“But why,” I pursued, “should this priest, alone among the many who must have been so initiated, have left an account of the ceremony?” “It was forbidden to divulge any part, any word, of it, Searles!” said Brearley. “Departure from this law was visited with fearful punishments in this world and dire penalties in the next. Khamus, for so this priest was named, well knew this. But some reason which, I fear, can never be known, prompted him to write the papyrus. It is probable, if not certain, that no eye but his, and mine, has read what is written there.” A silence of a few seconds followed his words. “Yes,” rumbled Klaw, presently; “it is undoubtedly a discovery of extraordinary importance, this. You agree, my friend?” I nodded. “That’s evident,” I replied. “But I cannot altogether get the hang of the ceremony itself, Brearley. That is the point upon which I am particularly hazy.” “To read you the entire account in detail,” Brearley resumed, “would occupy too long, and would almost certainly confuse you. But the singular thing is this: Khamus distinctly asserts that the goddess appeared to him. His writing is eminently sane and reserved, and his account of the ceremony, up to that point, highly interesting. Now, I have tested the papyrus itself--though no possibility of fraud is really admissible, and I have been able to confirm many of the statements made therein. There is only one point, it seems to me, remaining to be settled.” “What is that?” I asked. “Whether, as a result of the ceremony described, Khamus did see Isis, or whether he merely imagined he did!” No one spoke for a moment. Then-- “My friend,” said Moris Klaw, “I have a daughter whom I have named Isis. Why did I name her Isis? Mr. Brearley, you must know that that name has a mystic and beautiful significance. But I will say something--I am glad that my daughter is not here! Mr. Brearley--beware! Beware, I say: you play with burning fires; my friend--beware!” His words impressed us all immensely; for there was something underlying them more portentous than appeared upon the surface. Fairbank stared at Brearley, hard. “Do I understand,” he began, quietly, “that you admit the first possibility?” “Certainly!” replied Brearley, with conviction. “You are prepared to admit the existence, as an entity, of Isis?” “I am prepared to admit the existence of _anything_ until it can be proved not to exist!” “Then, admitting the existence of Isis, what should you assume it, or her, to be?” “That is not a matter for presumption; it is a matter for inquiry!” The doctor glanced quickly toward Ailsa Brearley, and her beautiful face was troubled. “And this inquiry--how should you propose to conduct it?” “In surroundings as nearly as possible identical with those described in the papyrus,” replied Brearley, with growing excitement. “I should follow the ceremony, word by word, as Khamus did!”