M. Le Mesge knelt and fastened on the lower part of the case, a square
of white cardboard, a large label, that he had picked up from his
desk, a few minutes before, on leaving the library.
"You may read," he said simply, but still in the same low tone.
I knelt also, for the light of the great candelabra was scarcely
sufficient to read the label where, none the less, I recognized the
Professor's handwriting.
It bore these few words, in a large round hand: "Number 53. Major Sir Archibald Russell. Born at Richmond, July 5,
1860. Died at Ahaggar, December 3, 1896."
I leapt to my feet.
"Major Russell!" I exclaimed.
"Not so loud, not so loud," said M. Le Mesge. "No one speaks out loud
here."
"The Major Russell," I repeated, obeying his injunction as if in spite
of myself, "who left Khartoum last year, to explore Sokoto?"
"The same," replied the Professor.
"And ... where is Major Russell?"
"He is there," replied M. Le Mesge.
The Professor made a gesture. The Tuareg approached.
A poignant silence reigned in the mysterious hall, broken only by the
fresh splashing of the fountain.
The three Negroes were occupied in undoing the package that they had
put down near the painted case. Weighed down with wordless horror,
Morhange and I stood watching.
Soon, a rigid form, a human form, appeared. A red gleam played over
it. We had before us, stretched out upon the ground, a statue of pale
bronze, wrapped in a kind of white veil, a statue like those all
around us, upright in their niches. It seemed to fix us with an
impenetrable gaze.
"Sir Archibald Russell," murmured M. Le Mesge slowly.
Morhange approached, speechless, but strong enough to lift up the
white veil. For a long, long time he gazed at the sad bronze statue.
"A mummy, a mummy?" he said finally. "You deceive yourself, sir, this
is no mummy."
"Accurately speaking, no," replied M. Le Mesge. "This is not a mummy.
None the less, you have before you the mortal remains of Sir Archibald
Russell. I must point out to you, here, my dear sir, that the
processes of embalming used by Antinea differ from the processes
employed in ancient Egypt. Here, there is no natron, nor bands, nor
spices. The industry of Ahaggar, in a single effort, has achieved a
result obtained by European science only after long experiments.
Imagine my surprise, when I arrived here and found that they were
employing a method I supposed known only to the civilized world."
M. Le Mesge struck a light tap with his finger on the forehead of Sir
Archibald Russell. It rang like metal.