We were down and into the Egyptian Room in less than half a minute. Coram switched on all the lights; and there with his back to the open door of the wall case, handcuffed and wild-eyed, was--Mr. Mark Pettigrew! Coram’s face was a study--for the famous archæologist whom we now saw manacled before us was a trustee of the Menzies Museum! “Mr. Pettigrew!” he said, hoarsely. “Mr. Pettigrew! there must be some mistake----” “There is no mistake, my good sir,” rumbled Moris Klaw. “Look, he has with him a sharp knife to cut off the head of the priest!” It was true. An open knife lay upon the floor beside the fallen mummy! Grimsby was breathing very heavily and looking in rather a startled way at his captive, who seemed unable to realize what had happened. Coram cleared his throat nervously. It was one of the strangest scenes in which I had ever participated. “Mr. Pettigrew,” he began, “it is incomprehensible to me----” “I will make you to comprehend,” interrupted Moris Klaw. “You ask”--he raised a long finger--“why should Mr. Pettigrew cut off the head of his own mummy? I answer for the same reason that he cut off the head of the one at Sotheby’s. You ask why did he cut off the head of the one at Sotheby’s? I answer for the same reason that he cut off the head of the one at my house, and for the same reason that he came to cut off the head of this one! What is he looking for? He is looking for the ‘Book of the Lamps’!” He paused, gazing around upon us. Probably, excepting the prisoner, I alone amongst his listeners understood what he meant. “I have related to Mr. Searles,” he continued, “some of the history of that book. It contained the ritual of the ancient Egyptian ceremonial magic. It was priceless; it gave its possessors a power above the power of kings! And when the line of Pankhaur became extinct it vanished. Where did it go? According to a very rare record--of which there are only two copies in existence--one of them in my possession and one in Mr. Pettigrew’s!--it was hidden _in the skull of the mummy of a priest or priestess of the temple!_” Pettigrew was staring at him like a man fascinated. “Mr. Pettigrew had only recently acquired that valuable manuscript work in which the fact is recorded; and being an enthusiast, gentlemen”--he spread wide his hands continentally “--all we poor collectors are enthusiasts--he set to work upon the first available mummy of a priest of that temple. It was his own. The skull did not contain the priceless papyrus! But all these mummies are historic; there are only five in Europe.” “_Five?_” blurted Pettigrew. “Five,” replied Klaw; “you thought there were only four, eh? But as a blind you called in the police and showed them how your mummy had been mutilated. It was good. It was clever. No one suspected you of the outrages after that--no one but the old fool who knew that you had secured the second copy of that valuable work of guidance!