Chapter 29 - We Enter the King's Chamber

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VERY dimly it came to my ears. From whence it proceeded I could not even imagine. . . . In those surroundings, at that hour, it possessed a quality of weirdness which was chilling: The dim note of a gong!

Its effect was indescribably uncanny; its purpose incomprehensible. In the harsh light of the flash lamps I saw Nayland Smith’s features set grimly.

“For heaven’s sake, what’s that?” I whispered.

“A signal,” he replied in a low voice, “to advise someone we are here. God knows how any of them got in, but you see, Greville, I was right. We are not alone!”

“There’s something horrible about it,” I said uneasily. I glanced upward into the darkness we must explore.

“There is,” Nayland Smith agreed quietly. “But it has a good as well as a bad aspect. The good that it seems to imply ignorance of our cordon; the bad, that it proves certain persons to have entered the Pyramid to-night unseen by the pickets.”

Silence, that dead silence which is characteristic of the place, had fallen about us again like a cloak. Honestly, I believe it was only the thought of Ramin which sustained me. It was at this moment that the foolhardiness of our project presented itself starkly to my mind.

“Aren’t you walking into a trap, Sir Denis?” I said. “I don’t count from the point of view of Dr. Fu Manchu, but——”

“But,” he took me up, “as an expert, can you tell me how Dr. Fu Manchu’s agents, having disposed of me here—which admittedly might be convenient—could hope to profit? At the moment, six men are watching the entrance. A further sixty are available if anything in the nature of an Arab raid should be attempted.”

“I agree. But the gong! If they got in unseen, surely they can get out?”

He stared at me; his eyes were steely in that cold light.

“I had hoped you might have overlooked this fact,” he said, “because it reduces us to our only real safeguard: the word of Fu Manchu! In all the years that I have fought for his destruction, Greville, I have never known him to break it. We shall go unmolested for ten minutes after Ramin is restored to us! Then—unleash the dogs of war! Carry on.”

“Ten minutes after Ramin is returned to us!” . . . Did the light of his faith in the word of Fu Manchu truly burn so bright?

I led on and upward—and presently we found ourselves in that awe-inspiring black corridor which communicates with the short passage leading to the room called the King’s Chamber, but which (as Sir Lionel has always maintained) in its very form destroys at a blow the accepted theory, buttressed by famous names, that this majestic pile was raised as the tomb of Khufu.

Automatically, I directed the light of my lamp farther upward. That vast, mysterious causeway was empty, as far as the feeble rays could penetrate.

We mounted to the ramp on the left side and climbed onward. Ages of silence mantled us, and, strangely, I felt no desire to give voice to the many queries which danced in my brain. An image led me on; I seemed to hear my voice speaking a name: Ramin!

I climbed more swiftly.

This might be a trap; but according to available evidence, no one had entered the Pyramid that night; but plainly I had heard the gong . . . and dervishes were gathering at Gizeh. . . .

We reached the horizontal passage to the King’s Chamber; and instinctively both of us paused. I stared back down the slope as far as the light of my lamp would reach. Nothing moved.

“Will you be good enough to take over the duties of pack mule, Greville,” said Nayland Smith crisply.

He handed me the case. The entrance to the place yawned in front of us. Sir Denis took a repeater from his pocket, examined it briefly, and slipped it back. Then, shining a light into the low opening: “Follow closely,” he directed.

For one instant he hesitated—any man living would have hesitated—then, ducking his head and throwing the light forward along the stone passage, he started forward. I followed; my disengaged hand gripped an automatic.

I saw the end of the passage as Nayland Smith reached it; I had a glimpse of the floor of that strange apartment which many thousands have visited but no man has ever properly comprehended; and then, following him in, I stood upright in turn.

As I did so, I drew a sharp breath—indeed, only just succeeded in stifling a cry. . . .

A bright light suddenly sprang up! So lighted, the place presented an unfamiliar aspect. No bats were visible. The chamber looked more lofty, but for that very reason more mysterious. The lamp which shed this brilliant illumination—a queer, globular lamp—was so powerful that I could not imagine from what source its energy was derived. It stood upon a small table, set close beside the famous coffer; and behind it, so that the light of this lamp shone down fully upon him, a man—apparently the sole occupant of the King’s Chamber—was seated in a rush chair of a type common in Egypt. He wore a little black cap surmounted with a coral ball, and a plain yellow robe. His eyes were fixed steadily upon Sir Denis.

It was Dr. Fu Manchu!