Out of the Dark

by Robert W. Chambers

  ‘Then one day two white men came into camp; and with them came a government escort to arrest me for looting an Egyptian tomb. The white men were Joram Smiles and that Eurasian, Emanuel Gandon, who was partly white, I suppose. I didn’t comprehend what they were up to at first. They escorted me forty miles to confront the official at Shen-Bak. When, after a stormy week, I was permitted to return to Saïs, my Arabs and the white men were gone. And the stone chamber under the water garden wall was empty as the hand I hold out to you!’

  He opened his palm and rose, his narrowing eyes clear and dangerous.

  ‘At the bazaar I learned enough to know what had been done. I traced the white men to the coast. They sailed on the Scythian Queen, taking with them all that I care for on earth or in heaven! And you ask me why I measure their distance from me by a bullet’s flight!’

  The Tracer also rose, pale and grave.

  ‘Wait!’ he said. ‘There are other things to be done before you prepare to face a jury for double murder.’

  ‘It is for them to choose,’ said Burke. ‘They shall have the choice of returning to me my dead, or of going to hell full of lead.’

  ‘Exactly, my dear sir. That part is not difficult,’ said the Tracer quietly. ‘There will be no occasion for violence, I assure you. Kindly leave such details to me. I know what is to be done. You are outwardly very calm, Mr Burke – even dangerously placid; but though you maintain an admirable command over yourself superficially, you are laboring under terrible excitement. Therefore it is my duty to say to you at once that there is no cause for your excitement, no cause for your apprehension as to results. I feel exceedingly confident that you will, in due time, regain possession of all that you care for most – quietly, quietly, my dear sir! You are not yet ready to meet these men, nor am I ready to go with you. I beg you to continue your habit of self-command for a little while. There is no haste – that is to say, there is every reason to make haste slowly. And the quickest method is to seat yourself. Thank you. And I shall sit here beside you and spread out this papyrus scroll for your inspection.’

  Burke stared at the Tracer, then at the scroll.

  ‘What has that inscription to do with the matter in hand?’ he demanded impatiently.

  ‘I leave you to judge,’ said the Tracer. A dull tint of excitement flushed his lean cheeks; he twisted his gray mustache and bent over the unrolled scroll which was now held flat by weights at the four corners.

  ‘Can you understand any of these symbols, Mr Burke?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Curious,’ mused the Tracer. ‘Do you know it was fortunate that you put this bit of papyrus in the pocket of your shooting coat – so fortunate that, in a way, it approaches the miraculous?’

  ‘What do you mean? Is there anything in that scroll bearing on this matter?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you can read it? Are you versed in such learning, Mr Keen?’

  ‘I am an Egyptologist – among other details,’ said the Tracer calmly.

  The young man gazed at him, astonished. The Tracer of Lost Persons picked up a pencil, laid a sheet of paper on the table beside the papyrus, and slowly began to copy the first symbol:

  III

  ‘The ancient Egyptian word for the personal pronoun “I” was anuk,’ said the Tracer placidly. ‘The phonetic for a was the hieroglyph

  a reed; for n the water symbol

  for u the symbols

  for k

  Therefore this hieroglyphic inscription begins with the personal pronoun

  or I. That is very easy, of course.

  ‘Now, the most ancient of Egyptian inscriptions read vertically in columns; there are only two columns in this papyrus, so we’ll try it vertically and pass downward to the next symbol, which is inclosed in a sort of frame or cartouch. That immediately signifies that royalty is mentioned; therefore, we have already translated as much as “I, the king (or queen)”. Do you see?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Burke, staring.

  ‘Very well. Now this symbol, number two,

  spells out the word “Meris,” in this way: M (pronounced me) is phonetically symbolized by the characters

  r by

  (a mouth) and the comma

  and the hieroglyph

  i by two reeds

  and two oblique strokes

  and s by

  ‘This gives us Meris, the name of that deposed and fugitive king of Egypt who, after a last raid on the summer palace of Mer-Shen, usurping ruler of Egypt, was followed and tracked to Saïs, where, with an arrow through his back, he crawled to El Teb and finally died there of his wound. All this Egyptologists are perfectly familiar with in the translations of the boastful tablets and inscriptions erected near Saïs by Mer-Shen, the three hundred and twelfth sovereign after Queen Nitocris.’

  He looked up at Burke, smiling. ‘Therefore,’ he said, ‘this papyrus scroll was written by Meris, ex-king, a speculative thousands of years before Christ. And it begins: “I, Meris the King”.’

  ‘How does all this bear upon what concerns me?’ demanded Burke.

  ‘Wait!’

  Something in the quiet significance of the Tracer’s brief command sent a curious thrill through the younger man. He leaned stiffly forward, studying the scroll, every faculty concentrated on the symbol which the Tracer had now touched with the carefully sharpened point of his pencil:

  ‘That,’ said Mr Keen, ‘is the ancient Egyptian word for “little,” “Ket.” The next, below, written in two lines, is “Samaris,” a proper name – the name of a woman. Under that, again, is the symbol for the number 18; the decimal sign,

  and eight vertical strokes,

  Under that, again, is a hieroglyph of another sort, an ideograph representing a girl with a harp; and, beneath that, the symbol which always represented a dancing girl

  and also the royal symbol inclosed in a cartouch,

  which means literally “the Ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt”. Under that is the significant symbol

  representing an arm and a hand holding a stick. This always means force – to take forcibly or to use violence. Therefore, so far, we have the following literal translation: “I, Meris the King, little Samaris, eighteen, a harpist, dancing girl, the Ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt, to take by violence—”’

  ‘What does that make?’ broke in Burke impatiently.

  ‘Wait! Wait until we have translated everything literally. And, Mr Burke, it might make it easier for us both if you would remember that I have had the pleasure of deciphering many hundreds of papyri before you had ever heard that there were such things.’

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ said the young man in a low voice.

  ‘I beg yours for my impatience,’ said the Tracer pleasantly. ‘This deciphering always did affect my nerves and shorten my temper. And, no doubt, it is quite hard on you. Shall we go on, Mr Burke?’

  ‘If you please, Mr Keen.’

  So the Tracer laid his pencil point on the next symbol

  ‘That is the symbol for night,’ he said; ‘and that

  is the water symbol again, as you know, and that

  is the ideograph, meaning a ship. The five reversed crescents

  record the number of days voyage; the sign

  means a house, and is also the letter H in the Egyptian alphabet.

  ‘Under it, again, we have a repetition of the first symbol meaning I, and a repetition of the second symbol, meaning “Meris, the King”. Then, below that cartouch, comes a new symbol,

  which is the feminine personal pronoun, sentus, meaning “she”; and the first column is completed with the symbol for the ancient Egyptian verb, nehes, “to awake”,

  ‘And now we take the second column, which begins with the jackal ideograph expressing slyness or cleverness. Under it is the hieroglyph meaning “to run away”, “to escape”. And under that, Mr Burke, is one of the rarest of all Egyptian symbols; a symbol seldom seen on stone or papyrus,

  except in rare references to
the mysteries of Isis. The meaning of it, so long in dispute, has finally been practically determined through a new discovery in the cuneiform inscriptions. It is the symbol of two hands holding two closed eyes; and it signifies power.’

  ‘You mean that those ancients understood hypnotism?’ asked Burke, astonished.

  ‘Evidently their priests did; evidently hypnotism was understood and employed in certain mysteries. And there is the symbol of it; and under it the hieroglyphs

  meaning “a day and a night”, with the symbol

  as usual present to signify force or strength employed. Under that, again, is a human figure stretched upon a typical Egyptian couch. And now, Mr Burke, note carefully three modifying signs; first, that it is a couch or bed on which the figure is stretched, not the funeral couch, not the embalming slab; second, there is no mummy mask covering the face, and no mummy case covering the body; third, that under the recumbent figure is pictured an open mouth, not a closed one.

  ‘All these modify the ideograph, apparently representing death. But the sleep symbol is not present. Therefore it is a sound inference that all this simply confirms the symbol of hypnotism.’

  Burke, intensely absorbed, stared steadily at the scroll.

  ‘Now,’ continued Mr Keen, ‘we note the symbol of force again, always present; and, continuing horizontally, a cartouch quite empty except for the midday sun. That is simply translated; the midday sun illuminates nothing. Meris, deposed, is king only in name; and the sun no longer shines on him as “Ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt”. Under that despairing symbol, “King of Nothing”, we have

  the phonetics which spell sha, the word for garden. And, just beyond this, horizontally, the modifying ideograph meaning “a water garden”;

  a design of lotus and tree alternating on a terrace. Under that is the symbol for the word “aneb”,

  a “wall”. Beyond that, horizontally, is the symbol for “house”. It should be placed under the wall symbol, but the Egyptians were very apt to fill up spaces instead of continuing their vertical columns. Now, beneath, we find the imperative command

  “arise!” And the Egyptian personal pronoun “entuten”,

  which means “you” or “thou”.

  ‘Under that is the symbol

  which means “priest”, or, literally, “priest man”. Then comes the imperative “awake to life!”

  After that, our first symbol again, meaning “I”, followed horizontally by the symbol

  signifying “to go”.

  ‘Then comes a very important drawing – you see? – the picture of a man with a jackal’s head, not a dog’s head. It is not accompanied by the phonetic in a cartouch, as it should be. Probably the writer was in desperate haste at the end. But, nevertheless, it is easy to translate that symbol of the man with a jackal’s head. It is a picture of the Egyptian god, Anubis, who was supposed to linger at the side of the dying to conduct their souls. Anubis, the jackal-headed, is the courier, the personal escort of departing souls. And this is he.

  ‘And now the creed ends with the cry “Pray for me!”

  the last symbol on this strange scroll – this missive written by a deposed, wounded, and dying king to an unnamed priest. Here is the literal translation in columns.

  ‘And this is what that letter, thousands of years old, means in this language of ours, hundreds of years young: “I, Meris the King, seized little Samaris, a harpist and a dancing girl, eighteen years of age, belonging to the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, and carried her away at night on shipboard – a voyage of five days – to my house. I, Meris the King, lest she lie awake watching cunningly for a chance to escape, hypnotized her (or had her hypnotized) so that she lay like one dead or asleep, but breathing, and I, King no longer of Upper and Lower Egypt, took her and placed her in my house under the wall of the water garden. Arise! therefore, O thou priest; (go) and awaken her to life. I am dying (I go with Anubis!). Pray for me!”’

  IV

  For a full minute the two men sat there without moving or speaking. Then the Tracer laid aside his pencil.

  ‘To sum up,’ he said, opening the palm of his left hand and placing the forefinger of his right across it, ‘the excavation made by the falling pillar raised in triumph above the water garden of the deposed king, Meris, by his rival, was the subterranean house of Meris. The prostrate figure which crumbled to powder at your touch may have been the very priest to whom this letter or papyrus was written. Perhaps the bearer of the scroll was a traitor and stabbed the priest as he was reading the missive. Who can tell how that priest died? He either died or betrayed his trust, for he never aroused the little Samaris from her suspended animation. And the water garden fell into ruins and she slept; and the Ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt raised his columns, lotus crowned, above the ruins; and she slept on. Then – you came.’

  Burke stared like one stupefied.

  ‘I do not know,’ said the Tracer gravely, ‘what balm there may be in a suspension of sensation, perhaps a vitality, to protect the human body from corruption after death. I do not know how soon suspended animation or the state of hypnotic coma, undisturbed, changes into death – whether it comes gradually, imperceptibly freeing the soul; whether the soul hides there, asleep, until suddenly the flame of vitality is extinguished. I do not know how long she lay there with life in her.’

  He leaned back and touched an electric bell, then, turning to Burke:

  ‘Speaking of pistol range,’ he said, ‘unstrap those weapons and pass them over, if you please.’

  And the young man obeyed as in a trance.

  ‘Thank you. There are four men coming into this room. You will keep your seat, if you please, Mr Burke.’

  After a moment the door opened noiselessly. Two men handcuffed together entered the room; two men, hands in their pockets, sauntered carelessly behind the prisoners and leaned back against the closed door.

  ‘That short, red-haired, lame man with the cast in his eye – do you recognize him?’ asked the Tracer quietly.

  Burke, grasping the arms of his chair, had started to rise, fury fairly blazing from his eyes; but, at the sound of the Tracer’s calm, even voice, he sank back into his chair.

  ‘That is Joram Smiles? You recognize him?’ continued Mr Keen.

  Burke nodded.

  ‘Exactly – alias Limpy, alias Red Jo, alias Big Stick Joram, alias Pinky; swindler, international confidence man, fence, burglar, gambler; convicted in 1887, and sent to Sing Sing for forgery; convicted in 1898, and sent to Auburn for swindling; arrested by my men on board the S.S. Scythian Queen, at the cabled request of John T. Burke, Esquire, and held to explain the nature of his luggage, which consisted of the contents of an Egyptian vault or underground ruin, declared at the customhouse as a mummy, and passed as such.’

  The quiet, monotonous voice of the Tracer halted, then, as he glanced at the second prisoner, grew harder:

  ‘Emanuel Gandon, general international criminal, with over half a hundred aliases, arrested in company with Smiles and held until Mr Burke’s arrival.’

  Turning to Burke, the Tracer continued: ‘Fortunately, the Scythian Queen broke down off Brindisi. It gave us time to act on your cable; we found these men aboard when she was signaled off the Hook. I went out with the pilot myself, Mr Burke.’

  Smiles shot a wicked look at Burke; Gandon scowled at the floor.

  ‘Now,’ said the Tracer pleasantly, meeting the venomous glare of Smiles, ‘I’ll get you that warrant you have been demanding to have exhibited to you. Here it is – charging you and your amiable friend Gandon with breaking into and robbing the Metropolitan Museum of ancient Egyptian gold ornaments, in March, 1903, and taking them to France, where they were sold to collectors. It seems that you found the business good enough to go prowling about Egypt on a hunt for something to sell here. A great mistake, my friends – a very great mistake, because, after the Museum has finished with you, the Egyptian Government desires to extradite you. And I rather suspect you’ll have to go.’


  He nodded to the two quiet men leaning against the door.

  ‘Come, Joram,’ said one of them pleasantly.

  But Smiles turned furiously on the Tracer. ‘You lie, you old gray rat!’ he cried. ‘That ain’t no mummy; that’s a plain dead girl! And there ain’t no extrydition for body snatchin’, so I guess them niggers at Cairo won’t get us, after all!’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said the Tracer, looking at Burke, who had risen, pale and astounded. ‘Sit down, Mr Burke! There is no need to question these men; no need to demand what they robbed you of. For,’ he added slowly, ‘what they took from the garden grotto of Saïs, and from you, I have under my own protection.’

  The Tracer rose, locked the door through which the prisoners and their escorts had departed; then, turning gravely on Burke, he continued:

  ‘That panel, there, is a door. There is a room beyond – a room facing to the south, bright with sunshine, flowers, soft rugs, and draperies of the East. She is there – like a child asleep!’

  Burke reeled, steadying himself against the wall; the Tracer stared at space, speaking very slowly:

  ‘Such death I have never before heard of. From the moment she came under my protection I have dared to doubt – many things. And an hour ago you brought me a papyrus scroll confirming my doubts. I doubt still – Heaven knows what! Who can say how long the flame of life may flicker within suspended animation? A week? A month? A year? Longer than that? Yes; the Hindoos have proved it. How long? The span of a normal life? Or longer? Can the flame burn indefinitely when the functions are absolutely suspended – generation after generation, century after century—?’