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Updated: July 14, 2025
The boys rode back to the hotel with Hassan, grateful for the relief of concentrating on thousands of tiny wires. They told the dragoman to go on home, then went into the dining room for dinner before retiring for the night. Winston, who never seemed to tire when working, had stayed with Kerama and Farid to continue discussions of possible sources of trouble.
One of them, Abdullah of the River, prudent and the son of a slave-woman, professed loyalty to the English very early in the day, and used that loyalty as a cloak to lift camels from another Sheikh, Farid of the Desert, still at war with the English, but a perfect gentleman, which Abdullah was not.
So it was arranged, and they slept out the rest of the night, side by side, and in the morning they gathered up and returned all Abdullah's cattle, and in the evening, in Farid's presence, Abdullah got the tongue-lashing of his wicked old life, and Farid of the Desert laughed and came in; and they all lived happy ever afterwards.
There can't be more than a few hours to record." "Fine. You'll be alone, but since the inspector put a police guard on you, I'm sure it will be all right." Farid had arranged the technical setup, using another unit borrowed from the government radio station for the purpose. All they would need to do was feed tape into the machines and watch the recording level.
He lifted a shirt, and stared down at the Egyptian cat nestling among his T shirts. "Tell you what, if Winston doesn't need us, let's deliver the cat. We can see some of the city coming and going." When their clothes were stored, they washed away the grime of travel and Rick called Winston's room. Hakim Farid answered. "Don't think we've forgotten you," the young radio astronomer said.
"But there's nothing more fun than kittens, and we'll have plenty of laughs with these. You wait and see!" The Egyptian Museum Rick hung up the room phone and joined Scotty at the breakfast table. The ex-Marine was munching on a Lebanese tangerine and watching the Nile boats below. "Farid says to take the morning off," Rick reported.
You could take a taxi, but a licensed dragoman would be better. Suppose I suggest one with a car?" Rick remembered that Bartouki had told them a dragoman was a guide-interpreter. "That would be very good of you," he replied. "All right. I will send one I know, or a friend of his if he is not available. Wait in your room and he will come for you." Rick thanked Farid and hung up.
Somewhere in Cairo there must be a company that used X-ray or gamma-ray photography to check large castings. It was a very common method of industrial quality control. Farid or Kerama would know of one, and he could arrange to have the cat X-rayed! It could be done immediately. Pleased with the idea, he paid attention to his surroundings for the first time since leaving the museum.
He did not, therefore, attempt any open violence which he knew would merely ruin himself and his followers. Early in 1908 he died, only thirty-four years of age. His mantle fell upon his leading disciple, Mohammed Farid Bey. This man, who was not of equal calibre, tried to make up for his deficiency in true eloquence by the violence of his invective.
Farid introduced the boys to the staff, then took them on a quick tour. He showed them the controls for the great dish. They were fully automatic. The operator needed only to set the co-ordinates for the part of the sky to be examined, then clock mechanisms of remarkable precision would keep the telescope on target until the target sank below the horizon.
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