“Good-night. In forty days, remember.”
“In forty days.”
“And the emerald?”
“You shall have it then.”
The donkey hobbled out of the archway and passed silently down the little street. Presently it had faded into the night and was gone.
Kāra yawned and looked attentively at the huts. In only one, that of old Sĕra, a dim light burned. The man frowned, and then he laughed.
“Let the dragoman have his Nephthys,” he muttered. “For me Cairo, London and the great world beckon. And women? Bah! There are women everywhere.”
He entered the house and unrolled the mat that hung across the archway, fastening it securely to prevent intrusion.
CHAPTER IV.
THE TREASURE OF AHTKA-RĀ.
Kāra went to the cavity beside the arch and took from it a small bronze lamp. It was partly filled with oil, on the surface of which a cotton wick floated. The lamp itself was of quaint design, and the young man remembered it since the days of his childhood, but had rarely seen it in use.