“The curse of the country,” snapped the little man, scornfully. “There ought to be a law to prevent such rubbish being shipped into Egypt—except,” pausing to continue with a touch of bitterness, “that there are too many laws in this beastly country already.”
“The poor tourists must have scarabs to take home with them,” said Archie, with a grin. “About fifteen thousand travelers come to Egypt every year, and your Khedive won’t let any genuine scarabs leave Egypt.”
“Don’t call him my Khedive, sir!” cried the little professor. “I detest—I hate the government here, and everything connected with it. But you are not interested in that. Gentlemen,” assuming a pompous tone, “I am glad to meet you. You have arrived in the very nick of time to save me from assassination, or at least from utter failure in my great work. I am sure it was an All-wise Providence that directed you to stop at Alexandria.”
“Disguised as old Ackley’s mud scarabs,” added my uncle, dryly.
“And what are your future plans?” inquired the Professor, eagerly.
“To return to America at once,” I replied.
“No! A thousand times no!” shouted little Van Dorn, banging his fist on the table, “I charter you from this minute. I engage this ship—at your own price—to transport me and my treasure to New York!”
“Treasure!” we exclaimed, incredulously.
The Professor glanced around and lowered his voice.
“The greatest treasure, gentlemen, that has ever been discovered in Egypt. I have found the place where the priests of Karnak and Luxor hid their vast wealth at the invasion of Cambyses the Persian.”