Meg sighed. "Is it just ordinary desert and daylight still up above,
Freddy? I can't believe it. We seem to be back in the Egypt of the
Pharaohs down here."
They all looked silently again at the wonderful sight, far more wonderful than words can suggest—the power of Egypt, the mystery of death.
"The soothsayer was quite true," Meg said. "His words were more than true."
"Yes," Freddy said, "more than true. And the odd thing is that he said what I thought was a lot of rot about a 'bridal figure,' its splendour, its brilliance. He visualized it almost correctly. He said, too, that there would be great trouble for us in the work; he saw difficulties and errors and wrong judgments. Nothing was clear, beyond the brilliance of the figure and the objects. I wonder if he will be right in that as well?"
Michael and Margaret looked at each other. Obviously Freddy had been influenced by the accuracy of the visionary's predictions. His voice was free from scoffing. He owned that it was extraordinary—the manner in which the man's words had come true. Neither Meg nor Michael made any remark; they held their tongues in patience.
"There is certainly plenty of gold," Freddy said, "and jewels and much fine apparel. I hope we shan't encounter the great difficulty he expects, as regards the historical problems and arguments it may open up. He predicts that the opinions of the learned Egyptologists will be cast out; their judgments will be at fault. What at first will appear obvious and clear will not be the lasting truth."
"How odd!" Mike said. "Was he very pleased to hear of the correctness of his predictions so far?"
"I haven't told him."
"Not told him?"
"No, it's wiser not. I've done my best to keep the astonishing richness of the tomb from the ears of the natives. No one has been inside it but the Chief Inspector and the photographer and you two. No words have been spoken—you must not talk."