The opening in the miniature pyramid was not concealed. There was a little door, guarded by a tiny golden sphinx; and on the neck of the sphinx, suspended by a delicate chain, was a bell.
"It is to call the spirit of the queen, if a profane touch should violate her tomb," Fenton said, dreamily. He was beginning to look like a man hypnotized. Perhaps it was the close air, with its lingering perfume of two thousand years ago. Perhaps it was something else, more subtile; something else that we could all feel, as one feels the touch of a living hand that moves under a cloak.
No one spoke for an instant. I think we half expected the bell to ring. Then Fenton said: "Monny, you and Mrs. O'Brien must choose which is to have the privilege of finding out the secret of the golden pyramid. The Duffer and I want it to be one of you."
"Oh no, not I!" cried Monny, almost angrily.
"Nor I," Biddy firmly echoed.
"Duffer, the papers were yours. Will you—" Anthony began.
"No—I—It was your faith in the mountain that brought us to it," I reminded him. "It ought to be you—"
"If—if it ought to be any one of us," Monny broke in, with a little breathless catch in her voice.
"If—But what do you mean?" Anthony turned an odd, startled look upon the girl.
"I—hardly know what I mean. Only—I couldn't touch anything here. They are—hers. They've been hers for two thousand and two hundred years. I never thought I should feel like this. I'd rather drop dead, this minute, than try to take that little pyramid out of those golden hands. They've clasped it so long! She wanted so much to keep the secret. Anthony—this is the strongest feeling that ever came into my heart —except love for you, this feeling that—we have no right—that it would be monstrous to rob—this queen."