I have many times in my life felt nearer to death than when I
stood on the top of that lofty column, surrounded by the
thousands of squatting dwarfs, whose black bodies reflected dully
the mounting light from the flaming urns.
I cannot say what we expected, for we knew not what to expect.
Many conjectures entered my mind, but none of them approached the
fact. But, thinking that our guide might now return at any moment
to lead us below, and not caring to be surprised by an attack
from behind on that narrow precipice, I moved across to the rear,
where I could keep my eyes on the alcove opposite, and at the
same time watch the stone slab which closed the opening to the
spiral stairway. A word to Harry and he joined me.
"Perhaps we can open it from above," he suggested.
"Not likely," I answered, "and, anyway, what's the use?"
He knelt down and tugged at it, but there was no edge on which to
obtain a purchase. The thing was immovable.
Five minutes passed, during which there was no movement, either
in the audience on the stone seats or in the alcove. But there
was an indefinable air of expectancy on the faces of the king and
those surrounding him, and I kept a sharp eye on the stone slab.
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