seem to have been extremely numerous, it was dedicated to Isis and
Horus, the very divinities with whom they recently they had been so
intimately concerned if in traditional and degenerate forms.

Moreover that was not the finish of it. They come to the sanctuary.
They discover the statue of the goddess with the child gone, as their
child was gone. A disaster occurs and both destroys and buries Ragnall
so effectually that nothing of him is ever seen again: he just
vanishes into another man's grave and remains there.

A common sort of catastrophe enough, it is true, though people of
superstitious mind might have thought that it looked as though the
goddess, or whatever force was behind the goddess, was working
vengeance on the man who desecrated her ancient shrine. And, by the
way, though I cannot remember whether or no I mentioned it in "The
Ivory Child," I recall that the old priest of the Kendah, Harut, once
told me he was sure Ragnall would meet with a violent death. This
seemed likely enough in that country under our circumstances there,
still I asked him why. He answered,

"Because he has laid hands on that which is holy and not meant for
man," and he looked at Lady Ragnall.

I remarked that all women were holy, whereon he replied that he did
not think so and changed the subject.

Well, Ragnall, who had married the lady who once served as the last
priestess of Isis upon earth, was killed, whereas she, the priestess,
was almost miraculously preserved from harm. And--oh! the whole story
was deuced odd and that is all. Poor Ragnall! He was a great English