He had to grin to himself at the strange turns his mind sometimes took.

He should be concentrating on a plan of escape, not wondering about a strange spelling of a Frenchman's name. "See anything?" he asked Scotty.

"They're still with us. All four."

"Probably the second pair is in case the first pair loses us," Rick guessed. "Let's keep out of deserted alleys. They must be just waiting for an opportunity to grab us."

"I hear you talking," Scotty agreed. "And I believe every Brantish word of it."

They turned into the museum grounds, waving off guides who came running.

Normally, they might have hired a museum guide, but they were suspicious now of all strangers.

Rick produced some piastres and paid their entrance fee. He noticed a sign at the window that said all parcels must be checked. He was glad kitty was hidden in his pocket.

Inside, they paused at the sudden spectacle of great stone figures and huge stone sarcophagi. There was a great hall filled with giant statuary straight ahead, and on each side, wide staircases led to the upper floor.

"Topside," Scotty said. "Then we can look down and see if any familiar faces come through the door."

They walked up the left-hand staircase, past rows of ancient wooden mummy cases, and came to the upper landing. A few minutes were spent inspecting the last resting place of a one-time Egyptian lord, with frequent glances toward the entrance.

"They don't need to follow us in," Rick pointed out finally. "Sooner or later we'll have to go out, and they'll be waiting."

"Sure. But it's wise to be careful. If one had followed us in here, we'd have been forced to keep an eye on him. Me, I want to see this museum."

They wandered through the countless rooms of the upper floor, each filled with antique treasures that were impossible to identify. There were few cards of explanation. One room was crowded with alabaster carvings, any one of which would have rated a whole room to itself in a modern American museum. The great building was literally jammed with rare objects, many of them thousands of years old. Uniformed guards were posted at every corner, obviously to protect the myriad treasures.

"The police are keeping an eye on us," Rick muttered.

"What else are they here for?" Scotty commented. "Don't try to carry off one of those ten-ton statues and they won't bother you."

Rick paused before a collection of brightly painted miniature clay soldiers, created to serve as a phantom army for some forgotten n.o.bleman. "This stuff is priceless. I'll bet they really do need guards."

As the boys walked into a small room containing shelves of a.s.sorted clay and stone dishes and utensils, Scotty exclaimed, "Look, on the third shelf!"

Rick searched until he saw what Scotty's quick eyes had spotted. It was partly hidden behind a clay jug. An Egyptian cat!

Closer inspection showed that it was not the mate to the one he carried.

The museum cat was darker, obviously older. It was more stylized and slightly larger. There was no identifying card.

The Egyptian cat returned his gaze with dark stone eyes. "Wonder if they'd like to have you, too?" Rick said to himself. Four men wanted the one in his pocket. He wished it was as safe as the antique before him.

Suddenly he let out a pleased chuckle. He had the solution.

"Are you lonely, little cat?" he asked. "Would you like company?"

Scotty got it instantly. He patted Rick on the shoulder. "That's the old Brant brain, boy. I'll duck out and distract the guard."

Rick moved on, inspecting jugs until he saw Scotty engage the guard in conversation. His pal gradually turned as he talked, until the guard's back was toward Rick. It was the work of only a moment to slip the cat from his pocket and push it out of sight behind the jug that partially screened the museum cat.

He smiled to himself. From the looks of the museum, it was highly unlikely that the cat ever would be noticed, even if it stood there forever. If one of the Egyptologists ever did happen to see it, there would be a new puzzle to solve. Which dynasty invented plastics?

[Ill.u.s.tration]

He walked to where Scotty was busy with the guard. The officer's understanding of English was about zero, and Scotty's knowledge of Arabic was slightly less, so they were getting nowhere.

When he saw Rick, Scotty stopped trying. He grinned and put out his hand. The guard grinned back and clasped Scotty's hand, with obvious relief that the struggle to communicate was over. He waved cordially as the boys went on their way.

"It is a distinct privilege to make such an outstanding contribution to Egyptian culture," Rick said. He was really relieved. Being unfamiliar with Cairo, they were apt to walk into an unexpected situation that might have resulted in loss of the cat. There would be no reason for anyone to suspect the cat's hiding place now, because no one except Scotty knew that he had carried it out of the hotel.

There was much to see, and the boys took their time, spending over an hour in the section devoted to the relics of Tut-Ankh-Amon, the boy Pharaoh who had died at about the age of eighteen. His tomb had been found intact, one of the few that had escaped the desert thieves.

Priceless objects had been found, including the King's death mask of painted gold. It was one of the most beautiful objects of art the boys had ever seen.

Rick noted that at least one guard was always within easy reach of them, and that several guards patrolled the area. The area itself could be fenced off by steel grillwork. He agreed thoroughly with the precautions. The sheer weight of gold would be worth a Pharaoh's ransom, even if melted down. In their present form, Tut's treasures were beyond price.

The pangs of hunger finally drove them from the fascinating place, and both agreed to return with someone who could explain what they were seeing. They emerged into the brilliant Egyptian sunlight and stood blinking.

"We'd better head for the hotel on a beeline," Scotty suggested. "No sense in taking a chance on getting roughed up for nothing."

"That's sense, ol' buddy. Let's go."

They walked down the steps and out a path to the street. An old man with a pushcart was on the path, his cart laden with nuts of some kind. Rick stepped behind Scotty to give the vendor room, but the old man turned his cart suddenly and pushed it into them!

The cart upset and nuts cascaded underfoot. The boys struggled for balance. "Watch it!" Scotty yelled.

Four men bore down on them at top speed, screaming imprecations in Arabic. Rick saw the setup instantly. The four would simply be retaliating for the treatment of an old man by two foreigners. He got to his feet just as the four arrived, and saw that Scotty was crouched beside him.

The Sudanese and the big man in the tarboosh dove for the boys like a well-rehea.r.s.ed wrestling team!

CHAPTER VIII

The Midnight Call

Rick and Scotty left the ground simultaneously in a dive for the legs charging toward them. They connected, and the impact sent the attackers to the ground. Rick recovered from the dive and tensed for a swing, but he never made it. Arms locked around his chest, pinioning his own arms to his side. He struggled violently, but the grip never yielded.

From the corner of his eye he saw Scotty get in one driving punch that sent the Sudanese down to one knee, then Scotty was pinioned from behind, too.

The big man and the Sudanese swung into action fast. Hands slapped Rick's clothes in a fast but thorough search. Next to him Scotty was getting the same treatment.

The big man spoke sharply in Arabic and both boys were suddenly hurled sideways, landing together in a heap. They jumped to their feet and saw only four retreating backs. Even the peddler had scuttled away, leaving the spilled nuts on the ground. It was senseless to pursue the men. The boys looked at each other grimly, then suddenly Scotty smiled.

"I don't know who they are," he stated, "but I'll tell you this. They're real professionals. I haven't been taken like that in a long, long time."

Rick had to agree. The two-team operation had been swift and efficient.

Neither boy had been hurt, or even roughed up particularly. That wasn't the purpose. "So they won't get us in a public place, huh? Well, if they'd wanted to do damage, they could have." He added, "And we couldn't have done a thing. But all they wanted was the cat."

Scotty nodded agreement. He brushed dust off his trousers. "Might as well go back to the hotel. I'm hungry. Anyway, they know now that you don't have the cat on you--and that I don't, either. So what will they think?"