A feeling, closely akin to panic, had settled upon the Egyptian Court. Its members, of whom by far the greater number were, outwardly at least, firm adherents of Aton, had now received a second violent shock to their already perplexed minds.

Following her safe return from one of her periodic visits to Pharaoh’s new capital to the north, Thi the Queen-Mother, had suddenly and most mysteriously vanished.

The Women’s Quarter of the palace was in an uproar. Consternation and, withal a nameless dread, was stamped upon the faces of courtier and servant alike. The remembrance of Menna’s unaccountable, and still unsolved disappearance, was still fresh in their minds.

Upon the evening in which the Queen-Mother had so suddenly vanished, the Princess Bekit-aton had left her side for a few moments in order to warm, with her own hands, a cup of old Thinite wine. When the little Princess returned it was to find the Queen-Mother gone.

She chanced to look out of the window and was astonished to see Queen Thi, in company with another lady of the court, the Lady Renenet she thought, about to round the bend of the road which led to the Temple of Sekhmet. It was the first time in her experience that the Queen-Mother had gone out so little attended.

Bekit-aton returned to the harem. She did not suspect that anything was amiss until darkness descended upon the palace. Then and not until then, according to the rigid court etiquette, she again entered the Queen-Mother’s room—upon this occasion accompanied by the other ladies-in-waiting—in order to assist the Queen-Mother to the Banquet Hall. Among the ladies she was surprised to see the Lady Renenet. Upon inquiry she found that Renenet had not left the Women’s Quarters that day. And it was the same with respect to the other ladies. Not one had left the Palace walls during the entire day.

Yet, one lady asserted that she had seen Queen Thi enter the palace within the hour. Somewhat relieved by this, the Princess Bekit-aton sought the Queen-Mother in each and every room of the Women’s Quarter. Yet this search, similarly, proved unsuccessful.

Once again she entered the Queen’s robing-room. She found no sign of disorder. Queen Thi had apparently left of her own free will. The mystified little Princess called to her assistance Queen Noferit and other ladies of the harem.

Again the rooms were searched. Led by the Princess the searchers descended into the gardens. They entered the quarters of the cooks and butlers. They explored the dark shadows of the various columned courts and the murkier gloom of the side aisles, together with their innumerable storerooms.

Finally, when panic seized upon them, they called to their assistance the Steward of the Palace. At the news Soken’s changed expression did little to allay their fears. With a gesture he swept them all back in the direction of the harem.

In turn the Palace Steward and the other eunuchs once again carefully searched palace, court, garden and lakeside. Darkness descended upon a house filled with grief and consternation on the part of the women, and deadly fear on the part of Soken and the other eunuchs of the palace.

The fate of Prince Menna, Pharaoh’s Overseer, was still upon the lips of palace-servant, priest and peasant alike. Menna’s enemies were many. It might well be that someone whom Menna had misused or wronged had at last struck back and that successfully.

But the sudden disappearance of the Queen-Mother from the midst of her ladies, from a mighty building guarded within and without, caused a thrill of horror and a nameless fear to run through palace and countryside alike. It was inexplicable.

The Temple of Sekhmet, the lake, the palace and the palace-gardens, were searched and researched again and again. Not a spot was overlooked. When at last it became necessary to send the evil tidings to the new capital, the City of the Sun, Pharaoh himself came hurriedly back to Thebes.

As, day after day, the searching parties returned empty-handed, Pharaoh lost patience. Hundreds were slain. Soken and many of the palace eunuchs met their death at the strangler’s hands. Men soon went to the task of searching for the lost Queen as criminals already condemned to death.

For a full week the search was renewed. Fresh men were called up for the task. Finally, the soldiers of the Divisions of Khonsu, Ptah and Sutekh were pressed into service. All in vain.

One remarkable circumstance was discovered, following the disappearance of the Queen-Mother, and that by the Princess Bekit-aton. The portrait of the Ex-Queen Hanit, which had been painted on a column in the Audience Hall of the late Pharaoh, had been carefully and completely obliterated. This had been done just prior to or immediately following the Queen-Mother’s disappearance. Nothing remained, where once the portrait stood, but six words written in red in roughly drawn hieratic: “By the Power of the Book of Thoth.”

No one could explain this desecration of the former Queen’s portrait. Mention of the magic Book of Thoth struck terror into every heart, not excepting that of Pharaoh himself.

Thenceforth Pharaoh’s fanatical zeal in the interest of Aton, his Syrian sun-cult, slowly waned and finally ceased. The innumerable gifts to the many new Aton shrines throughout Egypt—one had been set up against the very walls of the Temple of Amen in the Apt—the gorgeous religious processions, the ceaseless theological studies and debates, all were suddenly abandoned.

With the change Pharaoh himself seemed to fade. Little nourishment passed his lips. Within the dim shadows of his private chapel, hour after hour the hollow-eyed monarch stood in prayer before the gold and gem-encrusted statue of Aton, the sun-god. At times the statue appeared to his distracted mind to mock him with a smile half-pitying, half-contemptuous!

Verily, the curse of Huy, High Priest of Amen was upon him! Noferith, his wife, had borne him no heir, no son to follow him upon the gold Horus Throne of Egypt! The scepter must go to others, to that hollow cousin of his, whom Thi had been wont to call the mirage.

As for old Ay, another distant relative and possible claimant to the Throne, Pharaoh suspected that Ay was even now in secret correspondence with the exiled priests of Amen, whose influence was again making itself felt, not alone in Thebes, but as far north as the new capital, the City of the Sun itself.

To whom then could he turn? Among the courtiers about him there was not one in whom he could trust. Not one could help him. Alas, too late, he bethought him of the exiled Ramses!

In the midst of a rising on the part of his famine-stricken people in the south, an insurrection started by the exiled priests of Amen, Pharaoh took to his ivory couch.

Thereafter few saw him. He held no more audiences. Dedu, Keeper of the Robes, alone attended him. Even Pentu, his physician, was dismissed and shortly after strangled, together with Mei, Chief of the Military Forces in the new capital. Mei and Pentu had both been found in secret correspondence with the priests of Amen in distant Nubia.

Dedu, Keeper of the Robes, entered his royal master’s apartment late one morning to find him sitting bolt upright, his prominent eyes fixed in a horrified stare upon the curtain which screened the door. A single word fell from Pharaoh’s trembling lips as he sank back fainting in Dedu’s outstretched arms. That single word the wondering Dedu swore was ... Hanit!

Thereafter, Pharaoh in terror bade his guards drive all visitors, petitioners and beggars from the palace gates. Pharaoh shut himself up within its brightly painted courts and allowed things without to take their course.

The silver-embossed doors remained fast closed. No watchman paced the battlemented walls and pylons. No plumed Syrian horses pawed the flagging before the outer gates. The gay bannerettes no longer rose upon the gold-tipped poles fronting the main entrance to the palace forecourt. Hushed were the voices of the guards and other palace servants. Even the birds which flitted back and forth among the trees seemed to have forgotten their cheerful songs.

Finally, one memorable evening, when the dying Pharaoh lay propped up high upon his couch, he beckoned to Prince Antef, Lord of Thebes, who stood in the center of the awe-struck group before him.

Dropping the hairless lids of a pair of vulture-like eyes, eyes filled at the moment with a joy which the Prince tried in vain to conceal, Antef fell upon his knees beside the dying Pharaoh’s couch. He already felt the gold diadem of kings about his wig, the royal asps about his forehead.

Silence descended upon the little room. Silence seemed to fall upon the entire building, both within and without. The wails of the women ceased, the chanting of the priests and the sobs and cries of the palace servants, all abruptly stopped.

So long continued was the sudden hush that the expectant Antef slowly raised his head.

As his questioning eyes met those of his royal master, Antef there beheld such a look of terror, a look reflected he saw upon the faces of the nobles behind the dying monarch, that the astounded Theban himself felt somewhat of the chill that seemed to have changed his master and his friends to stone.

He caught the whispered sound of a once familiar name. It seemed to be on everyone’s lips: Hanit! Hanit! Hanit!

Antef turned himself about. At once that same nameless terror held him also in its grip.

In the doorway stood Queen Hanit, Hanit upon whose mummified form he himself had placed a wreath of flowers! Antef stumbled to his feet and there remained, his eyes fixed upon this apparition of the Ex-Queen, as if he likewise had been turned to stone.

A richly plaited robe covered Queen Hanit’s form. About her head was set the vulture diadem, that circlet of gold which queens of the royal blood alone may wear. Her throat was hidden by a necklace of bright blue beads. Upon one finger she wore a blue glazed ring, a ring such as is worn by the dead alone! Before her she held a Book which seemed to glow, as if by some preternatural light.

By now Antef and the horrified nobles had backed to the furthest corner of the room, whence they continued to gaze at this apparition of the former Queen, believing it to be in very fact the visible “double” of Thi’s murdered rival.

Hanit’s black eyes glittered like those of some poisonous snake. She fixed them threateningly upon the shrunken features of the terrified monarch:

“Dost know me, son of Thi?”

The trembling monarch tried in vain to speak.

“Dost know me, Syrian?”

Again Pharaoh essayed to find his nerveless tongue. At last, in a hoarse and breathless whisper, he managed to articulate the one word ... Hanit!

Again the soft and unearthly voice of Hanit thrilled their ears:

“Son of Thi, thou that art about to wander forth upon the steep and stony hills of Duat, hearken unto the utterance of Amen, king of gods! By the power of this Magic Book, thy Hidden Names are revealed to me! Known to me are the Mystic Names of the Genii that protect thee! By the Power of the Book, thy ka hath been destroyed! Thy soul is destroyed!

“Awake, awake! Pass not forth until I have shown thee a marvel, saith Amen, king of gods! Stand forth, Son of Amen! Receive the Scepter of Amen which is thine!”

With this the apparition slowly moved back, and there before them, arrayed in the full regalia of kings, the curved sword of Amen clasped in his hand, stood Ramses, the conqueror of Rimur and the Hittites.

The seeming “double” of the dead Queen raised the Luminous Book high above her head:

“Hearken, Egyptians! Hearken to the words of Amen, king of gods! With this sword divine hath Ramses, my son, hurled back the Hittites from your borders! With this sword divine hath he won a glorious victory! Rimur grovels in the dust before him; Belur awaits his bitter doom! Of a truth is this my son, born of my will, essence of my essence, saith Amen, king of gods! Salute your king! Salute him, Electrum of Kings, Essence of a God!”

She ceased, and vanished as abruptly as she had appeared. In her place stood a figure arrayed in the regalia of the great god Amen. In his hand he held the Double Crown of Egypt.

As if overcome at this manifestation of the power of the great God Amen, Mei-amen, new leader of the Prophets of Amen, slowly and reverently advanced and, falling at Ramses’ knees, kissed the hem of his garment. As he rose, few noted the look that passed between them.

Thereafter, the dead Pharaoh was forgotten. Indeed, as the cries of the palace-women broke out once more, the assembled nobles burst into a shout, new to those resplendent walls, a shout which brought the terrified servants to the door:

“Hail to thee, Ramses, chosen of Amen! Life, Satisfaction and Health to Pharaoh, our lord, forever and ever!”

“Let me see, how do the Egyptians express it? O, I remember! Now of the coming to the throne of Ramses, of his marriage to the Princess Sesen, of the cutting out of the hated name of Aton from temple, tomb and dwelling, is it not written in letters of red and black upon a leather scroll and stored within the Temple of Amen in the Apt unto this day!

“You know this to be true, Clem! But do you know that Seneb, the mason, was sent to cut out all mention of Menna upon the walls of his tomb! Menna, son of Menna, never reached the Blessed fields of Aaru, of that you may be sure.

“Yes, I know what your next question will be! The Luminous Book!

“Listen! What I am going to tell you is interesting and true. I can vouch for the story, as I had it from the lips of Enana himself.

“Enana placed the Magic Book in a cauldron of boiling water drawn from the Sacred Lake by a virgin of the Temple of the Mother-goddess. Thus the mystic powers with which the Book had been imbued became incorporated in the holy water.

“A draught of this enchanted water Queen Hanit drank and, drinking, died. The remainder, according to her wish, was sprinkled over her body, immediately following the placing of her mummy in the tomb.

“Thereafter Enana ‘said that which he said,’ Enana ‘intoned that which he intoned,’ and the immutable curse of the Conjurers of Amen was repeated before the door of her tomb:

“‘Behold! As Ra, the Sun-god, liveth! Whosoever seeketh to desecrate this tomb dieth! Whosoever toucheth this body to remove it dieth! On earth death is his portion! In the underworld annihilation is his destiny! In the Hidden Name of Amen, king of gods, this curse remaineth, yea, so long as Ra, the Sun-god, endureth!’

“You see, Clem! It is not to be wondered at that those men died so suddenly, or that the curator, who likewise handled mummy No. 49, himself succumbed. It proves, without the shadow of a doubt, that the curse of the Conjurers of Amen did endure. Sesen can tell you....”

“Steven, please lie down and stop talking. Don’t worry about things. Try to compose yourself.”

As I sank dutifully back upon the pillows, I was aware of a soft and deliciously cool hand which gently pressed my throbbing head. A smiling face bent over me.

My bewildered eyes wandered from a trim little white cap to a spotless white dress and shoes, White canvas shoes!

“Where are her pretty gilded sandals?” thought I.

I tried to speak to her. I even made an effort to catch the soothing hand at my forehead.

At this the white figure vanished, and in its place, stood Braintree, the Seaforth’s doctor.

“Great Scott, I have it. I am in the hospital! That was Susan....”

“That’s just where you are, Steven. And I must ask you not to excite yourself about it. Here you are and here you have been for some time. Tribe, Dunn and I have slaved over you and won out, at last.

“But who, may I ask, is Menna! No friend of yours, I’d swear! Susan is equally interested in some lady friend of your acquaintance, Sesen I think her name was! Well, never mind that now. Turn over and rest.”

Then it was a dream; the vision of a fevered brain! Enana, Hanit, Sesen, Menna, and Renny—could I have been Renny—all were dreams! Hanit! Why such a person never existed. And Ramses! As yet he wasn’t born!

I tried to smile at the busy little figure in white. I recognized her now. It was Susan Braintree, my Susan!

I caught myself repeatedly murmuring: “Susan the Lily, Sesen the Lotus, one and the same name, one and the same person perhaps. Ah, my Beautiful Princess! I can smell the sweet unguents which Bhanar has sprinkled upon your dainty Wig, the myrrh upon your supple hands...!”

Susan presses a little phial to my nostrils. A few short breaths and—I sleep.