A few steps beyond the pool the path diverges sharply to the left and opens into the little gallery of the broken column.
Just as we were about to ascend the two or three stone steps leading to the incline, the guide in front stopped short, and clutching me by the arm pointed a shaking forefinger toward the pool.
"What's that ?" he gasped.
I strained my eyes into the darkness but I could see nothing.
"There, that black thing under the bank," he said, raising his candle and throwing the light over the water.
We all saw it now and recognized it with a thrill of horror.

It was the body of Colonel Gaylord.

He was lying on his face at the bottom of the pool, and with outstretched arms was clutching the mud in his hands.

The still water above him was as clear as crystal but was tinged with red.
"It's my uncle!" I cried, springing forward.

"He's fallen over the bank.
He may not be dead." But they held me back.
"He's as dead as he ever will be," the guide said grimly.