ll and his cronies a
handful of old coins, rings and a bracelet.

"Some curios!" said Bill.

"Worth money, too," remarked Sandy.

"Where did you get them?" asked Claud, his interest roused in these
wonderful old jewels of the East.

"Down in the Dead City on the other side of Cairo--behind the Citadel.
I dig them up at nights. I can give you a cargo of shin bones and
skulls if you want them."

"Is it safe?"

"I reckon so. You see, a lot of these are ancient graves. Nobody has
a claim on them, so we can jump them."

"Do you want some partners?" asked Claud.

"Yes, a few of us could get something. I've had my eye on an old tomb
there for some time."

"What about to-night?"

"That will do. Bring your entrenching tools in a parcel, nobody sees
them. We can get an old cab or motor to go in."

"Right-ho!" agreed Claud, who also arranged with Paddy, Bill and Sandy
to form part of the exploring squad. This digging for ancient
treasures in the graves of the dead is an old game in Egypt. It is
comparatively safe where there are no natives with an interest in the
business. And it is really remarkable what interesting finds are made.
Rings, bangles, necklaces, brassware, beads, and jewels are often found
in these old graveyards.

The route to this particular place lay through Cairo. It was already
dark when they started on a rattling old motor-car. Down the Mena Road
they were whirled into the dazzling streets. The traffic sent the car
slower through a long, narrow native quarter. This was lined with
dirty shops, selling everything, from mouldy Turkish delight to
poisonous-looking firewater called native wine. At the door of these
places the proud owners lounged on chairs or squatted on the ground,
haggling and dealing with the _fellah_ (the peasant Egyptian, and the
finest type in Egypt). In Egypt everybody is in business. You can
find merchants dealing in broken bottles, merchants in discarded
"fags," merchants in the manure from the streets, merchants in rags and
bones, egg shells and cabbage stalks. They'll do anything but work.
Work to an Easterner is designed for women and oxen.

Leaving the lighted streets behind, the motor at length turned round
into a long, darkened road.

"This is the show," said Sambo, pointing to a wide field of little
domes, tombs, and broken-down buildings just visible in the murky light.

"It's a gey queer place," said Sandy, with a tremor in his voice.

"It is,