“It is as I expected,” he said.  “This promises well for what is to follow.”

By this time Doctor Winchester was looking at the red stained paws.  “As I expected!” he said.  “He has seven claws, too!” Opening his pocket-book, he took out the piece of blotting-paper marked by Silvio’s claws, on which was also marked in pencil a diagram of the cuts made on Mr. Trelawny’s wrist.  He placed the paper under the mummy cat’s paw.  The marks fitted exactly.

When we had carefully examined the cat, finding, however, nothing strange about it but its wonderful preservation, Mr. Trelawny lifted it from the table.  Margaret started forward, crying out: 

“Take care, Father!  Take care!  He may injure you!”

“Not now, my dear!” he answered as he moved towards the stairway.  Her face fell.  “Where are you going?” she asked in a faint voice.

“To the kitchen,” he answered.  “Fire will take away all danger for the future; even an astral body cannot materialise from ashes!” He signed to us to follow him.  Margaret turned away with a sob.  I went to her; but she motioned me back and whispered: 

“No, no!  Go with the others.  Father may want you.  Oh! it seems like murder!  The poor Queen’s pet . . . !” The tears were dropping from under the fingers that covered her eyes.

In the kitchen was a fire of wood ready laid.  To this Mr. Trelawny applied a match; in a few seconds the kindling had caught and the flames leaped.  When the fire was solidly ablaze, he threw the body of the cat into it.  For a few seconds it lay a dark mass amidst the flames, and the room was rank with the smell of burning hair.  Then the dry body caught fire too.  The inflammable substances used in embalming became new fuel, and the flames roared.  A few minutes of fierce conflagration; and then we breathed freely.  Queen Tera’s Familiar was no more!

When we went back to the cave we found Margaret sitting in the dark.  She had switched off the electric light, and only a faint glow of the evening light came through the narrow openings.  Her father went quickly over to her and put his arms round her in a loving protective way.  She laid her head on his shoulder for a minute and seemed comforted.  Presently she called to me: 

“Malcolm, turn up the light!” I carried out her orders, and could see that, though she had been crying, her eyes were now dry.  Her father saw it too and looked glad.  He said to us in a grave tone: 

“Now we had better prepare for our great work.  It will not do to leave anything to the last!” Margaret must have had a suspicion of what was coming, for it was with a sinking voice that she asked: 

“What are you going to do now?” Mr. Trelawny too must have had a suspicion of her feelings, for he answered in a low tone: 

“To unroll the mummy of Queen Tera!” She came close to him and said pleadingly in a whisper: