“Your former apartments in the palace are ready for you,” continued the priest. “Will you honor me by taking possession? I will send you food and wine. You need them after your journey. After that, we will go to the public square.”
“Why?” asked the detective.
“This is the day of the Festival of the Golden Scarab,” was the reply. “We ask you to take part in the celebration by showing us again how the death sticks do their work. Will you not do it?”
“Where is the white man we want—he who is the son of my friend, here?”
Nick Carter was resolved not to be turned aside from the main purpose of their coming, persistently as the wily priest endeavored to lead the conversation into other channels.
“He shall be delivered to you in good time,” answered Calaman. “In the meanwhile, you have my assurance that he is well and enjoying treatment such as you would desire.”
They had to be content with this for the time being.
“We shall be ready in half an hour,” Nick Carter announced abruptly, as he walked away to the apartments they had occupied before.
Calaman was as good as his word in reference to the meal he had mentioned, and though they had had a frugal breakfast already up in the rocks, they were quite willing to attack the well-served repast provided for them now.
In exactly half an hour two soldiers came to the door and made deep salaams.