Connoisseurs generally knew that here were kept the treasures _par excellence_. Here Tanos would display rare statuettes, bronzes, ivories and richly glazed potteries for the archæologist; inscriptions on stone or papyrus for the philologist; diadems or pendants in the precious metals, necklaces, bracelets and bangles of varicolored gems,—all such rich treasure from the seemingly inexhaustible storehouse of antiquity as would be most likely to tempt the antiquarian, or dazzle the mere man of millions seeking to enrich his curio cabinet or the shelves of his pet museum or institution. During the course of an unusually hot afternoon in late March three Europeans paused at the threshold of Tanos’ shop. Following their exit from the Ezbekiyeh Gardens their footsteps had been dogged by that genial soul, Ali Nubi, whose efforts to dispose of fly-whisks and sunshades were in no wise affected by the temperature. He was soon joined by a troupe of exceedingly dirty Arab children. These turned handsprings along the gutter in hopes of some small coin with which to buy _loukum_. Finally, the nerves of the three Europeans had been set on edge by the insistent whine of a deformed Egyptian, whose ceaseless cry for dole, “_baksheesh, baksheesh, ya khawageh_,” finally caused one of the trio to turn upon him with an impatient, _Allah yalik, kelb ibn kelb_. This, in plain English, might be rendered, “May God give to thee, dog, son of a dog,” at once a pious wish and a curse. The sound of the guttural Arabic sufficed to scatter at one and the same instant all three disturbing elements. The ragged boys fled. Ali Nubi sauntered off to display his merchandise and his famous smile elsewhere, whilst the cripple, with a frightened glance up and down the street, made off as fast as his deformities would allow. The white man was doubtless a _pasha_, a _bey_. Abut Talib felt the sting of the bastinado upon his withered limbs! With a laugh the “bey” turned to his companions: “Enter, Mrs. Gardiner! After you, Clem! I want you to see my latest find.” Professor Ranney followed his companions into the shop. In answer to his call Tanos himself appeared at the door of the sanctum. His face lit up with a smile of genuine pleasure when he recognized his visitors. He crossed the room with that peculiar crooking of the spine which appears to be an ineradicable heritage of the ages to Levantines of his stamp wherever met. How well did the Egyptian sculptor of the late New Empire catch that deferential abasement of self! Professor Ranney shook hands with Tanos. Gardiner, too, greeted him, and introduced the lady of the trio as his bride. For an instant Tanos searched his fertile brains for a suitable congratulatory quotation from the Arabian classics. Oriental etiquette demanded that he rise to the emergency. Finally, bending over Mrs. Gardiner’s hand, Tanos murmured those charming lines from Abu Selim’s poem on the love of Omar and Leila.