ware, requires money. Again, entering this port the
custom-house officials would have to be bribed, and they've gone up in
price the last few years. My control tells me that this mummy is one
they've been looking hard for. It's about the only one they haven't
found. The loss will be discovered and my men might be traced. It
requires an enormous sum. Now, for instance, a thousand dollars"--he
regarded Bean closely and was reassured--"a thousand dollars wouldn't
any more than start the work. Two thousand"--his eyes were steadily upon
Bean now--"would further it some. Three thousand might see it pretty
well advanced. Four thousand, of course, would help still farther and
five thousand"--he had seen the shadow of dismay creep over the face of
his sitter--"five thousand, I _think_, might put the thing through."

Bean drew a long breath. The professor had correctly read the change in
his face at "five thousand," but it had been a sudden fear that his
whole ten thousand was not going to suffice for this prodigious
operation.

"I can afford that," said Bean shortly. He hardly dared trust himself to
say more. His emotion threatened to overcome him.

The professor suffered from the same danger. He, too, dared trust
himself to say no more than the few necessary words.

"There must be a payment down," he said with forced coldness.

"How much?"

"A thousand wouldn't be any too much."

"Enough?"

"Well, perhaps not enough," the professor nerved himself to admit.

"I'll give you two, now. Give you the rest when you get--when you get It
here."

"You move me, I confess," conceded the professor. "I will undertake it."

"How long will it be, do you think?"

"I shall give orders by cable. A month, possibly, if all goes well."

"I'll give you check." He gulped at that. It was the first time he had
ever used the words.

The Countess parted the curtains. Curiously enough she carried a pen and
ink, though no one remarked upon the circumstance.

Bean had that morning left a carefully written signature at the bank
where his draft had been deposited. He later wondered how the scrawl he
achieved now could ever be identified as by the same hand.

And he was conscious, even as he wrote, that the Countess Casanova and
Professor Balthasar were labouring under an excitement equal to his own.
It _was_ a big feat to attempt.

As before, they waited until he had closed the lower door.

"Oh, Ed!" breathed the Countess emotionally.