The Jewel of Seven Stars by Bram Stoker (ebook and pdf reader .txt) 📖

was for the moment lost. I turned the dead man over to

look for it, and found that he lay with his right hand bent under him as

though he had fallen on it; and in it he held a great knife, keen of

point and edge, such as Arabs carry at the belt. It may have been that

he was about to murder me when vengeance came on him, whether from man

or God, or the Gods of Old, I know not. Suffice it, that when I found

my Ruby Jewel, which shone up as a living star from the mess of blood

wherein it lay, I paused not, but fled from the place. I journeyed on

alone through the hot desert, till, by God’s grace, I came upon an Arab

tribe camping by a well, who gave me salt. With them I rested till they

had set me on my way.

 

“I know not what became of the mummy hand, or of those who had it. What

strife, or suspicion, or disaster, or greed went with it I know not; but

some such cause there must have been, since those who had it fled with

it. It doubtless is used as a charm of potence by some desert tribe.

 

“At the earliest opportunity I made examination of the Star Ruby, as I

wished to try to understand what was graven on it. The symbols—whose

meaning, however, I could not understand—were as follows …”

 

Twice, whilst I had been reading this engrossing narrative, I had

thought that I had seen across the page streaks of shade, which the

weirdness of the subject had made to seem like the shadow of a hand. On

the first of these occasions I found that the illusion came from the

fringe of green silk around the lamp; but on the second I had looked up,

and my eyes had lit on the mummy hand across the room on which the

starlight was falling under the edge of the blind. It was of little

wonder that I had connected it with such a narrative; for if my eyes

told me truly, here, in this room with me, was the very hand of which

the traveller Van Huyn had written. I looked over at the bed; and it

comforted me to think that the Nurse still sat there, calm and wakeful.

At such a time, with such surrounds, during such a narrative, it was

well to have assurance of the presence of some living person.

 

I sat looking at the book on the table before me; and so many strange

thoughts crowded on me that my mind began to whirl. It was almost as if

the light on the white fingers in front of me was beginning to have some

hypnotic effect. All at once, all thoughts seemed to stop; and for an

instant the world and time stood still.

 

There lay a real hand across the book! What was there to so overcome

me, as was the case? I knew the hand that I saw on the book—and loved

it. Margaret Trelawny’s hand was a joy to me to see—to touch; and yet

at that moment, coming after other marvellous things, it had a strangely

moving effect on me. It was but momentary, however, and had passed even

before her voice had reached me.

 

“What disturbs you? What are you staring at the book for? I thought

for an instant that you must have been overcome again!” I jumped up.

 

“I was reading,” I said, “an old book from the library.” As I spoke I

closed it and put it under my arm. “I shall now put it back, as I

understand that your Father wishes all things, especially books, kept in

their proper places.” My words were intentionally misleading; for I did

not wish her to know what I was reading, and thought it best not to wake

her curiosity by leaving the book about. I went away, but not to the

library; I left the book in my room where I could get it when I had had

my sleep in the day. When I returned Nurse Kennedy was ready to go to

bed; so Miss Trelawny watched with me in the room. I did not want any

book whilst she was present. We sat close together and talked in a

whisper whilst the moments flew by. It was with surprise that I noted

the edge of the curtains changing from grey to yellow light. What we

talked of had nothing to do with the sick man, except in so far that all

which concerned his daughter must ultimately concern him. But it had

nothing to say to Egypt, or mummies, or the dead, or caves, or Bedouin

chiefs. I could well take note in the growing light that Margaret’s

hand had not seven fingers, but five; for it lay in mine.

 

When Doctor Winchester arrived in the morning and had made his visit to

his patient, he came to see me as I sat in the dining-room having a

little meal—breakfast or supper, I hardly knew which it was—before I

went to lie down. Mr. Corbeck came in at the same time; and we resumed

out conversation where we had left it the night before. I told Mr.

Corbeck that I had read the chapter about the finding of the tomb, and

that I thought Doctor Winchester should read it, too. The latter said

that, if he might, he would take it with him; he had that morning to

make a railway journey to Ipswich, and would read it on the train. He

said he would bring it back with him when he came again in the evening.

I went up to my room to bring it down; but I could not find it anywhere.

I had a distinct recollection of having left it on the little table

beside my bed, when I had come up after Miss Trelawny’s going on duty

into the sick-room. It was very strange; for the book was not of a kind

that any of the servants would be likely to take. I had to come back

and explain to the others that I could not find it.

 

When Doctor Winchester had gone, Mr. Corbeck, who seemed to know the

Dutchman’s work by heart, talked the whole matter over with me. I told

him that I was interrupted by a change of nurses, just as I had come to

the description of the ring. He smiled as he said:

 

“So far as that is concerned, you need not be disappointed. Not in Van

Huyn’s time, nor for nearly two centuries later, could the meaning of

that engraving have been understood. It was only when the work was

taken up and followed by Young and Champollion, by Birch and Lepsius and

Rosellini and Salvolini, by Mariette Bey and by Wallis Budge and

Flinders Petrie and the other scholars of their times that great results

ensued, and that the true meaning of hieroglyphic was known.

 

“Later, I shall explain to you, if Mr. Trelawny does not explain it

himself, or if he does not forbid me to, what it means in that

particular place. I think it will be better for you to know what

followed Van Huyn’s narrative; for with the description of the stone,

and the account of his bringing it to Holland at the termination of his

travels, the episode ends. Ends so far as his book is concerned. The

chief thing about the book is that it sets others thinking—and acting.

Amongst them were Mr. Trelawny and myself. Mr. Trelawny is a good

linguist of the Orient, but he does not know Northern tongues. As for

me I have a faculty for learning languages; and when I was pursuing my

studies in Leyden I leaned Dutch so that I might more easily make

references in the library there. Thus it was, that at the very time

when Mr. Trelawny, who, in making his great collection of works on

Egypt, had, through a booksellers’ catalogue, acquired this volume with

the manuscript translation, was studying it, I was reading another copy,

in original Dutch, in Leyden. We were both struck by the description of

the lonely tomb in the rock; cut so high up as to be inaccessible to

ordinary seekers: with all means of reaching it carefully obliterated;

and yet with such an elaborate ornamentation of the smoothed surface of

the cliff as Van Huyn has described. It also struck us both as an odd

thing—for in the years between Van Huyn’s time and our own the general

knowledge of Egyptian curios and records has increased marvellously—that

in the case of such a tomb, made in such a place, and which must have

cost an immense sum of money, there was no seeming record or effigy to

point out who lay within. Moreover, the very name of the place, ‘the

Valley of the Sorcerer’, had, in a prosaid age, attractions of its own.

When we met, which we did through his seeking the assistance of other

Egyptologists in his work, we talked over this as we did over many other

things; and we determined to make search for the mysterious valley.

Whilst we were waiting to start on the travel, for many things were

required which Mr. Trelawny undertook to see to himself, I went to

Holland to try if I could by any traces verify Van Huyn’s narrative. I

went straight to Hoorn, and set patiently to work to find the house of

the traveller and his descendants, if any. I need not trouble you with

details of my seeking—and finding. Hoorn is a place that has not changed

much since Van Huyn’s time, except that it has lost the place which it

held amongst commercial cities. Its externals are such as they had been

then; in such a sleepy old place a century or two does not count for

much. I found the house, and discovered that none of the descendants

were alive. I searched records; but only to one end—death and

extinction. Then I set me to work to find what had become of his

treasures; for that such a traveller must have had great treasures was

apparent. I traced a good many to museums in Leyden, Utrecht, and

Amsterdam; and some few to the private houses of rich collectors. At

last, in the shop of an old watchmaker and jeweller at Hoorn, I found

what he considered his chiefest treasure; a great ruby, carven like a

scarab, with seven stars, and engraven with hieroglyphics. The old man

did not know hieroglyphic character, and in his old-world, sleepy life,

the philological discoveries of recent years had not reached him. He

did not know anything of Van Huyn, except that such a person had been,

and that his name was, during two centuries, venerated in the town as a

great traveller. He valued the jewel as only a rare stone, spoiled in

part by the cutting; and though he was at first loth to part with such

an unique gem, he became amenable ultimately to commercial reason. I

had a full purse, since I bought for Mr. Trelawny, who is, as I suppose

you know, immensely wealthy. I was shortly on my way back to London,

with the Star Ruby safe in my pocket-book; and in my heart a joy and

exultation which knew no bounds.

 

“For here we were with proof of Van Huyn’s wonderful story. The jewel

was put in security in Mr. Trelawny’s great safe; and we started out on

our journey of exploration in full hope.

 

“Mr. Trelawny was, at the last, loth to leave his young wife whom he

dearly loved; but she, who loved him equally, knew his longing to

prosecute the search. So keeping to herself, as all good women do, all

her