We followed her into the depth of the wonderful place, our lanterns and torches making little stars of light in that great blackness.  We saw the ruins of granaries still filled with the dust of what I suppose had once been corn, and came at length to a huge, roofless building of which the area was strewn with shattered columns, and among them overgrown statues, covered so thick by dust that we could only discover that most of them seemed to be shaped like sphinxes.

“If only Higgs were here,” said Oliver with a sigh, and passed on to Maqueda, who was calling him to look at something else.

Leaving the temple in which it was unsafe to walk, she led us to where a strong spring, the water supply of the place, bubbled up into a rock basin, and overflowing thence through prepared openings, ran away we knew not whither.

“Look, this fountain is very ancient,” said Maqueda, pointing to the lip of the basin that was worn away to the depth of several inches where those who drew water had for many generations rested their hands upon the hard rock.

“How did they light so vast a cavern?” asked Oliver.

“We do not know,” she answered, “since lamps would scarcely have served them.  It is a secret of the past which none of the Abati have cared to recover, and another is how the air is always kept fresh so deep in the bowels of the mountain.  We cannot even say whether this place is natural, as I think, or hollowed out by men.”

“Both, I expect,” I answered.  “But tell me, Lady, do the Abati make any use of this great cave?”

“Some corn is still stored here in pits in case of siege,” she replied, adding sadly, “but it is not enough to be of real service, since almost all of it comes from the estates of the Child of Kings.  In vain have I prayed the people to contribute, if only a hundredth part of their harvest, but they will not.  Each says that he would give if his neighbour gave, and so none give.  And yet a day may come when a store of corn alone would stand between them and death by hunger—­if the Fung held the valley, for instance,” and she turned impatiently and walked forward to show us the stables where the ancients kept their horses and the marks of their chariot wheels in the stone floor.

“Nice people, the Abati, sir,” said Quick to me.  “If it weren’t for the women and children, and, above all, for this little lady, whom I am beginning to worship like my master, as in duty bound, I’d like to see them do a bit of hungering.”

“There is one more place to show you,” said Maqueda, when we had inspected the stables and argued as to what possible causes could have induced the ancients to keep horses underground, “which perhaps you will think worth a visit, since it holds the treasures that are, or shall be, yours.  Come!”