Before the rector went away, Murad had been a weekly visitor to our home. He was a well-educated man, and Dr. Eccleston was glad to chat with one who could discuss the affairs of the universe and delve back into classical times. The Egyptian had restless eyes. They roved over every book in the library. Several times it seemed to me that he was trying to lead the conversation back to the theme of the treasure tomb. He would ask the rector if he had heard that a certain statue had been unearthed in Greece, or if he knew that an expedition was on its way from London to Egypt to delve for traces of a race that flourished before the Egyptians. The rector's eyes would light up, and he seemed to be on the point of answering, but always he checked himself and turned the topic. On one of these occasions his glance darted towards a locked bookcase that stood in the corner of the library. Murad's glance followed his. When the rector went west Murad began to call on Mr. Littleton, who also received him in the library. His visits stopped suddenly. Then he announced his date of sailing. I kept putting two and two together, and one night, as I lay awake thinking about all these strange things, it suddenly flashed on me that the Egyptian had discovered the location of the rector's diagram of the treasure chamber, and that one of the reasons for his sailing was to search for the treasure. I searched in the corner of the library towards which the rector had glanced while talking to Murad, and found that the lock to one of the bookcases had been forced. A leather-bound tome, "Travels in the Holy Land," was missing. In an instant I decided to accept Murad's often-urged invitation to sail with him. Murad now told me that, as a matter of form, I should have to apply to his mate, Mr. Bludsoe. He led me down the deck and whispered to the mate, who eyed me sharply. Then the mate spoke: "Can you steer?" "Ay sir," I answered glibly, "I can reef and steer. I can make a man-rope knot, crown a lanyard, tie a reef-knot, or toss a royal bunt!" "I fear," he said dryly, "that you are too expert for our forecastle. The men will be jealous of you. How are you as a cook?" "I can make coffee and peel potatoes," I said more humbly, "and I know how to fry potatoes, and bacon, roast beefsteak, and cook oatmeal." "Get your things and come aboard," he said, "such an all-around fellow is spoiling on shore."