There was little to see. The floor, walls and ceiling were plain polished marble, while the nave was almost filled by a bier, of the same material but beautifully carved with groups representing, as it seemed to me, ancient myths of the nether world. Upon this rested a sarcophagus, in shape surprisingly reminiscent of an Egyptian mummy-case, and fashioned of an opaque plaster so cunningly finished that at the first glance you would have said that it too was solid marble. Poyning stared at this for fully a minute, his features drawn into an expression I had never seen on them before. He then raised the lamp to the blank walls, and we scanned them closely all over, but it was Poyning who spotted the inscription. I had to look twice before I could locate it at all--the carving was so fine and small. It was a short legend, but it seemed to me to compress into ten short words a whole world of grimness. "A stranger strayed into the valley and died. Disturb him not." That was all: no date appeared, no name, no clew of any sort to the old tragedy. Poyning continued to examine the interior of the tomb inch by inch. Suddenly I saw him drop to one knee. 'Come round to this side,' he said, in a high, cracked voice. He was pointing to something on the marble floor. There was no mistaking that mark. It was the print of a bare foot, larger than Poyning's but not so large as mine. 'It isn't fresh,' said Poyning. 'Nor is it very old. Somebody else has been here, recently, somebody who also preferred to leave no trace of his visit. Only he wasn't quite careful enough. What did he come for?' 'God knows.' 'I think I do, too. It seems pretty evident.' 'What do you mean?' Poyning rose and tapped the sarcophagus. 'This was not here when we came into the valley,' he said. 'It's been made since. Why? Hide the lamp, Mirlees. I'm going out.' I screened the light under my robe, while Poyning opened the door and left the chamber. When he returned he was carrying a heavy snag of stone. 'This appears to be the only way now,' he muttered, and to my dismay began to tap the plaster casing, first gently, then harder. The white material cracked right across. Poyning laid down the stone and tugged at the broken plaster with his hands. A big, cup-shaped shard came away. He bent over the exposed face, and staggered back with a hoarse scream. It is scarce to be wondered at that Poyning did this.