The Jewel of Seven Stars by Bram Stoker (books to read in your 20s TXT) 📕

to do, Father?”

 

“To unroll the mummy of the cat! Queen Tera will not need her Familiar

tonight. If she should want him, it might be dangerous to us; so we

shall make him safe. You are not alarmed, dear?”

 

“Oh no!” she answered quickly. “But I was thinking of my Silvio, and

how I should feel if he had been the mummy that was to be unswathed!”

 

Mr. Trelawny got knives and scissors ready, and placed the cat on the

table. It was a grim beginning to our work; and it made my heart sink

when I thought of what might happen in that lonely house in the

mid-gloom of the night. The sense of loneliness and isolation from the

world was increased by the moaning of the wind which had now risen

ominously, and by the beating of waves on the rocks below. But we had

too grave a task before us to be swayed by external manifestations: the

unrolling of the mummy began.

 

There was an incredible number of bandages; and the tearing sound—they

being stuck fast to each other by bitumen and gums and spices—and the

little cloud of red pungent dust that arose, pressed on the senses of

all of us. As the last wrappings came away, we saw the animal seated

before us. He was all hunkered up; his hair and teeth and claws were

complete. The eyes were closed, but the eyelids had not the fierce look

which I expected. The whiskers had been pressed down on the side of the

face by the bandaging; but when the pressure ws taken away they stood

out, just as they would have done in life. He was a magnificent

creature, a tiger-cat of great size. But as we looked at him, our first

glance of admiration changed to one of fear, and a shudder ran through

each one of us; for here was a confirmation of the fears which we had

endured.

 

His mouth and his claws were smeared with the dry, red stains of recent

blood!

 

Doctor Winchester was the first to recover; blood in itself had small

disturbing quality for him. He had taken out his magnifying-glass and

was examining the stains on the cat’s mouth. Mr. Trelawny breathed

loudly, as though a strain had been taken from him.

 

“It is as I expected,” he said. “This promises well for what is to

follow.”

 

By this time Doctor Winchester was looking at the red stained paws. “As

I expected!” he said. “He has seven claws, too!” Opening his

pocket-book, he took out the piece of blotting-paper marked by Silvio’s

claws, on which was also marked in pencil a diagram of the cuts made on

Mr. Trelawny’s wrist. He placed the paper under the mummy cat’s paw.

The marks fitted exactly.

 

When we had carefully examined the cat, finding, however, nothing

strange about it but its wonderful preservation, Mr. Trelawny lifted it

from the table. Margaret started forward, crying out:

 

“Take care, Father! Take care! He may injure you!”

 

“Not now, my dear!” he answered as he moved towards the stairway. Her

face fell. “Where are you going?” she asked in a faint voice.

 

“To the kitchen,” he answered. “Fire will take away all danger for the

future; even an astral body cannot materialise from ashes!” He signed

to us to follow him. Margaret turned away with a sob. I went to her;

but she motioned me back and whispered:

 

“No, no! Go with the others. Father may want you. Oh! it seems like

murder! The poor Queen’s pet … !” The tears were dropping from

under the fingers that covered her eyes.

 

In the kitchen was a fire of wood ready laid. To this Mr. Trelawny

applied a match; in a few seconds the kindling had caught and the flames

leaped. When the fire was solidly ablaze, he threw the body of the cat

into it. For a few seconds it lay a dark mass amidst the flames, and

the room was rank with the smell of burning hair. Then the dry body

caught fire too. The inflammable substances used in embalming became

new fuel, and the flames roared. A few minutes of fierce conflagration;

and then we breathed freely. Queen Tera’s Familiar was no more!

 

When we went back to the cave we found Margaret sitting in the dark.

She had switched off the electric light, and only a faint glow of the

evening light came through the narrow openings. Her father went quickly

over to her and put his arms round her in a loving protective way. She

laid her head on his shoulder for a minute and seemed comforted.

Presently she called to me:

 

“Malcolm, turn up the light!” I carried out her orders, and could see

that, though she had been crying, her eyes were now dry. Her father saw

it too and looked glad. He said to us in a grave tone:

 

“Now we had better prepare for our great work. It will not do to leave

anything to the last!” Margaret must have had a suspicion of what was

coming, for it was with a sinking voice that she asked:

 

“What are you going to do now?” Mr. Trelawny too must have had a

suspicion of her feelings, for he answered in a low tone:

 

“To unroll the mummy of Queen Tera!” She came close to him and said

pleadingly in a whisper:

 

“Father, you are not going to unswathe her! All you men … ! And in

the glare of light!”

 

“But why not, my dear?”

 

“Just think, Father, a woman! All alone! In such a way! In such a

place! Oh! it’s cruel, cruel!” She was manifestly much overcome. Her

cheeks were flaming red, and her eyes were full of indignant tears. Her

father saw her distress; and, sympathising with it, began to comfort

her. I was moving off; but he signed to me to stay. I took it that

after the usual manner of men he wanted help on such an occasion, and

manlike wished to throw on someone else the task of dealing with a

woman in indignant distress. However, he began to appeal first to her

reason:

 

“Not a woman, dear; a mummy! She has been dead nearly five thousand

years!”

 

“What does that matter? Sex is not a matter of years! A woman is a

woman, if she had been dead five thousand centuries! And you expect her

to arise out of that long sleep! It could not be real death, if she is

to rise out of it! You have led me to believe that she will come alive

when the Coffer is opened!”

 

“I did, my dear; and I believe it! But if it isn’t death that has been

the matter with her all these years, it is something uncommonly like it.

Then again, just think; it was men who embalmed her. They didn’t have

women’s rights or lady doctors in ancient Egypt, my dear! And besides,”

he went on more freely, seeing that she was accepting his argument, if

not yielding to it, “we men are accustomed to such things. Corbeck and

I have unrolled a hundred mummies; and there were as many women as men

amongst them. Doctor Winchester in his work has had to deal with women

as well of men, till custome has made him think nothing of sex. Even

Ross has in his work as a barrister …” He stopped suddenly.

 

“You were going to help too!” she said to me, with an indignant look.

 

I said nothing; I thought silence was best. Mr. Trelawny went on

hurriedly; I could see that he was glad of interruption, for the part of

his argument concerning a barrister’s work was becoming decidedly weak:

 

“My child, you will be with us yourself. Would we do anything which

would hurt or offend you? Come now! be reasonable! We are not at a

pleasure party. We are all grave men, entering gravely on an experiment

which may unfold the wisdom of old times, and enlarge human knowledge

indefinitely; which may put the minds of men on new tracks of thought

and research. An experiment,” as he went on his voice deepened, “which

may be fraught with death to any one of us—to us all! We know from what

has been, that there are, or may be, vast and unknown dangers ahead of

us, of which none in the house today may ever see the end. Take it, my

child, that we are not acting lightly; but with all the gravity of

deeply earnest men! Besides, my dear, whatever feelings you or any of

us may have on the subject, it is necessary for the success of the

experiment to unswathe her. I think that under any circumstances it

would be necessary to remove the wrappings before she became again a

live human being instead of a spiritualised corpse with an astral body.

Were her original intention carried out, and did she come to new life

within her mummy wrappings, it might be to exchange a coffin for a

grave! She would die the death of the buried alive! But now, when she

has voluntarily abandoned for the time her astral power, there can be no

doubt on the subject.”

 

Margaret’s face cleared. “All right, Father!” she said as she kissed

him. “But oh! it seems a horrible indignity to a Queen, and a woman.”

 

I was moving away to the staircase when she called me:

 

“Where are you going?” I came back and took her hand and stroked it as

I answered:

 

“I shall come back when the unrolling is over!” She looked at me long,

and a faint suggestion of a smile came over her face as she said:

 

“Perhaps you had better stay, too! It may be useful to you in your work

as a barrister!” She smiled out as she met my eyes: but in an instant

she changed. Her face grew grave, and deadly white. In a far away

voice she said:

 

“Father is right! It is a terrible occasion; we need all to be serious

over it. But all the same—nay, for that very reason you had better

stay, Malcolm! You may be glad, later on, that you were present

tonight!”

 

My heart sank down, down, at her words; but I thought it better to say

nothing. Fear was stalking openly enough amongst us already!

 

By this time Mr. Trelawny, assisted by Mr. Corbeck and Doctor

Winchester, had raised the lid of the ironstone sarcophagus which

contained the mummy of the Queen. It was a large one; but it was none

too big. The mummy was both long and broad and high; and was of such

weight that it was no easy task, even for the four of us, to lift it

out. Under Mr. Trelawny’s direction we laid it out on the table

prepared for it.

 

Then, and then only, did the full horror of the whole thing burst upon

me! There, in the full glare of the light, the whole material and

sordid side of death seemed staringly real. The outer wrappings, torn

and loosened by rude touch, and with the colour either darkened by dust

or worn light by friction, seemed creased as by rough treatment; the

jagged edges of the wrapping-cloths looked fringed; the painting was

patchy, and the varnish chipped. The coverings were evidently many, for

the bulk was great. But through all, showed that unhidable human

figure, which seems to look more horrible when partially concealed than

at any other time. What was before us was Death, and nothing else. All

the romance and sentiment of fancy had disappeared. The two elder men,

enthusiasts who had often done such work, were