Fernando stood motionless, his rifle in his hand. He had been within an ace of fulfilling his oath, and sending the Arab to the shades.
"I would have hit him," he complained, "had the lamp not been taken away."
Meanwhile Cortes dashed down the steps, and crossed the central aisle to the body of the murdered man.
The madman lay quite still. A life of fasting, of penance and privation, had closed in the heroic fulfilment of his duty. With his last breath he had demanded of von Hardenberg to deliver up the Sunstone; and there he was—a huddled, formless object, lying at the foot of the altar.
The first impulse of Harry Urquhart was to follow in pursuit of the sheikh. With this intention he hastened to the terrace, whence he could see nothing. The Black Dog had vanished into the white mists that wrapped the mountain-side. By now he was no doubt at the bottom of the great flight of steps on each side of which stood the strange, fantastic statues.
Harry, rifle in hand, was about to take up the chase, when he remembered that somewhere beyond that impenetrable granite rock was von Hardenberg—alone in the midst of the treasure.
He returned to the cave, and went to the rock and listened. He could hear nothing. Beyond, all was silent as the grave.
"What can we do?" reiterated the boy, looking about him in bewilderment.
Jim Braid went to the nine wheels and turned them at random, hoping that by chance the vault would open. In a little while he desisted and returned to Harry.
"We must follow the sheikh," said he. "We must endeavour to recover the Sunstone at every cost."