"How did you know the cat in the pyramid was not the right one?" Scotty demanded.
Moustafa studied the boy for a long moment before he replied. He shrugged. "I have been a contractor. I know concrete. The cat you brought is of plastic, which does not break. Or, if it does, it breaks differently. From your questions, I see you still harbor suspicions. Was not Bartouki's word enough?"
"It was," Rick said. "Only we'd like to know about these attacks. Who were the men, and why did they want the cat?"
"Then my explanation does not seem sufficient. I am truly sorry, because we are in your debt. But I cannot tell you more, because I know no more. The only thing I can do is talk to some people I know who may have more clues to Youssef's behavior."
Moustafa's attitude changed subtly. "Now, where is the cat?"
Rick was suddenly glad he didn't have it at hand. "It's in the Egyptian Museum," he said.
Moustafa exploded. "What!"
"That's right," Scotty added coolly. "We saw the men trailing us, so Rick hid the cat in the museum. If he hadn't, the thieves would have it now."
Moustafa sank down into a chair, a hand to his forehead. "But this is terrible! We can never recover it! Surely by now the museum curator has it."
Rick shook his head. "I don't think so. And I'm sure we can recover it."