en red.
There was a kind of eighteenth-century grandeur about it, even though it
had turned a little shabby over the years.

The formalities of registration were completed, then the Americans went
to the cashier and exchanged dollars for Egyptian pounds and coins in
units called piastres. They carefully put away their receipts for the
exchange, since currency control in the country was strict.

"Go ahead," Winston told the boys. "Farid and Kerama will come with me.
I want to start talking over this interesting problem of theirs, and I
imagine you want to rest."

Rick did not feel in the least like resting, but made no comment. He and
Scotty got into a tiny, ornate elevator cage with walls of gilded-iron
lattice. There wasn't room for the porters with their bags; they ran up
the stairs while the boys rode with the smiling elevator operator. It
wasn't a fast ride.

"Climbing rate, one hundred feet per minute," Scotty said. Rick grinned.

They were let off at the third floor, and weren't in the least surprised
to find the porters waiting for them. They followed the men into a room
that made them stop short with amazement.

The entrance to the hotel and the lobby had been big, but the room was
enormous, spacious, and very tastefully furnished, European style.

"As big as Grand Central Station!" Scotty exclaimed.

Rick echoed, "We'll rattle around in here like a pair of pebbles in a
fifty-gallon tank."

The bath was larger than most American hotel rooms, with a twenty-foot
ceiling, and the closet would easily have accommodated a king's
wardrobe. Rick thought that maybe it had, in times past.

He tipped the porters and closed the door behind them, then motioned to
Scotty. "Go on down to the other end of the room and shout. I want to
see if I can hear you."

Scotty started to oblige, grinning, then turned and called, "Come look
at this view!" He had discovered that the French doors at the front of
the room opened onto a tiny balcony that overlooked the Nile.

The great river was only the width of a narrow street away. Sailing
gracefully along with brown sail set was a Nile boat. The bridge they
had crossed was directly ahead of the boat, and Rick looked for the
drawspan through which it would pass. There was none!

"He'll crash right into the bridge!" Rick exclaimed. "Why doesn't he
correct his course?"

"Rudder stuck, maybe," Scotty offered. "But why doesn't he drop the sail
and try to lose headway?"

They