“Were there any more of the coins?”
“A few.” He showed some in his hand.
“Ah!”
The dragoman drew a deep breath.
“You are rich, my prince,” said he. “Fifteen papyri of the ancient days!—they are worth a fortune in any event.”
“How much?” asked Kāra, amused.
“This one,” said Tadros, picking it up and partly unrolling it to glance again at the writing, “I could sell in Cairo for five hundred piastres—perhaps a thousand. It is wonderfully clear and well preserved.”
“You may keep it for yourself,” said Kāra.
Tadros stared.
“I will exchange it for the girl Nephthys,” continued the young man, coolly. “For her you have paid to old Sĕra two hundred and fifty piastres already. You must pay a like sum to take the girl away with you, and afterward you must pay for her support. Very well; I will relieve you of the burden. You will not only save your money, but you will get a papyrus worth four times what you have invested.”