ing brightly, for
those imperative reasons of her own so obscure to the bewildered
young man, "introducing Jack to nice girls--but it never takes! Not
seriously. He's a perfectly dear friend, but he doesn't care
anything really about girls--and he does need somebody to get him
out of his antiquities and his dusty old diggings ... But of course
you think I am a sentimental thing!"

McLean did not tell her what he thought. He was still fascinatedly
engrossed with her revelation of the impeccable Platonic basis of
her friendship. His mood of complicated emotion lightened and
brightened and at the same time an amazed wonder unfolded its
astonishment.

He marveled at his friend. To turn to something fantastic, something
bizarre--for so he thought of that veiled girl of the harem--when he
had this Miss Jeffries for a friend--but probably the young lady
herself had never given him the least encouragement. Women are not
easily moved to romance for men they have always regarded as
brothers and he could see that her feeling for Jack was the warm,
honest, sisterly affection of utter frankness.

The worse for Jack. For now there seemed no ministering angel to
mend his troubled future.

It was not only Ryder's troubled future that troubled McLean--it
was also Ryder's troubled present. He was very far from easy in his
mind about him. After that mystifying performance in the tomb he had
not wanted to leave without a frank explanation, but there had been
no moment for revelation; Thatcher had hung about them and Hamdi
Bey, of all men, had requested a place in McLean's motor for the
return to Cairo.

And that dinner engagement had pressed. He could have abandoned it
for any real reason, but Jack had assured him that there was none.

"Get the old devil out of here," had been Jack's furious appeal,
referring to Hamdi. "Deny everything to him. Only get him out."

And McLean had got him out.

The sheik and his followers after a murmurous conference with the
bey had galloped off; the police had turned towards their post and
Hamdi had accompanied McLean to the nearest village and his waiting
motor.

Clearly he had wanted to talk to McLean and McLean was not sorry for
the opportunity to exchange implications. The bey had unfolded his
sympathetic friendship for the sheik; McLean had unfolded a cold
surprise that anything so disgraceful should be attributed to such a
prominent archaeologist. The bey had produced the evidence and
Mc