"There," said the Sheik, "this was their greatness, now listen to their end."
He pointed to an inscription of six lines cut roughly upon the wall of the rocky platform on which they were, and read:
"Woe is come upon us, Woe. The plague is on us—the black plague. Our trade is at an end; our King has fled; our women and children lie dead in the streets; for the gods have forsaken us. The mountain is on fire and the river has receded, and in its place have I walked dry shod. I have placed the King's treasures in a safe place, and I go to tell him that the Captain of his guard, Hathi, is faithful."
Lower down was written:
"Alas, I am too late, I die, I die. The treasure is in the temple."
Thus abruptly ended these records of man in his magnificence and in his woe.
"Where is the temple?" inquired St. Just.
"There," said the Sheik, pointing to a passage on their right. "We go to it now."
The Sheik led the way, and, after traversing the passage, they entered a vast, ruined marble hall.
"The treasure is here?" asked St. Just.