Free Emily and the Lost City of Urgup by Gerry Hotchkiss Page A

mumbling words in Arabic. Smiley Wiley looked their way, but saw they were only workers, apparently telling each other stories. The thieves entered the tent and seemed to take hours before they emerged triumphantly with a parchment. “This is not map parchment. Look some more”, they were told. When they went inside a second time they found themselves surrounded by Professor Dasam, Hadar, Kadar, the Arab truck driver and several others. “The jig is up,” announced Professor Dasam as he uncovered his face. “Secure their hands and feet with good square knots and put them in the back of the truck.”
    Emily watched it all from a distance and then went inside her tent. That night she slept soundly. In the morning she bounded out of bed and went outside to visit the palace. “Emily,” a voice called out. “Have you forgotten to await your guards again?” he went on. “But professor, now that the thieves have …,” and she stopped. “Have what?” Professor Witherspoon went on. “Have, have to worry about your plan,” she stammered, “I just thought……”
    “In fact, my dear, the plan has been executed and the thieves are now tied-up and in our custody. Nevertheless, you await your guards.” That was a close call, thought Emily.
    With the thieves caught, the professors decided to return to Cairo, place some artifacts they had uncovered with the Museum and get ready for Professor Witherspoon and Emily to return home. Emily walked around dejected. The sparkle in her eyes were dulled with regret. She loved her new dresses and she wanted to spend weeks at the museum. Professor Witherspoon, on the other hand, seemed much more anxious to return home.
    “Witherspoon,” said Professor Dasam, “your mind seems to be elsewhere. Did something unusual happen on your trip to Egypt? “Unusual, unusual,” Witherspoon replied, “why nothing in particular, why do you ask?” “Well, your beaming face reminds me of a naughty boy found with his hand in the cookie jar,” Dasam went on. Emily perked up. “Will we be seeing Bibi?” she asked.
    “Bibi, who is Bibi. Oh yes, that very attractive tutor you hired to teach Emily French. Do you plan to hire her for the return voyage?” Dasam inquired.
    “As a matter of fact, Madam Boissiere has been engaged to tutor Emily on our return,” Witherspoon answered with his face reddening. Professor Dasam’s eyes lit up. “You old goat. Here you are ten years my senior and in the throes of romance.” Emily looked puzzled, was the professor in love?
    Preparations for the departure were completed in another week. Professor Dasam’s wife had spent most of every day with Emily, at the Museum, at an elegant hairdressers where three women washed and cut her hair and even trimmed her fingernails and toe nails, at the dressmakers where Emily was outfitted with winter clothes, new shoes and a Panama straw hat with a bright yellow ribbon on top. She felt spoiled. How could she thank the Dasam family enough. Maple syrup seemed rather meager in comparison with all the beautiful things Madam Dasam had given her. She looked sad and forlorn.
    “My little kitten,” Madam Dasam said, looking at Emily’s composure. “Why the sad look. Have I spoiled you? I hope so. You are my first daughter and now you are leaving me. I cannot dress you any more. I cannot tell women’s secrets to you. Now I must return to rooms full of men and listen to their incessant chatter about business and sports and politics. I shall miss you and I hope that you shall also miss me.” Emily flew into the Madam’s arms and hugged her and cried. “Of course, I shall miss you, Madam Dasam,” she said.
    The Rolls Royce, cleaned and polished was driven to the front of Dasam’s house where farewells were given and Professor Witherspoon and Emily were driven off. This time they drove to Alexandria, a port city of Egypt where a boat awaited to take them to France. “Can I see the remains of the great library when we