“What does it matter what the thing says, rogue, seeing that you forged it as you have forged the other.”
“Ah! would that I had,” answered Mattai; “but when doom overtakes you and all of us, then shall you learn whether I forged that ancient writing;” and he lifted it from the floor, and, hiding it in his robe, added, “Close the heart, White Man, and give back the severed jewel to those who wear it.”
The señor obeyed, replacing the silken cloth over the symbol, so that the altar seemed to be as it had been.
“Now let us be going,” said Mattai, “and rejoice, that if yonder eye has seen our wickedness, at least it is hidden from the sight of man. Doubtless the vengeance of the gods is sure, but that of men is swift.”
As he spoke we turned to leave the Sanctuary, and of a sudden Maya screamed, and would have fallen had not the señor caught her. Well might she scream, for there in the narrow niche of the secret door by which we had entered, framed in it as a corpse is framed in its coffin, stood a white figure which at first I took to be that of some avenging ghost, so ghostlike were the wrappings, the snowy beard and hair, and the thin, fierce face. Another instant, and I saw that indeed it was a ghost, the ghost of Zibalbay, or rather his body come back from the boundaries of death to spy upon our sacrilege before it crossed them for ever.
It was ... Zibalbay ... come back from the boundaries of death.
Yes, it was Zibalbay, for while he had seemed to be unconscious upon the bed in the chamber, his senses were awake, and oh! what must he have suffered when he, the high priest of the Nameless god, heard us plan our fraud upon his Sanctuary. Then, after we had left him, fury and despair unfettered the limbs that had been bound so fast and gave him strength to follow us, though they could not unlock his frozen tongue. He had followed; painfully he had crept down the stairs, along the passages, and through the open door, for the path was known to him even in the dark, till at length he came to the secret entrance of the Sanctuary. Here once more his force deserted him; here, unable to speak or stir, he had leaned against the wall and seen and heard all that was done and said.
Oh! never shall I forget the rage of his quivering face, or the agony and horror of his tormented eyes as they met our own. No curse could have been so awful as that look which he let fall upon his daughter, and no outraged deity or demon could have seemed more terrible to the human sight than was the tall figure of this dying man, striving even in death to protect the honour of his gods, which we had violated in their most ancient holy of holies. Never have I seen such a dreadful sight, and I pray that never again may I do so either in this world or the next.
The dying Zibalbay saw our fear, and with a last effort he staggered forward towards his daughter, his clenched hands held above his head. For a moment he stood before her as she lay upon her lover’s arm staring up at him like a bird at a snake, while he swayed to and fro above her like the snake about to strike. Then, of a sudden, foam mingled with blood burst from his lips, and he sank down at her feet dead, dying in a silence that was more awful than any sound.