ight, an indefinable sensation of awe came
over us all. In this hole in the sand, some three feet under ground, we
stood side by side, cramped and huddled, struck suddenly with an over
whelming apprehension of something ancient, something formidable,
something incalculably wonderful, that touched in each one of us a sense
of the sublime and the terrible even before we could see an inch before
our faces. I know not how to express in language this singular emotion
that caught us here in utter darkness, touching no sense directly, it
seemed, yet with the recognition that before us in the blackness of this
underground night there lay something that was mighty with the
mightiness of long past ages.

I felt Colonel Wragge press in closely to my side, and I understood the
pressure and welcomed it. No human touch, to me at least, has ever been
more eloquent.

Then the match flared, a thousand shadows fled on black wings, and I saw
John Silence fumbling with the candle, his face lit up grotesquely by
the flickering light below it.

I had dreaded this light, yet when it came there was apparently nothing
to explain the profound sensations of dread that preceded it. We stood
in a small vaulted chamber in the sand, the sides and roof shored with
bars of wood, and the ground laid roughly with what seemed to be tiles.
It was six feet high, so that we could all stand comfortably, and may
have been ten feet long by eight feet wide. Upon the wooden pillars at
the side I saw that Egyptian hieroglyphics had been rudely traced by
burning.

Dr. Silence lit three candles and handed one to each of us. He placed a
fourth in the sand against the wall on his right, and another to mark
the entrance to the tunnel. We stood and stared about us, instinctively
holding our breath.

"Empty, by God!" exclaimed Colonel Wragge. His voice trembled with
excitement. And then, as his eyes rested on the ground, he added, "And
footsteps--look--footsteps in the sand!"

Dr. Silence said nothing. He stooped down and began to make a search of
the chamber, and as he moved, my eyes followed his crouching figure and
noted the queer distorted shadows that poured over the walls and ceiling
after him. Here and there thin trickles of loose sand ran fizzing down
the sides. The atmosphere, heavily charged with faint yet pungent
odours, lay utterly still, and the flames of the candles might have been
painted on the air for all the movement they betrayed.

And, as I w