story that was told, as the strange power of the man that told it. As he
saw these marks of interest, a smile crept over his face. He evidently
felt that he was the strongest influence in the room--that all had to
yield to him as their superior.

"I confess," he went on, "that my heart began to beat quickly at these
words. Fancy, if you can, the scene. An Egyptian village, not far
removed from some of the great temples of the dead past. Above our heads
waved tall palm trees. Around was a strange land, and a wild, lawless
people. The hour was midnight, and our business was with the dead.

"We had not waited above three minutes when I knew that the room was
peopled--by whom I knew not, except that they came from that land from
whose bourne, your greatest poet says, 'no traveller returns.' I looked
at Abou. His face was as the face of the dead, except for his eyes. They
burned like two coals of fire. He uttered some strange words, the
meaning of which was unknown to me, and then I knew some mighty forces
were being exerted in that old sheik's hut. My brain began to whirl,
while a terrible power gripped me; but still I looked, and still I
remembered.

"'Spirit of Ilfra,' said Abou, 'are you here?'

"No voice spoke that I could hear, and yet I realized that Abou had
received his answer.

"'Enter thy body then, spirit of my daughter, and tell me, if thou
darest, the secret I have desired so long.'

"I looked at the embalmed body. I saw the eyelids quiver, the mouth