d the great seated
statues, until we found ourselves, almost without the exercise of our
volition, in the upper room amidst the glaring mummy cases that had
witnessed the birth of my friendship with Ruth Bellingham.

"Before I leave you," said Mr. Jellicoe, "I should like to show you
that mummy that we were discussing the other evening; the one, you
remember, that my friend, John Bellingham, presented to the Museum a
little time before his disappearance. The point that I mentioned is
only a trivial one, but it may become of interest hereafter if any
plausible explanation should be forthcoming." He led us along the room
until we arrived at the case containing John Bellingham's gift, where
he halted and gazed in at the mummy with the affectionate
reflectiveness of the connoisseur.

"The bitumen coating was what we were discussing, Miss Bellingham,"
said he. "You have seen it, of course."

"Yes," she answered. "It is a dreadful disfigurement, isn't it?"

"Esthetically it is to be deplored, but it adds a certain speculative
interest to the specimen. You notice that the black coating leaves the
principal decoration and the whole of the inscription untouched, which
is precisely the part that one would expect to find covered up; whereas
the feet and the back, which probably bore no writing, are quite
thickly crusted. If you stoop down, you can see that the bitumen was
daubed freely into the lacings of the back, where it served no purpose,
so that even the strings are embedded." He stooped as he spoke, and
peered up inquisitively at the back of the mummy, where it was visible
between the supports.

"Has Doctor Norbury any explanation to offer?" asked Miss Bellingham.

"None whatever," replied Mr. Jellicoe. "He finds it as great a mystery
as I do. But he thinks that we may get some suggestion from the
Director when he comes back. He is a very great authority, as you
know, and a practical excavator of great experience too. But I mustn't
stay here talking of these things, and keeping you from your pottery.
Perhaps I have stayed too long already. If I have I ask your pardon,
and I will now wish you a very good afternoon." With a sudden return
to his customary wooden impassivity, he shook hands with us, bowed
stiffly, and took himself off toward the curator's office.

"What a strange man that is," said Miss Bellingham, as Mr. Jellicoe
disappeared through the doorway at the end of the room, "or perhaps I
should s