I stared. Stepping close, I reached out my hand, feeling for the wide crevice that appeared to be there. But my fingers touched solid rock. There was no crack, no crevice! What did it mean? What miracle was this? That a door was there seemed indisputable. A door invisible without that glow, a door indetectable by touch, yet outlined in its entirety by the strange light emanating from the tube. Nohul Voh was right. The thing had revealed the hidden door. But how? Even in my impatience, my mad desire to force the portal, I found myself wondering, striving to solve the puzzle. Then, as I played the glow here and there, following the outlines of that hermetically sealed opening, I began to understand. Wherever there was solid rock, wherever there was cement or mortar the mysterious compound within the tube--some radium compound I now felt sure--caused the red glow. But where there was crack or crevice, an opening too minute even to see or feel, a black line was revealed. But my thoughts were cut short by a new discovery. As the light or emanations of the tube flashed upon the floor close to the wall, a smaller, black rectangle showed. Just above it, upon the wall, the sculptured foot of the carved god was outlined in black, and the ornate sandal-fastening showed as a black mass. With a quick motion, Azcopil grasped the ring-shaped ornament. The god’s foot swung inward. With a slight grating noise the rectangular stone in the floor moved upwards, and peering within the cavity revealed a metal lever. Stooping, I grasped it, pulled upon it. It moved smoothly, easily, and slowly the outlined section of the wall vanished before our eyes. CHAPTER XVIII The End of Kinchi Haman BEFORE us was a dark passageway. Flashing the strange red glow from my bamboo tube upon the stone walls and floor, with nerves tense, noiselessly, we moved forward, while at our heels crowded our men, filled with nameless dread, their sharp, indrawn, almost sobbing breaths, audible in the black silence of the tunnel. A dozen paces and the passage turned abruptly to the right and before us we saw a glimmer of light. Cautiously we stole forward. A heavy cloth drapery hung across the passage, and from beyond came the sounds of voices. With trembling fingers I carefully moved one edge of the curtain aside and looked into a large, brightly-lit room. Stalwart temple guards stood about; a dozen black-robed priests filled the chamber, and, seated in a throne-like stone chair, addressing them in earnest tones, was--Kinchi Haman!