‘Why you and I searched the
place ourselves from end to end; and there was not a sign of a lamp. Not a sign of anything remaining when we came away the first time; or
on the second, except the bodies of the Arabs.’

“Whilst I was speaking, he had uncoiled some large sheets of paper
which he had brought in his hand from his own room. These he spread
out on the great table, keeping their edges down with books and
weights. I knew them at a glance; they were the careful copies which
he had made of our first transcripts from the writing in the tomb. When he had all ready, he turned to me and said slowly:

“‘Do you remember wondering, when we examined the tomb, at the lack of
one thing which is usually found in such a tomb?’

“‘Yes! There was no serdab.’

“The serdab, I may perhaps explain,” said Mr. Corbeck to me, “is a sort
of niche built or hewn in the wall of a tomb. Those which have as yet
been examined bear no inscriptions, and contain only effigies of the
dead for whom the tomb was made.” Then he went on with his narrative:

“Trelawny, when he saw that I had caught his meaning, went on speaking
with something of his old enthusiasm:

“‘I have come to the conclusion that there must be a serdab—a secret
one. We were dull not to have thought of it before. We might have
known that the maker of such a tomb—a woman, who had shown in other
ways such a sense of beauty and completeness, and who had finished
every detail with a feminine richness of elaboration—would not have
neglected such an architectural feature. Even if it had not its own
special significance in ritual, she would have had it as an adornment. Others had had it, and she liked her own work to be complete. Depend
upon it, there was—there is—a serdab; and that in it, when it is
discovered, we shall find the lamps. Of course, had we known then what
we now know or at all events surmise, that there were lamps, we might
have suspected some hidden spot, some cachet. I am going to ask you to
go out to Egypt again; to seek the tomb; to find the serdab; and to
bring back the lamps!’”

“‘And if I find there is no serdab; or if discovering it I find no
lamps in it, what then?’ He smiled grimly with that saturnine smile of
his, so rarely seen for years past, as he spoke slowly:

“‘Then you will have to hustle till you find them!’

“‘Good!’ I said. He pointed to one of the sheets. “‘Here are the transcripts from the Chapel at the south and the east. I have been looking over the writings again; and I find that in seven
places round this corner are the symbols of the constellation which we
call the Plough, which Queen Tera held to rule her birth and her
destiny. I have examined them carefully, and I notice that they are
all representations of the grouping of the stars, as the constellation
appears in different parts of the heavens. They are all astronomically
correct; and as in the real sky the Pointers indicate the Pole Star, so
these all point to one spot in the wall where usually the serdab is to
be found!’

“‘Bravo!’ I shouted, for such a piece of reasoning demanded applause. He seemed pleased as he went on:

“‘When you are in the tomb, examine this spot. There is probably some
spring or mechanical contrivance for opening the receptacle. What it
may be, there is no use guessing. You will know what best to do, when
you are on the spot.’

“I started the next week for Egypt; and never rested till I stood again
in the tomb. I had found some of our old following; and was fairly
well provided with help. The country was now in a condition very
different to that in which it had been sixteen years before; there was
no need for troops or armed men. “I climbed the rock face alone. There was no difficulty, for in that
fine climate the woodwork of the ladder was still dependable. It was
easy to see that in the years that had elapsed there had been other
visitors to the tomb; and my heart sank within me when I thought that
some of them might by chance have come across the secret place. It
would be a bitter discovery indeed to find that they had forestalled
me; and that my journey had been in vain. “The bitterness was realised when I lit my torches, and passed between
the seven-sided columns to the Chapel of the tomb. “There, in the very spot where I had expected to find it, was the
opening of a serdab. And the serdab was empty. “But the Chapel was not empty; for the dried-up body of a man in Arab
dress lay close under the opening, as though he had been stricken down. I examined all round the walls to see if Trelawny’s surmise was
correct; and I found that in all the positions of the stars as given,
the Pointers of the Plough indicated a spot to the left hand, or south
side, of the opening of the serdab, where was a single star in gold. “I pressed this, and it gave way. The stone which had marked the front
of the serdab, and which lay back against the wall within, moved
slightly. On further examining the other side of the opening, I found
a similar spot, indicated by other representations of the
constellation; but this was itself a figure of the seven stars, and
each was wrought in burnished gold. I pressed each star in turn; but
without result. Then it struck me that if the opening spring was on
the left, this on the right might have been intended for the
simultaneous pressure of all the stars by one hand of seven fingers. By using both my hands, I managed to effect this. “With a loud click, a metal figure seemed to dart from close to the
opening of the serdab; the stone slowly swung back to its place, and
shut with a click. The glimpse which I had of the descending figure
appalled me for the moment. It was like that grim guardian which,
according to the Arabian historian Ibn Abd Alhokin, the builder of the
Pyramids, King Saurid Ibn Salhouk placed in the Western Pyramid to
defend its treasure:  ‘A marble figure, upright, with lance in hand;
with on his head a serpent wreathed. When any approached, the serpent
would bite him on one side, and twining about his throat and killing
him, would return again to his place.’

“I knew well that such a figure was not wrought to pleasantry; and that
to brave it was no child’s play. The dead Arab at my feet was proof of
what could be done! So I examined again along the wall; and found here
and there chippings as if someone had been tapping with a heavy hammer. This then had been what happened:  The grave-robber, more expert at his
work than we had been, and suspecting the presence of a hidden serdab,
had made essay to find it. He had struck the spring by chance; had
released the avenging ‘Treasurer’, as the Arabian writer designated
him. The issue spoke for itself. I got a piece of wood, and, standing
at a safe distance, pressed with the end of it upon the star. “Instantly the stone flew back. The hidden figure within darted
forward and thrust out its lance. Then it rose up and disappeared. I
thought I might now safely press on the seven stars; and did so.