Indeed, the preserving was so wonderful that the figure looked more like an image in some kind of polished dark marble than something of human clay.
Some glistening, lacquerlike substance had been employed, which, although colorless and transparent, kept out all the air. It had hardened after being applied as a liquid, and was now like glass to the touch.
No living person was in sight, and the invaders determined to go on farther.
They had come upon a mystery, and not one of them was willing to go back until they should discover the solution.
Patsy had recovered from his first shock of horror, and now was bending over the table, studying intently the sketch of the Golden Scarab on the breast of the corpse.
“Rather a nasty thing!” he remarked. “I don’t mind seeing a man who has been knocked out in a fair scrap, even if it has killed him. But this business of a fellow losing his head and being iced over—— Well, he isn’t any wedding cake, I’ll tell you those.”
“That will do, Patsy,” interposed Nick Carter. “You need not lose your own head over it. The cave extends a long way yet, from the look of it. We are going. Do you want to come along?”
“Ugh!”
Patsy grunted at the very thought of being left alone with this gruesome thing, and was close by the side of his chief on the instant.
Farther and farther into the strange tunnel they pushed their way, and at every step were confirmed in their first conviction that it was a place used for unholy rites by a strange people.