“As if conjured up by magic, a monstrous column of blue flame arose, swept up scorchingly, and licked like the tongue of a hungry dragon upon the roof of the cavern.  Instantly the trap was closed again; the tongue of fire dropped back into the lake from which it had arisen on the draught of air.

“And right past me where I stood, rigid with horror, looking through those bars, fell a white-robed figure—­whether man or woman I could not determine!  Down, down into the fiery pit, a hundred feet below!

“One long-drawn, dying shriek reached my ears.

“Of my return to the place at which I had left my bundle and rifle I retain absolutely not one recollection.  I was aroused from a sort of stupor of horror by the sight of a faint light moving across the platform ahead of me, as I was about to emerge from the tunnel.

“It was the light of a lantern, carried by a man who might have been the double of that yellow-robed mendicant who had first unconsciously led me to this accursed place.

“I won’t deny that, up to the moment of sighting him, my one idea had been to escape, to return, to quit this unholy spot.  But now, as I watched the bearer of the lantern cross the platform and enter one of the seven corridors, that old, unquenchable thirst for new experiences got me by the throat again.

“As the light of the lantern was swallowed up in the passage, I found my bundle and rifle and set out to follow the man.  Four paces brought me to the foot of more steps.  I walked barefooted, frequently pausing to listen.  There were many carvings upon the walls, but I had no leisure to examine them.

“Contrary to my anticipations, however, there were no branches in this zigzag staircase, which communicated directly with the top of the lofty plateau.  When presently I felt the fresh mountain air upon my face, I wondered why I could perceive no light ahead of me.  Yet the reason was simple enough.

“Since I had passed through that strange watergate to the City of Fire, the day had ended:  it was night.  And when, finding no further steps ahead of me, I passed along a level, narrow corridor for some ten paces and, looking upward, saw the stars, I was astounded.

“The yellow-robed man had disappeared, and I stood alone, looking down upon that secret city which I had come so far to see.

“I found myself standing in deep undergrowth, and, pressing this gently aside, I saw a wonderful spectacle.  Away to my left was a great white marble building, which I judged to be a temple; and forming a crescent before it was a miniature town, each white-walled house surrounded by a garden.  It was Damascus reduced to fairy dimensions, a spectacle quite unforgettable.

“The fact which made the whole thing awesome and unreal was the presence, along the top of the temple (which, like that of Hatshepsu at Deir elBahari, seemed to be hewn out of the living rock but was faced with white marble) of seven giant flambeaux, each surmounted by a darting tongue of blue flame!