The Perils of Pauline | Page 4

"a great writer ought to see life in
order to know what he is writing about. But what makes you suspect
that you have the ability to be even an ordinary writer?"
Marvin sire winked at Marvin son and Marvin son winked back, for no
man is too old or too young to enjoy teasing a pretty and serious girl.
Pauline saw the wink, and her foot ceased tracing a pattern in the carpet
and stamped on it instead.
"I'll show you what reason I have to think I can write. My first story
has just been published in the biggest magazine in the country. I have
had a copy of it lying around here for days with my story in it, and
nobody has even looked at it."
Out she flashed, and Harry after her, almost upsetting the butler and
gardener, who appeared in the library doorway. These two worthies
advanced upon the statue of Pallas without noticing the master of the
house sitting behind his big desk. The butler did notice that a large
hound from the stable had followed the gardener into the room.
"That's what one gets for letting outdoor servants into the house,"
muttered the butler, as he hustled the big dog to the front door and
ejected him.
"Is he addressing himself to me or to the pup, I wonder?" asked the
gardener, a fat, good-natured Irishman, as he placed himself in front of
the statue.

He read the name "Pallas," forced his rusty derby hat down over his
ears in imitation of the statue's helmet, and mimicked the pose.
Together they staggered out with their burden. A moment later they
returned, carrying, with the help of two other men, the mummy in its
big case. Owen also entered, and Marvin, with the joy of an
Egyptologist, grasped a magnifying glass and examined the case.
The old man's bobby had been Egypt, his liberal checks had assisted in
many an excavation, and his knowledge of her relics was remarkable.
Inserting a steel paper cutter in a crack he deftly pried open the upper
half of the mummy's front. Beneath lay the mass of wrappings in which
thousands of years ago the priests of the Nile had swathed some lady of
wealth and rank. It was a woman, Marvin was sure, from the
inscriptions on her tomb, and he believed her to be a princess.
The secretary excused himself and went to his room, where his
precious morphine pills were hidden. The old man, left alone, deftly
opened the many layers of cloth which bound the ancient form. A faint
scent that was almost like a presence came forth from the unwrapped
folds. Long 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."
But something else moved. There was a flutter among the bandages of
the mummy. The commotion increased. Something was moving inside.
The bandages were becoming loosened. They fell away from the face,
and then was Marvin amazed indeed. Instead of the tight, brown
parchment-like skin one always finds in these ancient relics appeared a
smooth, olive-tinted complexion. It was the face of a young and
beautiful woman. The features were serene as if in death, but there was
no