“We have gained knowledge,” he replied, “that has been lost for thousands of years. With what we know, and what Zalithea can tell us when we teach her English, we’re going to revolutionize archæology, physiology, and psychology--to say nothing of chemistry!” “It appears to me,” murmured Professor Blackwell, “that this tent contains the nucleus of a sort of New Rosicrucian order. We are bound together by a living secret which none of us dare divulge. Our present access of knowledge is very great. What we shall learn in the future from this phenomenal girl is also sure to be valuable. But of what use any of it is going to be to the world during our lifetime I confess I fail to see.” Evidently nobody was very clear on the point, for not a suggestion was forthcoming; but: “In one sense,” said John Cumberland, “our course is unavoidable. We are committed to go on. Until we have got clear and reclosed the tomb, we aren’t safe! Personally, I’m satisfied. Our very highest hopes have been realized. We have triumphed! That’s good enough for me. Let the future take care of itself. My present big worry is the girl.” “Explain what you mean, Dad,” said Barry. “I will,” his father agreed. “In the first place, as soon as we can make her understand how much the world has changed, we have got to get over to Luxor. Difficulty number one: How do we explain her to the folks in Luxor? Assuming we manage this and arrive in Cairo, how in the name of Mike do we get her a passport that will be accepted in New York?” “Passport?” murmured the Professor. “Quite--quite. The point had not occurred to me. Of course, a certain difficulty is bound to arise in regard to a minor whose legal guardians have been dead for three thousand years.” He scratched his head furiously. “There are times when I doubt my own sanity,” he declared. Danbazzar flicked a cone of ash from his cigar. In the lamplight a queer green spark moved on the face of the scarab in his ring. “Leave the story to me,” he said. “The stuff, I can get away. It’s part of my business. The girl we’ll smuggle out nearly as easily. We’ve got to lie like bond salesmen, but we’ll get her away.” “Fried chicken,” murmured the Professor. “What’s that, Blackwell?” John Cumberland asked. “I was reflecting,” the Professor explained, “upon the fact that a princess who doubtless has dined in the palace of the Pharaoh Seti I this evening partook of soup canned in Pittsburgh. I think I shall go to bed.” He was as good as his word, departing almost immediately. Danbazzar set out to learn if the two guards posted in the valley were on the alert, and Barry and his father were left alone. Hassan es-Sugra, that unfathomable man, was sleeping in the entrance to the tomb to insure against pilfering. As the sound of Danbazzar’s receding footsteps died away in the _wâdi_: