For some unknown reason, as the Legionaries grouped themselves about their Master, an uncanny influence seemed to emanate from this singular object.

All remained silent, as the Olema, an enigmatic smile on his thin, bearded lips, raised a hand toward the pyramid.
"This thing, O Frank, thou shouldst see," he remarked dryly.

"Above all, the inner chambers.

Wilt thou go with me ?" "I will go," the Master answered.

"Lead the way!" The Olema beckoned one of the Maghrabis, who delivered a torch of some clear-burning, resinous, and perfumed material into his hand.
"Come," bade the old man, and gestured toward the steps of gold.
Together, in silence, they mounted toward the dim, high-arched roof.