+hell!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+Once in the street again, after a word of explanation to the watchman,
+the officers and Simpkins separated, they to report and send out an
+alarm for Mrs. Athelstone and Brander, he to call up his office before
+rejoining them. His exultation over his beat was keyed somewhat lower,
+now that he understood what Brander's real interest in Mrs. Athelstone
+was. Mentally, he wrung the neck of Buttons for not having known it;
+figuratively, he kicked himself for not having guessed it; literally, he
+damned his employers for their British reserve, their cool assumption
+that because he was their clerk he was not interested in their family
+affairs. "Cuss 'em for snobs," he wound up finally, a deep sense of his
+personal grievance stirring his sociable Yankee soul.
+
+Of course, this sickening brother and sister business wouldn't touch the
+main fact of the story, but it knocked the "love motive" and the "heart
+interest" higher than a kite, utterly ruining some of his prettiest bits
+of writing, besides letting him in for a call-down from Naylor. Still,
+the old man couldn't be very hard on him--he'd understand that some
+trifling little inaccuracies were bound to creep into a great big story
+like this, dug out and worked up by one man.
+
+At this more cheerful conclusion, a newsboy, crying his bundle of still
+damp papers, came along, and Simpkins hailed him eagerly. Standing under
+a lamp on the corner, skipping from front page to back, then from head
+to head inside, with an eye skilled to catch at a glance the stories
+which a loathed contemporary had that the _Banner_ had missed, he
+ran through the bunch. The _Sun_--not a line about Athelstone in
+it. Bully! The _American_--he was a little afraid of the _American_.
+Safe again. The _World_--Sam Blythe's humorous descriptive story of the
+convention led. He stopped to pity Sam and the New York papers, as he
+thought of the Boston newsboys, crying his magnificent beat, till all
+Washington Street rang with the glory of it. And he could see the
+fellows in Mrs. Atkinson's, letting their coffee grow cold as they
+devoured the _Banner_, stopping only here and there to call across
+to each other: "Good work, Simp., old boy! Great story!"
+
+Then--Simpkins turned the page. Accident--ten killed--bank
+robbed--caught--Mrs. Jones gets divorce.... What!
+
+
+      NOTED SCIENTIST SECURES IMPORTANT RIGHTS
+    DOCTOR ATHELSTONE ARRANGES FOR ROYAL SOCIETY
+           TO EXPLOIT RECENT DISCOVERIES
+
+
+Simpkins stuttered around for an exclamation; then looked up weakly.
+Instinct started him on the run for the nearest long-distance telephone,
+but before he had gone twenty feet he stopped. The paper was long since
+off press and distributed. He had no desire to know what Naylor was
+saying. He could not even guess. There are heights to which the
+imagination cannot aspire.
+
+Then came a faint ray of hope. That was an Associated Press dispatch--a
+late one probably. But if it had reached the New York papers in time to
+catch the edition, Naylor must have received it soon enough to kill his
+story. But even as this hope came it went. The news interest of the
+dispatch was largely local. Doubtless it had been sent out only to the
+New York papers.
+
+Simpkins forced himself to read the body of the message now, although he
+gagged over every line of it:
+
+
+  London, etc. Dr. Alfred W.R. Athelstone, well known in London as the
+  president of the American branch of the Royal Society of Egyptian
+  Exploration and Research, arrived here this morning and is stopping
+  at the Carlton. He announces that the Khedive has been graciously
+  pleased to grant to his society the sole right to excavate the tombs
+  recently discovered by one of its agents in the Karnak region. Doctor
+  Athelstone left home quietly some weeks ago, and held back any
+  announcement of the discoveries, which promise to be very important,
+  while the negotiations, now brought to a happy conclusion, were
+  pending. He sails for New York on the Campania tomorrow.
+
+
+"Do I go off half-cocked? Am I yellow? Is a pup yellow?" groaned
+Simpkins, and he started off aimlessly toward the park, fighting his
+Waterloo over again and counting up his losses. That foolish, foolish
+letter! Why had he soiled his fingers by opening it! Of course, that
+line which loomed so large and fine in his story, that pointed the
+impressive finger of Fate at Crime, "_That thing that I have to do is
+about done!_" referred to Doctor Athelstone's silly negotiations. The
+letter must have been from him. Now, who could have known that a grown
+man would indulge in such fool monkey-business as writing love-letters
+in hieroglyphics to his own wife?... And that blame black mummy. Back to
+darkest Africa for his! If any one ever said mummy to him there'd be
+murder done, all right. Oh, for the happy ignorance of those days when
+he knew nothing about Egypt except that it was the place from which the
+cigarettes came!... Brander, no doubt, had gone out to send a cablegram
+of congratulation to Doctor Athelstone, and while he was away the woman
+had started in to repair a crack in that precious old Amosis of hers.
+Perhaps the moths had got into him! "And she thought that I was crazy,
+and was stringing me along, waiting till the Nile Duck got back,"
+muttered the reporter, stopping short in his agony. "Oh! you're guessing
+good now, Simp., all right, because there's only one way to guess." And
+as he started along again he concluded: "Damn it! even the cat came
+back!"
+
+If there was one thing in all the world that Simpkins did not want to
+see it was a copy of the _Banner_ with that awful story of his
+staring out at him from the first page, headed and played up with all
+the brutal skill in handling type of which Naylor was a master; but he
+felt himself drawn irresistibly to the Grand Central Station, where the
+Boston papers would first be put on sale.
+
+Half an hour to wait. Gad! He could never go back and face Naylor!...
+Libel! Why, there wasn't money enough in the world to pay the damages
+the Athelstones would get against the paper. He'd take just one look at
+it and then catch the first train for Chicago. Perhaps he could get a
+job there digging sewers, or selling ribbons in Fields', or start a
+school of journalism. Any old thing, if they didn't nab him and put him
+in Bloomingdale before he could get away.... He made for the street
+again. He wouldn't look at the _Banner_. What malignant little
+devils the types were when they shouted your sins, not another fellow's,
+from the front page, or whispered them in a stage aside from some little
+paragraph in an obscure corner of the paper--a corner that the whole
+world looked into. Hell, he'd get out of the filthy business! Think of
+the light and frolicsome way in which he'd written up domestic scandals,
+the entertaining specials he'd turned out on unfaithful husbands, the
+snappy columns on unhappy wives, careless of the cost of his sensation
+in blood and tears! And now they'd write him up--Naylor would attend to
+that editorial himself, and do it in his most virtuous style--and brand
+him as a fakir, a liar, and a yellow dog.
+
+Simpkins was back at the news-stand again and there were the Boston
+papers. He snatched a _Banner_ from the top of the pile. No, he
+must have the wrong paper. He tore through it from front to back and
+then to front again, his heart bounding with joy. There was not a line
+of his story in it. They had received that Associated Press dispatch,
+after all. Yes, there it was, but oh, how differently it looked! It
+spelt damnation an hour ago, it meant salvation now.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After all, hadn't his mistake been a natural one? Hadn't he done his
+best for the paper? Wasn't it his duty to run down a lead like that?
+He'd made errors of judgment, perhaps, but he'd like to see the man who
+wouldn't have under the circumstances. Of course, mistakes would creep
+in occasionally and give innocent people the worst of it, but look at
+the good he'd done in his life by exposing scoundrels. How could he, how
+could any man, have acted differently who was loyal to his paper, whose
+first interests were the public good? If Naylor didn't appreciate a star
+man when he had him, he thought he knew an editor or two who did. Simp.,
+old boy, wasn't going to starve.... Starve? It had been hungry work, so
+he'd just step across to the Manhattan, get a bite of breakfast, and
+look up the trains to Boston.
+
+Naylor did know a good man when he had him, and likewise--quite as
+valuable a bit of knowledge--he knew when a man had had enough. So when
+Simpkins sat down that afternoon to tell him his experiences, he only
+smiled quizzically as the reporter wound up by asking, "Now, what do
+_you_ think?" and answered:
+
+"Well, for one thing, I think it did you a power of good to look behind
+that veil, because I reckon that for once in your life you've told me
+the truth as near as you know how."
+
+"No, but aside from this pleasant personal conclusion," persisted
+Simpkins, modestly shedding the compliment.
+
+"Well, I guess we won't bother with the Blavatsky story just now, but
+here's a clipping about a woman who's discovered what she calls soul
+aura--says we've got red, white and blue souls and all that sort of
+stuff. You're our soul expert now, so go over to the City Hall and ask
+the mayor and any politicians you meet what's the color of their souls.
+It ought to make a fair Sunday special." And Naylor swung around to his
+desk, for the city editor had just told him that the headless trunk of a
+woman had been picked up in the river--a find that promised a good
+story--and a newspaper man cannot waste time on yesterday.
+
+Simpkins' face fell. That he had not been assigned to find the head was,
+he knew, the beginning of his punishment. But as he walked down the
+dingy hall to the street his step became more buoyant, and once in the
+open air he started off eager and smiling. For a good opening sentence
+was already shaping in his head, and as he stepped into the City Hall he
+was repeating to himself:
+
+"Yesterday, when the Mayor was asked, 'What is the color of your soul?'
+he returned his stereotyped 'Nothing to give out on that subject,' and
+then added, 'But it would be violating no confidence to tell you that
+Boss Coonahan's is black.'"
+
+To Simpkins it had been given to lift the veil and to know the truth;
+yet he was back again serving the false gods.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+WHERE LOVE CONQUERS.
+
+
+The Reckoning.
+
+By Robert W. Chambers.
+
+
+The author's intention is to treat, in a series of four or five
+romances, that part of the war for independence which particularly
+affected the great landed families of northern New York, the Johnsons,
+represented by Sir William, Sir John, Guy Johnson, and Colonel Claus;
+the notorious Butlers, father and son, the Schuylers, Van Rensselaers,
+and others.
+
+The first romance of the series, Cardigan, was followed by the second,
+The Maid-at-Arms. The third, in order, is not completed. The fourth is
+the present volume.
+
+As Cardigan pretended to portray life on the baronial estate of Sir
+William Johnson, the first uneasiness concerning the coming trouble, the
+first discordant note struck in the harmonious councils of the Long
+House, so, in The Maid-at-Arms, which followed in order, the author
+attempted to paint a patroon family disturbed by the approaching rumble
+of battle. That romance dealt with the first serious split in the
+Iroquois Confederacy; it showed the Long House shattered though not
+fallen; the demoralization and final flight of the great landed families
+who remained loyal to the British Crown; and it struck the key-note to
+the future attitude of the Iroquois toward the patriots of the
+frontier--revenge for their losses at the battle of Oriskany--and ended
+with the march of the militia and continental troops on Saratoga.
+
+The third romance, as yet incomplete and unpublished, deals with the
+war-path and those who followed it led by the landed gentry of Tryon
+County; and ends with the first solid blow delivered at the Long House,
+and the terrible punishment of the Great Confederacy.
+
+The present romance, the fourth in chronological order, picks up the
+thread at that point.
+
+The author is not conscious of having taken any liberties with history
+in preparing a framework of facts for a mantle of romance.
+
+  Robert W. Chambers.
+
+  NEW YORK, _May 26, 1904_.
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+WORKS OF ROBERT W. CHAMBERS.
+
+
+IOLE
+
+Colored inlay on the cover, decorative borders, head-pieces, thumb-nail
+sketches, and tail-pieces. Frontispiece and three full-page
+illustrations. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.25.
+
+Does anybody remember the opera of The Inca, and that heart-breaking
+episode where the Court Undertaker, in a morbid desire to increase his
+professional skill, deliberately accomplishes the destruction of his
+middle-aged relatives in order to inter them for the sake of practice?
+
+If I recollect, his dismal confession runs something like this:
+
+  "It was in bleak November
+  When I slew them, I remember,
+  As I caught them unawares
+  Drinking tea in rocking-chairs."
+
+
+And so he talked them to death, the subject being "What Really Is Art?"
+Afterward he was sorry--
+
+    "The squeak of a door,
+    The creak of a floor,
+  My horrors and fears enhance;
+    And I wake with a scream
+    As I hear in my dream
+  The shrieks of my maiden aunts!"
+
+
+Now it is a very dreadful thing to suggest that those highly respectable
+pseudo-spinsters, the Sister Arts, supposedly cozily immune in their
+polygamous chastity (for every suitor for favor is popularly expected to
+be wedded to his particular art)--I repeat, it is very dreadful to
+suggest that these impeccable old ladies are in danger of being talked
+to death.
+
+But the talkers are talking and Art Nouveau rockers are rocking, and the
+trousers of the prophet are patched with stained glass, and it is a day
+of dinkiness and of thumbs.
+
+Let us find comfort in the ancient proverb: "Art talked to death shall
+rise again." Let us also recollect that "Dinky is as dinky does;" that
+"All is not Shaw that Bernards;" that "Better Yeates than Clever;" that
+words are so inexpensive that there is no moral crime in robbing Henry
+to pay James.
+
+Firmly believing all this, abjuring all atom-pickers, slab furniture,
+and woodchuck literature--save only the immortal verse:
+
+  "And there the wooden-chuck doth tread;
+    While from the oak trees' tops
+  The red, red squirrel on the head
+    The frequent acorn drops."
+
+
+Abjuring, as I say, dinkiness in all its forms, we may still hope that
+those cleanly and respectable spinsters, the Sister Arts, will continue
+throughout the ages, rocking and drinking tea unterrified by the
+million-tongued clamor in the back yard and below stairs, where thumb
+and forefinger continue the question demanded by intellectual
+exhaustion:
+
+"L'arr! Kesker say l'arr?"
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+THE MASTERPIECE OF A MASTER MIND.
+
+
+The Prodigal Son.
+
+By Hall Caine. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
+
+
+"The Prodigal Son" follows the lines of the Bible parable in the
+principal incidents, but in certain important particulars it departs
+from them. In a most convincing way, and with rare beauty, the story
+shows that Christ's parable is a picture of heavenly mercy, and not of
+human justice, and if it were used as an example of conduct among men it
+would destroy all social conditions and disturb accepted laws of
+justice. The book is full of movement and incident, and must appeal to
+the public by its dramatic story alone. The Prodigal Son at the close of
+the book has learned this great lesson, and the meaning of the parable
+is revealed to him. Neither success nor fame can ever wipe out the evil
+of the past. It is not from the unalterable laws of nature and life that
+forgiveness can be hoped for.
+
+"Since 'The Manxman' Hall Caine has written nothing so moving in its
+elements of pathos and tragedy, so plainly marked with the power to
+search the human heart and reveal its secret springs of strength and
+weakness, its passion and strife, so sincere and satisfying as 'The
+Prodigal Son.'"--_New York Times_.
+
+"It is done with supreme self-confidence, and the result is a work of
+genius."--_New York Evening Post_.
+
+"'The Prodigal Son' will hold the reader's attention from cover to
+cover."--_Philadelphia Record_.
+
+"This is one of Hall Caine's best novels--one that a large portion of
+the fiction-reading public will thoroughly enjoy."--_Chicago
+Record-Herald_.
+
+"It is a notable piece of fiction."--_Philadelphia Inquirer_.
+
+"In 'The Prodigal Son' Hall Caine has produced his greatest
+work.'--_Boston Herald_.
+
+"Mr. Caine has achieved a work of extraordinary merit, a fiction as
+finely conceived, as deftly constructed, as some of the best work of our
+living novelists."--_London Daily Mail_.
+
+"'The Prodigal Son' is indeed a notable novel; and a work that may
+certainly rank with the best of recent fiction...."--_Westminster
+Gazette_.
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+"A beautiful romance of the days of Robert Burns."
+
+
+Nancy Stair.
+
+A Novel. By Elinor Macartney Lane, author of "Mills of God."
+Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
+
+"With very much the grace and charm of Robert Louis Stevenson, the
+author of 'The Life of Nancy Stair' combines unusual gifts of narrative,
+characterization, color, and humor. She has also delicacy, dramatic
+quality, and that rare gift--historic imagination.
+
+"'The Life of Nancy Stair' is interesting from the first sentence to the
+last; the characters are vital and are, also, most entertaining company;
+the denouement unexpected and picturesque and cleverly led up to from
+one of the earliest chapters; the story moves swiftly and without a
+hitch. Robert Burns is neither idealized nor caricatured; Sandy, Jock,
+Pitcairn, Danvers Carmichael, and the Duke of Borthewicke are admirably
+relieved against each other, and Nancy herself as irresistible as she is
+natural. To be sure, she is a wonderful child, but then she manages to
+make you believe she was a real one. Indeed, reality and naturalness are
+two of the charms of a story that both reaches the heart and engages the
+mind, and which can scarcely fail to make for itself a large audience. A
+great deal of delightful talk and interesting incidents are used for the
+development of the story. Whoever reads it will advise everybody he
+knows to read it; and those who do not care for its literary quality
+cannot escape the interest of a love-story full of incident and
+atmosphere."
+
+"Powerfully and attractively written."--_Pittsburg Post_.
+
+"A story best described with the word 'charming.'"--_Washington Post_.
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+WIT, SPARKLING, SCINTILLATING WIT, IS THE ESSENCE OF
+
+
+Kate of Kate Hall,
+
+By Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler, whose reputation was made by her first
+book, "Concerning Isabel Carnaby," and enhanced by her last success,
+"Place and Power."
+
+"In 'Kate of Kate Hall,' by Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler, the question of
+imminent concern is the marriage of super-dainty, peppery-tempered Lady
+Katherine Clare, whose wealthy godmother, erstwhile deceased, has left
+her a vast fortune, on condition that she shall be wedded within six
+calendar months from date of the testator's death.
+
+"An easy matter, it would seem, for bonny Kate, notwithstanding her
+aptness at sharp repartee, is a morsel fit for the gods.
+
+"The accepted suitor appears in due time; but comes to grief at the last
+moment in a quarrel with Lady Kate over a kiss bestowed by her upon her
+godmother's former man of affairs and secretary. This incident she
+haughtily refuses to explain. Moreover, she shatters the bond of
+engagement, although but three weeks remain of the fatal six months. She
+would rather break stones on the road all day and sleep in a pauper's
+grave all night, than marry a man who, while professing to love her,
+would listen to mean and malicious gossips picked up by tell-tales in
+the servants' hall.
+
+"So the great estate is likely to be lost to Kate and her debt-ridden
+father, Lord Claverley. How it is conserved at last, and gloomy
+apprehension chased away by dazzling visions of material splendor--that
+is the author's well-kept secret, not to be shared here with a careless
+and indolent public."--_Philadelphia North American._
+
+"The long-standing reproach that women are seldom humorists seems in a
+fair way of passing out of existence. Several contemporary feminine
+writers have at least sufficient sense of humor to produce characters as
+deliciously humorous as delightful. Of such order is the Countess
+Claverley, made whimsically real and lovable in the recent book by Ellen
+Thorneycroft Fowler and A.L. Felkin, 'Kate of Kate Hall.'"--_Chicago
+Record-Herald._
+
+"'Kate of Kate Hall' is a novel in which Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler
+displays her brilliant abilities at their best. The story is well
+constructed, the plot develops beautifully, the incidents are varied and
+brisk, and the dialogue is deliciously clever."--_Rochester Democrat
+and Chronicle._
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LOVE. MYSTERY. VENICE.
+
+
+The Clock and the Key.
+
+By Arthur Henry Vesey. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
+
+This is a tale of a mystery connected with an old clock. The lover, an
+American man of means, is startled out of his sensuous, inactive life in
+Venice by his lady-love's scorn for his indolence. She begs of him to
+perform any task that will prove his persistence and worth. With the
+charm of Venice as a background, one follows the adventures of the lover
+endeavoring to read the puzzling hints of the old clock as to the
+whereabouts of the famous jewels of many centuries ago. After following
+many false clues the lover ultimately solves the mystery, triumphs over
+his rivals, and wins the girl.
+
+AMERICA.
+
+"For an absorbing story it would be hard to beat."--_Harper's
+Weekly._
+
+ENGLAND.
+
+"It will hold the reader till the last page."--_London Times._
+
+SCOTLAND.
+
+"It would hardly suffer by comparison with Poe's immortal 'Gold
+Bug.'"_--Glasgow Herald._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NORTH.
+
+"It ought to make a record."--_Montreal Sun._
+
+SOUTH.
+
+"It is as fascinating in its way as the Sherlock Holmes
+stories--charming--unique."--_New Orleans Picayune._
+
+EAST.
+
+"Don't fail to get it."--_New York Sun._
+
+WEST.
+
+"About the most ingeniously constructed bit of sensational fiction that
+ever made the weary hours speed."--_St. Paul Pioneer Press._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"If you want a thrilling story of intrigue and mystery, which will cause
+you to burn the midnight oil until the last page is finished, read 'The
+Clock and the Key.'"--_Milwaukee Wisconsin._
+
+"One of the most highly exciting and ingenious stories we have read for
+a long time is 'The Clock and the Key.'"--_London Mail._
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+A GOOD AUTOMOBILE STORY.
+
+
+Baby Bullet.
+
+By Lloyd Osbourne, Author of "The Motor-maniacs." Illustrated.
+12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
+
+This is the jolliest, most delightfully humorous love story that has
+been written in the last ten years. Baby Bullet is an "orphan
+automobile." It is all through the adoption of Baby Bullet by her
+travelling companion that a dear, sweet, human modern girl meets a very
+nice young man, and a double romance is begun and finished on an
+automobiling tour through England.
+
+"The story is smoothly written, full of action and healthful
+fun."--_Philadelphia Public Ledger._
+
+"'Baby Bullet' is without doubt the best written and most entertaining
+automobile story yet published. The most enjoyable feature of this book
+is its genuine, unforced humor, which finds expression not only in
+ludicrous situations, but in bright and spirited dialogue, keen
+observation and natural characterization.'--_St. Paul Dispatch._
+
+"Certain stories there are that a man fervently wishes he might claim as
+his own. Of these, 'Baby Bullet' is one."--_Baltimore Sun._
+
+"It is broad comedy, full of adventurous fun, clever and effective. The
+tale is fascinating from the start. The adventures of Baby Bullet are
+distinctly funny."--_New York Sun._
+
+"The characters are lightly drawn, but with great humor. It is a story
+that refreshes a tired brain and provokes a light heart."--_Chicago
+Tribune._
+
+"It is a most satisfying and humorous narrative."--_Indianapolis
+News._
+
+"One of the funniest scenes in recent fiction is the escape of the
+automobile party from the peroxide blonde who has answered their
+advertisement for a chaperon."--_San Francisco Chronicle._
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+A SPLENDID NEWSPAPER YARN.
+
+
+A Yellow Journalist.
+
+By Miriam Michelson, Author of "In the Bishop's Carriage," etc.
+Illustrated. 12mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
+
+This novel has the true newspaper thrill in it from beginning to end.
+The intense desire to "cover" one's assignment completely and well is
+brought out in the midst of the melodramatic atmosphere in which a
+modern newspaper woman must live. The stories are all true to life, and
+mixed with the excitement there is a wealth of humor and pathos.
+
+"There is a dash about 'A Yellow Journalist' that exhilarates like a
+fresh breeze on a sharp winter morning."--_Chicago Record-Herald_.
+
+"The book is bright and entertaining."--_Minneapolis Tribune_.
+
+"There are just a few writers who have succeeded in reducing to paper
+the atmosphere of a newspaper office, and since the appearance of 'A
+Yellow Journalist,' Miriam Michelson must be numbered among
+them."--_The Bookman_.
+
+"Miss Michelson's work has found great favor. The stories contained in
+this book are characteristic."--_Philadelphia Public Ledger_.
+
+"Only one with the genuine journalistic instinct, who has agonized over
+a story and known the ecstacy of a 'beat' and the anguish of being beat,
+can write of news-gathering as Miss Michelson does. But she has other
+good qualities in addition to these--a good dramatic instinct, a piquant
+humor, and a knowledge of human nature. The fourteen chapters of 'A
+Yellow Journalist' are mighty interesting reading."--_Baltimore
+News_.
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FALSE GODS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 17020.txt or 17020.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/2/17020
+
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
diff --git a/17020.zip b/17020.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..748707f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/17020.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..29a25fb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #17020 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17020)