ust necessarily be wrong, since their premises
were certainly so. For which of them who had assured his readers that
Severac Bablon was a common cracksman (on a large scale) would not have
reconsidered his opinion had he learned that the common cracksman held
private keys of the national treasure-house?

His eyes growing more accustomed to the darkness, Sheard began to see
more clearly the objects about him. A seated figure of the Pharaoh Seti
I. surveyed him with a scorn but thinly veiled; beyond, two towering
Assyrian bulls showed gigantic in the semi-light. He could discern, now,
the whole length of the lofty hall--a carven avenue; and, as his gaze
wandered along that dim vista, he detected a black shape emerging from
the blacker shadows beyond the bulls.

It was Severac Bablon. In an instant he stood beside him, and Sheard saw
that he carried a bag.

"Follow me--quickly!" he said. "Not a second to spare!"

But too fully alive to their peril, Sheard slipped away in the wake of
this greatly daring man. The horror of his position was strong upon him
now.

"This way!"

Blindly he stumbled forward, upstairs, around a sharp corner, and then a
door was unlocked and re-locked behind them. "Egyptian Room!" came a
quick whisper. "In here!"

A white beam cut the blackness, temporarily dazzling him, and Sheard saw
that his companion was directing the light of an electric torch into a
wall-cabinet--which he held open. It contained mummy cases, and, without
quite knowing how he got there, Sheard found himself crouching behind
one. Severac Bablon vanished.

Darkness followed, and to his ears stole the sound of distant voices.

The voices grew louder.

Behind him, upon the back of the cabinet, danced a sudden disc of light,
and, within it, a moving shadow! Someone was searching the room!

Muffled and indistinct the voices sounded through the glass and the
mummy-case; but that the searchers were standing within a foot of his
hiding-place Sheard was painfully certain. He shrank behind the
sarcophagus lid like a tortoise within its shell, fearful lest a hand,
an arm, a patch of clothing should protrude.

CHAPTER IV

THE HEAD OF CAESAR

The voices died away. A door banged somewhere.

Then Sheard all but cried out; for a hand was laid upon his arm.

"_Ssh!_" came Severac Bablon's voice from the next mummy-case; and a
creak told of the cabinet door swinging open. "This way!"

Sheard followed immediately, and