escorted like a visiting
prime minister."

There was a paper laundry bag in the closet. Rick used it to wrap the
cat against possible scratches. Scotty took the few moments to get some
cards written, to which he signed both their names.

There was a polite knock on the door, and Rick opened it. He gaped at
the sight of what was apparently their dragoman. He was a magnificent
figure in blue pantaloons and short red jacket. He had an engaging black
face marred by three straight hairline scars that ran in a diagonal
across his cheeks.

"Have honor to present me," the figure announced formally. "Name of
Hassan. To serve you."

"Come in, Hassan," Rick invited. "Are you the dragoman Dr. Farid sent?"

"Is same, _ya sidi_. To serve you."

Rick introduced himself and Scotty. He inspected the guide with
interest. Hassan was young, with a friendly white-toothed smile. The
scars identified him as Sudanese, but Rick didn't know enough about the
markings to tell what part of the Sudan he came from. A different part
from Bartouki's servant, though, because the scars were at a different
angle, and Hassan had three on each cheek.

Rick's quick imagination could picture the Sudanese in a different
setting, with scimitar in hand, guarding the palace of a legendary
sultan. It was hard to imagine him in the prosaic role of a guide. Rick
resolved to take a picture for Barby's benefit. A blackamoor warrior
right out of the tales of Scheherazade! That was how she would see it.

The boys shook hands with the dragoman, and Rick saw that he responded
to their obvious friendliness. The costume was an odd one, though. Rick
hadn't seen any like it on the street, and he wondered if Hassan wore it
for effect, since most of his customers probably were tourists. Later he
found that the guess was right.

"Where you like to go?" Hassan asked.

Scotty spoke up. "You know El Mouski?"

Hassan's face split in a wide grin. "Who does not?"

"That'll teach me to ask silly questions," Scotty said ruefully. "Like
asking a New Yorker if he ever heard of Central Park."

The boys walked downstairs with Hassan, since it was faster than taking
the elevator, and went to the alley behind the hotel where he had parked
his car.

The car was a small foreign sedan of a make neither boy had ever heard
of. Apparently Hassan also used it as a taxi, because the front
passenger seat was taken up mostly by a taxi meter.

Rick showed Hassan the address in his not