lence. For this reason there is little to relate of your reign. It was uneventful and distinguished only by your wise and humane statesmanship"
"What name?" asked Bean, in low, reverent tones.
"The name—er—the name is—oh, yes, I get it—the name is Ram-tah."
"Can I find him in the histories?"
"You cannot," answered the seer emphatically. "I am probably the only living man that can tell you very much about him."
"When did he—pass on?"
"At the age of eighty-two years. He was deeply mourned by all his people. He had been a king of great strength of character, stern at moments, but ever just. His remains received the treatment customary in those times, and the mummy was interred in the royal sepulchre which is now covered by the sands of the centuries. Anything else?"
Bean was leaning forward in his chair, his eyes lost in that far, glorious past.
"Nothing else, now, I think. If I could see you again some time, I'd like to ask"
"My mission is to serve," answered the other, caressing the moustache with a deft hand. "Anything I can do for you, any time, command me."
The Countess appeared from between the curtains.
"Was the conditions right?" she asked.
"They have been, at least so far," replied the
