The samples were everything Bartouki had promised. There were wall hangings, beautifully made of tiny pieces of colored cloth appliqued on a natural-color fabric, bags and pouches of leather, leather hassocks, ivory carvings of ancient Egyptian gods, inlaid boxes and chests, and dozens of both useful and ornamental utensils of brass, copper, washed tin, and ceramics. Barby went into raptures. At every new item she urged Rick to bring her one just like it.
"I'll rent a jet just to carry my luggage," he said, grinning. "You've already ordered a ton, and I get only sixty-six pounds."
Bartouki came to his rescue. "Let me show you a new tourist attraction. It just arrived by messenger this morning."
He went to a cabinet, opened it, and produced a stone cat. It was about ten inches high, in a sitting position with its tail curled around to meet its feet. It was of sandy texture, reddish in color.
"Sandstone?" Rick guessed.
Bartouki smiled. "I hoped you would say that. Here. Examine it."
Rick took the cat. He liked it very much. The design was clean and elegant, stylized after the Egyptian manner. But it wasn't sandstone. It was heavy, but not heavy enough to be sandstone, and the sheen was not that of a mineral. Whatever the material, it had been fashioned in one piece, probably cast in a mold.
"I give up," he said. "What is it?"
"Plastic," Bartouki replied, obviously pleased. "It did not come from Egypt. It was made right here in America. In Chicago, to be exact. It is what you call a prototype."
"But it's Egyptian in design," Barby protested. She took the cat from Rick and examined it.