Page:Doughty--Mirrikh or A woman from Mars.djvu/42

 which he had no means of developing, of those beautiful bas-reliefs which adorn the walls of the Nagkon Wat.

One morning—I believe it was the tenth, for I remember we had about exhausted the subject of Mr. Mirrikh and his  mysterious disappearances—just as I was emerging from  the chamber opening off the broad veranda which extends  the full length of the old temple in front, I encountered  Philpot and Maurice hurrying up the steps.

“Glorious news, old fellow!” exclaimed my friend. “The boat is up from the lake at last and with it all our traps. Now we can pay our long projected visit to Ballambong. Wong is following with the things he brought up; and see, the fellow, bound to make a clean sweep, brought this along  with the rest.”

It was Mr. Mirrikh’s little hand bag which Maurice extended toward me, with an odd twinkle in his eye.

“Heavens! That bag!” I exclaimed. “What a pity we did not have it, when—”

“When he last materialized,” broke in Philpot. “I say no. Spirits have no use for hand bags. I believe you are still an advocate for the ghostly theory, Mr. Wylde?”

It was one of his jokes, for it was Maurice, not I, who in our repeated discussions had shown an inclination to connect  those strange appearances and vanishings with the materialization phenomena of modern Spiritualism; while I, on the  contrary, had stoutly maintained that I never could by any  possibility be brought to admit that my Panompin acquaintance was other than a creature of flesh and blood like ourselves.

“Hold on there, Doctor!” I cried—it was Maurice who had given him the title—“remember there is a fine for the  first person mentioning the name of that individual argumentatively. I believe we shall see him again, and I am glad Wong made the blunder and brought the bag.”

I extended my hand to take it from Maurice, but Philpot with that impetuosity which characterized all his movements, snatched it away.

“Look out!” he exclaimed. “Dynamite! Infernal machine! Hold on, boys! It don’t matter about me. The world will never miss Miles Philpot. I’m going to open this bag.”

“No, no! Don’t do it!” I said. “Suppose he returns and claims it?”