My friend’s voice was distressingly hollow; It made me nervous, and I endeavored to quiet him. “There is nothing very unusual about this mummy,” I replied. “Some very peculiar types undoubtedly existed among the Egyptians. I daresay they had their sideshows and circuses with the odd assortment of freaks that usually goes with such things. This poor fellow may have been a king’s jester—it is really unfair to reproach him with his ugliness after all these years. I am sure his life was a very unhappy one.”

The professor’s scowl grew in volume. “You must be serious,” he retorted. “This mummy is very unusual. I am not a sensationalist, my dear boy, but I may say that my enemies would give a great deal to use this thing to discredit me. We must be very wary about publishing the results of our experiments.”

“Experiments?” I snatched at the word. I had a boyish and ridiculous eagerness for all varieties of research.

“I have some experiments in mind that will demand a great deal of courage. If you do not feel equal to them, I shall want you to tell me so quite frankly. But first I must warn and prepare you, and describe what we have to deal with.”

The professor lit an absurdly long panetela and puffed for several moments in silence. The smoke ascended spirally and formed a curious grayish nimbus above the mummy case. The mummy stood out in the depressing gloom like a sinister avenger of the eighty-three defenseless wretches that Professor Dewey had dissected and destroyed.

When my friend spoke again his voice had acquired a small measure of calm. He spoke slowly, punctuating his sentences with an occasional cough.

“There are few myths in the treasure-house of mankind that were not originally based upon solid objective facts. I do not believe that the imagination of primitive peoples is capable of creating bogies out of thin air. We are too easily deluded by modern science and altogether too apt to scoff at the legends of gods and goddesses that have come down to us. It is absurd to believe that the Egyptians created their monstrous bestial gods from mere observation of living animals. There is something so immense, so psychically terrible about the Egyptian gods that it is difficult to believe them simply the product of normal human imagination. They are either the imaginings of some dreamer of wild and unheard-of powers, an Edgar Poe among the Egyptians, or—"

Professor Dewey paused without stating his alternative. I presume he wanted his heresy to sink in, for he waited several moments before continuing: