Danbazzar’s optimism was shown to have been excessive. Hours went by in constant work; blazing days and nights of ceaseless toil; but still the great portcullis defied them. Hassan es-Sugra, with the smallest men of the party, had attacked the lower obstruction. But conditions were bad. Both air and proper light were lacking. Since they could not be relieved, their progress was necessarily slow. And, meanwhile, the main gang chipped and chipped patiently at the rock tunnel surrounding the stone door. By Monday success seemed to be in sight; and as Danbazzar set out for Luxor to interview Mr. Tawwab, he gave orders touching the work on the lower passage. And so, this day, which it was written should be a memorable one, wore on. When the wonderful curtain of dusk was drawn over the valley, Danbazzar had not returned from his interview with Mr. Tawwab. Barry pictured him patiently drinking numberless cups of coffee and smoking scores of cigarettes. Mahmoud had been out for quail in the morning, and the savoury odour of his cooking increased the appetite of the party, already keen enough at the end of an arduous and exciting day. Having performed their somewhat limited ablutions, they assembled in the tent over a surreptitious cocktail, perforce without ice. “It seems to me,” said John Cumberland, “that this thing has developed into a race. The man Tawwab is out for blackmail. That’s clear.” “Can we keep him off until we succeed, or will he hold us up?” murmured Professor Blackwell. “Success might come almost any day. What is beyond that further obstruction no one can pretend to guess. But as to what it _is_, from my scanty observations--for the light was very bad--I have formed a theory.” “What’s your theory, Blackwell?” John Cumberland asked. “It is this,” the Professor continued: “That first portcullis blocking the passage was built to be raised--I am sure of it.” “I believe you are right,” said Barry; “and it worked in deep grooves.” “Quite! Quite!” The Professor nodded. “By what means such a vast lump of rock was lifted, I leave to the greater knowledge of Danbazzar to explain. I am no Egyptologist. But I think the obstruction twenty feet down, from what I can see of it, is, or was, a second portcullis. The broken pieces look of about the same thickness as that at the top.” “But why should the second be broken and not the first?” Barry demanded. “Which brings me to my theory,” the Professor continued. “I think the second portcullis, at some time when it was raised, fell and was shattered.” “By Jove!” John Cumberland exclaimed. “You may be right!” “I am almost sure I am,” the Professor said. “I think I can see one of the deep grooves it worked in. If this is so, it should be fairly easy to clear the débris, and, unless there is a third portcullis, intact, why should we not then find ourselves in the actual burial chamber?” “It’s possible,” his friend admitted. “Let’s hope you’re right.”