Where was my light? In a sickening panic I groped for it ... thank God! my hand closed about it almost instantly ... perspiration dripped from my forehead. I did not press the button of my flash at once. Somewhat calmed by its possession I brooded bitterly, glad that the darkness could hide me from myself. Fool! ... fool that I was to have been so trapped ... to have felt so fatuously secure. Not a thought had I given to Wimpole during my exquisite “rêve d’amour.” He was dismissed ... waved away like a wraith. But he had materialized.
How had he done it?
A score of answers thronged my brain. Disguised, perhaps he had accompanied me, mingling with my humble doolahs or, more probably, had followed me, keeping apart, weaving his way, snake-like, through the hills, watching and waiting to strike the dastard blow. G’r-r-r ... I ground my teeth in impotent rage.
But stay ... this was idiotic. Gradually I calmed and for the first time switched on my light. Playing it on the ceiling I realized that all trace of the moveable stone was lost in the complicated decoration. Climbing a wall which curves inward is one of the most difficult feats in the world, though I have been able to do it in the past. But now it seemed so futile. Any search of the ceiling would have lacked direction. Without moving I gazed sombrely about me.
I was buried alive, there was no getting away from that. Having chewed this bitter cud for several minutes I resolved to put my spiritual house in order, so to speak. My first act was to make my will, something I had frequently proposed and as often postponed. It occurred to me now that my position was probably unique in drawing up this last testament after I had been entombed. All that I possessed I left to Lady Sarah in fee simple or to her heirs or assigns forever, to have and to hold, from now on until death us do part—the form was strictly legal and I signed Whinney’s name as witness, per W. E. T. to make all sure.
“And now,” I thought, “for my last words.” In vain I tried to evolve some simple, compact sentence which would epitomize my entire life but the subject was too large. Finally I compromised on a five-hundred word obituary outlining the main events of my career. I then recited what I could remember of the burial service and considered that I had been decently laid away.
With these rites performed I could composedly take stock of my surroundings for it occurred to me that I could put my time to no better use than by writing a careful inventory of the contents of the mausoleum. That much at least could remain as my legacy to the culture of the world. Then for the first time I realized the magnitude of the discovery in which I had so completely lost myself.
For the benefit of those interested in archeology I will give a mere outline of the main features, the principal one of which was, of course, the basalt sarcophagus of the King himself. Beside this in a similar receptacle a few sizes smaller lay his favorite Queen, Heck-To. Ranged about the walls was a dazzling array of royal furniture, boxes, chairs, beds, chariots, tables, vases and so on. All the latter were of solid gold heavily encrusted with gems. Many of the vessels were filled with food but the contents of the wine jars had unfortunately evaporated so that I could only look forward to dry fare for a brief period.
The picture writing on the walls was of immense interest and showed Dimitrino at his favorite pursuits, hawking, hunting, catching scarabs and playing Mah Jong which even in his day was an old game. One intimate close-up portrayed the monarch using a dial system telephone which the modern world is now re-discovering with so much trouble. Another section showed him teaching archery to his son who afterwards became Melachrino I.
Numerous passages were in verse which, in hieroglyphics, is effected by rhyming the symbols in idea, a bird with an egg, a bow with an arrow, a snake with a woman, and so on. A scene very lovely in color, depicted the Queen’s mother, Eks-Ito, being devoured by vultures, the King and his son looking on.