Page:Strange Tales Volume 02 Number 03 (1932-10).djvu/57

clear against the flames—the next there was nothing but a raging holocaust.

Coyne turned to me, his face white, his body quivering. "That's the end, Dewey," he said. He turned to Sellers. "Get our folks down to the village in the boats," he ordered. "We'll have our hands full to-night."

I mad my way back to where I had left Neil and Rita Ware. They were standing together in the same spot, and they seemed utterly absorbed in each other, so much so that neither saw me until I stood beside them.

"Well, everybody's safe," I said to Neil.

"That's good," he answered. "Jim, do you and Miss Ware know each other? She says she's met you somewhere. She thinks it was in Philadelphia."

"Well, it may have been in Philadelphia," I answered, though I had never been in that city.

"Jim, listen. You're my friend. What I'm going to say to you will sound crazy, but I'm through with the mummies and Egyptology for all time. You see, we're going to be married just as soon as—"

"Can we trust your friend?" asked Rita Ware, looking at me with a strange expression. "I—I've been ill, you know. A—a sort of breakdown. But I'm well now, and if you're Neil's friend. . . ."

"I hope that I shall be the friend of both of you for life," I answered. "I'm happier than I've ever been to know that this has happened."

"I know it sounds crazy," said the girl. "But, you see, we—we recognized each other the instant that we met. I don't know whether we met in this life or in some other one, but we know beyond all doubting that we just—well, we just belong."

And she turned to Neil again, and I saw that both of them had forgotten me. And that was how I wanted it to be. For I knew that the oath of Horus had brought those two souls together, three thousand years after their bodies had been sealed into their tombs. Neither water nor fire, nor my own treacherous sword had been able to sunder them.

I turned away and went back to help in the work of rescuing the inmates. And a dead weight was lifted from my heart.

Not always is virtue triumphant and the wrongdoer punished in the folklore of nations. An example is that concerning Treryn Castle, an ancient British fortress whose Cyclopean walls and outer breastwork can still be traced. This castle is said to have been the dwelling of a famous giant and his wife, the giant being chief of a daring band which held possession of all the lands west of Penzance.

Among his following was a fine and handsome young giant who made his home in the pile of rocks upon which the Logan Rock now stands. This young fellow grew very fond of the great chief's wife, and it seems his illegal affection was returned.

As time passed and nothing ever happened to dispose of the chieftain, the young giant at last took matters into his own hands; and one day while the giantess was reclining on the rock still known as the Giant Lady's Chair, and the good old giant was dozing in the Giant's Chair which stands near it, the young and wicked lover stole behind his chief and stabbed him in the belly with a knife. The giant fell over the rocks to the level ridge below, and there lay rapidly pouring out his life-blood. And from that spot the young murderer kicked him, still living, into the sea, where he perished in the waters.

The unjust but happy ending is that the guilty pair took possession of Treryn Castle and lived happily forever after.