“Really from your appearance you might have seen the Ragnall ghost, or be going to be married against your will, or—­I don’t know what.  Also you have forgotten to fasten your tie.”

I looked in the glass.  It was true, for there hung the ends down my shirt front.  Then I struggled with the wretched thing until at last she had to help me, which she did laughing softly.  Somehow her touch gave me confidence again and enabled me to say quite boldly that I only wanted my dinner.

“Yes,” she replied, “but you are not to eat much and you must only drink water.  The priestesses in Kendah Land told me that this was necessary before taking Taduki in its strongest form, as we are going to do to-night.  You know the prophet Harut only gave us the merest whiff in this room years ago.”

I groaned and she laughed again.

That dinner with nothing to drink, although to avoid suspicion I let Moxley fill my glass once or twice, and little to eat for my appetite had vanished, went by like a bad dream.  I recall no more about it until I heard Lady Ragnall tell Moxley to see that there was a good fire in the museum where we were going to study that night and must not be disturbed.

Another minute and I was automatically opening the door for her.  As she passed she paused to do something to her dress and whispered,

“Come in a quarter of an hour.  Mind—­no port which clouds the intellect.”

“I have none left to cloud,” I remarked after her.

Then I went back and sat by the fire feeling most miserable and staring at the decanters, for never in my life do I remember wanting a bottle of wine more.  The big clock ticked and ticked and at last chimed the quarter, jarring on my nerves in that great lonely banqueting hall.  Then I rose and crept upstairs like an evil-doer and it seemed to me that the servants in the hall looked on me with suspicion, as well they might.

I reached the museum and found it brilliantly lit, but empty except for the cheerful company of the two mummies who also appeared to regard me with gleaming but doubtful eyes.  So I sat down there in front of the fire, not even daring to smoke lest tobacco should complicate Taduki.

Presently I heard a low sound of laughter, looked up and nearly fell backwards, that is, metaphorically, for the chair prevented such a physical collapse.

It was not wonderful since before me, like a bride of ancient days adorned for her husband, stood the goddess Isis—­white robes, feathered headdress, ancient bracelets, gold-studded sandals on bare feet, scented hair, ruby necklace and all the rest.  I stared, then there burst from me words which were the last I meant to say,

“Great Heavens! how beautiful you are.”

“Am I?” she asked.  “I am glad,” and she glided across the room and locked the door.

“Now,” she said, returning, “we had better get to business, that is unless you would like to worship the goddess Isis a little first, to bring yourself into a proper frame of mind, you know.”