‘Yes. Yes. I banged my head but I’m OK. I’m here. I’m at the far door. There’s a hole in this one, too.’ She drew a breath. ‘I’m going in.’

‘Lucky devil.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve always wanted to say that.’

Despite herself, she couldn’t help smiling. ‘Beat you to it.’

‘Watch your . . .’

She pulled herself through the hole, realised too late she was still about five feet off the ground, passed the point of no return, somehow twisted in mid-air and fell heavily on her shoulder.

‘. . . head,’ said Luke. ‘Whoops. Too late.’

‘I’m all right,’ she said, lying to both of them. A considerable number of chippings had fallen through with her and had not provided a soft landing. She could feel warm blood running down one arm and wondered whether this would be enough to – in the popular phrase – wake the dead.

The next thing that hit her – after the cold, hard floor – was the smell. Damp plaster, mould and must. And underneath everything, a strange, charred aroma. As if something had been burning.

Sitting up, she groped in her vest for another lightstick, having left the first one in the passage, where its otherworldly glow was not helping to dispel her supernatural fears.

Snapping it, she looked around her. The tomb layout was superimposed on her visor. She was in the antechamber; the first and biggest room in the tomb.

Somehow, she had expected something larger. And more magnificent. Everyone was familiar with the three beautifully decorated but sadly empty tombs accidentally and unexpectedly uncovered in a joint Egyptian Department of Antiquities/Thirsk University dig twenty years ago. News footage had shown chamber after chamber of wonderfully painted scenes from both life and death, underneath ceilings of royal blue and decked with stars. This was nothing like those. Here, the walls were not only unpainted, but still rough in places. She’d also expected something a little less chaotic. It was obvious that thieves had been in here. The shadows were dark and heavy, but the room had a just-ransacked air about it. Everything was either out of place, upside down or strewn across the floor.

She could see carved wooden boxes, their lids wrenched off and the contents spilled everywhere. Ornate chairs inlaid with gold – or gilt, anyway – lay on their sides. One was badly broken. Light glittered off a jewelled cat’s eyes. Couches had been thrust aside, beds overturned. Chariot wheels which had once stood against the walls had been knocked over or thrown aside. The room was filled with a chaos of jars, chests and furniture. That the illegals had departed in a tearing hurry was obvious. A handful of golden rings lay scattered across the floor.