dinner. Besides," she added, "that scarab never came from a store in
this town. Things like that are handled by dealers in curios in large
cities, and by private collectors." Her brow was puckered into a
bewildered frown.

"However it got there," she said, "it doesn't belong there and I have
no right to keep it. I'm going to turn it over to the police, and if
anybody reports the loss to them they will find it intact."

As we stood there looking at the curious scarab in Nyoda's hands a
motorcycle putt-putted past in a cloud of dust and we recognized our
light-haired friend apparently leaving town.

"We'll never get a chance to thank him for that address!" I said, half
regretfully. Little did we think that the only decent thing fate did
for us on that trip was to withhold that chance!

Nyoda and I went in search of the police station, leaving Sahwah and
Nakwisi sitting and watching for the Striped Beetle. It was only Sahwah
who was doing any watching out, however, for Nakwisi was looking
through her spy-glass at the clouds. After some inquiry we found the
police station. When Nyoda told her story about finding the scarab in
her pocket, the policeman in charge looked at her with a peculiar
expression and a wise grin. But when she wanted to leave it there he
waved her away.

"Wouldn't have it around here for a farm," he declared. "Lady left a
necklace here once: said she found it in the road. The next night the
police station burned down and the necklace disappeared. We just got
this new station and it nearly broke the town and we can't have any