Прокляття мумії, або Камінь Семи Зірок

           Wakingexistenceisprosaicenough—therewassomebodyknockingandringingatsomeone’sstreetdoor.

           IwasprettywellaccustomedinmyJermynStreetchamberstopassingsounds;usuallyIdidnotconcernmyself,sleepingorwaking,withthedoings,howevernoisy,ofmyneighbours.Butthisnoisewastoocontinuous,tooinsistent,tooimperativetobeignored.Therewassomeactiveintelligencebehindthatceaselesssound;andsomestressorneedbehindtheintelligence.Iwasnotaltogetherselfish,andatthethoughtofsomeone’sneedIwas,withoutpremeditation,outofbed.InstinctivelyIlookedatmywatch.Itwasjustthreeo’clock;therewasafaintedgingofgreyroundthegreenblindwhichdarkenedmyroom.Itwasevidentthattheknockingandringingwereatthedoorofourownhouse;anditwasevident,too,thattherewasnooneawaketoanswerthecall.Islippedonmydressing-gownandslippers,andwentdowntothehalldoor.WhenIopenedittherestoodadappergroom,withonehandpressedunflinchinglyontheelectricbellwhilstwiththeotherheraisedaceaselessclangourwiththeknocker.Theinstanthesawmethenoiseceased;onehandwentupinstinctivelytothebrimofhishat,andtheotherproducedaletterfromhispocket.Aneatbroughamwasoppositethedoor,thehorseswerebreathingheavilyasthoughtheyhadcomefast.Apoliceman,withhisnightlanternstillalightathisbelt,stoodby,attractedtothespotbythenoise.