"Here it is," he said, and took down and opened the book on the table. "This passage may interest you." He laid his finger upon it. His son bent over the book and read the following:-- "Hai, the evil man, was a shepherd. He had said: 'O, that I might have a book of spells that would give me resistless power!' He obtained a book of the Formulas.... By the divine powers of these he enchanted men. He obtained a deep vault furnished with implements. He made waxen images of men, and love-charms. And then he perpetrated all the horrors that his heart conceived." "Flinders Petrie," said Dr. Cairn, "mentions the Book of Thoth as another magical work conferring similar powers." "But surely, sir--after all, it's the twentieth century--this is mere superstition!" "I thought so--_once_!" replied Dr. Cairn. "But I have lived to know that Egyptian magic was a real and a potent force. A great part of it was no more than a kind of hypnotism, but there were other branches. Our most learned modern works are as children's nursery rhymes beside such a writing as the Egyptian _Ritual of the Dead_! God forgive me! What have I done!" "You cannot reproach yourself in any way, sir!" "Can I not?" said Dr. Cairn hoarsely. "Ah, Rob, you don't know!" There came a rap on the door, and a local practitioner entered. "This is a singular case, Dr. Cairn," he began diffidently. "An autopsy--" "Nonsense!" cried Dr. Cairn. "Sir Elwin Groves had foreseen it--so had I!" "But there are distinct marks of pressure on either side of the windpipe--" "Certainly. These marks are not uncommon in such cases. Sir Michael had resided in the East and had contracted a form of plague. Virtually he died from it. The thing is highly contagious, and it is almost impossible to rid the system of it. A girl died in one of the hospitals this week, having identical marks on the throat." He turned to his son. "You saw her, Rob?" Robert Cairn nodded, and finally the local man withdrew, highly mystified, but unable to contradict so celebrated a physician as Dr. Bruce Cairn. The latter seated himself in an armchair, and rested his chin in the palm of his left hand. Robert Cairn paced restlessly about the library. Both were waiting, expectantly. At half-past two Felton brought in a tray of refreshments, but neither of the men attempted to avail themselves of the hospitality. "Miss Duquesne?" asked the younger. "She has just gone to sleep, sir." "Good," muttered Dr. Cairn. "Blessed is youth." Silence fell again, upon the man's departure, to be broken but rarely, despite the tumultuous thoughts of those two minds, until, at about a quarter to three, the faint sound of a throbbing motor brought Dr. Cairn sharply to his feet. He looked towards the window. Dawn was breaking. The car came roaring along the avenue and stopped outside the house.