The Prince of India, vol 1 | Page 9

tossed it to his slaves; then he laid a hand
upon the edge of the sarcophagus preparatory to climbing out. At the
moment, while giving a last look about him, an emerald, smoothly cut,
and of great size, larger indeed than a full-grown pomegranate, caught
his eyes in its place loose upon the floor. He turned back, and taking it
up, examined it carefully; while thus engaged his glance dropped to the
sword almost at his feet. The sparkle of the brilliants, and the fire-flame
of the great ruby in the grip, drew him irresistibly, and he stood
considering.
Directly he spoke in a low voice:
"No one has been here since"--
He hesitated--glanced hurriedly around to again assure himself it was
not possible to be overheard--then finished the sentence:
"No one has been here since I came a thousand years ago."
At the words so strange, so inexplicable upon any theory of nature and
common experience, the lamp shook in his hand. Involuntarily he
shrank from the admission, though to himself. But recovering, he

repeated:
"Since I came a thousand years ago."
Then he added more firmly:
"But the earth and the sea are always giving up their secrets. So saith
the good King Hiram; and since I am a witness proving the wisdom of
the speech, I at least must believe him. Wherefore it is for me to govern
myself as if another will shortly follow me. The saying of the king is an
injunction."
With that, he turned the glittering sword over and over admiringly.
Loath to let it go, he drew the blade partly from the scabbard, and its
clearness had the depth peculiar to the sky between stars at night.
"Is there anything it will not buy," he continued, reflectively. "What
king could refuse a sword once Solomon's? I will take it."
Thereupon he passed both the emerald and the sword out to the slaves,
whom he presently joined.
The conviction, but a moment before expressed, that another would
follow him to the tomb of the venerated Tyrian, was not strong enough
to hinder the master from attempting to hide every sign which might
aid in the discovery. The negro, under his direction, returned the lid
exactly to its former fitting place on the sarcophagus; the emerald and
the sword he wrapped in his gown; the bags and the tools were counted
and distributed among the slaves for easy carriage. Lamp in hand, he
then walked around to see that nothing was left behind. Incidentally he
even surveyed the brown walls and the dim dome overhead. Having
reached the certainty that everything was in its former state, he waved
his hand, 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.
Rejoining his workmen, he took a knife from the girdle of one of them,
and cut a slit in the gurglet large enough to admit the bags of precious
stones. The skin was roomy, and received them, though with the loss of
much of the water. Having thus disposed of that portion of the plunder
to the best advantage both for portage and concealment, he helped
swing it securely