But he must hurry--hurry--hurry; no one could tell what might be happening back there to that face that changed.
"Olivia!" he shouted, "Amory! Jarvo--oh, Jarvo! Rollo, you scoundrel--" Whereat the memory that Rollo was somewhere on a yacht assailed him, and he pressed on, blindly and in silence, until glimmering before him he saw a light shining from an open door.

Then he rushed forward and with a groan of relief threw himself into the room.

Opposite the door loomed the grim sarcophagus of King Abibaal, and beside it on the floor lay the figure with the face that changed.

He had gone a circle in those tortuous passages, and this was the room of the tombs of the kings.
He dragged himself across the chamber toward the still form.

He must look again; no one could tell what might have happened.