h by
the way my old friend, Dogeetah or Brother John, had mentioned such
a thing to me--but that probably there was a tribe, as he had also
mentioned, called the Kendah, who worshipped a baby, or rather its
effigy.

Well now, as had already occurred to me, the old Egyptians, of whom I
was always fond of reading when I got a chance, also worshipped a child,
Horus the Saviour. And that child had a mother called Isis symbolized in
the crescent moon, the great Nature goddess, the mistress of mysteries
to whose cult ten thousand priests were sworn--do not Herodotus and
others, especially Apuleius, tell us all about her? And by a queer
coincidence Miss Holmes had the mark of a crescent moon upon her breast.
And when she was a child those two men, or others very like them, had
pointed out that mark to each other. And I had seen them staring hard
at it that night. And in her vapour-invoked dream the "Heavenly Child,"
_alias_ Horus, or the double of Horus, the _Ka_, I think the Egyptians
called it, had awakened at the sight of her and kissed her and given her
the necklace of the goddess, and--all the rest. What did it mean?

I went to sleep at last wondering what on earth it _could_ mean, till
presently that confounded clock woke me up again and I must go through
the whole business once more.

By degrees, this was towards dawn, I became aware that all hope of rest
had vanished from me utterly; that I was most painfully awake, and what
is more, oppressed by a curious fear to the effect that something was
going to happen to Miss Holmes. So vivid did this fear become that at
length I arose, lit a candle and dressed myself. As it happened I knew
where Miss Holmes slept. Her room, which I had seen her enter, was on
the same corridor as mine though at the other end of it near the head
of a stair that ran I knew not whither. In my portmanteau that had been
sent over from Miss Manners's house, amongst other things was a small
double-barrelled pistol which from long habit I always carried with me
loaded, except for the caps that were in a little leather case with some
spare ammunition attached to the pistol belt. I took it out, capped it
and thrust it into my pocket. Then I slipped from the room and stood
behind a tall clock in the corridor, watching Miss Holmes's door and
reflecting what a fool I should look if anyone chanced to find me.

Half an hour or so later by the light of the setting moon which
struggled through a window, I s