o the
narrative.

"They were tomb robbers and robbed independently of the brotherhood of
thieves.[1] They refused to pay the customary tribute from their spoil
to the chief of robbers, and whatsoever booty they got they kept, every
jot of it. Innumerable mummies were found rifled of their gold and
gems, and although the chief of robbers and the governor of police
sought and burrowed into every den in the Middle country, they could
not find the missing treasure. Then they knew that the looting was not
done by any of the licensed robbers. So all the professional thieves
and all the police set themselves to seek out the lawless plunderers."

"Humph!" interpolated Kenkenes expressively.

"Aye. And it was not long with all these upon the scent until Khafra
and Sigur were discovered coming forth from a tomb laden with spoil,
and in the struggle which ensued they did murder. But the constabulary
have not found the rest of the booty, though they made great search for
it and may have put the thieves to torture. Who knows? They do dark
things in the dungeon under the house of the governor of police."

"And so they hanged them speedily," said Kenkenes, desirous of ending
the grisly tale.

"And so they hanged them. I could not get in to see, and these
screaming mothers attracted me, so I am here. But my neighbor's son is
a friend of the jailer, and I shall know yet how they died."

But Kenkenes was stalking off toward the temple, his shoulders lifted
high with disgust.

"O, ye inscrutable Hathors," he exclaimed finally; "how ye have
disposed the fortunes of four friends! Two of us hanged, a third in
royal favor, a fourth an--an--an offender against the gods."

Presently the avenue opened into the temple square. With reverential
hand Memphis put back her dwellings and her bazaars, that profane life
might not press upon the sacred precincts of her mighty gods. Here was
a vast acreage, overhung with the atmosphere of sanctity. The grove of
mysteries was there, dark with profound shadow, and silent save for a
lonesome bird song or the suspirations of the wind. The great pool in
its stone basin reflected a lofty canopy of sunlit foliage, and the
shaggy peristyle of palm-tree trunks.

The shadow of the great structure darkened its approaches before it was
clearly visible through the grove. The devotee entered a long avenue
of sphinxes--fifty pairs lining a broad highway paved with polished
granite flagging.