The birds seemed to have gone mad. They swooped down upon us with the utmost fearlessness, yet it was not we who seemed to be the object of their attack. They were apparently imbued with the sole determination of getting inside the house. I saw Neil seize one of them in his hands and almost rend the head from the body. It fluttered out through the doorway, and then, as if magically recovering, soared on high and swooped down at us again.
I did my best against the evil-smelling feathered throng, but my face and hands were quickly a mass of scratches as the talons tore at me.
Then somehow we had won. The last of the winged intruders had been driven from the house, and Neil had dragged me inside and closed the door. For a few moments the foul birds fluttered against it, then soared away.
At the same moment I heard one of the hounds in Doctor Coyne's sanitarium give tongue, then another and another. And I became aware that the sun had set, and darkness was fast settling about us.
I stared at Neil, who was covered with scratches too.
"Well, we kept them out, Jim," he said. "Better come up to the bathroom and let's put some iodine on these scratches."
"Why don't you shoot those birds?" I asked him. "They must be mad."
"They—don't die, Jim," answered Neil. "That's the trouble. I'll—tell you about it."
CHAPTER II
The Curse of Egypt
AFTER we had washed and disinfected our scratches, Neil led the way down to the ground floor of the building. We passed through a poorly furnished living room, filled with the ugly furniture of the seventies, fitted up with bookcases filled with books, which seemed to deal principally with Egyptology and medieval works on astrology and such subjects. Thence through another room, and so into a very long room at the back, which must once have been some kind of storeroom.
It was built entirely of stone, and the numerous windows were heavily shuttered, the shutters being kept in place with iron bars.
Neil switched on a cluster of electric lights in the ceiling, and I perceived that this was his museum. The room was filled with priceless trophies that he had brought back from Egypt. There were two chairs from a tomb, papyrus scrolls, a glass cabinet with various objects resting upon shelves. The room was filled with the pungent odor of spices.
I hardly noticed any of these things, however. My attention was immediately riveted upon five wooden caskets, mummy cases, placed on a dais against the wall and held in position by brackets. On the exterior of each was beautifully painted the representation of the body within.
One of these was the painting of a girl, of such exquisite and noble beauty that I could hardly take my eyes away from it.
You know how closely the ancient Egyptian type approximates to certain of the finest types of to-day. Except that the eyes were conventionally too large, the lineaments were perfect. The little, slightly tilted nose, the small chin, the expression of breeding, of a certain wistfulness, the success of the ideal that the artist had endeavored to portray almost took away my breath.
I saw Neil looking at me and smiling slightly. For the first time he looked more like his old self than the haggard, grim-faced man
