Joe also put in a request, but the archæologist shook his head.
“Two more are enough,” he said quietly, as he and Bob followed the Arab down the hall.
“Be careful,” warned Mr. Lewis, as they reached the stairs. “There’s no telling what that fellow may want.”
They reached the street and were directed around the corner and up a narrow byway, the stranger remaining several yards in the van.
“Keep a ready hand on your automatic,” whispered Dr. Kirshner to Bob. “Something may happen in a short time now.”
“Do you believe Fekmah is really wanted by friends?” the youth asked, glancing about as if he expected any minute to be confronted by a band of desperate characters.
“Beyond me,” was the reply. “But I believe it would be safer to say no than yes. But there is a possibility that he met someone and has forgotten about it.”
“What could they want of him? It all seems funny to me.”
On they went, now upward by a gently sloping street that was so crooked it seemed to have no outlet.