"That's what I'm afraid of," Scotty returned. "If it sounds so terrible
to me, think what it would sound like to a poetry lover. Go on and make
your phone call."

Rick did. He asked the desk to relay a message to Hassan, then asked
about the weather. The clerk spent a minute apologizing profusely. It
was chilly, he admitted reluctantly. Very unusual for Egypt. Hadn't
happened since 1898. Most regrettable. And so on.

"He sounded like a Sunshine Tourist Service trouble shooter explaining
that the downpour was only a heavy mist," Rick said as he hung up. "The
weather is unusual, remarkable, etc. It's chilly."

Scotty finished his coffee. "Okay. Let's go. Got the kitty?"

Rick took the Egyptian cat from its nest under his mattress and put it
into the inner pocket of his coat. "Couldn't leave our pal, could we?
Bad man might get 'im."

"We can't let that happen until we find out why the animal is so
appealing," Scotty agreed.

"Spoken like a true Spindrifter. Do we walk, or take the elevator?
Walking's faster, but the elevator is more adventurous."

"Walk," Scotty said. "You need the exercise."

Outside, the air was pleasantly crisp, but the sun was shining. Rick
wondered if it ever rained in Cairo and made a mental note to look it
up. He had brought a guidebook with him, and the map showed them the
location of the museum.

They started off at a brisk pace, past the Nile Hilton Hotel, then
across the heavy traffic of the bridge circle to the open park before
the museum. As Rick turned to look at a statue he caught a glimpse of a
figure dodging behind some shrubbery. His pulse speeded.

"Could be that we have a buddy," he announced. "I saw someone dodge
behind a bush."

Scotty took a quick look without seeming to. "Someone there all right. A
pal of our little cat?"

"It's certainly no chum of ours, if it's anyone who's interested in us.
Let's hike and see how it goes."

They strolled idly past the museum, crossed the street, and walked up
Kasr El Nil past the Modern Art Museum and the Automobile Club. Scotty
took a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. They were of the silvered
one-way mirror type that cuts down light transmission much as a
neutral-density filter does for a camera.

Rick watched as he put them on, took them off again, and polished them
with a handkerchief, turning them from side to side as he watched for
spots.

"I knew those things looked like headlights," Rick gibed. "I didn't know
they