me. The only thing I knew for sure was that I
wasn't going to hand over any helpless little pussycat to a guy with
eyes like that. He'd mistreat it."

"Uhuh. Only, now what do we do with the cat?"

"Give it to the right Ali Moustafa," Rick said. "There must be a right
one somewhere."

Scotty waved his arm in a gesture that took in all of Egypt, half of the
Sudan, and most of Libya. "Help yourself. I'll bet there are ten
thousand Ali Moustafas around. How do you find the right one?"

Rick didn't try to answer. Instead, he asked Hassan, "Could there be
another Ali Moustafa in El Mouski?"

The guide shook his head. "I ask my friend when we stop. He say there is
only one, and he tell me how we get there."

Rick's brows furrowed. "Then that must be the shop Bartouki meant. Only
where was big, fat, jolly Ali Moustafa? Or could I be wrong about the
description?"

Scotty was definite. "Not a chance. I remember the description the way
you do. Either Bartouki didn't know his own partner, or the man you saw
was not Ali Moustafa--unless he took off weight and shaved his beard.
And changed his disposition in the bargain."

"Which brings us back to the question before the house. What do we do
with the Egyptian cat?"

"Give it to Hassan," Scotty suggested with a smile.

The dragoman's pleasant black face assumed an air of great sadness.
"Cat's nice," he said. "But no can take. Too much cost for food."

Rick smiled at the joke, then suddenly he realized Hassan was not
joking. He was genuinely sad! He took the package from his lap and held
it up. "Hassan, what do you think is in here?"

The dragoman shrugged. "You say cat. I believe."

Scotty asked incredulously, "Didn't you think carrying a cat wrapped in
paper was pretty strange?"

Hassan smiled apologetically. "Americans many time do thing I not
understand."

Rick choked back laughter with a heroic effort and almost strangled.
Scotty found a handkerchief and blew his nose violently.

"Pretty strong coffee," Rick managed finally.

Scotty nodded, struggling to keep a straight face. Neither of them
wanted to risk hurting the guide's feelings.

"Hassan," Rick said at last, "even American science couldn't keep a
live, wide-awake cat quiet in a paper parcel. This cat is a model, a
statue. You see?"

For an instant Hassan stared, then he rocked back, his white teeth
flashed, and he shouted with laughter. The boys broke down, too, and in
a moment the entire patronage