The plan of operations was worthy of its inventor. The entrance to the tomb lay in a fairly deep recess; and Danbazzar had constructed, in convenient sections, a huge screen--practically a piece of scenery. The material for this accounted for the presence of several strangely shaped cases among their baggage for which Barry had hitherto been unable to account. Set in place before the entrance to the tomb, with top pieces and side pieces, or wings, it was joined with sand and rubbish to the rubble of the valley path. When lovingly finished by Danbazzar--seated upon a light scaffold--with odd dabs of paint applied to a wet surface upon which sand had been thrown, the result was magical. While it slightly altered the conformation of the landscape, it was utterly impossible to detect the presence of this screen even by the closest scrutiny. One would have had to tap it to learn that it was of wood and canvas, and not of rock. Access to the interior was gained by an ingenious door, low down at one corner. This door was in reality a shallow box filled with rubble and cement and opening upward. In the space between the screen and the rock there was ample room for work, which was carried on by lantern light. With two men always on duty, one at the high end of the valley and one at the low, to give warning for operations to cease, detection was next to impossible, short of treachery on the part of an employee. On the morning that this screen was completed, Danbazzar, paint brush in hand, stood surveying his work with the pride of an artist. He turned to Barry, who stood beside him and: “Some illusion, I think!” said he. “It’s simply amazing!” cried John Cumberland. “I worked behind that screen, sir,” said Danbazzar, “for three months, and not a soul but my men ever knew I was there! The last month I spent covering up what I’d found.” “I take it,” said Cumberland, “we can soon demolish what you reconstructed?” “Pretty soon,” Danbazzar agreed. “But I had to make a sound job of it.” “Anyway,” said Barry, “from now onward we are safe.” “As you say--” Danbazzar bowed as one who acknowledges applause and gave the signal for the scaffolding to be demolished--“the dangerous part is over. Rain is the worst we have to fear now.” He touched Hassan es-Sugra upon the shoulder. “Hassan,” he directed, “let the first party begin at three o’clock. You have my instructions. I shall be back at five.” Hassan saluted, and leaving Mahmoud in charge of the clearing-up operations, walked away, slow and stately, down the valley. As it chanced, their belief in the artistic genius of Danbazzar was very shortly to be put to the test; for, returning to the camp, where they intended to remain during the heat of noon, they were met by a very courteous Egyptian official. John Cumberland started at sight of the figure wearing the _tarbûsh_, but Danbazzar exhibited neither surprise nor alarm. “Ah! Mr. Tawwab!” he cried genially. “It was real good of you to hunt us up!”