lost balms they were, ancient spices, forgotten antiseptics of a great
race that blossomed and Fell--thousands of years before its time.

"I smell the dead centuries," whispered Marvin to himself, "I can
almost feel their weight. The world was young when this woman
breathed. Perhaps she was pretty and foolish like my Polly--yes, and
maybe as stubborn, too. Manetho says they had a good deal to say in
those days. Ah, now we shall see her face."

He had uncovered a bit of the mummy's forehead when out of the bandages
fell a tiny vial. Marvin quickly picked it up. The vial was carved
from some sort of green crystal in the shape of a two-headed Egyptian
bird god. Without effort the stopper came out and Marvin held the
small bottle to his nostrils, only to drop it at the mummy's feet. It
exhaled the odor of the mummy which the reek of the centuries
intensified a thousand times.

It was too much for the old man. He had overtaxed his feeble vitality
and felt his senses leaving him. With the entire force of his will he
was able to get to a chair, into which he sank. The odor of the vial
was still in his nostrils. His eyes were fixed and stared straight
ahead, but he could see, in a faint, unnatural yellow light that bathed
the room.

From the vial, lying at the mummy's feet a vapor appeared to rise. It
floated toward the swathed figure, enveloped it and seemed to be
absorbed by it.

"Perhaps this is death," thought Marvin, "for I cannot move or speak."