I groped about the table near to me, never taking my eyes from
that sinister form outside. As my fingers closed upon the
telephone, distant voices and the sound of running footsteps
(of those who had heard the shots) came welcome to my ears.

The form stirred, seeming to raise phantom arms in execration, and
a stray moonbeam pierced the darkness shrouding it. For a fleeting
instant something flashed venomously.

The sounds grew nearer. I could tell that the newcomers had found
Morris lying at the gate. Yet still I stood, frozen with uncanny
fear, and watching--watching the spot to which that stray beam had
pierced; the spot where I had seen the moon gleam upon the ring of
the Prophet!




CHAPTER X

AT THE BRITISH ANTIQUARIAN MUSEUM


A little group of interested spectators stood at the head of the
square glass case in the centre of the lofty apartment in the
British Antiquarian Museum known as the Burton Room (by reason of
the fact that a fine painting of Sir Richard Burton faces you as
you enter). A few other people looked on curiously from the lower
end of the case. It contained but one exhibit--a dirty and