"Quite. But pardon me, Miss Ottley, you are looking weary. Take my advice and retire now." "Thanks. I shall," she said, and with a cool bow she went into the inner chamber. An hour later Sir Robert awoke. He was quite sensible and appeared much better. I fed him and we exchanged a few cheerful remarks. He declared that he had turned the corner and expressed a strong desire to be up and about his work again. He also asked after his daughter, and thanked me warmly for my services. Soon afterwards he dropped off into a tranquil slumber, and I spent the remainder of my watch reading a _Review_. As I was not very tired I gave Miss Ottley grace, and it was a quarter to one when I awakened her. She came out looking as fresh as a rose, her cheeks scarlet from their plunge in cool water and consequent towelling. She invited me to use her couch, but I declined, and sought my accustomed corner. I slept like the dead--for (I subsequently discovered) just about an hour. But then I awoke choking and gasping for breath. I had an abominable sensation of strong fingers clutched about my throat. At first all was dark before me. But struggling afoot, the shadows receded from my eyes, and I saw the lamp--a second afterwards, Miss Ottley. She stood with her back against the further wall of the chamber, her hands outstretched as if to repel an impetuous opponent; and her face was cast in an expression of unutterable terror. "Miss Ottley!" I cried. She uttered a strangled scream, then staggered towards me. "Oh! thank God--you were too strong--for him," she gasped. "He tried to kill you--and I could not move nor cry." "Who?" I demanded. "The--the shadow." She caught my arms and gripped them with hysterical vigour. I forced her to sit down and hurried to her father. He was sleeping like a babe. I thought of the asphyxiating sensation I had experienced and stepped gently to my sleeping corner. Kneeling down, I struck a match. The flame burned steadily. Not carbonic acid gas then at all events; but I tried the whole room to make sure, also the interior of the sarcophagus, but without result. So far baffled, I stood up and thought. What agency had been at work to disturb us? I made a tour of the walls and examined the stones of their construction one by one. It seemed just possible that there might be a secret entrance to the chamber; and some robber Arab acquainted with it might be employing it for evil ends. But I was forced to abandon that idea like the other. And no one had entered through the pylon, for the dust about the doorway was absolutely impressionless. What then? I turned to Miss Ottley. She was watching me with evidently painful expectation, her hands tightly clasped. "What made you think the shadow wished to kill me?" I inquired. "I saw its face." "Oh! it has a face now, eh?" "The face of a devil; and long thin hands. It fastened them about your throat." "My dear girl."