illness, or some premonition of her end had then thrown its shadow on
the queen. He compared and compared. He made some rough measurements
and sketches in his pocket-book, and set himself to work out a canon of
proportions.

So hard and earnestly did he work, so lost was his mind that he never
heard the accustomed warning sound which announces that the Museum
is about to close. Hidden behind an altar as he was, in his distant,
shadowed corner, the guardian of the room never saw him as he cast
a last perfunctory glance about the place before departing till the
Saturday morning; for the morrow was Friday, the Mohammedan Sabbath,
on which the Museum remains shut, and he would not be called upon to
attend. So he went. Everybody went. The great doors clanged, were locked
and bolted, and, save for a watchman outside, no one was left in all
that vast place except Smith in his corner, engaged in sketching and in
measurements.

The difficulty of seeing, owing to the increase of shadow, first called
his attention to the fact that time was slipping away. He glanced at his
watch and saw that it was ten minutes to the hour.

"Soon be time to go," he thought to himself, and resumed his work.

How strangely silent the place seemed! Not a footstep to be heard or the
sound of a human voice. He looked at his watch again, and saw that
it was six o'clock, not five, or so the thing said. But that was
impossible, for the Museum shut at five; evidently the desert sand had
got into the works. The room in which he stood was that known as Room
I, and he had noticed that its Arab custodian often frequented Room K or
the gallery outside. He would find him and ask what was the real time.