At last the stone cover yielded to his efforts. Unis’ eyes gleamed with joy and anticipation. Enana, his master, would be hailed as one with Imhotep, builder of the pyramids, with Ptahhotep the Philosopher, with Amenhotep, son of Hap, himself! Perhaps he too would compel the gods to do his bidding! Unis gave a last push to the great cover. It fell to the sand-covered floor with a dull thud. He lowered the lamp. There before him was the outer coffin of the old sage. This, in turn, Unis lifted and found, beneath, the gem-crusted coffin—solid gold it seemed—in which Amenhotep’s royal master had caused the son of Hap to be placed. The heat in the little chamber was intense. The blood in Unis’ temples throbbed with his exertions. His body gleamed in the flickering light; perspiration ran from every pore. For a time the youth returned to the upper chamber where he could fill his lungs with the purer and cooler air. But not for long. In a few moments he returned to the tomb chamber. He lifted the gorgeous coffin-lid from the linen-swathed form it concealed. At once the stifling odor of myrrh, liquidambar, cinnamon, and other strong essences again almost overcame him. Unis bent down. With an effort he lifted the mummified figure. He felt about underneath the head. Nothing! Unis tried the feet of the tightly-draped figure. No book! Then Unis did something for which he knew punishment on earth was severe. What might be his fate in the hereafter Unis did not dare to think! Lifting the body from the coffin altogether, he commenced slowly and methodically to unwrap it. Yard upon yard of aromatic linens he loosened, until finally nothing but the blackened form of Amenhotep lay before him. No eyes had Unis for the jewels with which Amenhotep’s sorrowing master had covered the dead architect. The throbbing brain of Unis was concentrated upon but one thing, the Magic Book. It was not in the wrappings. It was not between the knees of the deceased, where, as Unis knew, so often documents are placed. It was not between the folded hands of Amenhotep. It was neither at his head nor at his feet. Unis replaced the body in its coffin, throwing the linens in upon it pellmell. He covered it with its two wooden covers. The great stone outer cover he knew must stay where it had fallen. He could have that replaced by others, following his report on the present condition of the extra wrappings of the son of Hap, which had been his ostensible reason for entering the tomb. Unis once again took mallet in hand. He carefully and methodically examined both walls and floor. He dared not rap upon the False Door. Behind it slept Amenhotep’s living self, as represented by his statue. Unis had far more terror of that enchanted wooden portrait of the dead man than he had of the body; the shell, of Amenhotep itself. Alas, all his efforts were in vain. The Book of Books was not in the tomb.