“Hideous hags? Sir, those are the most beautiful ladies in all Cairo, by Jove!”
“Beautiful! They would frighten a mummy into a fit! They would give a dog hydrophobia.”
“Suh,” said Colonel Stringer, “I am astonished, suh! My friend Coddington is a fine judge of feminine beauty.”
“Bah!” sneered Zenas. “Bah! bah! I’ve seen his beauties, and they are horrible things! Let me get out of this house! I wish never to see the interior of another harem! A man who would have more than one wife is insane. And a man who thinks such creatures as those beautiful ought to be locked fast in a home for incurable imbeciles! You’re an imbecile, Coddington—that’s my opinion of you! Don’t talk back! Don’t open your mouth! Want to sell your harem, do you? I don’t wonder! You ought to pay somebody about ten million dollars to take it—and then he’d get stuck! Good day, sir! I tell you not to attempt to detain me a moment! I am going now!”
And go he did, hurrying forth from the house with trembling steps and almost running until he was far from that vicinity.
Barely had the professor left the front door when the two “favorites” appeared, both convulsed with laughter.
They were Dick Merriwell and Brad Buckhart, the former having posed as Fraud, while the latter had given his name as Fake.
“Oh, great horn spoon!” gasped Buckhart, “I certain won’t get over this in a year!”
“I think the professor has been taught a splendid lesson,” laughed Dick. “The game worked like a charm.”
“I should say it did!” agreed Coddington, who was also laughing. “We watched it all. We were behind some curtains, and we dodged out just in time to get ahead of the professor when he took flight. It was deucedly funny, don’t you know. You boys did your parts very cleverly.”