"Wait a minute, girl--you can do me a little service. I have just fitted
a new lock to the door of the Apis-tomb down there. It answers
admirably, but the one key to it which I have made is not enough; we
require four, and you shall order them for me of the locksmith Heri, to
be sent the day after to-morrow; he lives opposite the gate of Sokari--
to the left, next the bridge over the canal--you cannot miss it. I hate
repeating and copying as much as I like inventing and making new things,
and Heri can work from a pattern just as well as I can. If it were not
for my legs I would give the man my commission myself, for he who speaks
by the lips of a go-between is often misunderstood or not understood at
all."

"I will gladly save you the walk," replied Klea, while the Smith sat down
on the pedestal of one of the Sphinxes, and opening the leather wallet
which hung by his side shook out the contents. A few files, chisels, and
nails fell out into his lap; then the key, and finally a sharp, pointed
knife with which Krates had cut out the hollow in the door for the
insertion of the lock; Krates touched up the pattern-key for the smith in
Memphis with a few strokes of the file, and then, muttering thoughtfully
and shaking his head doubtfully from side to side, he exclaimed:

"You still must come with me once more to the door, for I require
accurate workmanship from other people, and so I must be severe upon my
own."

"But I want so much to reach Memphis before dark," besought Klea.

"The whole thing will not take a minute, and if you will give me your arm
I shall go twice as fast. There are the files, there is the knife."