He seemed scarcely to have closed his eyes before he was awakened by a stray beam of morning sunlight. Someone had raised the flap of the tent. He opened his eyes. Professor Blackwell was still sleeping peacefully; but the bearded, grinning face of Mahmoud appeared in the opening. Mahmoud had a little English; and: “Sir!” he said. “I come to tell you. They make a small opening--too small for me. But this morning Hassan es-Sugra goes through!” “What!” Barry was out of bed in one bound. “You mean he has gone into the tomb?” “He goes in, Effendim, and comes out again!” “Where is he?” “He is there, in the valley.” “What!” came a harsh, sleepy voice. Professor Blackwell turned over on his elbow. “They’ve reopened the tomb, Professor!” Barry cried excitedly. “They’ve reopened the tomb!” “Impossible!” the Professor muttered, sitting upright. “I never heard of such a thing!” “But Hassan es-Sugra has been in! Mahmoud has told me so!” “Oh, yes!” said the Professor, fumbling under his pillow for his glasses. “Quite! Quite! Of course I was forgetting that it had been opened before.” Mahmoud departed, grinning broadly, as Barry made a grab for his clothes. John Cumberland and Danbazzar were not in camp; and, having hastily disposed of hot coffee and biscuits, Barry and the Professor started for the excavation. They had actually come out onto the plateau looking down upon the valley, when both pulled up dead, exchanging a swift, significant glance. Unmistakable upon the still desert air, the note of a police whistle reached them! The guards were armed with these, but this was the first time there had been occasion to use them. “Damnation!” Barry muttered. “Who can it be? Come on, Professor, let’s hurry!” To the great discomfiture of the older man, they performed the remainder of the journey at a fairly rapid trot. And, coming out of a narrow ravine which opened some twenty yards above the site of the excavation, they almost literally ran into Mr. Tawwab! He was standing not more than a dozen paces from Danbazzar’s screen, smoking a cigarette and looking about him curiously. CHAPTER XIV. THE HAUNTED VALLEY Prone upon a high crag Danbazzar lay, watching a horseman making his way down the slope of a distant valley and heading in the direction of the Nile. At last: “He’s gone!” he said, and looked back over his shoulder. John Cumberland heaved a great sigh of relief and, standing, stretched his cramped limbs. One long last look Danbazzar took at the receding figure, and then the two climbed down to the path below where Professor Blackwell and Barry awaited them. “Do you think I got away with it?” the latter asked. “No!” Danbazzar said promptly--“not entirely. Your explanation that we had gone out for jackal was good.” “Excellent, in my opinion!” Professor Blackwell murmured. “You are really an accomplished liar, Barry.”