That was strange! I tried to find the opening… impossible to move the gates.… I only succeeded in bruising my hands and smashing my nails. The gate was of solid marble, the tracery a foot thick. It was obviously childish to attempt to force it open. As for any sign of lock or hinge, I certainly could see none. These Egyptians have secret springs to every door that leads to their temples.… Moreover, it was pitch dark all round me. Only between the carving the brilliant moonlight came weirdly creeping through.
CHAPTER XXV.
HELPLESS
It was obvious that from that side I was an absolute prisoner—temporarily, I hoped—but minutes, even seconds, were valuable.
From the temple I could hear Ur-tasen’s voice:
“For the third and last time I ask of thee, woman, wilt thou obey the decrees of the gods, or art thou ready to face the awful doom which thy loathsome crime has brought upon thee? Thy death and thy disgrace, or his?… which?… Dost love the stranger so dearly, then, that thou wouldst see him happy in the arms of Neit-akrit with thy crown upon her head?”
And Maat-kha’s voice, low and calm:
“I will obey, Ur-tasen!”
I returned to the aperture from whence I had watched the two evil conspirators. It was no wider than my arm, and from there I could have done nothing but shout, which obviously would have been worse than foolish. I felt not unlike a caged beast, for although I had not as yet the slightest fear of not being able to warn Hugh in time, nevertheless there was no doubt that my position was, to say the least of it, a precarious one, and that I could in no case do anything summarily to expose the murderous plotters.
From where I was I could not see the body of the Pharaoh, and now Queen Maat-kha, with head bent, was walking away towards the farther end of the temple, while the high priest remained standing before the sanctuary of his own pagan goddess, with arms outstretched, murmuring some heathen prayer.
There was long and deathlike silence in the great edifice. Maat-kha had probably gone, taking her conscience with her—if indeed she had any; the high priest had finished muttering his prayers, and I watched—like a caged beast—Hugh’s deadly enemy exulting over his anticipated triumph. I would not allow myself to reflect over the deadly peril of my position. My only thought was one of horror for the diabolical cunning of the plot, which apparently stood such a good chance of success. For the woman I had more of pity than of loathing or contempt. The high priest, with wonderful art, had known how to touch and play upon every sensitive and quivering chord of a highly passionate nature, had with sagacious dexterity roused every jealous instinct in her heart, until, blinded by her own passions, she had given herself over, body and soul, to his guidance.