on his back. Composure was
nearly restored to me, and I knelt upon the other side of the
white-faced creature whose presence there seemed so utterly outside
the realm of possibility, and examined him with a consuming and fearful
interest; for it was palpable that, if not already dead, he was dying
rapidly.

He was a slightly built man, and the first discovery that I made was
a curious one. What I had mistaken for dark hair was a wig! The short
black mustache which he wore was also factitious.

"Look at this!" I cried.

"I am looking," snapped Smith.

He suddenly stood up, and entering the room beyond, turned on the
light there. I saw him staring at the Tulun-Nur box, and I knew what
had been in his mind. But the box, undisturbed, stood upon the table
as we had left it. I saw Smith tugging irritably at the lobe of his
ear, and staring from the box towards the man beside whom I knelt.

"For God's sake, what does it man?" said Inspector Weymouth in a voice
hushed with wonder. "How did he get in? What did he come for?--and
what has happened to him?"

"As to what has happened to him," I replied, "unfortunately I cannot
tell you. I only know that unless something can be done his end is not
far off."

"Shall we lay him on the bed?"

I nodded, and together we raised the slight figure and placed it upon
the bed where so recently I had lain.

As we did so, the man suddenly opened his eyes, which were glazed with
delirium. He tore himself from our grip, sat bolt upright, and
holding his hands, fingers outstretched, before his face, stared at
them frenziedly.

"The golden pomegranates!" he shrieked, and a slight froth appeared on
his blanched lips. "The golden pomegranates!"

He laughed madly, and fell back inert.

"He's dead!" whispered Weymouth; "he's dead!"

Hard upon his words came a cry from Smith:

"Quick! Petrie!--Weymouth!"

CHAPTER XIII

THE ROOM BELOW

I ran into the sitting-room, to discover Nayland Smith craning out of
the now widely opened window. The blind had been drawn up, I did not
know by whom; and, leaning out beside my friend, I was in time to
perceive some bright object moving down the gray stone wall. Almost
instantly it disappeared from sight in the yellow banks below.

Smith leapt around in a whirl of excitement.

"Come in, Petrie!" he cried, seizing my arm. "You remain here,
Weymouth; don't leave these rooms whatever happens!"

We ran out into the corridor. For my own part