nted to a recess in the wall; it still held the canopic jars.
Their lids were splendidly formed out of head-portraits of the queen.
Meg knew their meaning, their use; they held the intestines of the
dead. The Biblical expression, "bowels of compassion," always came to
her mind when she looked at canopic jars. These jars had their
significance.

A very good significance, too, she thought, for certainly our bowels
are highly sensitive organs, responding and acting in complete sympathy
with our mental condition. And who can say for certain where our
compassions are seated, our sensibilities and sympathies? Why not, as
the Egyptians thought, in our bowels rather than in our brains?
"Joseph's bowels did yearn upon his brother Benjamin."

"Then you have no idea who the queen was?" Meg said.

"Not yet," Freddy said. "But we shall know. No Egyptian could enter
into his future abode without his name. It was always plainly and
repeatedly written on the embalmed mummy. His identification was
absolutely essential."

"What a help to Egyptologists!" Meg said.

"Probably her name will be written on these golden wrappings and on the
scarabs, if we find any. Nothing has been done yet. This precaution
of the ancients, in the matter of names, has, as you say, saved us
endless work. If plunderers haven't obliterated the name and stolen
the scarabs and other marks of identification, we generally discover
who it is."

Meg sighed. "Is it just ordinary desert and daylight still up above,
Freddy? I can't believe it. We seem to be back in the Egypt of the
Pharaohs down here."

They all looked silently again at the wonderful sight, far more
wonderful than words can suggest--the power of Egypt, the mystery of
death.

"The soothsayer was quite true," Meg said. "His words were more than
true."

"Yes," Freddy said, "more than true. And the odd thing is that he said
what I thought was a lot of rot about a 'bridal figure,' its splendour,
its brilliance. He visualized it almost correctly. He said, too, that
there would be great trouble for us in the work; he saw difficulties
and errors and wrong judgments. Nothing was clear, beyond the
brilliance of the figure and the objects. I wonder if he will be right
in that as well?"

Michael and Margaret looked at each other. Obviously Freddy had been
influenced by the accuracy of the visionary's predictions. His voice
was free from scoffing. He owned that it was extraordinary