It was a lamentable turn of events that caused Beni to see that returning to Hungary was a dangerous luxury: Beni learned by word of mouth and by searching in some old newspapers that Hungary's law would be cracking down even harder, causing police to perform more stringent background checks on the Hungarian citizens of all cities from Budapest itself to Kőszeg, exactly where Beni himself would be bound for. The news left poor Beni stricken with this sorrow at not being able to return home and feeling worse for the wear; Beni's plans were to return to Kőszeg and to start a new life, perhaps obtain a good paying job and maybe even start a family. Perhaps after that, Beni might even return to his family, though after the news that their son was a thief that stole from the synagogues, Elek and Emese Gabor would be less than overjoyed to see their duplicitous son return. After some time had gone by, it didn't matter much to Beni that he could not return, seeing that his dear parents wouldn't care very much for him once he did. In Egypt, then, he would stay, for it was not only a question of money, it was a matter of dishonour on his family.

More than a good two years after his change of clothes, Beni took up employment as a local con-man selling false maps to the inner streets of Cairo that were actually traced off of some mazes he found in some children's book that he stole from a touring French family while they weren't looking. It was fairly steady business but would not exactly pay the bills, seeing as how his new home was the latest in a number of dingy little stinkpots in the worst areas of Cairo. Fortunately, Beni's pick-pocketing skills were a means of obtaining a few trinkets with which to hock for some cash. Beni took a wallet here, a watch there and supplemented his collection by taking the odd bits of jewelry that women were not paying close mind to. Beni's skills at theft outstripped any local thief in Cairo but his prudence left much to be desired: once, for instance, while stealing a golden watch from an Englishman in a cream-coloured jacket as he entered the bar known as the Sultan's Casbah, he almost was caught by the Englishman, who in turn pick-pocketed a drunken, haggard-looking man dressed in rags, instigating a bar fight. Beni was fortunate enough to escape with naught but his life and the recently pilfered watch, but that drunken man (who looked more than a little familiar) almost spotted Beni and lunged after him in the fight before being stopped by two rough-looking Egyptian officers who came to arrest rabble-rousers. Beni's luck was starting to change: that watch, though somewhat worn and faded, might fetch up a modest sum with Faud, the local pawn shop owner who dealt with stolen merchandise, which would result in just enough to buy a one-way ticket out of Egypt entirely!

But for the Americans he would meet soon…for as Beni was running through the streets to avoid detection and to reach the pawn shop, he had heard a familiar word that his had not heard in three years, since his time in the desert: "Hamunaptra". Beni snapped to greater attention and wisely concealed himself behind a barrel, where he could eavesdrop with impunity on the source of the almost-taboo word: three Americans on the outdoor tables of a small, plush-looking bar. The Americans, though unarmed, still looked somewhat imposing to Beni: one resembled a cowboy from the motion pictures with a wide-brimmed hat and leather vest, another looked grim in a dark suit and tie as he puffed a cigar and downed his bourbon, and the third was lean and wore a tweed coat and bow-tie, along with thick, wire-rimmed spectacles. These three men were all deeply in conversation about the City of the Dead, but Beni did not know that any others knew about the ruins of Hamunaptra! These men must either be very smart or very dumb, Beni mused, as he listened on.

"-don't believe a single word of it; a City of the Dead? Some kiddie's story, nothing more", said the American in the dark suit, as he took a liberal puff of his cigar.

"Daniels, c'mon, hear me out with this, I actually heard it from the Doc himself that—", began the bespectacled American.

"Aw, shut up, Burns, with that 'I-heard-it-from-the-Doc', why even listen to that old nobody?" snapped the cowboy. "His smarts don't count for jack no more since he got hisself kicked out of that museum in New York. I say that-"

"Henderson", the man called Burns started, "hear me out on this. Dr. Chamberlain said it himself from an inside source that someone down at the Cairo Museum has actually found a piece of a map and—"

"Well yeah, but does he have the map?" retorted Henderson.

"Not exactly: it was burned, apparently. But—"

"See! Just a big hoax, a fake, a phony, a—"

But just then, the barrel that Beni was hiding behind gave way and Beni tumbled out from behind it, revealing himself to the Americans. The man called Daniels looked livid at Beni's intrusion and whipped out a revolver from his coat pocket, pointing the nose of it directly at Beni's.

"Didn't your momma ever tell you it's rude to be eavesdroppin', boy?", chuckled Henderson from behind Daniels. "You might not like what you hear after"

Beni was left with no remarks to make, just to quiver fearfully for his life and sweat for what seemed like hours. At that point, Beni was left with only one course of action; he would go for broke, he would tell them.

"You-you seek Hamunaptra, don't you?"

"Maybe we do…what's it to ya?" snorted Henderson.

"I could take you to the desert, and—" Beni began, but Daniels, now even more cross than he was a moment ago, rammed the pistol closer to Beni's forehead.

"But what? You plannin' on fightin' words, boy?"

"No, no!", Beni fearfully responded. "I know how to get there, in the desert! I can help you!"

"Oh? Really, now, and free of charge, too, eh?"

"Well," Beni started, attempting desperately to regain his composure, or what he had instead of it, "I was intending to guide you there for a price…modest, truly, barat'm, something insubstantial…"

It was Henderson that opened his mouth this time, and this time it looked bleak…

"HAH! I love this guy! A dang pistol to his head and he still has the cojones to ask for money!"

Beni never could comprehend the American vernacular, least of all now where he wore a puzzled expression; perhaps Burns noticed because he stepped in. "Pardon Henderson's French, Mr…"

"Gabor…Beni Gabor, formerly of Budapest, Hungary" Beni simpered.

"Right; well, Mr. Beanie—"

"Beni"

"Yes, that; you say you've been there?"

"Oh, most certainly, barat'm…must have been three years this June" replied Beni.

"Well, Mr. Beni…you say you've been to Hamunaptra, do you? If you have, I have someone I want you to meet…"