"You'll go out with us to the mountain, Sir Marcus?" I went on. "We'll be ready to start--"

But Sir Marcus had suddenly become deaf. He had turned as if to gaze after the long ago departed train. Instead of answering me, he was stalking off toward a group of people at the far end of the platform: three ladies and two men in khaki. For a second I felt an impulse of indignation. Cheek of him to march away like that, not caring much that we had been robbed, largely through his carelessness, and by one of his own men!

But the indignation turned to surprise, sheer incredulous amazement. I glanced at Anthony to learn whether he had seen; but he was beckoning the old wise man of the desert. "Fenton," said I, "it seems we weren't the only pa.s.sengers to get off here. There are three people we know, talking to two we don't."

Anthony looked. "Great Scott!" said he. And in another instant we were following Sir Marcus hastily along the platform to greet--or scold (we weren't sure which it ought to be) the big hatted, green-veiled, khaki-dressed but easily recognised figures of Brigit O'Brien, Monny Gilder, and Mrs. East.

"We couldn't help it," Monny cried in self-defence to Anthony, before he had time to reach the group. "We knew you wouldn't let us come, so we came--because we _had_ to be in this with you. Even Biddy wanted to --and she's so _wise_. As, for Aunt Clara, I believe she'd have started without us, if we hadn't been wild for the journey. So you _see_ how it was!"

We did see. And we couldn't help rejoicing in their pluck, as well as in the sight of them, though it was all against our common sense.

"We've ordered our own camels, and a tent, and things to eat and drink, so we shan't be any bother to you," Monny went on, as Anthony rather gravely shook hands, his eager brows lifted, his eyes smiling in spite of himself. "We couldn't have done it, if it hadn't been for Slatin Pasha. We first went and confided _everything_ to him, because we knew he loved adventures and would be sure to sympathize. These gentlemen from the camp are his friends, and they've organized our little expedition at his request. More than one person can use the telegraph, you know! And oh, won't it be lovely going with you out into the desert!"

It was not yet evening when we set forth; but it was the birth of another day when we arrived within sight of Corkran's camp. The tents glimmered pale in the light which comes up out of the desert before dawn, as light rises from the sea; and so deep was the stillness that it might have been a ghost camp. There was not even the howling of a dog; and this silence was more eerie than the silence of sleep in a lonely place; because of the tale a grandson of Asmack's had brought to the village. He was one of the Nubian men Corkran had engaged to help his Arab workmen from the north; and when the whole gang had been discharged he, suspecting that some secret thing was on foot, hid in the desert-scrub that he might return by night to spy. He had wished his brothers to stay with him, but they, fearing the djinns who haunt the mountain and have power at night, refused, and begged him to come away lest he be struck by a terrible death. The legend was that Queen Candace, the queen who ordered the making of the tomb--had been a witch. When she died, by her magic arts learned from the lost Book of Thoth, she had turned all those aware of the tomb's existence, into djinns, to guard the secret dwelling of her soul. Even the great men of the court who by her wish hid in the mountain her body and jewels and treasure, became djinns the moment they had closed and concealed the entrance to the tomb. They could never impart the secret to mortals; and because of the knowledge which burned within their hearts, and the anguish of being parted forever from those they loved, the tortured spirits in prison grew malevolent. While the sun (still worshipped by them as R) was above the horizon they had no power over men, but the moment that R? "died his red death" the djinns could destroy those who ventured within such distance of the mountain as its shadow might reach: and if any man ventured nearer in the darkness of night, he heard the wailing of the spirits. Camp had been pitched beyond the shadow's furthest reach; but the night after the workmen were discharged, Asmack's one brave grandson had been led by curiosity to approach the haunted mountain. When he had crept within the trench most lately dug, he had heard the wicked voice of the djinns raging and quarrelling together. There had been a threatening cry when they knew how a man had defied their power, and the Nubian had escaped a fate too horrible to put in words, only by running, running, until his breath gave out, and the sun rose.

This story gave the silent desert power even over European minds, as we came where the small camp glimmered, just outside the Shadow's wicked circle.

Not one of Asmack's men would go with us to the tent, which was evidently that of the leader. He might be lying there dead, struck by the djinns, they said, and all those who looked upon the body would be accursed. The three women would not have gone to Corkran's tent, even had we allowed them to do so; and Sir Marcus, already a slave, though a willing one, stayed with his adored lady and her friends, inside the ring which the Nubians proceeded to make with the camels. Carrying a lighted lantern Anthony and I walked alone to the tent.

The flap was down, but not fastened, and the canvas moved slightly as if trembling fingers tried to hold it taut.

"Colonel Corkran!" I called out, sharply. But there was no answer.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

THE SECRET

Anthony lifted the flap, holding up the lantern, and we both looked in.

No one was there--but the tent had the look of recent occupation. It was neatly arranged, as the tent of an old soldier should be: but on the table stood a half-used candle stuck in a bottle; and beside it a book lay open, face downward. Entering the tent the first thing I did was to glance at the t.i.tle of this book. It was a learned archeological treatise. Here and there a paragraph was marked, and leaves dog's-eared. Three other volumes of the same sort were piled one upon the other. Anthony and I had read all four during the last few months, since our minds had concentrated on the subject of pyramids and rock tombs.

"What do you think has become of Corkran?" I said to Anthony.

"I think the djinns have got him," he answered, gravely.

"You mean--"

"I don't quite know what I mean. But--he must have hit upon something, and then--have been prevented from coming back."

"Why should he have had such luck, after a few weeks' work, an unscientific fellow like him, if the secret of the mountain has been inviolate for over two thousand years?"

"Wait and see what's happened to him before you call it 'luck,' Duffer.

But you must remember that n.o.body except Ferlini and a few superst.i.tious blacks ever believed that the mountain had a secret.

Incredulity has protected it. And Corkran had to work like a thousand devils if he hoped to get hold of anything before he was found out. I believe he has got hold of something, and--that it then got hold of him. But we shall see."

"Yes, we shall see," I repeated. "And before long if we too have luck."

"I hope it won't be the same kind as his. But come along out of this.

We must get to work before sunrise, and try for a result of some sort before the worst of the heat. If _he's_ found anything, we ought pretty quickly to profit by his weeks of frantic labour. That, maybe, will be our revenge."

We had to tell the party what we had found in the tent, and what we meant to do next. Sir Marcus was now excused by Mrs. East; but until summoned by us the ladies were to remain where they were, under shelter of the tent which the camel-boys were getting into shape. When exhorted to be patient, they received the advice in sweet silence; but we did not until later attach much importance to this unusual mood. Perhaps at the moment we were too preoccupied to notice expressions, even in the eyes we loved best.

We took with us two men whom Asmack had provided as diggers, and in five minutes we were at the base of the little dark, conical mountain which for weeks had been the object of our dreams. Now, standing face to face with it, the glamour faded. The Mountain of the Golden Pyramid was exactly like a dozen other tumbled shapes of black rock, grouped or scattered over the dull clay desert which many centuries ago had been the fertile realm of Candace. Why should a queen have selected it from among its lumpish fellows, to do it secret honour? But Corkran had had faith. Here were traces of what Fenton called his "frantic labours."

A parallel trench had been dug with the evident object of unearthing a buried entrance into the mountain. Down it went through hardened sand and clay, to a depth of eight or ten feet; and descending, we found as we expected to do, several low tunnels driven at right angles toward the mountain itself. One after another we entered, crawling on hands and knees, only to come up against a solid wall of rock at the end.

Each of these burrows represented just so much toil and disappointment.

But Corkran, whose undertaking could be justified even to his own mind only by success, had not been discouraged. The trench went round three sides of the mountain, as we soon discovered; and the corner of the fourth facade not having yet been turned, it seemed a sign that Corkran had, as Anthony said, "hit upon something," or thought that he had done so. Otherwise he would not have discharged his men before the fourth gallery was begun. We had started from the south because our camp faced the long trench on that side, and it was quicker to jump into it than to walk round and examine the excavations from ground-level. On the east, the plan of the work was the same as on the south, except that the tunnels leading mountainward were driven at different distances, relatively to each other; and each of these also ended in a _cul de sac_. Now remained the trench on the north side of the mountain, which was the most promising direction for a "find": and as we turned the corner which brought us into this third trench the sun rose, making the sky blossom like the primrose fields of heaven.

On this side, sand driven by the northerly wind which never rests had banked itself high against the mountain, and the excavation had been a more serious task. There were only two tunnels, and into both sand had fallen. One was nearly blocked up, and impossible to enter without reopening; but we took it for granted hopefully that the second had been made later. This ran toward the mountain with a northeasterly slant; and though it was partly choked by sand, it was possible to crawl in. Anthony insisted on going first. I followed, at the pace of my early ancestor the worm, and Sir Marcus comfortably waited outside.

He wanted to be a pioneer only in financial paths; and after all, this was _our_ mountain now. It wasn't worth his while to be killed in it.

Besides, as he pointed out, if anything happened to us there must be some one to organize a rescue, and break the news to the ladies.

Anthony had a small electric torch, and I a lantern, but going on hands and knees, we could use the lights only now and then. When we had crept ahead (descending always) for twelve or fifteen feet, Anthony stopped.

"Hullo!" I heard him call, in a m.u.f.fled, reverberating voice. "Here's the reason why Corkran sent his Arabs away!"

"What is it?" I yelled, my heart jumping.

"The rock's been cut back, by the hands of men."

"His men, perhaps."

"No, it isn't done like that nowadays. The tunnel turns here, dips down, and goes on along this flat wall. I bet Corkran always kept ahead of the men. When he saw this, he discharged his workers--And yet, it may be nothing of importance after all. Only a flat surface for some old wall-inscription such as Romans and even Egyptian soldiers made constantly, on the march."

The rumbling voice ceased, as Anthony crawled round the turn of the pa.s.sage. I followed, literally close on his heels, the burrow descending like a rabbit-hole. Suddenly Anthony stopped again. "I've come into a sort of chamber Corkran's scooped out," I heard him say.

"It's high enough to sit up in--no, to stand up in. This is the end of the pa.s.sage, I think. By Jove, look out!" He had disappeared in the darkness behind a higher arch in the roof of the gallery. As he cried out, I slipped through after him, slid down a steep, abrupt slope, and by the light of my agitated lantern saw Anthony standing waist-deep in a well-like hole, into which he had evidently stumbled.

"Let me give you a hand up," I said.

"No thank you," he answered, in a tense, excited voice. "This is where I want to be. Look!"

I looked and saw, at the bottom of the scooped-out hole, a crevice in the flat wall of rock which we had been following down the pa.s.sage, after its turn from the right angle way to creep along the mountainside. Out of this crevice protruded a large iron crowbar, apparently jammed into place, the first tool we had seen anywhere.

The chamber in which I stood, was littered and piled up with hard ma.s.ses of earth which had been thrown out of the hole; and on the rough floor of the latter I stepped on the spade which had done the work. It nearly turned my ankle as I jumped on to it, but I hardly felt the pain. Torch and lantern showed clearly that the crevice in the wall was not a natural crack, but a man-made opening. It was as if a slab of rock fitted roughly into grooves had first been lifted, and had then fallen heavily on to the crowbar.

I set the lantern on the earthy floor and its yellow light streamed through the crack, whence the crowbar protruded like a black pipe in a negro's mouth. It was all darkness on the other side; from behind the screen of rock, set in its deep grooves, came the strangest sound I ever heard, or shall ever hear. It was a voice, groaning, yet it was not like a human voice. The horrid idea jumped into my head that it was the howl of an evil spirit sitting in a dead man's skull.

"He's alive then," exclaimed Anthony, pale in the sickly light. "Is that you, Corkran?" he called. The only answer was another groan.

"I see the whole business now, don't you?" Fenton said. "This pa.s.sage is very steep. Already it was far under ground-level, before we got to the cutting on the mountain wall, and it must have been under ground-level for many centuries. They dug deep down, to make the tomb, and then covered up the entrance with earth. When Corkran got to his portcullis, he thought he'd reached the reward of his labours. Well--so he had--the punishment. Here's the heap of stone he used as a fulcrum for his lever. The heap tumbled when he was on the other side, and the slab of rock came down to trap him. We'll have to build up his fulcrum again, before we can do anything ourselves."

Together we forced the flat end of the crowbar into the crevice, pressed a piece of rock under it, and exerted all our strength. The slab moved upward an inch or two, grating in its rough grooves. The crack, no higher than the diameter of the crowbar plus a stone or two, when we saw it first, was now twice its original height. In went another stone, and so on. We worked like demons in h.e.l.l, and in an atmosphere almost as hot and breathless. Yet we could breathe. Whether all the air we got came through the long twisting pa.s.sage Corkran had made, or whether there were ventilation from the other side of the rock-curtain--some opening in an unseen cave--we could not tell. All we knew was that the mountain had a secret, and that the man who had tried to rob us of our rights to it, was caught in the trap of the djinns.

Our "rights!" How fragile as spider-webs, how almost laughable they seemed down here! Rights we had bargained for with men, which they, not owning them, had gravely given! I suddenly realized, and I think Anthony realized, as sweating and silent we piled up the fulcrum of stones thrown down by the djinns, that they alone, or the sleeping queen they guarded, had "rights" in this hidden place.