The Khedivial Salon looked more like an oriental harem than a sitting room for tea and conversation. Richly woven tapestries of silk and spun gold hung from the walls. Ferns and palms sprung from Turkish style urns and everything was red from the carpeting and curtains to the plush velvet seats. Harrison felt uncomfortable, as though he was intruding on some forbidden room of a pasha’s palace. He expected to see scimitar-wielding guards appear at any moment, but the room was empty except for a gray cat asleep on a couch.

“All by yourself?” Harrison walked over to the couch.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked as he sat next to the curled up cat.

“Why there you are you lazy good fer nothin!”

Harrison shot a startled glance to the entryway. A white-haired man of advanced years entered the salon. He carried a gold-tipped cane in one hand and waved a lit cigar in the other. Harrison jumped to his feet and smiled. The cat never moved.

“Gitt up Jefferson! This is yer third catnap today!”

“Your cat’s name is Jefferson?” Harrison smirked.

“Her name is Jefferson Davis! What about it?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Harrison raised his hands and chuckled.

“The name is Honorus, Colonel Honorus Figg” The elderly gentleman extended his hand to Harrison.

“Dr. Harrison Thorne. Pleasure.” Harrison shook the Colonel’s hand.

“Yankee aren’t ya?” Figg squinted “Well no matter. Have a seat.” The Colonel slowly lowered himself into his favorite chair and took several puffs on his cigar.

“So is this yer first visit to The Pyramid Club?”

“Pyramid Club?” Harrison looked puzzled. “You mean the Hotel Cairo.”

“Hotel Cairo! Ha! That is what the new folk around here may call it”, Figg waved his cigar about the room, “but us in the knowin call this here place The Pyramid Club.” He winks at Thorne.

“Knowin? Harrisson’s brow furrowed. “Knowing what?”

“History, boy. Legends! I was part of it ya know?”

Harrison shook his head at the Colonel who just sat there with a wide-eyed grin.

“Well?” Thorne couldn’t wait to here the old man’s story.

“Is that yer cat?” Figg pointed at the couch with his cane.

“No…I thought she was yours.”

“Jefferson! You ol’ lazy bones! What ya doin’ sleepin agin? Git up!”

“Pardon me.” Dr. Thorne stood from the couch. “I must be going.”

“Sit down Yankee. I was about to tell ya the story of The Pyramid Club!”

The old Colonel stuck the tip of his cane in Harrison’s stomach and pushed him back to the couch.

“Now how does that story go agin?”

Harrison pulled Jefferson Davis to his lap and stroked her head. He had a feeling that it was going to be a long afternoon. Why should Jefferson be allowed to sleep when she could be listening to her master’s story?