WE were gazing at the sacred image of Kinich Ahau! We were within that most holy, mysterious, forbidden shrine in the centre of the temple! The prince, awed, filled with superstitious fears, had prostrated himself. Our men were prone upon the floor, babbling prayers of repentance, half-crazed with terror of swift vengeance for having entered the most sacred spot. But I gave little heed to them. The high-priest had entered here. He was nowhere in sight. Yet there was no other opening, no place in which he could be concealed. I hunted everywhere. I tore aside tapestries, searched among the columns, about the dais. Cursing, fuming, seething with rage, I moved about the walls, turning the glow of the bamboo tube upon the stones. But nowhere was there a sign of a hidden door. I turned to Azcopil, spoke to him sharply, roughly, scathingly. Trembling with fear; casting frightened glances at the monstrous god as if expecting it to come to life, he joined me. But in vain we shouted to the men. In the presence of the bloodthirsty black god they were nerveless, useless. Inch by inch I went over the stone floor, examining every block, every joint with the red rays. But in vain. Checkmated, utterly at a loss, beginning to feel, as did Azcopil and the men, that Kinchi Haman had vanished in this air by supernatural means, I stared about. I had searched everywhere, everywhere--but at the thought I sprang to the idol. I had _not_ searched the god! Over the dais I played the rays from Nohul Voh’s gift. I turned it upon the god’s feet, his legs, his back. With blanched awe-struck faces the men watched me. Never had such sacrilege been committed. Why did the vindictive god permit it? What mysterious power did I hold over him? There could be but one explanation to their minds. I, the son of Kukulcan, the Itzimin Chac, Controller of Thunder and Lightning; Bearer of the Symbol, Wielder of the Consuming Fire, was greater, more powerful than Kinich Ahau. He bowed to my will, dared make no protest. In my service they were safe, and slowly, half-fearfully, they rose, grasped their weapons and watched my every move. Now I was committing even greater sacrilege than before. I had gone over every portion of the idol within my reach. I grasped the flexed right arm of the idol to swing myself to his knees. The arm moved! Remembering the gigantic image at the entrance to the Cave of the Bats, I tugged at it, cautiously, watchfully, for there was no knowing how the mechanism operated. I could not know whether the thing would tip up, swing aside or drop down. Deep indrawn breaths of wonder and fear came from the men. The prince stared wide-eyed. Slowly the arm swung, and as it moved, the great golden disc revolved; the entire statue and dais slid to one side. I leaped down. Where the statue had stood was an opening in the floor with steps leading downwards. Kinchi Haman had escaped that way. We had lost valuable, precious time.