"This was the climax; I felt that another such encounter would drive me raving mad. Somewhere there must be a natural explanation; it was only a question of finding it. Among other things it occurred to me that someone, for reason unknown, might be playing a series of practical jokes upon me, but it was hard to believe a hoax of such malignant and serious intent. Besides, it did not explain the death of Price which, I felt more and more convinced, was in some way connected with the bronze statue. I felt it would be my own fault if I did not get some part of the mystery cleared up soon. It was plain, too, that I must virtually act alone. The first thing was to find a helper, and after casting about me I thought of a member of my company, John Travers, who had lost two fingers at Charleroi at the first stage of the war. He was a giant in stature, his muscular force would have warranted him in contesting a fall or two with a full-grown lion. "I wrote to Travers the same evening and his answer came a couple of days later, saying that he would be down by the first train that he could catch. I said nothing in my letter about the bronze statue, but merely mentioned that I feared a gang of thieves had marked my house down, and I wanted his help to guard the place for a week or so. "Well, Travers arrived. Armed with two new service rifles, we each in turn kept watch over the statue, agreeing that a shot out of the window should warn the other, were any sudden danger to arise. "On the second night of our vigil I retired to bed hugely sleepy. I had left Travers on guard in the library. He was seated in an armchair under my Albertus Magnus, with his rifle over his knees. I did not take off my clothes, but threw myself, dressed as I was, upon the bed. Determining to make sure of some rest I took a stiff glass of hot brandy. I slept--I could scarcely help sleeping--but not for long, for I suddenly awoke from a tumultuous dream, my limbs atremble, and my forehead sticky with cold sweat. It seemed as though somebody was calling my name from a vast distance. The room was full of whisperings and moanings and strange uncanny things. Something was evidently at work in my sub-consciousness. Nothing was wrong with Travers or I should have heard the report of his rifle. Yet something _was_ wrong! The conviction grew stronger and stronger within me. Then came the faint sound of rattling at the brass knob, and with sudden horror I saw the door open a couple of inches. A pause of some seconds and it was pushed open still farther. For a space of five seconds my heart seemed to stop beating, and then the worst came. You will think I was beside myself; but as the door was pushed open a face peeped round behind it, and I saw two green eyes looking at me! I had at once recognised the face, and the face was that of Ombos! He appeared to smile at me, but it was a leer of inscrutable evil and malevolence, and I took up my rifle and fired at a venture. A howl of