closed door, Pauline fainted. When
she recovered consciousness she was in the library. Bemis and Margaret
were bending over her, and strong, tender arms were around her.

"Harry," she murmured instinctively.

"Don't try to talk, my darling, drink this. You go," to Bemis and
Margaret.

"Oh, Harry, I thought you were dead."

"I'm very much alive," Harry said with a tremulous laugh.

"But Harry, what does all that black on the door mean?"

"It means," said Harry, savagely, "that though the mills of the gods
grind slowly they grind surely--Owen's dead."

"Owen!" Her eyes large with terror, Blount's words ringing in her ears--
"I shouldn't like to be the man at the bottom of this when Mr. Marvin
hears of it." "'Owen," she repeated in a breathless whisper.

"Harry, you didn't kill him?"

"He didn't give me the chance. He was dead when I got here--overdose
of morphine Dr. Stevens said. Seems he was a drug fiend."

"Why that was the reason," Pauline said, her filling with tears. "He
was crazy, he didn't know what he was doing. Poor Owen, poor Owen"--
then turned hastily to safer topics. "But I thought you went to
Chicago for a week."

"I did, but, you'll laugh, Pauline--I know it sounds fool--the
Mummy came to me just as she came to me in Montana. I took the first
train home. I knew you were in danger--I knew it was a warning.
I'll ever trust, you out of my sight again--you've got to marry me
now."

Pauline shrank back from his kisses. "No, no, Harry I can't--I won't
--there was a woman on the train said my mother was an Egyptian."

Harry broke into a peal of laughter and caught her in his arms.

"Is that the only reason you won't?"

"Harry, is it true?"

"I don't know and I don't care--what difference does it make who your
mother was? You are you, that's all I care for." His voice shook. "I
love you so, Pauline, that I can't stand this life any longer--another
adventure--"

Pauline silenced him with a kiss.

"I'm all through with adventures," she declared. "Harry, I'm going to--"

"Marry me? Polly, do you mean it?"

"Yes, yes. Oh, my dearest, I've been a selfish, silly, conceited
little pig, but I'm cured, I'm cured at last."

As he clasped her in his arms, the shutter swung violently to, and the
case containing the Mummy fell with a clatter to the floor. Harry ran
and lifted it as tenderly as if it had been a little child.

"I suppose we can hardly keep her here," he said regre