It was a grisly object to be encountered so unexpectedly, and, as the light of the lanterns flickered upon it, Patsy’s overwrought imagination made him think it was preparing to get up.
“Gee! I wish I was out of this!” ejaculated Patsy involuntarily.
“Why?” whispered Chick. “That can’t hurt you.”
“How do I know that? Look on his chest. There’s some kind of tattooing. Looks like a lobster.”
“It’s a beetle,” corrected Jefferson Arnold.
“The Golden Scarab!” explained Jai Singh, in his deep, resonant voice. “You see that they are on the walls, too.”
“You’re right,” agreed Nick Carter. “There are etchings of beetles all over the walls and ceilings. But they are mixed up with men and trees and rocks. I did not detect the beetles at once.”
Indeed, the drawings had been so skillfully made t
