* * * * *

He was back in the apartment and in the presence of a document that swept his mind of all Breedes.  Never had he in fancy ceased to be king Ram-tah, cheated of historic mention because of his wisdom and goodness.  He had looked commiseratingly upon Breede’s country-house, thinking of his own palace on the banks of the slow-moving Nile. “—­probably made this place look like a shack!” he had exultantly thought.  And the benign monarch had ended his reign in peace, to be laid magnificently away, to repose undisturbed while the sands drifted over him—­until—­

The hour had come.  “My men have succeeded, after incredible hardships,” wrote Professor Balthasar.  “The goods will be delivered to you Thursday night, the tenth.  I trust the final payment will be ready, as, relying on your honour, I have advanced—­”

The rest did not matter.  His honour was surely to be relied upon.  The money had been richly earned.  An able man, this Balthasar!  He had achieved the thing with admirable secrecy.  Bean had feared the hounds of the daily press.  They might discover who It was, to whom It was going; discover the true identity of Bunker Bean.  The whole thing might come out in the papers!  But Balthasar had known how.  He approved the caution that had led him to speak of “the goods”; there was something almost witty about it.

He leaned far out a window, listening, straining his eyes up and down the lighted avenue.  There was confusion in his mind as to how It could most fittingly be brought to him.  The sable vision of a hearse drawn by four lordly black horses at first possessed his mind.  But this was dismissed; there was no death!  And the spectacle would excite comment.  The idea of an ambulance, which he next considered, seemed equally impracticable.  It would have to be done quietly; Balthasar would know.  Trust Balthasar!

He heard the rhythmic clump-clump of a horse’s hoofs on the asphalt pavement.  This was presently accompanied by the sounds of wheels.  An express wagon came under the street-lights.  Balthasar rode beside the driver, his frock coat and glossy tall hat having been relinquished for the garb of an ordinary citizen.  Back of them in the wagon he could distinguish the lines of an Object.  It had come to him in a common express wagon, in a common crate, and the driver did not even wear a black mask.  Balthasar had cunningly eluded detection by pretending there was nothing to conceal.

He drew back from the window and with fast beating heart went to open the door.  They were already on the stairway.  Balthasar was coming first.  With sublime effrontery he had impressed Cassidy to help carry It, and Cassidy was warning the expressman to look out for that turn an’ not tear inta th’ plashter.

It was lowered to the floor in the throne-room.  Cassidy and the expressman puffed freely and looked at the thing as if wondering how two men had ever been equal to it.