morning, Lord Skirtsshubrish! We will no doubt meet again!"

He turned his back on us and strode from the room--a man out of the
middle ages, soldierly of bearing, unquestionably bold, and not one bit
more venial or lawless than ninety per cent. of history's gallants, if
the truth were told.

"Let's hope that's the last of him!" said Monty. "Can't say I like
him, but I'd hate to have to spoil his chances."

"Last of him be sugared!" said Yerkes. "That's only the first of him!
He'll find seven devils worse than himself and camp on our trail, if I
know anything of Greeks--that's to say, if our trail leads after that
ivory. Does it?"

"Depends," said Monty. "Let's talk upstairs. That Syrian has long
ears."

So we trooped to Monty's room, where the very cobwebs reeked of Arab
history and lawless plans. He sat on the black iron bed, and we
grouped ourselves about on chairs that had very likely covered the
known world between them. One was obviously jetsam from a steamship;
one was a Chinese thing, carved with staggering dragons; the other was
made of iron-hard wood that Yerkes swore came from South America.

"Shoot when you're ready!" grinned Yerkes.

I was too excited to sit still. So was Fred.

"Get a move on, Didums, for God's sake!" he growled.