"But if these entrance-columns stand well within the hillock you may go all round without lighting upon them."
"In that case I shall have to begin again, and strike deeper."
"Even then you may fail. You are arguing on the supposition that the mouth of the passage must be on a level with the base of the hillock, whereas it may be higher, six, nine, or twelve feet above level ground. And," pursued Beatrice, "if you conduct your operations in the manner you describe, it will be difficult to keep your work secret. The disturbed state of the soil, and the uprooting of the herbage, will tell a tale to the earl's bailiffs."
"Humph! these are difficulties which call for a cheroot," replied Idris. "You have no objection, Miss Ravengar? Thank you," he continued, lighting it. "Now to put on my thinking-cap."
Reclining upon the grass he puffed thoughtfully at his cheroot, and gazed at the green mound that seemed to be quietly mocking his endeavours.
"Ormfell appears determined to keep its secret," said Beatrice. "We want Belzoni here."
"Belzoni? 'I thank thee, Jew,'—or shall I say Jewess?—'for teaching me that word.' Shall an Italian find his way to the heart of the great stone pyramid, while I, an Englishman, am to be defeated by a paltry cone of earth, fifty feet only in diameter? Never!" he exclaimed, theatrically. "How," he continued, knitting his brows in perplexity, "how were the Norsemen themselves enabled to remember where the point of ingress lay? They must surely have left some mark to indicate it."
For the twentieth time that morning Idris murmured the inscription on the runic ring.
"'Within the lofty tomb of thy sire, Orm the Golden, wilt thou find the treasure won by his high arm. The noontide shadow of the oft-carried throne will be to thee for a sign.' How long am I to be baffled by this dark oracle? What is meant by the 'oft-carried throne'?"
The light of understanding suddenly leaped into Beatrice's eyes, and she pointed excitedly to the piece of basalt crowning the summit.