“Itzimin, my son,” he exclaimed, placing his arm about me, “long have I awaited your coming. By the sadness of your face, I know you have no news of her whom you seek. But fear not, she is still unharmed. I have much to reveal to you, but first must you rest and eat, for you will need your strength. Much must be done today, for with the setting of the sun tonight the Tonalmatl begins.” * * * * * I STARTED. Only a scant twelve hours remained! I had counted upon having all that day and the night as well, to continue my seemingly hopeless search. Nohul Voh must have read my thoughts. He smiled reassuringly. “Fear not and have faith in the prophecy and in Fate,” he said. “Though the Tonalmatl begins tonight by the stars, yet not until Itzamna, the Moon God, greets his Lord, Kinich Ahau, with the dawning of the day does the feast of the Tonalmatl take place. And now, ask no questions my son but eat, and you, O, Prince, eat and rest for much strength will you, too, require for what lies before you.” Not until we had eaten--though it was with difficulty I forced the food down my throat despite my famished state--would the old sorcerer speak again. Then, as we rested our weary bodies among the cushions, he drew near. “Tell me,” he asked, “all that has transpired, my son.” Briefly I related what we had done. He nodded. “Kinchi Haman still lives,” he declared, when I had ended. “He hides from your wrath. With him are those of the temple, for he hopes, by giving maidens to Kinich Ahau as brides upon the day of Tonalmatl, to win the favor of the god and so triumph over you, my son, and those who are your friends, and to make his god supreme in this valley of Mictolan. Until that time he and his fellows fear to show themselves, for they dread the power of the thunder that kills in the hands of Itzimin Chac. Already--” “I’ve searched the temple and he’s not there,” I exclaimed impatiently, interrupting him. He smiled enigmatically. “Aye, you have searched a _part_ of the temple,” he replied. “It was of this I have waited long to speak, my son. Did you not search the chamber of Kinchi Haman? Did you not find it empty? But did that prove the priest was not within the temple? Did you not by merest chance find the doorway wherein was caught the bit of the maiden’s chain? Have I not searched the skies for many years--for centuries--and do I not each night find new stars? Does not the rabbit have always two doors to his hole? Has my son measured the length of the _Kus_ on the _outside_? Has he paced the length within? Has--” I started up. His words electrified me. Fool that I had been not to have thought of this! The base of the pyramid was stupendous--it covered acres of ground. How could I be sure there were not two, three--a dozen portions separated by secret doors, or perhaps reached by tunnels like the one that led to my own patio?