“‘Here is the path,’ they shouted. ‘Here is the nest of the white rats of the Dawn, who soon shall be red. Now let us see if their spells can turn Pharaoh’s spears.’
“Roaring such words as these, a mob of soldiers burst into the hall through the great entrance, glittering with armour and with lifted swords. The silence of the ancient place seemed to strike and chill them, for their tumult ceased, and after a pause they came on slowly, clinging together like bees. Then it was, Lord, that the red rays of the westering sun fell full upon Roy, revealing him seated, white-robed, upon the throne, his golden-headed staff held like a sceptre in his hand. They stared, they halted.
“‘It is a spirit!’ cried one.
“‘Nay, it is the god Osiris holding the Rod of Power,’ answered another.
“The officers consulted together doubtfully, till some captain who was bolder than the rest said:
“‘Shall we be frightened by magic tricks? Let us look.’
“He marched up the hall followed by others, and halted in front of the platform.
“‘This old god is dead,’ he cried. ‘Do you fear a dead god, Comrades?’
“Now Roy spoke in a hollow echoing voice, saying:
“‘What is life and what is death? And how know you the difference between a dead and a living god, O Violator of Sanctuaries?’