ces that the Museum
is about to close. Hidden behind an altar as he was, in his distant,
shadowed corner, the guardian of the room never saw him as he cast
a last perfunctory glance about the place before departing till the
Saturday morning; for the morrow was Friday, the Mohammedan Sabbath,
on which the Museum remains shut, and he would not be called upon to
attend. So he went. Everybody went. The great doors clanged, were locked
and bolted, and, save for a watchman outside, no one was left in all
that vast place except Smith in his corner, engaged in sketching and in
measurements.

The difficulty of seeing, owing to the increase of shadow, first called
his attention to the fact that time was slipping away. He glanced at his
watch and saw that it was ten minutes to the hour.

"Soon be time to go," he thought to himself, and resumed his work.

How strangely silent the place seemed! Not a footstep to be heard or the
sound of a human voice. He looked at his watch again, and saw that
it was six o'clock, not five, or so the thing said. But that was
impossible, for the Museum shut at five; evidently the desert sand had
got into the works. The room in which he stood was that known as Room
I, and he had noticed that its Arab custodian often frequented Room K or
the gallery outside. He would find him and ask what was the real time.

Passing round the effigy of the wonderful Hathor cow, perhaps the finest
example of an ancient sculpture of a beast in the whole world, Smith
came to the doorway and looked up and down the gallery. Not a soul to
be seen. He ran to Room K, to Room H, and others. Still not a soul to be
seen. Then he made his way as fast as he could go to the great entrance.
The doors were locked and bolted.

"Watch must be right after all. I'm shut in," he said to himself.
"However, there's sure to be someone about somewhere. Probably the
_salle des ventes_ is still open. Shops don't shut till they are
obliged."

Thither he went, to find its door as firmly closed as a door can be. He
knocked on it, but a sepulchral echo was the only answer.

"I know," he reflected. "The Director must still be in his room. It will
take him a long while to examine all that jewellery and put it away."

So for the room he headed, and, after losing his path twice, found it
by help of the sarcophagus that the Arabs had been dragging, which now
stood as deserted as it had done in the tomb, a lonesome and impressive
object in the gat