“Oh, no! No! No!” The man’s face was twisted into a look of terror. “It is not for me to sell. I must send it to Dr. Spinka. He is a great Egyptologist. His home is in America.”
“But I am not returning to America. Perhaps I shall never return.”
“Ah, yes, but the young lady—” The Arab leaned forward, hiding the roll under his long robe. “She is but a visitor. Is it not so? She will return very soon. Is this not true?”
“Perhaps.” The Colonel spoke slowly. “What do you say, Mary? Will you accept the responsibility?”
“No!” was the quick response. “How could I? Even my own life is not safe. Only today—”
“Ah! Yes, it is true,” the Arab broke in, “today, yes, but the miserable wretch who threatened your life is dead.”
“What? How did you find this out?” Sparky demanded.
“Not so loud, my friend,” the Arab spoke in a hoarse whisper, at the same time completely covering the roll. “There are those who would kill me for having this roll.”
“They would kill me as quickly,” Mary declared.
“Ah, but they shall not know. It shall be at your Chateau one minute before you go. You fly to Persia. I do not ask, I know. I shall not speak. I am always to be trusted. In Persia they do not care for papyrus. There you are safe. Wherever you go, you are safe.”