The Jewel of Seven Stars, Bram Stoker [books to read for self improvement txt] 📗

>Trelawny associated with this particular curio a doubt of his own

living. The second that he had some purpose or expectation with regard

to it, which he would not disclose, even to his daughter, till complete.

Again it was to be borne in mind that this sarcophagus differed

internally from all the others. What meant that odd raised place? I

said nothing to Miss Trelawny, for I feared lest I should either

frighten her or buoy her up with future hopes; but I made up my mind

that I would take an early opportunity for further investigation.

 

Close beside the sarcophagus was a low table of green stone with red

veins in it, like bloodstone. The feet were fashioned like the paws of

a jackal, and round each leg was twined a full-throated snake wrought

exquisitely in pure gold. On it rested a strange and very beautiful

coffer or casket of stone of a peculiar shape. It was something like a

small coffin, except that the longer sides, instead of being cut off

square like the upper or level part were continued to a point. Thus it

was an irregular septahedron, there being two planes on each of the two

sides, one end and a top and bottom. The stone, of one piece of which

it was wrought, was such as I had never seen before. At the base it was

of a full green, the colour of emerald without, of course, its gleam.

It was not by any means dull, however, either in colour or substance,

and was of infinite hardness and fineness of texture. The surface was

almost that of a jewel. The colour grew lighter as it rose, with

gradation so fine as to be imperceptible, changing to a fine yellow

almost of the colour of “mandarin” china. It was quite unlike anything

I had ever seen, and did not resemble any stone or gem that I knew. I

took it to be some unique mother-stone, or matrix of some gem. It was

wrought all over, except in a few spots, with fine hieroglyphics,

exquisitely done and coloured with the same blue-green cement or pigment

that appeared on the sarcophagus. In length it was about two feet and a

half; in breadth about half this, and was nearly a foot high. The

vacant spaces were irregularly distributed about the top running to the

pointed end. These places seemed less opaque than the rest of the

stone. I tried to lift up the lid so that I might see if they were

translucent; but it was securely fixed. It fitted so exactly that the

whole coffer seemed like a single piece of stone mysteriously hollowed

from within. On the sides and edges were some odd-looking protuberances

wrought just as finely as any other portion of the coffer which had been

sculptured by manifest design in the cutting of the stone. They had

queer-shaped holes or hollows, different in each; and, like the rest,

were covered with the hieroglyphic figures, cut finely and filled in

with the same blue-green cement.

 

On the other side of the great sarcophagus stood another small table of

alabaster, exquisitely chased with symbolic figures of gods and the

signs of the zodiac. On this table stood a case of about a foot square

composed of slabs of rock crystal set in a skeleton of bands of red

gold, beautifully engraved with hieroglyphics, and coloured with a blue

green, very much the tint of the figures on the sarcophagus and the

coffer. The whole work was quite modern.

 

But if the case was modern what it held was not. Within, on a cushion

of cloth of gold as fine as silk, and with the peculiar softness of old

gold, rested a mummy hand, so perfect that it startled one to see it. A

woman’s hand, fine and long, with slim tapering fingers and nearly as

perfect as when it was given to the embalmer thousands of years before.

In the embalming it had lost nothing of its beautiful shape; even the

wrist seemed to maintain its pliability as the gentle curve lay on the

cushion. The skin was of a rich creamy or old ivory colour; a dusky

fair skin which suggested heat, but heat in shadow. The great

peculiarity of it, as a hand, was that it had in all seven fingers,

there being two middle and two index fingers. The upper end of the

wrist was jagged, as though it had been broken off, and was stained with

a red-brown stain. On the cushion near the hand was a small scarab,

exquisitely wrought of emerald.

 

“That is another of Father’s mysteries. When I asked him about it he

said that it was perhaps the most valuable thing he had, except one.

When I asked him what that one was, he refused to tell me, and forbade

me to ask him anything concerning it. ‘I will tell you,’ he said, ‘all

about it, too, in good time-if I live!’”

 

“If I live!” the phrase again. These three things grouped together, the

Sarcophagus, the Coffer, and the Hand, seemed to make a trilogy of

mystery indeed!

 

At this time Miss Trelawny was sent for on some domestic matter. I

looked at the other curios in the room; but they did not seem to have

anything like the same charm for me, now that she was away. Later on in

the day I was sent for to the boudoir where she was consulting with Mrs.

Grant as to the lodgment of Mr. Corbeck. They were in doubt as to

whether he should have a room close to Mr. Trelawny’s or quite away from

it, and had thought it well to ask my advice on the subject. I came to

the conclusion that he had better not be too near; for the first at all

events, he could easily be moved closer if necessary. When Mrs. Grant

had gone, I asked Miss Trelawny how it came that the furniture of this

room, the boudoir in which we were, was so different from the other

rooms of the house.

 

“Father’s forethought!” she answered. “When I first came, he thought,

and rightly enough, that I might get frightened with so many records of

death and the tomb everywhere. So he had this room and the little suite

off it-that door opens into the sitting-room-where I slept last night,

furnished with pretty things. You see, they are all beautiful. That

cabinet belonged to the great Napoleon.”

 

“There is nothing Egyptian in these rooms at all then?” I asked, rather

to show interest in what she had said than anything else, for the

furnishing of the room was apparent. “What a lovely cabinet! May I

look at it?”

 

“Of course! with the greatest pleasure!” she answered, with a smile.

“Its finishing, within and without, Father says, is absolutely

complete.” I stepped over and looked at it closely. It was made of

tulip wood, inlaid in patterns; and was mounted in ormolu. I pulled

open one of the drawers, a deep one where I could see the work to great

advantage. As I pulled it, something rattled inside as though rolling;

there was a tinkle as of metal on metal.

 

“Hullo!” I said. “There is something in here. Perhaps I had better not

open it.”

 

“There is nothing that I know of,” she answered. “Some of the

housemaids may have used it to put something by for the time and

forgotten it. Open it by all means!”

 

I pulled open the drawer; as I did so, both Miss Trelawny and I started

back in amazement.

 

There before our eyes lay a number of ancient Egyptian lamps, of various

sizes and of strangely varied shapes.

 

We leaned over them and looked closely. My own heart was beating like a

trip-hammer; and I could see by the heaving of Margaret’s bosom that

she was strangely excited.

 

Whilst we looked, afraid to touch and almost afraid to think, there was

a ring at the front door; immediately afterwards Mr. Corbeck, followed

by Sergeant Daw, came into the hall. The door of the boudoir was open,

and when they saw us Mr. Corbeck came running in, followed more slowly

by the Detective. There was a sort of chastened joy in his face and

manner as he said impulsively:

 

“Rejoice with me, my dear Miss Trelawny, my luggage has come and all my

things are intact!” Then his face fell as he added, “Except the lamps.

The lamps that were worth all the rest a thousand times… .” He

stopped, struck by the strange pallor of her face. Then his eyes,

following her look and mine, lit on the cluster of lamps in the drawer.

He gave a sort of cry of surprise and joy as he bent over and touched

them:

 

“My lamps! My lamps! Then they are safe-safe-safe! … But how, in

the name of God-of all the Gods-did they come here?”

 

We all stood silent. The Detective made a deep sound of intaking

breath. I looked at him, and as he caught my glance he turned his eyes

on Miss Trelawny whose back was toward him.

 

There was in them the same look of suspicion which had been there when

he had spoken to me of her being the first to find her father on the

occasions of the attacks.