seemed to come from the art-gallery, a large room up-stairs where
some of the greatest masterpieces in this country are hung. I
hurried up there.

"Just as I reached the door a strange feeling seemed to come over
me that I was not alone in that room. I fumbled for the electric
light switch, but in my nervousness could not find it. There was
just enough light in the room to make out objects indistinctly. I
thought I heard a low, moaning sound from an old Flemish copper
ewer near me. I had heard that it was supposed to groan at night."

She paused and shuddered at her recollection, and looked about as
if grateful for the flood of electric light that now illuminated
everything. Spencer reached over and touched her arm to encourage
her to go on. She did not seem to resent the touch.

"Opposite me, in the middle of the open floor," she resumed, her
eyes dilated and her breath coming and going rapidly, "stood the
mummy-case of Ka, an Egyptian priestess of Thebes, I think. The
case was empty, but on the lid was painted a picture of the
priestess! Such wonderful eyes! They seem to pierce right through
your very soul. Often in the daytime I have stolen off to look at
them. But at night--remember the hour of night, too--oh, it was
awful, terrible. The lid of the mummy-case moved, yes, really
moved, and seemed to float to one side. I could see it. And back
of that carved and painted face with the piercing eyes was another
face, a real face, real eyes, and they looked out at me with such
hatred from the place that I knew was empty--"

She had risen and was facing us with wild terror written on her