Under this floor of solid granite was the pit containing the sarcophagi
of the dead monarch, of his favorite son and destined heir, Shaemus,
and his well-beloved queen, Neferari Thermuthis. The opening into the
pit had been sealed when Rameses had descended to emerge no more. The
chamber over it was brilliant with frescoing and covered with
inscriptions. There were three magnificent altars of alabaster and
over each was an oval containing the name of one of the three sleepers
in the pit below.
In this chapel the signet had been lost.
Kenkenes set his light on the floor and began his search. The first
time he searched the floor, he laid the lack of success to his excited
work. The second time, the perspiration began to trickle down his
temples. Thereafter he sought, lengthwise and crosswise, calling on
the gods for aid, but there was no glint of the jewel.
At last, sick with despair, he sat down to collect himself. Suddenly
across the heavy silence there smote a sound. In a place closer to the
beating heart of the world, the movement might have escaped him. Now,
though it was but the rustle of sweeping robes, it seemed to sough like
the wind among the clashing blades of palm-leaves.
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