Pressed down with awe, Kenkenes followed his example, and although he seemed to kneel on some rough chisel mark in the floor, he did not shift his position.  The discomfort seemed appropriate as penitence on that holy occasion.

After a long time the stranger arose, took up the torch and quitted the chamber.  He went away more slowly than he had come, with reluctant step and averted face.

When night and profound silence were restored in the crypt, Kenkenes regained his feet and, examining the irritated knee, found the offending object clinging to the impression it had made in the flesh.  The shape of the trifle sent a wild hope through his brain.  Groping through the dark, he found his lamp and lighted it with trembling hands.

He held the lapis-lazuli signet!

He did not move.  He only grasped the scarab tightly and panted.  The sudden change from intense suspense to intense relief had deprived him of the power of expression.  Only his physical make-up manifested its rebellion against the shock.

As the tumult in his heart subsided, his mind began to confront him with happy fancies.  Rachel was already free.  In that moment of exuberance he thrust aside, as monstrous, the bar of different faith.  He believed he could overcome it by the very compelling power of his love and the righteousness of his cause.  He spent no time picturing the method of his triumph over it.  Beyond that obstacle were tender pictures of home-making, love and life, which so filled him with emotion that, in a sudden ebullition of boyish gratitude, he pressed the all-potent signet to his lips.

Then, his cheeks reddening with a little shame at his impulsiveness, he examined the scarab.  The cord by which it had been suspended passed through a small gold ring between the claws of the beetle.  This had worn very thin and some slight wrench had broken it.

“Ah!” he exclaimed aloud.  “It is even as I had thought.  But let me not seem to boast when I tell my father of it.  It will be victory enough for me to display the jewel, and abashment enough for him to know he was wrong.”

He ceased to speak, but the echoes talked on after him.  He shivered, caught up his light and raced through the sumptuous tomb into the world again.

It was near dawn and the skies were pallid.  He was hungry and weary but most impatient to be gone.  He would repair to Thebes and break his fast.  Thereafter he would procure the swiftest boat on the Nile and take his rest while speeding toward Memphis.

The inn of the necropolis was like an immense dwelling, except that the courts were stable-yards.  The doors, opening off the porch, were always open and a light burned by night within the chamber.  So long and so murkily had it burnt, that the chamber Kenkenes entered was smoky and redolent of it.  Aside from a high, bench-like table, running half the length of the rear wall, there was nothing else in the room.  Kenkenes rapped on the table.  In a little time an Egyptian emerged from under the counter, on the other side.  Understanding at last that the guest wished to be fed, he staggered sleepily through a door and, presently reappearing, signed Kenkenes to enter.