chamber, the one that housed the most extraordinary and valuable items
in this glittering collection.
'To think that this is only a small part of what treasure still remains
in Mamose's tomb, sealed by the waters of the Dandera river,' whispered
Tessay. 'It's so exciting that I can hardly wait for the adventure to
continue.'
'I forgot to tell you!' Mek exclaimed, and it was clear from his
triumphant grin that he had not forgotten at all, but had been merely
waiting for the appropriate moment to impart his news. 'The Smithsonian
have confirmed their grant to redarn the Dandera and reopen the tomb. It
will be a joint venture between the Institution and the governments of
our two countries, Egypt and Ethiopia.'
'That is wonderful news,' Royan exclaimed delightedly.
'The tomb itself will be one of the great archaeological sites of the
world, and a huge source of tourist revenue for Ethiopia-'
'Not so fast,' Mek interrupted her. 'There is one condition that they
stipulate.'
Royan looked crestfallen. 'What is their condition?'
'They insist that you, Royan, take'on the job of director of the
project.'
She clapped her hands with delight, and then put on a mock-serious
expression. 'However, I have my own condition before I accept,' she
said.
'And what is that?' Mek demanded.
'That I am able to appoint my own assistant on the dig-' MW
Mek let out a roar of laughter. 'We all know who that will be.' And he
clapped Nicholas on the back. 'Just make sure that none of the artefacts
cling to his sticky little fingers!' he warned.
Royan hugged Nicholas around the waist. 'He has completely reformed, I
will now give you final proof of that.' Still clinging to her husband,
she led them into the last chamber.
Mek and Tessay stopped in the entrance, silent with awe as they stared
at the contents of the free-standing display case of annoured glass in
the centre of the room, The red and white crown of the united kingdoms
of upper and lower Egypt stood side by side with the glistening golden
death-mask of Pharaoh Mamose in the brilliant light of the overhead
spotlights.
At last Mek Nimmur recovered from the shock.
Advancing slowly to the front panel of the display case, he stooped to
read aloud the brass plate fixed to the front of it: ''The Permanent
loan of Sir Nicholas and Lady Quenton, Harper.''
He turned back to stare at Nicholas incredulously.
'And you were the one who picked on me for turning over the money from
the sale of the blue crown!' he accused him. 'How could you bring
yourself to give up your share of the loot, Nicholas?'
'It wasn't easy,' Nicholas admitted with a sigh, 'but I was faced with a
delicate ultimatum from a certain party who is not standing a million
miles away from us at this very moment.'
'Don't feel too sorry for the poor boy,' Royan laughed.
'He still has a big lump of Peter Walsh's money tucked away in
