and with one long look backward at the model, ghostly beautiful in its
shining white transparency, he led the way to the passage of entrance,
leaving the king to his solitude and stately sleep, unmindful of the
visitation and the despoilment.

Out in the large reception room, he paused again to restore the wall.
Beginning with the insignificant key, one by one the stones, each of
which, as we have seen, had been numbered by him, were raised and reset.
Then handfuls of dust were collected and blown into the slight crevices
till they were invisible. The final step was the restoration of the
sarcophagus; this done, the gallery leading to the real vault of the
king was once more effectually concealed.

"He who follows, come he soon or late, must have more than sharp eyes if
he would have audience with Hiram, my royal friend of Tyre," the
adventurer said, in his meditative way, feeling at the same time in the
folds of his gown for the chart so the object of solicitude on the ship.
The roll, the emerald, and the sword were also safe. Signing the slaves
to remain where they were, he moved slowly across the chamber, and by
aid of his lamp surveyed an aperture there so broad and lofty it was
suggestive of a gate rather than a door.

"It is well," he said, smiling. "The hunter of spoils, hereafter as
heretofore, will pass this way instead of the other."

The remark was shrewd. Probably nothing had so contributed to the long
concealment of the gallery just reclosed the second time in a thousand
years as the high doorway, with its invitation to rooms beyond it, all
now in iconoclastic confusion.