The Doctor immediately repaired to his wardrobe, and soon returned
with a black dress coat, made in Jennings' best manner, a pair of
sky-blue plaid pantaloons with straps, a pink gingham chemise, a
flapped vest of brocade, a white sack overcoat, a walking cane with
a hook, a hat with no brim, patent-leather boots, straw-colored kid
gloves, an eye-glass, a pair of whiskers, and a waterfall cravat.
Owing to the disparity of size between the Count and the doctor (the
proportion being as two to one), there was some little difficulty in
adjusting these habiliments upon the person of the Egyptian; but
when all was arranged, he might have been said to be dressed. Mr.
Gliddon, therefore, gave him his arm, and led him to a comfortable
chair by the fire, while the Doctor rang the bell upon the spot and
ordered a supply of cigars and wine.
The conversation soon grew animated. Much curiosity was, of
course, expressed in regard to the somewhat remarkable fact of
Allamistakeo's still remaining alive.
"I should have thought," observed Mr. Buckingham, "that it is high
time you were dead."
"Why," replied the Count, very much astonished, "I am little more
than seven hundred years old! My father lived a thousand, and was by
no means in his dotage when he died."
Here ensued a brisk series of questions and computations, by means
of which it became evident that the antiquity of the Mummy had been
grossly misjudged. It had been five thousand and fifty years and
some months since he had been consigned to the catacombs at Eleithias.
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