d revolver.
A somewhat dishevelled figure, pale and wild-eyed, he made his way
through the private door and into the ghostly precincts of the
Museum. He did not hesitate, but ascended the stairs and unlocked
the door of the Assyrian gallery.

Along its ghostly aisles he passed, and before the door which gave
admittance to the Burton Room paused, fumbling a moment for the
key.

Inside the room something was moving!

Mostyn was keenly alarmed; he knew that he must enter at once or
never. He inserted the key in the lock, swung open the heavy door,
stepped through and closed it behind him. He was a man of
tremendous moral courage, for now,--alone in the apartment which
harboured the uncanny relic, alone in the discharge of his duty,
he stood with his back to the door trembling slightly, but with
the idea of retreat finding no place in his mind.

One side of the room lay in blackest darkness; through the
furthermost window of the other a faint yellowed luminance (the
moonlight through the blind) spread upon the polished parquet
flooring. But that which held the curator spell-bound--that which
momentarily quickened into life the latent superstition, common to
all mankind, was a beam of cold light which poured its effulgence
fully upon the case containing the Prophet's slipper! Where the
other exhibits lay either in utter darkness or semi-darkness this
one it seemed was supernaturally picked out by this lunar
searchlight!

It was ghostly-unnerving; but, the first dread of it passed, Mostyn
recalled how during the day a hole inexplicably had been cut in
that blind; he recalled that it had not been mended, but that the
damaged blind had merely been rolled up again.

And as a dawning perception of the truth came to him, as falteringly
he advanced a step toward the mystic beam, he saw that one side of
the case had been shattered--he saw the broken glass upon the floor;
and in the dense shadow behind and under the beam of light, vaguely
he saw a dull red object.

It moved--it seemed to live! It moved away from the case and in
the direction of the eastern windows.

"My God!" whispered Mostyn; "it's the Prophet's slipper!"

And wildly, blindly, he fired down the room. Later he knew that he
had fired in panic, for nothing human was or could be in the place;
yet his shot was not without effect. In the instant of its flash,
something struck sharply against the dimly seen blind of one of the
east windows; he heard t