{"id":26564,"date":"2026-03-12T12:51:15","date_gmt":"2026-03-12T16:51:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=26564"},"modified":"2026-03-12T12:51:17","modified_gmt":"2026-03-12T16:51:17","slug":"arthur-conan-doyle-the-ring-of-thoth","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/arthur-conan-doyle-the-ring-of-thoth\/26564\/","title":{"rendered":"Arthur Conan Doyle: The Ring of Thoth"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis:<\/strong> \u201cThe Ring of Thoth\u201d<\/em> is a mystery and adventure short story written by Arthur Conan Doyle and published in 1890. The story follows John Vansittart Smith, a renowned English Egyptologist who, during a visit to the Louvre Museum to study ancient papyri, falls asleep and awakens after midnight, finding himself alone in the vast museum. Trapped in this mysterious atmosphere, he witnesses a strange and supernatural event that connects him with an ancient story from Pharaonic Egypt.<\/p>\n\n\n

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\"Arthur<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The Ring of Thoth<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Arthur Conan Doyle
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

MR JOHN VANSITTART SMITH, FRS, of 147A Gower Street,<\/a> was a man whose energy of purpose and clearness of thought might have placed him in the very first rank of scientific observers. He was the victim, however, of a universal ambition which prompted him to aim at distinction in many subjects rather than pre-eminence in one. In his early days he had shown an aptitude for zoology and for botany which caused his friends to look upon him as a second Darwin, but when a professorship was almost within his reach he had suddenly discontinued his studies and turned his whole attention to chemistry. Here his researches upon the spectra of the metals had won him his fellowship in the Royal Society; but again he played the coquette with his subject, and after a year\u2019s absence from the laboratory he joined the Oriental Society, and delivered a paper on the Hieroglyphic and Demotic inscriptions of El Kab,<\/a> thus giving a crowning example both of the versatility and of the inconstancy of his talents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The most fickle of wooers, however, is apt to be caught at last, and so it was with John Vansittart Smith. The more he burrowed his way into Egyptology the more impressed he became by the vast field which it opened to the inquirer, and by the extreme importance of a subject which promised to throw a light upon the first germs of human civilisation and the origin of the greater part of our arts and sciences. So struck was Mr Smith that he straightway married an Egyptological young lady who had written upon the sixth dynasty,<\/a> and having thus secured a sound base of operations he set himself to collect materials for a work which should unite the research of Lepsius and the ingenuity of Champollion.<\/a> The preparation of this magnum<\/em> opus<\/em> entailed many hurried visits to the magnificent Egyptian collections of the Louvre,<\/a> upon the last of which, no longer ago than the middle of last October, he became involved in a most strange and noteworthy adventure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The trains had been slow and the Channel had been rough, so that the student arrived in Paris in a somewhat befogged and feverish condition. On reaching the H\u00f4tel de France, in the Rue Laffitte,<\/a> he had thrown himself upon a sofa for a couple of hours, but finding that he was unable to sleep, he determined, in spite of his fatigue, to make his way to the Louvre, settle the point which he had come to decide, and take the evening train back to Dieppe. Having come to his conclusion, he donned his greatcoat, for it was a raw rainy day, and made his way across the Boulevard des Italiens and down the Avenue de l\u2019Op\u00e9ra.<\/a> Once in the Louvre he was on familiar ground, and he speedily made his way to the collection of papyri which it was his intention to consult.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The warmest admirers of John Vansittart Smith could hardly claim for him that he was a handsome man. His high-beaked nose and prominent chin had something of the same acute and incisive character which distinguished his intellect. He held his head in a birdlike fashion, and birdlike, too, was the pecking motion with which, in conversation, he threw out his objections and retorts. As he stood, with the high collar of his greatcoat raised to his ears, he might have seen from the reflection in the glass-case before him that his appearance was a singular one. Yet it came upon him as a sudden jar when an English voice behind him exclaimed in very audible tones, \u2018What a queer-looking mortal!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The student had a large amount of petty vanity in his composition which manifested itself by an ostentatious and overdone disregard of all personal considerations. He straightened his lips and looked rigidly at the roll of papyrus, while his heart filled with bitterness against the whole race of travelling Britons.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Yes,\u2019 said another voice, \u2018he really is an extraordinary fellow.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Do you know,\u2019 said the first speaker, \u2018one could almost believe that by the continual contemplation of mummies the chap has become half a mummy himself?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018He has certainly an Egyptian cast of countenance,\u2019 said the other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

John Vansittart Smith spun round upon his heel with the intention of shaming his countrymen by a corrosive remark or two. To his surprise and relief, the two young fellows who had been conversing had their shoulders turned towards him, and were gazing at one of the Louvre attendants who was polishing some brass-work at the other side of the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Carter will be waiting for us at the Palais Royal,\u2019<\/a> said one tourist to the other, glancing at his watch, and they clattered away, leaving the student to his labours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I wonder what these chatterers call an Egyptian cast of countenance,\u2019 thought John Vansittart Smith, and he moved his position slightly in order to catch a glimpse of the man\u2019s face. He started as his eyes fell upon it. It was indeed the very face with which his studies had made him familiar. The regular statuesque features, broad brow, well-rounded chin, and dusky complexion were the exact counterpart of the innumerable statues, mummy-cases, and pictures which adorned the walls of the apartment. The thing was beyond all coincidence. The man must be an Egyptian. The national angularity of the shoulders and narrowness of the hips were alone sufficient to identify him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

John Vansittart Smith shuffled towards the attendant with some intention of addressing him. He was not light of touch in conversation, and found it difficult to strike the happy mean between the brusqueness of the superior and the geniality of the equal. As he came nearer, the man presented his side face to him, but kept his gaze still bent upon his work. Vansittart Smith, fixing his eyes upon the fellow\u2019s skin, was conscious of a sudden impression that there was something inhuman and preternatural about its appearance. Over the temple and cheek-bone it was as glazed and as shiny as varnished parchment. There was no suggestion of pores. One could not fancy a drop of moisture upon that arid surface. From brow to chin, however, it was cross-hatched by a million delicate wrinkles, which shot and interlaced as though Nature in some Maori mood<\/a> had tried how wild and intricate a pattern she could devise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018O\u00f9 est la collection de Memphis?\u2019<\/a> asked the student, with the awkward air of a man who is devising a question merely for the purpose of opening a conversation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018C\u2019est l\u00e0,\u2019 replied the man brusquely, nodding his head at the other side of the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Vous \u00eates un Egyptien, n\u2019est-ce pas?\u2019 asked the Englishman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The attendant looked up and turned his strange dark eyes upon his questioner. They were vitreous,<\/a> with a misty dry shininess, such as Smith had never seen in a human head before. As he gazed into them he saw some strong emotion gather in their depths, which rose and deepened until it broke into a look of something akin both to horror and to hatred.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Non, monsieur; je suis fran\u00e7ais.\u2019 The man turned abruptly and bent low over his polishing. The student gazed at him for a moment in astonishment, and then turning to a chair in a retired corner behind one of the doors he proceeded to make notes of his researches among the papyri. His thoughts, however, refused to return into their natural groove. They would run upon the enigmatical attendant with the sphinx-like face and the parchment skin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Where have I seen such eyes?\u2019 said Vansittart Smith to himself. \u2018There is something saurian about them, something reptilian. There\u2019s the membrana nictitans<\/a> of the snakes,\u2019 he mused, bethinking himself of his zoological studies. \u2018It gives a shiny effect. But there was something more here. There was a sense of power, of wisdom\u2014so I read them\u2014and of weariness, utter weariness, and ineffable despair. It may be all imagination, but I never had so strong an impression. By Jove, I must have another look at them!\u2019 He rose and paced round the Egyptian rooms, but the man who had excited his curiosity had disappeared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The student sat down again in his quiet corner, and continued to work at his notes. He had gained the information which he required from the papyri, and it only remained to write it down while it was still fresh in his memory. For a time his pencil travelled rapidly over the paper, but soon the lines became less level, the words more blurred, and finally the pencil tinkled down upon the floor, and the head of the student dropped heavily forward upon his chest. Tired out by his journey, he slept so soundly in his lonely post behind the door that neither the clanking civil guard, nor the footsteps of sightseers, nor even the loud hoarse bell which gives the signal for closing, were sufficient to arouse him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Twilight deepened into darkness, the bustle from the Rue de Rivoli waxed and then waned, distant Notre Dame<\/a> clanged out the hour of midnight, and still the dark and lonely figure sat silently in the shadow. It was not until close upon one in the morning that, with a sudden gasp and an intaking of the breath, Vansittart Smith returned to consciousness. For a moment it flashed upon him that he had dropped asleep in his study-chair at home. The moon was shining fitfully through the unshuttered window, however, and as his eye ran along the lines of mummies and the endless array of polished cases, he remembered clearly where he was and how he came there. The student was not a nervous man. He possessed that love of a novel situation which is peculiar to his race. Stretching out his cramped limbs, he looked at his watch, and burst into a chuckle as he observed the hour. The episode would make an admirable anecdote to be introduced into his next paper as a relief to the graver and heavier speculations. He was a little cold, but wide awake and much refreshed. It was no wonder that the guardians had overlooked him, for the door threw its heavy black shadow right across him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The complete silence was impressive. Neither outside nor inside was there a creak or a murmur. He was alone with the dead men of a dead civilisation. What though the outer city reeked of the garish nineteenth century! In all this chamber there was scarce an article, from the shrivelled ear of wheat to the pigment-box of the painter, which had not held its own against four thousand years. Here was the flotsam and jetsam washed up by the great ocean of time from that far-off empire. From stately Thebes, from lordly Luxor, from the great temples of Heliopolis,<\/a> from a hundred rifled tombs, these relics had been brought. The student glanced round at the long-silent figures who flickered vaguely up through the gloom, at the busy toilers who were now so restful, and he fell into a reverent and thoughtful mood. An unwonted sense of his own youth and insignificance came over him. Leaning back in his chair, he gazed dreamily down the long vista of rooms, all silvery with the moonshine, which extend through the whole wing of the widespread building. His eyes fell upon the yellow glare of a distant lamp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

John Vansittart Smith sat up on his chair with his nerves all on edge. The light was advancing slowly towards him, pausing from time to time, and then coming jerkily onwards. The bearer moved noiselessly. In the utter silence there was no suspicion of the pat of a footfall. An idea of robbers entered the Englishman\u2019s head. He snuggled up farther into the corner. The light was two rooms off. Now it was in the next chamber, and still there was no sound. With something approaching to a thrill of fear the student observed a face, floating in the air as it were, behind the flare of the lamp. The figure was wrapped in shadow, but the light fell full upon the strange, eager face. There was no mistaking the metallic, glistening eyes and the cadaverous skin. It was the attendant with whom he had conversed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Vansittart Smith\u2019s first impulse was to come forward and address him. A few words of explanation would set the matter clear, and lead doubtless to his being conducted to some side-door from which he might make his way to his hotel. As the man entered the chamber, however, there was something so stealthy in his movements, and so furtive in his expression, that the Englishman altered his intention. This was clearly no ordinary official walking the rounds. The fellow wore felt-soled slippers, stepped with a rising chest, and glanced quickly from left to right, while his hurried, gasping breathing thrilled the flame of his lamp. Vansittart Smith crouched silently back into the corner and watched him keenly, convinced that his errand was one of secret and probably sinister import.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was no hesitation in the other\u2019s movements. He stepped lightly and swiftly across to one of the great cases, and, drawing a key from his pocket, he unlocked it. From the upper shelf he pulled down a mummy, which he bore away with him, and laid it with much care and solicitude upon the ground. By it he placed his lamp, and then squatting down beside it in Eastern fashion he began with long, quivering fingers to undo the cerecloths<\/a> and bandages which girt it round. As the crackling rolls of linen peeled off one after the other, a strong aromatic odour filled the chamber, and fragments of scented wood and of spices pattered down upon the marble floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was clear to John Vansittart Smith that this mummy had never been unswathed before. The operation interested him keenly. He thrilled all over with curiosity, and his bird-like head protruded farther and farther from behind the door. When, however, the last roll had been removed from the four-thousand-year-old head, it was all that he could do to stifle an outcry of amazement. First, a cascade of long, black, glossy tresses poured over the workman\u2019s hands and arms. A second turn of the bandage revealed a low, white forehead, with a pair of delicately arched eyebrows. A third uncovered a pair of bright, deeply fringed eyes, and a straight, well-cut nose, while a fourth and last showed a sweet, full, sensitive mouth, and a beautifully curved chin. The whole face was one of extraordinary loveliness, save for the one blemish that in the centre of the forehead there was a single irregular, coffee-coloured splotch. It was a triumph of the embalmer\u2019s art. Vansittart Smith\u2019s eyes grew larger and larger as he gazed upon it, and he chirruped in his throat with satisfaction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Its effect upon the Egyptologist was as nothing, however, compared with that which it produced upon the strange attendant. He threw his hands up into the air, burst into a harsh clatter of words, and then, hurling himself down upon the ground beside the mummy, he threw his arms round her, and kissed her repeatedly upon the lips and brow. \u2018Ma petite!\u2019 he groaned in French. \u2018Ma pauvre petite!\u2019<\/a> His voice broke with emotion, and his innumerable wrinkles quivered and writhed, but the student observed in the lamp-light that his shining eyes were still dry and tearless as two beads of steel. For some minutes he lay, with a twitching face, crooning and moaning over the beautiful head. Then he broke into a sudden smile, said some words in an unknown tongue, and sprang to his feet with the vigorous air of one who has braced himself for an effort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the centre of the room there was a large, circular case which contained, as the student had frequently remarked, a magnificent collection of early Egyptian rings and precious stones. To this the attendant strode, and, unlocking it, threw it open. On the ledge at the side he placed his lamp, and beside it a small, earthenware jar which he had drawn from his pocket. He then took a handful of rings from the case, and with a most serious and anxious face he proceeded to smear each in turn with some liquid substance from the earthen pot, holding them to the light as he did so. He was clearly disappointed with the first lot, for he threw them petulantly back into the case and drew out some more. One of these, a massive ring with a large crystal set in it, he seized and eagerly tested with the contents of the jar. Instantly he uttered a cry of joy, and threw out his arms in a wild gesture which upset the pot and set the liquid streaming across the floor to the very feet of the Englishman. The attendant drew a red handkerchief from his bosom, and, mopping up the mess, he followed it into the corner, where in a moment he found himself face to face with his observer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Excuse me,\u2019 said John Vansittart Smith, with all imaginable politeness; \u2018I have been unfortunate enough to fall asleep behind this door.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018And you have been watching me?\u2019 the other asked in English, with a most venomous look on his corpse-like face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The student was a man of veracity. \u2018I confess,\u2019 said he, \u2018that I have noticed your movements, and that they have aroused my curiosity and interest in the highest degree.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man drew a long, flamboyant-bladed knife from his bosom. \u2018You have had a very narrow escape,\u2019 he said; \u2018had I seen you ten minutes ago, I should have driven this through your heart. As it is, if you touch me or interfere with me in any way you are a dead man.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I have no wish to interfere with you,\u2019 the student answered. \u2018My presence here is entirely accidental. All I ask is that you will have the extreme kindness to show me out through some side-door.\u2019 He spoke with great suavity, for the man was still pressing the tip of his dagger against the palm of his left hand, as though to assure himself of its sharpness, while his face preserved its malignant expression.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018If I thought \u2014\u2014\u2019 said he. \u2018But no, perhaps it is as well. What is your name?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Englishman gave it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Vansittart Smith,\u2019 the other repeated. \u2018Are you the same Vansittart Smith who gave a paper in London upon El Kab? I saw a report of it. Your knowledge of the subject is contemptible.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Sir!\u2019 cried the Egyptologist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Yet it is superior to that of many who make even greater pretensions. The whole keystone of our old life in Egypt was not the inscriptions or monuments of which you make so much, but was our hermetic philosophy<\/a> and mystic knowledge of which you say little or nothing.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Our old life!\u2019 repeated the scholar, wide-eyed; and then suddenly, \u2018Good God, look at the mummy\u2019s face!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The strange man turned and flashed his light upon the dead woman, uttering a long, doleful cry as he did so. The action of the air had already undone all the art of the embalmer. The skin had fallen away, the eyes had sunk inwards, the discoloured lips had writhed away from the yellow teeth, and the brown mark upon the forehead alone showed that it was indeed the same face which had shown such youth and beauty a few short minutes before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man flapped his hands together in grief and horror. Then mastering himself by a strong effort he turned his hard eyes once more upon the Englishman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018It does not matter,\u2019 he said, in a shaking voice. \u2018It does not really matter. I came here to-night with the fixed determination to do something. It is now done. All else is as nothing. I have found my quest. The old curse is broken. I can rejoin her. What matter about her inanimate shell so long as her spirit is awaiting me at the other side of the veil!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018These are wild words,\u2019 said Vansittart Smith. He was becoming more and more convinced that he had to do with a madman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Time presses, and I must go,\u2019 continued the other. \u2018The moment is at hand for which I have waited this weary time. But I must show you out first. Come with me.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Taking up the lamp, he turned from the disordered chamber, and led the student swiftly through the long series of the Egyptian, Assyrian, and Persian apartments. At the end of the latter he pushed open a small door let into the wall and descended a winding, stone stair. The Englishman felt the cold, fresh air of the night upon his brow. There was a door opposite him which appeared to communicate with the street. To the right of this another door stood ajar, throwing a spurt of yellow light across the passage. \u2018Come in here!\u2019 said the attendant shortly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Vansittart Smith hesitated. He had hoped that he had come to the end of his adventure. Yet his curiosity was strong within him. He could not leave the matter unsolved, so he followed his strange companion into the lighted chamber.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a small room, such as is devoted to a concierge<\/em>. A wood fire sparkled in the grate. At one side stood a truckle bed,<\/a> and at the other a coarse, wooden chair, with a round table in the centre, which bore the remains of a meal. As the visitor\u2019s eye glanced round he could not but remark with an ever-recurring thrill that all the small details of the room were of the most quaint design and antique workmanship. The candlesticks, the vases upon the chimney-piece, the fire-irons, the ornaments upon the walls, were all such as he had been wont to associate with the remote past. The gnarled heavy-eyed man sat himself down upon the edge of the bed, and motioned his guest into the chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018There may be design in this,\u2019 he said, still speaking excellent English. \u2018It may be decreed that I should leave some account behind as a warning to all rash mortals who would set their wits up against workings of Nature. I leave it with you. Make such use as you will of it. I speak to you now with my feet upon the threshold of the other world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I am, as you surmised, an Egyptian\u2014not one of the down-trodden race of slaves who now inhabit the Delta of the Nile, but a survivor of that fiercer and harder people who tamed the Hebrew, drove the Ethiopian back into the southern deserts, and built those mighty works which have been the envy and the wonder of all after generations. It was in the reign of Tuthmosis,<\/a> sixteen hundred years before the birth of Christ, that I first saw the light. You shrink away from me. Wait, and you will see that I am more to be pitied than to be feared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018My name was Sosra. My father had been the chief priest of Osiris in the great temple of Abaris, which stood in those days upon the Bubastic<\/a> branch of the Nile. I was brought up in the temple and was trained in all those mystic arts which are spoken of in your own Bible.<\/a> I was an apt pupil. Before I was sixteen I had learned all which the wisest priest could teach me. From that time on I studied Nature\u2019s secrets for myself, and shared my knowledge with no man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Of all the questions which attracted me there were none over which I laboured so long as over those which concern themselves with the nature of life. I probed deeply into the vital principle. The aim of medicine had been to drive away disease when it appeared. It seemed to me that a method might be devised which should so fortify the body as to prevent weakness or death from ever taking hold of it. It is useless that I should recount my researches. You would scarce comprehend them if I did. They were carried out partly upon animals, partly upon slaves, and partly on myself. Suffice it that their result was to furnish me with a substance which, when injected into the blood, would endow the body with strength to resist the effects of time, of violence, or of disease. It would not indeed confer immortality, but its potency would endure for many thousands of years. I used it upon a cat, and afterwards drugged the creature with the most deadly poisons. That cat is alive in Lower Egypt at the present moment. There was nothing of mystery or magic in the matter. It was simply a chemical discovery, which may well be made again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Love of life runs high in the young. It seemed to me that I had broken away from all human care now that I had abolished pain and driven death to such a distance. With a light heart I poured the accursed stuff into my veins. Then I looked round for someone whom I could benefit. There was a young priest of Thoth, Parmes by name, who had won my goodwill by his earnest nature and his devotion to his studies. To him I whispered my secret, and at his request I injected him with my elixir. I should now, I reflected, never be without a companion of the same age as myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018After this grand discovery I relaxed my studies to some extent, but Parmes continued his with redoubled energy. Every day I could see him working with his flasks and his distiller in the Temple of Thoth, but he said little to me as to the result of his labours. For my own part, I used to walk through the city and look around me with exultation as I reflected that all this was destined to pass away, and that only I should remain. The people would bow to me as they passed me, for the fame of my knowledge had gone abroad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018There was war at this time, and the Great King had sent down his soldiers to the eastern boundary to drive away the Hyksos.<\/a> A Governor, too, was sent to Abaris, that he might hold it for the King. I had heard much of the beauty of the daughter of this Governor, but one day as I walked out with Parmes we met her, borne upon the shoulders of her slaves. I was struck with love as with lightning. My heart went out from me. I could have thrown myself beneath the feet of her bearers. This was my woman. Life without her was impossible. I swore by the head of Horus<\/a> that she should be mine. I swore it to the Priest of Thoth. He turned away from me with a brow which was as black as midnight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018There is no need to tell you of our wooing. She came to love me even as I loved her. I learned that Parmes had seen her before I did, and had shown her that he, too, loved her, but I could smile at his passion, for I knew that her heart was mine. The white plague had come upon the city and many were stricken, but I laid my hands upon the sick and nursed them without fear or scathe. She marvelled at my daring. Then I told her my secret, and begged her that she would let me use my art upon her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cYour flower shall then be unwithered, Atma,\u201d I said. \u201cOther things may pass away, but you and I, and our great love for each other, shall outlive the tomb of King Chefru.\u201d<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018But she was full of timid, maidenly objections. \u201cWas it right?\u201d she asked, \u201cwas it not a thwarting of the will of the gods? If the great Osiris had wished that our years should be so long, would he not himself have brought it about?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018With fond and loving words I overcame her doubts, and yet she hesitated. It was a great question, she said. She would think it over for this one night. In the morning I should know of her resolution. Surely one night was not too much to ask. She wished to pray to Isis for help in her decision.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018With a sinking heart and a sad foreboding of evil I left her with her tirewomen.<\/a> In the morning, when the early sacrifice was over, I hurried to her house. A frightened slave met me upon the steps. Her mistress was ill, she said, very ill. In a frenzy I broke my way through the attendants, and rushed through hall and corridor to my Atma\u2019s chamber. She lay upon her couch, her head high upon the pillow, with a pallid face and a glazed eye. On her forehead there blazed a single angry, purple patch. I knew that hell-mark of old. It was the scar of the white plague,<\/a> the sign-manual of death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Why should I speak of that terrible time? For months I was mad, fevered, delirious, and yet I could not die. Never did an Arab thirst after the sweet wells as I longed after death. Could poison or steel have shortened the thread of my existence, I should soon have rejoined my love in the land with the narrow portal,<\/a> I tried, but it was of no avail. The accursed influence was too strong upon me. One night as I lay upon my couch, weak and weary, Parmes, the priest of Thoth, came to my chamber. He stood in the circle of the lamp-light, and he looked down upon me with eyes which were bright with a mad joy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cWhy did you let the maiden die?\u201d he asked; \u201cwhy did you not strengthen her as you strengthened me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cI was too late,\u201d I answered. \u201cBut I had forgot. You also loved her. You are my fellow in misfortune. Is it not terrible to think of the centuries which must pass ere we look upon her again? Fools, fools, that we were to take death to be our enemy!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cYou may say that,\u201d he cried with a wild laugh; \u201cthe words come well from your lips. For me they have no meaning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cWhat mean you?\u201d I cried, raising myself upon my elbow. \u201cSurely, friend, this grief has turned your brain.\u201d His face was aflame with joy, and he writhed and shook like one who hath a devil.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cDo you know whither I go?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cNay,\u201d I answered, \u201cI cannot tell.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cI go to her,\u201d said he. \u201cShe lies embalmed in the farther tomb by the double palm-tree beyond the city wall.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cWhy do you go there?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cTo die!\u201d he shrieked, \u201cto die! I am not bound by earthen fetters.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cBut the elixir is in your blood,\u201d I cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cI can defy it,\u201d said he; \u201cI have found a stronger principle which will destroy it. It is working in my veins at this moment, and in an hour I shall be a dead man. I shall join her, and you shall remain behind.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018As I looked upon him I could see that he spoke words of truth. The light in his eye told me that he was indeed beyond the power of the elixir.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cYou will teach me!\u201d I cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cNever!\u201d he answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cI implore you, by the wisdom of Thoth, by the majesty of Anubis!\u201d<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cIt is useless,\u201d he said coldly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cThen I will find it out,\u201d I cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cYou cannot,\u201d he answered; \u201cit came to me by chance. There is one ingredient which you can never get. Save that which is in the ring of Thoth, none will ever more be made.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cIn the ring of Thoth!\u201d I repeated, \u201cwhere then is the ring of Thoth?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018 \u201cThat also you shall never know,\u201d he answered. \u201cYou won her love. Who has won in the end? I leave you to your sordid earth life. My chains are broken. I must go!\u201d He turned upon his heel and fled from the chamber. In the morning came the news that the Priest of Thoth was dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018My days after that were spent in study. I must find this subtle poison which was strong enough to undo the elixir. From early dawn to midnight I bent over the test-tube and the furnace. Above all, I collected the papyri and the chemical flasks of the Priest of Thoth. Alas! they taught me little. Here and there some hint or stray expression would raise hope in my bosom, but no good ever came of it. Still, month after month, I struggled on. When my heart grew faint I would make my way to the tomb by the palm-trees. There, standing by the dead casket from which the jewel had been rifled, I would feel her sweet presence, and would whisper to her that I would rejoin her if mortal wit could solve the riddle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Parmes had said that his discovery was connected with the ring of Thoth. I had some remembrance of the trinket. It was a large and weighty circlet, made, not of gold, but of a rarer and heavier metal brought from the mines of Mount Harbal.<\/a> Platinum, you call it. The ring had, I remembered, a hollow crystal set in it, in which some few drops of liquid might be stored. Now, the secret of Parmes could not have to do with the metal alone, for there were many rings of that metal in the Temple. Was it not more likely that he had stored his precious poison within the cavity of the crystal? I had scarce come to this conclusion before, in hunting through his papers, I came upon one which told me that it was indeed so, and that there was still some of the liquid unused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018But how to find the ring? It was not upon him when he was stripped for the embalmer. Of that I made sure. Neither was it among his private effects. In vain I searched every room that he had entered, every box and vase and chattel that he had owned. I sifted the very sand of the desert in the places where he had been wont to walk; but, do what I would, I could come upon no traces of the ring of Thoth. Yet it may be that my labours would have overcome all obstacles had it not been for a new and unlooked-for misfortune.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018A great war had been waged against the Hyksos, and the Captains of the Great King had been cut off in the desert, with all their bowmen and horsemen. The shepherd tribes were upon us like the locusts in a dry year. From the wilderness of Shur to the great, bitter lake<\/a> there was blood by day and fire by night. Abaris was the bulwark of Egypt, but we could not keep the savages back. The city fell. The Governor and the soldiers were put to the sword, and I, with many more, was led away into captivity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018For years and years I tended cattle in the great plains by the Euphrates.<\/a> My master died, and his son grew old, but I was still as far from death as ever. At last I escaped upon a swift camel, and made my way back to Egypt. The Hyksos had settled in the land which they had conquered, and their own King ruled over the country. Abaris had been torn down, the city had been burned, and of the great Temple there was nothing left save an unsightly mound. Everywhere the tombs had been rifled and the monuments destroyed. Of my Atma\u2019s grave no sign was left. It was buried in the sands of the desert, and the palm-trees which marked the spot had long disappeared. The papers of Parmes and the remains of the Temple of Thoth were either destroyed or scattered far and wide over the deserts of Syria. All search after them was vain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018From that time I gave up all hope of ever finding the ring or discovering the subtle drug. I set myself to live as patiently as might be until the effect of the elixir should wear away. How can you understand how terrible a thing time is, you who have experience only of the narrow course which lies between the cradle and the grave! I know it to my cost, I who have floated down the whole stream of history. I was old when Ilium fell. I was very old when Herodotus<\/a> came to Memphis. I was bowed down with years when the new gospel came upon earth. Yet you see me much as other men are, with the cursed elixir still sweetening my blood, and guarding me against that which I would court. Now, at last, at last I have come to the end of it!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I have travelled in all lands and I have dwelt with all nations. Every tongue is the same to me. I learned them all to help pass the weary time. I need not tell you how slowly they drifted by, the long dawn of modern civilization, the dreary middle years, the dark times of barbarism. They are all behind me now. I have never looked with the eyes of love upon another woman. Atma knows that I have been constant to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018It was my custom to read all that the scholars had to say upon Ancient Egypt. I have been in many positions, sometimes affluent, sometimes poor, but I have always found enough to enable me to buy the journals which deal with such matters. Some nine months ago I was in San Francisco, when I read an account of some discoveries made in the neighbourhood of Abaris. My heart leapt into my mouth as I read it. It said that the excavator had busied himself in exploring some tombs recently unearthed. In one there had been found an unopened mummy with an inscription upon the outer case setting forth that it contained the body of the daughter of the Governor of the city in the days of Tuthmosis. It added that on removing the outer case there had been exposed a large platinum ring set with a crystal, which had been laid upon the breast of the embalmed woman. This, then, was where Parmes had hid the ring of Thoth. He might well say that it was safe, for no Egyptian would ever stain his soul by moving even the outer case of a buried friend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018That very night I set off from San Francisco, and in a few weeks I found myself once more at Abaris, if a few sand-heaps and crumbling walls may retain the name of the great city. I hurried to the Frenchmen who were digging there and asked them for the ring. They replied that both the ring and the mummy had been sent to the Boulak Museum at Cairo. To Boulak I went, but only to be told that Mariette Bey<\/a> had claimed them and had shipped them to the Louvre. I followed them, and there, at last, in the Egyptian chamber, I came, after close upon four thousand years, upon the remains of my Atma, and upon the ring for which I had sought so long.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018But how was I to lay hands upon them? How was I to have them for my very own? It chanced that the office of attendant was vacant. I went to the Director. I convinced him that I knew much about Egypt. In my eagerness I said too much. He remarked that a Professor\u2019s chair would suit me better than a seat in the conciergerie. I knew more, he said, than he did. It was only by blundering, and letting him think that he had over-estimated my knowledge, that I prevailed upon him to let me move the few effects which I have retained into this chamber. It is my first and my last night here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Such is my story, Mr Vansittart Smith. I need not say more to a man of your perception. By a strange chance you have this night looked upon the face of the woman whom I loved in those far-off days. There were many rings with crystals in the case, and I had to test for the platinum to be sure of the one which I wanted. A glance at the crystal has shown me that the liquid is indeed within it, and that I shall at last be able to shake off that accursed health which has been worse to me than the foulest disease. I have nothing more to say to you. I have unburdened myself. You may tell my story or you may withhold it at your pleasure. The choice rests with you. I owe you some amends, for you have had a narrow escape of your life this night. I was a desperate man, and not to be baulked in my purpose. Had I seen you before the thing was done, I might have put it beyond your power to oppose me or to raise an alarm. This is the door. It leads into the Rue de Rivoli. Good night.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Englishman glanced back. For a moment the lean figure of Sosra the Egyptian stood framed in the narrow doorway. The next the door had slammed, and the heavy rasping of a bolt broke on the silent night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was on the second day after his return to London that Mr John Vansittart Smith saw the following concise narrative in the Paris correspondence of The Times<\/em>: \u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Curious Occurrence in the Louvre<\/em>.\u2014Yesterday morning a strange discovery was made in the principal Eastern chamber. The ouvriers<\/em> who are employed to clean out the rooms in the morning found one of the attendants lying dead upon the floor with his arms round one of the mummies. So close was his embrace that it was only with the utmost difficulty that they were separated. One of the cases containing valuable rings had been opened and rifled. The authorities are of opinion that the man was bearing away the mummy with some idea of selling it to a private collector, but that he was struck down in the very act by long-standing disease of the heart. It is said that he was a man of uncertain age and eccentric habits, without any living relations to mourn over his dramatic and untimely end.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cThe Ring of Thoth\u201d is a mystery and adventure short story written by Arthur Conan Doyle and published in 1890. The story follows John Vansittart Smith, a renowned English Egyptologist who, during a visit to the Louvre Museum to study ancient papyri, falls asleep and awakens after midnight, finding himself alone in the vast museum. Trapped in this mysterious atmosphere, he witnesses a strange and supernatural event that connects him with an ancient story from Pharaonic Egypt.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":16458,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[559],"tags":[565,573,772],"class_list":["post-26564","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-stories","tag-arthur-conan-doyle-en","tag-fantasy","tag-united-kingdom","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-33"],"acf":[],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":559,"label":"Short stories"}],"post_tag":[{"value":565,"label":"Arthur Conan Doyle"},{"value":573,"label":"Fantasy"},{"value":772,"label":"United Kingdom"}]},"featured_image_src_large":["https:\/\/lecturia.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/09\/Arthur-Conan-Doyle-El-anillo-de-Thoth.webp",1024,1024,false],"author_info":{"display_name":"Juan Pablo Guevara","author_link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/author\/spartakku\/"},"comment_info":"","category_info":[{"term_id":559,"name":"Short stories","slug":"short-stories","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":559,"taxonomy":"category","description":"","parent":0,"count":413,"filter":"raw","cat_ID":559,"category_count":413,"category_description":"","cat_name":"Short stories","category_nicename":"short-stories","category_parent":0}],"tag_info":[{"term_id":565,"name":"Arthur Conan Doyle","slug":"arthur-conan-doyle-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":565,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":9,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":573,"name":"Fantasy","slug":"fantasy","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":573,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":87,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":772,"name":"United Kingdom","slug":"united-kingdom","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":772,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":92,"filter":"raw"}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26564","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=26564"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26564\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/16458"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=26564"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=26564"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=26564"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}