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Updated: June 18, 2025
Both of you are able to testify to criminal actions on the part of Youssef. Also, if this works out as I hope, you will have testimony to give on the actions of Kemel Moustafa. Now, if you knew there was evidence against you, and you were completely ruthless, what would you do?" "Remove the evidence," Rick said slowly. His eyes met Scotty's. "Exactly.
But there was a deep streak of stubbornness in the Brants, which Rick had inherited. He knew he wouldn't give in until he absolutely had to. When that time came he would tell Youssef the truth, that he had hidden the cat in the Egyptian Museum. What he would not say was that the cat had been recovered and that he had left it in Hassan's car. False dawn had faded.
They weren't going to get out of the way for any old gas burner, Rick thought. Not these traditional ships of the desert. The car closed the gap, and one of the Arabs turned. Rick gasped. Under the desert headdress a pair of eyes were looking at the car through steel-rimmed glasses. Youssef! And Youssef wanted the cat! The Broad Sahara
If Youssef did not take it, your own friend did. You would not leave it in the hotel, so it must be here. Either you give it to me freely, or I will shoot you and take my chances on finding it." Rick hesitated. "Make up your mind!" Moustafa snapped. The pistol steadied on a line with Rick's head. "Give it to him," Scotty said. "He means it." There were shots from outside again.
These formed quite a little garden, to which Youssef had been wont to retreat of an evening for meditative and, we may add, smokative purposes. But as Youssef had grown old, his eyes had nearly, and his legs had quite, failed him. Hence, being unable to climb to his roof, he had latterly given it up entirely to the use of his black slaves, Samson and Dinah White.
If Scotty had the cat, had he delivered it? Rick thought not. Scotty would keep the cat, for bargaining purposes. He found himself yawning. "Hassan, when do you think Youssef will come back?" "If he wants us alive and able to talk, maybe day after tomorrow. If not la samah Allah! maybe longer." "What's la samah Allah?" Rick stumbled over the pronunciation. "God forbid," Hassan said grimly.
"The Moustafas stole the necklace, and smuggled it to America. Bartouki sold it to the collector, through an American helper. Then he had the money sealed in the cat. He handed it to me, because my sister gave him an opening and I fell into it. Meanwhile, you put Ali in jail, then Fuad. Youssef got into the act through the clerk. So then we had Kemel Moustafa and Youssef on our trail.
Rick described the encounter, and he gave a detailed description of the man. Before he was through, Moustafa was nodding his head. "I recognize this man! From your description, it can only be one Youssef. He is a well-known thief, and the leader of a gang. My brother Fuad was once requested to defend him, and refused. Another lawyer with less scruples took the case and got him off."
This would be the finest building for girls in Egypt when finished, I was told, and most of the money for it had been given by tourists. I spent a night in Luxor, staying in the home of Youssef Saïd, a native connected with the mission work. His uncle, who could not speak English, expressed himself as being glad to have "a preacher of Jesus Christ" to stay in his house.
The cat means nothing to you; you were merely a messenger boy. Give me the cat and you will be left alone." "Not until the evidence is destroyed," Rick thought. "Not until we're dead." "It's in the car," he repeated. Youssef lost his composure. He snapped an order in Arabic and the cord tightened. Rick gritted his teeth. Next to him, Scotty bent forward. "Don't try it," the thief grated.
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