pper end, it was blocked by a wall of unscalable heights.
Nowhere in its length was it wider than a hundred yards, and across the
mouth a gateway wide enough for three chariots abreast had been built
of red granite.

This was the valley of the Tombs of the Kings.

In chambers hewn in solid rock, the monarchs of the eighteenth and
nineteenth dynasties were entombed. All along the walls of the gorge,
nature had secured the sacred resting-place of the sovereigns against
trespass from the end and sides of the chasm, and Egypt had dutifully
strengthened the one weak point in the fortification--the entrance--by
the gateway of granite. But there was no vigilance of guards.
Whosoever knew how to open the gates might enter the valley. The
secret of the bolts was known only among the members of the royal
family and the court. To Kenkenes, whose craft as a sculptor had
taught him the intricate devices used in closing tombs, the opening of
these gates was simple. Even the mighty portals of Khufu and Menka-ra
would yield responsive to his intelligent touch.

He let himself into the valley and, closing the valves behind him, went
up the tortuous gorge, darkened by the shadows of its walls. He
continued past the mouth of the valley's southern arm wherein were
entombed the kings of the eighteenth dynasty. Here, in this open
space, he could see the circling bats, which before he could only hear
above his head. Somewhere among the rocks up the moonlit hollow an owl
hooted. But the tombs he sought were in the upper end of the main
ravine.

Here lay Rameses I, the founder of that illustrious dynasty--the
nineteenth. Near-by was his son, Seti I, and next to him the splendid
tyrant, Rameses the Great, the Incomparable Pharaoh.

By the time Kenkenes had reached the spot, all lightness in his heart
had gone out like the extinguishing of a candle, and the weight of
suspense, the fear of failure, fell on him as suddenly. He approached
the elaborate facade of the solemn portals, climbed the pairs of steps,
and paused at each of the many landings with a prayer for the success
of his mission, not for the repose of the royal soul, after the custom
of other visitors. With trembling hands he pushed the doors, rough
with inscriptions, and the great stone valves swung ponderously inward,
the bronze pins making no sound as they turned in the sockets.
Kenkenes entered and closed the portals behind him.

Instantly all sound of the outsid