Passing the great monument of the architect Senmut, from which vantage point the great cedar which marked the tomb precinct of his father and mother was visible, Menna turned towards the yellow terraces of Hatshepsut’s ivory-columned temple. To the left, he could already distinguish the little pyramid and the terraced colonades of the Mentuhotep Shrine, near which was the spot he sought. A few minutes more and he had crossed the ruined forecourt of that ancient king’s memorial shrine. For a moment Menna looked about him. He consulted a memorandum which he took from his jeweled belt. Then again, with an anticipatory smile, he ascended to the highest terrace and suddenly vanished into a dark opening which seemed to lead into the very face of the stupendous cliffs which towered above. Menna was soon in total darkness. He felt himself descending a long, narrow passage-way pitched at a very steep incline. He must have gone some two hundred paces when he felt, rather than saw the glow of a light. Soon he could distinguish the polished surface of the granite slabs with which the narrow walls were faced. All was well! The Princess awaited him! Standing in the opening of the doorway, Menna softly spoke her name. The Princess did not answer, but stood well back within the shadows of an alabaster naos, a shrine which, centuries before, had held a statue of the deified king, Mentuhotep. At the right he saw a dark and narrow doorway in which were visible a few ascending steps cut in the rock. The slim figure of the Princess was concealed beneath a long Memphite cloak. She appeared not to have heard his greeting. Again Menna softly called her name: “Sesen! My Lily, My Lotus! Behold thy lover, O Daughter of Hathor!” Still the figure was silent. Smilingly Menna drew near; he understood. With a wealth of flattering phrases on his lips, he sought to catch her to him. As he did so, the figure turned, and revealed to his astounded gaze the burning eyes of Hanit, of Hanit the former Queen! Yet, Hanit was dead! He had seen her embalmed body laid away in her rock-hewn tomb! With a hoarse and inarticulate cry Menna turned and fled. ’Twas the visible _ka_ of the outraged queen, ’twas Hanit’s vindictive _double_! Nay, it ’twas Hanit herself, whose mummified form he himself had seen, what time Huy, the Great High Priest, had performed the last rites, with the ceremonial opening of the eyes, the ears, the mouth! Had not he himself placed a wreath upon her well-swathed form, and thereafter seen the coffin lowered in her rock-hewn tomb? As Menna stumbled up the steep incline of the rock-hewn passage, black horror seized upon him; a paralyzing terror rose from his throbbing heart and mounted to his numbed brain. He tore the heavy gold chains and the jeweled _wesekh_ from his throat. He felt that he was choking. “Breath of Ra! The doorway, air, light, the blessed daylight!”