The Prince of India, vol 1 | Page 6

fragments knocked from sarcophagi, which, massive as
they were, had been tilted, overturned, uncovered, mutilated, and
robbed. Useless to inquire whose the vandalism. It may have been of
Chaldeans of the time of Almanezor, or of the Greeks who marched
with Alexander, or of Egyptians who were seldom regardful of the dead
of the peoples they overthrew as they were of their own, or of Saracens,
thrice conquerors along the Syrian coast, or of Christians. Few of the
Crusaders were like St. Louis.
But of all this the master took no notice. With him it was right that the
vault should look the wreck it was. Careless of inscriptions, indifferent
to carving, his eyes ran rapidly along the foot of the northern wall until

they came to a sarcophagus of green marble. Thither he proceeded. He
laid his hand upon the half-turned lid, and observing that the back of
the great box--if such it may be termed--was against the wall, he said
again:
"No one has been here since"--
And again the sentence was left unfinished.
Forthwith he became all energy. The negro brought the crowbar, and,
by direction, set it under the edge of the sarcophagus, which he held
raised while the master blocked it at the bottom with a stone chip.
Another bite, and a larger chip was inserted. Good hold being thus had,
a vase was placed for fulcrum; after which, at every downward pressure
of the iron, the ponderous coffin swung round a little to the left. Slowly
and with labor the movement was continued until the space behind was
uncovered.
By this time the lamps had become the dependencies for light. With his
in hand, the master stooped and inspected the exposed wall.
Involuntarily the slaves bent forward and looked, but saw nothing
different from the general surface in that quarter. The master beckoned
the negro, and touching a stone not wider than his three fingers, but
reddish in hue, and looking like mere chinking lodged in an accidental
crevice, signed him to strike it with the end of the bar. Once--twice--the
stone refused to stir; with the third blow it was driven in out of sight,
and, being followed vigorously, was heard to drop on the other side.
The wall thereupon, to the height of the sarcophagus and the width of a
broad door, broke, and appeared about to tumble down.
When the dust cleared away, there was a crevice unseen before, and
wide enough to admit a hand. The reader must remember there were
masons in the old time who amused themselves applying their
mathematics to such puzzles. Here obviously the intention had been to
screen an entrance to an adjoining chamber, and the key to the design
had been the sliver of red granite first displaced.
A little patient use then of hand and bar enabled the workman to take

out the first large block of the combination. That the master numbered
with chalk, and had carefully set aside. A second block was taken out,
numbered, and set aside; finally the screen was demolished, and the
way stood open.
CHAPTER III
THE HIDDEN TREASURE
The slaves looked dubiously at the dusty aperture, which held out no
invitation to them; the master, however, drew his robe closer about him,
and stooping went in, lamp in hand. They then followed.
An ascending passage, low but of ample width, received them. It too
had been chiselled from the solid rock. The wheel marks of the cars
used in the work were still on the floor. The walls were bare but
smoothly dressed. Altogether the interest here lay in expectation of
what was to come; and possibly it was that which made the
countenance of the master look so grave and absorbed. He certainly
was not listening to the discordant echoes roused as he advanced.
The ascent was easy. Twenty-five or thirty steps brought them to the
end of the passage.
They then entered a spacious chamber circular and domed. The light of
the lamps was not enough to redeem the ceiling from obscurity; yet the
master led without pause to a sarcophagus standing under the centre of
the dome, and when he was come there everything else was forgotten
by him.
The receptacle of the dead thus discovered had been hewn from the
rock, and was of unusual proportions. Standing broadside to the
entrance, it was the height of an ordinary man, and twice as long as
high. The exterior had been polished smoothly as the material would
allow; otherwise it was of absolute plainness, looking not unlike a dark
brown box. The lid was a slab of the finest white marble carven into a
perfect model of Solomon's Temple. While the master surveyed the lid
he was visibly affected. He passed the lamp over it slowly,