“A mighty close call!” ejaculated Don, who was following the narration with breathless interest.
“Somewhat,” agreed Phalos, with a smile. “But I finally copied the inscription and brought it home to study it. It proved to be one of the boastful inscriptions of his power and glory that Ras-Ameses had probably composed before his death, leaving orders that it should be inscribed where it would probably endure for ages. The fact that it was in a place where it might never be read made no difference. What he was concerned with was its eternity. The gods at least would have a record of his exploits.
“He enumerates his vast wealth and gives a description of the treasures he had ordered to be placed in his tomb, where other members of the royal family also were buried or to be buried. There were golden chariots, which he expected to drive in the future world. There were golden beds, on which he expected to recline. There were gem-studded vases of alabaster containing precious perfumes and ointments. There was a golden boat that would be used in ferrying him over the dark waters of the underworld. And all of these are described with a definiteness and particularity that carry conviction.”
He paused and looked about him.
“But where are the tombs containing all these treasures?” asked Don breathlessly, before the others, equally excited, could speak.
“As to that I have only indications,” was the reply. “The references to them are vague and mysterious in the inscription. But there is enough to make me feel sure that with patience and the proper assistants I can eventually find them.”
The professor cleared his throat.
“Are you sure that you are the only man alive who possesses these clews?” he asked.
Zeta Phalos was silent for a moment.
“As far as I know, I am,” he replied. “And yet,” he went on, with some slight hesitation, “I have sometimes suspected that one other man might have the key to the secret.”