As dawn broke I reached the tomb, carrying the statue. I had run out of drink, and now felt sick and the base of my skull ached terribly. I was surprised to see that the guards appeared to have stayed all night, and they welcomed me, surprised to see me so early. They opened the gate for me, and I entered, waving them away when they offered to come in with me. I lit one of the lanterns kept by the entrance, and carried it with me. I carefully crossed the pit trap, trying not to peer into the shadows at the bottom, and quietly entered the treasure room. The mural of Sobek was as vivid as ever, and the sight of it again stopped me. I held out the statue toward the great head, and then placed it on the floor. It was without surprise that I noticed the Canoptic jars Saunders had taken also on the floor in front of the mural.

            I spent a long day at work at the tomb. I had had no sleep and no booze, and felt as if I would drop dead into the sand at any moment. I had the gate removed, and paid off the workers and the guards. They dismantled the tents, and packed up the excavation equipment. Amongst the latter we had a small amount of dynamite, although the Egyptian authorities had not let us use it. Once the Arabs had gone I hammered a small hole next to the entrance and placed the explosive within it, fitted with a long fuse. I had sent telegrams to all the people we had told about the tomb, rather lamely explaining that it had all been a drunken hoax. Would they believe me? I didn’t care. As soon the tomb was sealed I was going to disappear, maybe to India this time.

            I struck a match and was about to light the fuse, when a heard a muffled sound from deep within the tomb. I dropped the match. One place that shouldn’t make noises was a tomb several thousand years old. What could it have been? When I had been paying off the guards, a small crowd of children had gathered, excited by the sight of money and begging for ‘Baksheesh’ with grinning faces. Had one of them crept into the tomb now the gate was down, to do some tomb robbing for himself? I couldn’t seal the tomb without checking. A took a lantern and went back in. As I was crossing the makeshift bridge across the pit trap I realised what had made the noise. One of the upright logs we had placed into the blackness of the pit bottom to support the bridge had given way. The bridge creaked under my weight, and slowly drifted sideways and then collapsed into the darkness below. The fall was short but I landed awkwardly, mixed up in planks. I fell on my left side and felt terrible pain and several sickening cracks as bones splintered. I lay unmoving for several minutes, paralysed by pain. I had dropped my lantern and it had gone out, leaving me without a glimmer of light.

            Slowly I tried to move, but screaming pain down my left side stopped me, and made me fearful of moving again. Slowly I used my good right arm to explore my body in the dark. The left upper arm was broken, as were several ribs, but the skin was not torn. My biggest fear was my left hip, which ground sickeningly as I tried to move it. I would not be able to stand with these injuries, let alone climb out of the pit. I was probably bleeding internally, perhaps into my chest. Fear overcame me as I realised that I would have no rescuer. I had paid off all the local staff, and fobbed off the Westerners with my telegrams. Would these wounds kill me, or would I die of thirst? I reckoned I had three days to live at best. Would I go insane first in utter darkness, without sound and unable to move? I thought of the hideous crocodile mural above me within the tomb, and the laughing alien face from my dreams. Had what I had seen last night been real? Surely such things were not possible? I laughed at the irony; despite the talk of magical protection from the tomb, a simple pitfall trap was going to do for me.

            I do not know how long I lay there for, on the bare stone floor of that pit. Clearly time had little meaning without light or sound, and in pain. My mind wandered down the avenues of my life, through the war, but kept coming back to Saunders, who had taken me in with such kindness, and so few expectations. I tried not to think of the sight of him dead on his hotel room floor.

            Some time later, I no not how long, I woke up in a bright room with white painted walls. I was in a bed in the middle of the room, alone. My arm was in plaster, and a weight hung from my leg, keeping the fracture reduced. The pain from my injuries was duller. I didn’t try to move, but enjoyed the cool air from the ceiling fan. Being in a hospital soon brought back memories of the war however, and again I was deafened by the sound of guns, and a sickening panic overtook me. After perhaps an hour or so, a young woman in a uniform came in. I said hello, but my voice was so quiet and hoarse, I don’t think she heard me. She put the tray of dressings down on a table next to my bed, and then turned to me. She saw my eyes were open, and greeted me kindly. She told me I had been in a bad accident, and I was now in the British Army Hospital in Cairo. She asked me if I needed painkillers, and went away to get some morphine when I said ‘yes’. The happy buzz of the morphine passed the next few hours. Then a middle aged man came to see me. He wore an expensive cream suit, and was sweating profusely. He had a huge moustache, and an fat, ruddy face.

“Graham?, how are you feeling? I’m Morgan, a friend of poor old Saunders. He telegrammed me about the tomb, and I got on the next plane to Egypt.” Obviously he hadn’t received my second telegram. “I got here to find him dead, you missing and the tomb deserted but wide open. Bit odd, what? I got an electric torch, and had a poke around inside, but only got as far as the pit. I shone the torch down into it, and there you were! You were a bit of a mess, you know. I wasn’t sure if you were dead. It was the Devil’s own trouble to get you out of that hole, took a dozen men. I put you in a truck and sent you here – I knew you were an old soldier, so they’d take you in. It has taken me a few days to get some chaps together to put some planks over that pit; I think we’ve done a better job of it than you did, what! Amazing tomb! Saunders wasn’t exaggerating. Unfortunately some chaps from the Cairo Museum have got wind of it, and seem to want to take over. I’m playing for time of course, but they seem pretty determined. They accused me of trying to dynamite the tomb! Of course you and Saunders had the papers and what-not authorising you to dig, so I’m on a bit of a sticky wicket. Anyway I sort of borrowed a few things, just as keepsakes, before they stopped me going in, and I thought you might like one.” He held up the statue of Anubis. I opened my mouth, but several days without water and a shot of morphine meant that nothing intelligible came out.

“Don’t try and get up, I’ll put it just here, on the windowsill where you can see it. Anyway I should let you get some rest of that Matron with have words with me. I’ll come back and see you in a few days. Don’t worry about anything, they’ll look after you well. Chin-Chin.”

When the nurse came back I waved my good arm at her, and croaked my dry throat, pointing at the statue. She pushed my arm back down by my side, and stroked my matted hair.

“Calm down Mr Graham, there’s nothing to worry about. We’ll get you some more Morphine.” Two orderlies held me down while the needle was jabbed into me, and I was in a dream again. The sight of the huge black Devil swam before me laughing silently. Distantly I realised the sun was going down, and the room was darkening. Some time later I saw clearly in front of me the mural of Sobek. With a sinking feeling I realised that my eyes were open, and I was not dreaming…