Beyond it, Thotmes smiled at his captive. “Your companions will join you soon. We shall not trouble to search for them. They will walk into our midst soon enough, and then you will have company.” “Look out you don’t get your head blown off by one of them,” Tony remarked. Thotmes lost his smile. He tugged at his spade beard and said, “Few men jest in Alu. There is always a need for new gods—and you would look well with a jackal’s head on your shoulders.” “You’d look lovely with a rat’s,” Tony agreed, “only you already have one.” The high priest said something indistinguishable, glared and departed. Tony was left alone. He shrugged and took stock of his possessions. He had been searched completely. His pockets were empty. Carbon-gun and coal-cartridges had been taken from him. He had no tool by which he might leave the cell. On the other hand, there might possibly be a concealed panel somewhere. It took an hour for Tony to convince himself that none existed. Finally he sat down and waited. There was nothing else to do. He had got the information for which he had come. The machine of the Atlanteans was in the heart of the pyramid. But he was unarmed, and had no way of conveying a message to Desquer or his brothers. Briefly he wondered what was happening to Phil and Jimmy, and how long they would wait. And when they got tired of waiting—what would they do? What could they do—trapped in Alu, city of science and fathomless antiquity? Four men, Desquer and the brothers, against the mighty powers of the greatest civilization Earth had ever known. Four against the might that had made Egypt an invincible empire. Four against the gods! CHAPTER VII The Might of Atlantis A thump from above brought Tony from his crouching position to stand rigidly erect, gaze riveted to the ceiling. He was in time to see a section of it swing down on hinges, letting the body of a man, with arms and legs flailing, drop into the prison. Tony sprang forward, breaking the man’s fall. It was Phil. Phil’s blond hair was disheveled, a stubble of yellow beard on his face; but his stocky body was as steel-muscled as ever. He still gripped the carbon-gun he had been holding, and his eyes met Tony’s with relief. “You okay?” “Yeah.” There was no need for more, so deep was the understanding between the brothers. Tony said swiftly, “Anybody after you?” “Didn’t see anybody.” “Took ’em by surprise, perhaps. But they’ll be along. We’ve got to work fast while we’ve a chance of getting out of here.” He glanced at the barred door. “We could blast out there with the carbon-gun, but I don’t know the road. Hop on my shoulders, kid. We’re going out through the ceiling.” Phil handed his brother the gun and climbed deftly onto Tony’s shoulders as the latter knelt. Slowly he rose, steadying Phil with one hand. “Got—got worried about you when you didn’t show up. I went after you.”