Passing round the effigy of the wonderful Hathor cow, perhaps the finest
example of an ancient sculpture of a beast in the whole world, Smith
came to the doorway and looked up and down the gallery. Not a soul to
be seen. He ran to Room K, to Room H, and others. Still not a soul to be
seen. Then he made his way as fast as he could go to the great entrance.
The doors were locked and bolted.

"Watch must be right after all. I'm shut in," he said to himself.
"However, there's sure to be someone about somewhere. Probably the
_salle des ventes_ is still open. Shops don't shut till they are
obliged."

Thither he went, to find its door as firmly closed as a door can be. He
knocked on it, but a sepulchral echo was the only answer.

"I know," he reflected. "The Director must still be in his room. It will
take him a long while to examine all that jewellery and put it away."

So for the room he headed, and, after losing his path twice, found it
by help of the sarcophagus that the Arabs had been dragging, which now
stood as deserted as it had done in the tomb, a lonesome and impressive
object in the gathering shadows. The Director's door was shut, and again
his knockings produced nothing but an echo. He started on a tour round
the Museum, and, having searched the ground floors, ascended to the
upper galleries by the great stairway.

Presently he found himself in that devoted to the royal mummies, and,
being tired, rested there a while. Opposite to him, in a glass case in
the middle of the gallery, reposed Rameses II. Near to, on shelves in