Lord of the Silent: A Novel of Suspense (36 page)

room?" "Anyone who was familiar with your habits could anticipate that, sir." "Oh? Hmph. It was certainly the safest method of communicating with us. That's a fairly pointed hint about Miss Minton. Well, well. Let us join the ladies and pass on his compliments. Bring the book along." "Yes, sir," said Ramses. "I had intended to do so." They looked into Margaret's room, where the three women and two safragis had almost completed packing her bags. "We'll meet you in the lobby," Emerson said, retreating in haste as his wife fixed him with an inquiring stare. "You are going to tell her, aren't you?" Ramses asked, lengthening his stride to keep up with his father. Emerson rang the bell for the lift, waited two seconds, and plunged down the stairs. "Yes, certainly. It is a waste of time trying to keep things from your mother, she always finds out anyhow, and then she ... Er-I've been meaning to ask ... not that it's any of my affair ... but you and Nefret ... Er?" "The same," Ramses said with a smile. "Ah. And the two of you-er-getting on well, are you?" "Yes, sir." He couldn't leave it at that; he knew what his father wanted to hear, even if he was unable to ask a direct question. "We are exceedingly happy." "Ah." Emerson's hand rested briefly on his shoulder. "Good. Let's see if we can locate that rascal Sayid." He charged across the lobby, pausing only long enough to toss the key and its massive brass tag onto the desk. "Hurry, before your mother catches us up." "I meant to interview Sayid earlier," Ramses admitted. "He wasn't here yesterday." The usual assemblage of putative guides and hopeful dragomen had gathered at the foot of the stairs, which was as close as they were allowed to get. They surged forward when the doors opened, and stopped, with a certain amount of shoving and jostling, when they recognized Emerson and Ramses. "Nor is he present today," Emerson said, scanning the upturned faces. "Salaam aleikhum, Mahmud-Ali-Abdul Hadi. Where is Sayid?" An eager chorus replied, not only from the ones he had addressed, but from the entire group. "Not here, Father of Curses-I can serve you as well-what is it the Father of Curses desires?" "Sayid." Emerson descended the stairs. "When did you last see him?" It took them awhile to compare notes, but Ramses was conscious of a sinking sensation at the pit of his stomach even before they reached a consensus. Sayid had not been seen for at least three days.

"He has been murdered," I remarked, drawing a somewhat wobbly line-occasioned by the motion of the boat-through one of the items on my list. For once not even Emerson objected to what some might consider a premature conclusion. Miss Minton had gone pale. The only face that did not reflect some degree of distress was that of Ramses. The stony mask did not deceive me or Nefret, but it was Emerson who uttered the words I had intended to say. "You couldn't have got to him in time, Ramses, even if you had not had more pressing matters to deal with. He must have been killed the night of the failed raid." "But you haven't even looked for him," Miss Minton exclaimed. "He may have gone off with a party of tourists." Ever courteous, Emerson gave her the explanation the rest of us did not need. "Sayid is always at the Winter Palace. If he had been hired by a visitor, his associates would know of it." "They would know of his death, surely," Miss Minton persisted. "His body will probably never be found," Ramses said. "If I had arranged the business, I'd have carried him, dead or alive, to the gebel and tossed him into one of the more remote wadis. By the time he is found, if he ever is, there won't be enough left to identify." I decided it was time to change the subject. I was sorry about poor Sayid, who had been annoying but harmless, but there was nothing more we could do for or about him. "Did you find anything in Sethos's room?" I inquired. Emerson produced the letter and read it aloud. It was a singularly uninformative document, as we all agreed. The reference to Miss Minton was not well received by that lady, but she said only, "What about the book? Are any of the words underlined or any of the sites marked?" "Feel free to look through it," Ramses said, handing her the volume in question. "I doubt Sethos would do anything so trite, however." Cyrus's carriage was waiting for us at the dock. When she saw it, Miss Minton hung back. "I feel awkward imposing on Mr. and Mrs. Vandergelt." "Would you prefer to return to the hotel?" My tone was somewhat sharp. Instead of snapping back at me, she lowered her eyes and murmured, "I wish you didn't dislike me so much, Mrs. Emerson. What more can I do to win your acceptance, if not your goodwill?" "The most sensible course would be for you to leave Luxor at once." "I can't do that!" "You can, but I didn't suppose you would. A journalist in pursuit of a story-" "Do me the credit to believe that is not my primary motive. I want-I want to help." "No, you want to find our elusive acquaintance. Didn't your latest encounter with him destroy your romantic fantasies?" A dark flush mantled her cheeks. "You are a merciless opponent, Mrs. Emerson. I do want to know what became of him. Is that so surprising? Whether he liked it or not-and he made it clear that he did not!-we shared a terrifying experience." She hesitated briefly, and then burst out, "I may have been the innocent cause of his betrayal, but I was also his salvation, and by God, before I'm through with him he's going to admit it, and thank me!" I said no more, since the men had finished putting her luggage into the carriage, and Emerson was calling us to come along, but her outburst, whose genuineness I did not doubt, had made me think better of her. A woman who would accept meekly the rudeness to which he had subjected her was not a woman I could admire. In fact, she had a number of admirable qualities. If only she had not been a confounded journalist! Nefret and Ramses refused Emerson's suggestion that we leave them off at the Amelia. The carriage would have been uncomfortably crowded with five persons, but it was clear to my sympathetic imagination that they preferred to be alone. As they walked away I saw his arm go round her waist and her head come to rest against his shoulder. Miss Minton was watching them too. She sighed. Instead of standing hospitably open as they usually did when the Vandergelts were in residence, the gates of the compound were closed and the aged gatekeeper had been replaced by a sturdy youth whom I recognized as one of Yusuf and Daoud's kinsmen. Cyrus and Katherine came out to greet us, and I knew at once from Cyrus's self-conscious look and Katherine's stiff smile that he had confessed some, if not all, the truth. No one else noticed anything amiss, I believe; Katherine was always a lady and her reception of Miss Minton was perfectly cordial. She announced that tea would be served in an hour, sent Miss Minton off with one of the maids, and then turned to me. I anticipated her. "Yes, Katherine, I owe you an explanation and an apology. Shall we retire to the library? Where is William?" "In the library," Cyrus said, tugging at his goatee. "At least that's where he was last time I saw him." "The sitting room, then," I said, and led the way. "I had to tell her," Cyrus burst out. "Of course," I replied graciously. "There should be perfect confidence between husband and wife. We only wanted to spare you worry, Katherine." "I know. Amelia, I would willingly-gladly-risk myself, and even Cyrus, to help you, but-" "But not Bertie. My dear, I understand and I don't blame you one particle. If I believed there were the slightest possibility he could come to harm I would leave at once. In fact, I had already considered moving our inconvenient menage to our old quarters." Emerson's countenance brightened. I had thought the idea would appeal to him; when he is a guest in someone else's home he has to mind his manners. "Excellent thought, Peabody. Yusuf won't mind doubling up." A flush of shame, as I took it to be, warmed Katherine's cheeks. "No, you mustn't even consider it. You would be much more open to attack there, and I would never forgive myself if anything happened to one of you, especially to the child. I mean it, Amelia, I really do. Cyrus, I am sorry for the horrid things I said to you. I behaved like a shrew and a miserable coward. I won't do it again." He took her hand. "Quite all right, my dear. Bertie will be fine, you'll see. Matter of fact, Amelia, I was kind of disappointed you didn't bring him along too. I've been curious to meet the fellow after that trick he pulled on me some years back. What did you do with him?" "Nothing," Emerson growled. "He'd gone." At my suggestion he elaborated, working himself up into a state of considerable indignation as he described the way Sethos had played on Miss Minton's nerves. He ended by reading the note that had been left for him. I was pleased to observe that Katherine appeared more intrigued than fearful; as for Cyrus, he made no secret of his amusement. "Fellow has a certain style, hasn't he? Kind of a mean stunt he played on the lady-" "But necessary," Katherine interrupted. "From what you have told me of her, Amelia, she wouldn't have been deterred by a courteous warning." "Quite right, Katherine." "Well, I guess maybe he was trying to keep her out of trouble," Cyrus conceded. "Doggone it, it's a shame he got away from you, he must know more than he's telling. Any chance of tracking him down?" "I can't think how," Emerson admitted. "He must have prepared a number of hiding places when he was in Luxor in the old days. Some, if not all, are known to his adversary; after that near miss the other night he won't be foolish enough to use them again. I am at a loss as to where to look for him." Naturally I was not. I was on the verge of saying so when Miss Minton entered the room, hoping she was not too early for tea, and Katherine immediately took up her duties as hostess. After tea, when Emerson and I were in our room changing for dinner, he exclaimed, "Damnation! We forgot to ask about that fellow-er- Smith when we were at the Winter Palace." "You could not have done so if you were unable to remember his real name," I replied. "Well, whose fault is that? You were the one who kept referring to him as Smith. Did you make inquiries?" I saw no reason to admit that I had also forgotten that ridiculous appellation. "I could hardly have done so, Emerson, while Miss Minton was with me. We don't want her to know of our interest in the fellow. But I will inquire as soon as I can." I meant to inquire about someone else as well. The interval had given me time to reconsider my first impulse, and I determined to keep my own counsel until I could confirm my hunch. Emerson had no self-control. Our quarry would have to be approached cautiously, as one stalks a wild animal. I was undoubtedly the proper person to do it.

He was waiting for me at the top of the cliff as I climbed, moving with the effortless ease found only in dreams. I took the hand he extended, and he drew me up to stand beside him. "I came," I said. "You were slow in coming," said Abdullah. I sat down on the ground and wrapped my arms around my raised knees. The morning air was as refreshing as cool water against the skin, but it was still a little chilly, and I was not wearing a coat. "I had some difficulty convincing Emerson," I explained. "You know how stubborn he is." "No, that is not the reason." Tall and straight, black-bearded and finely dressed as he always was in these visions, he towered over me. He had covered his mouth with his hand to conceal a smile. "No," I admitted, smiling back at him. "I was on the wrong track, wasn't I?" "Yes. If you had come before, you would have saved yourself and those you love trouble and danger." "Not more of your enigmatic hints, Abdullah!" I exclaimed. "Trouble and danger are your constant companions, Sitt. It would serve no purpose to warn you of what lies in store, even if I were allowed; in avoiding one peril, you would run straight into another." "Hmph," I said. "What about the tomb, then? You must know where it is." "Tomb? Which tomb? I know them all-three more in the Biban el Moluk, six in the Queens' Valley, seventeen-" "Three in the Valley of the Kings?" "Two of a richness hitherto unknown," Abdullah said meditatively. He sat down beside me. "But they are not what you seek now." "Never mind that!" I exclaimed. "Two rich tombs in the Valley of the Kings! Where?" This time he did not bother to hide his smile. "They will be found in the fullness of time, by those who are destined to find them. Do you know why I summoned you to Luxor?" "Obviously it was not to help me find lost tombs," I muttered. "Why, then?" "Because this is your place. Look about you." He gestured. The rim of the sun showed above the eastern cliffs, a crescent of fiery red. The valley lay in shadow, from the dim outlines of the Theban temples across the river to the pale porticoes of Hatshepsut's temples, directly below us. Slowly the crescent widened into a glowing orb, and the light spread, sparkling on the water, brightening the luxuriant greenery of the fields, turning the silvery sand to pale gold. The world had wakened to life after the sleep of darkness. "How beautiful is your rising," I murmured. "The living Aten who-" "The lord Amon-Re," Abdullah corrected somewhat snappishly. "Your Aten was a short-lived god, invented by a heretic." I had always suspected Abdullah was a pagan at heart. Since I did not care to engage in a discussion about religion with a man who was presumably in a position to know more about it than I, I said mildly, "They were both sun gods. Aspects of the same divine force." "Bah," said Abdullah. "Amon-Re was the great god of Egypt. Ruler of Heaven, Lord of the Silent." "Yes," I said dreamily. "Abdullah, you were right to bring me back. I wonder if I could persuade Lord Carnarvon to give up his concession in the-" Abdullah interrupted me with a shout of laughter. "I should not have spoken of rich tombs," he said, rising and taking my hand to lift me to my feet. "I was boasting, Sitt; but there is no danger that you will break the thread of the future, for the lord will not let you have the Valley. I must go now. Think on what I have told you." "You haven't told me anything useful," I grumbled. He turned my face up and kissed me on the brow, as a father might have done. "God go with you, Sitt. May all the gods go with you." The dream was clear in my mind when I woke in the morning, and I am sure I need not tell the Reader what part of it was clearest. Emerson was still asleep, flat on his back with his arms folded across his chest, like a mummified pharaoh. I leaned over him. "Emerson! There are two rich undiscovered tombs in the Valley of the Kings!" Emerson said, "Hrmph," and rolled over, turning his back to me. His recalcitrance, which I ought to have expected, gave me time to have second thoughts. Prudence overcame archaeological fever. I returned to a supine position and proceeded to have them. Emerson would not consider a dream a sufficient guide to excavation. It was impossible to explain to someone who had not experienced them how vivid and real those visions were. I could still feel the pressure of Abdullah's lips on my brow; had I been gifted with artistic talents, I could have reproduced every line and every whisker on his face. What the devil had been the point of that particular dream? Surely those tantalizing hints of tombs in the Valley had only been meant to tease me. Hints were of no use if I couldn't get the confounded firman. He must have said something else. I was going over that conversation in my mind when Emerson turned and flung out his arm. As he later admitted he had been dreaming too, of fighting with an opponent whose identity he claimed not to remember; the blow he directed at this phantom landed squarely across my ribs, evoking a cry of indignation and pain which was loud enough to rouse Emerson. He was still apologizing and looking for bruises when the servant brought our tea. I sent my spouse off to bathe and dress, and consulted my list. In fact, I had already determined on a course of action which did not include describing my dream to Emerson. There was only one other person who might give credence to it, and she was the very individual I had meant to consult about an equally important matter. She and Ramses arrived at the Castle as we were finishing breakfast, and joined us on the veranda with their little entourage. It was a pretty, shaded spot, curtained with vines, a place conducive to friendly social intercourse. One would never have supposed that the smiling faces hid so many dark secrets! Jumana pounced on Emerson; she had been reading his History, and showered him with questions which were not so much designed to obtain information as demonstrate how clever she was. The innocent man, bemused by fluttering lashes and wide dark eyes, nodded and smiled, while Bertie tried to get a word in. My tall son was holding his wife's hand under the table (he thought no one noticed, but of course I did) and chatting with Sennia, who had pulled her chair next to his. It occurred to me that I might have some difficulty getting Nefret to myself. And how were we to elude Miss Minton, whose cool black eyes moved from face to face as if trying to read the thoughts those countenances concealed? Finally Cyrus pointed out that they had yet to decide where they would go that day. Many of the most promising sites, including the East and West Valleys and the Asasif had already been allocated to other excavators. There were a number of pleasant ruins scattered about, but Cyrus was only interested in tombs. They finally settled on the Valley of the Queens. Six unknown tombs in the Valley of the Queens . . . Remembering Abdullah's words I was gripped by a brief spasm of archaeological fever. But no, I told myself, duty before pleasure. It wasn't likely that they would find any of the missing tombs that morning. I informed Emerson that I would not accompany him since I had other tasks, including some necessary shopping in Luxor. My remark fell into one of those silences that sometimes occur (though not often with us, I admit), and a number of heads turned in my direction. I had expected Emerson would be suspicious, but since he could not force me to go with him and since he would rather have been hanged than go to the shops with me, he would have no choice but to acquiesce. Suspicious he unquestionably was. His sapphirine eyes narrowed. Then they opened wide, in an unconvincing display of affability, and he said, "Very well, my dear. Whatever you say." This was an extremely disconcerting development. Emerson must be up to something. Ah well, I thought, I cannot be in two places at once. I had hoped Nefret would offer to accompany me, but she did not, so I had to ask her point-blank. Needless to say, she agreed. Ramses was even more suspicious than his father. As we left the table, he took me by the arm and drew me aside. "Now see here, Mother," he began, his eyebrows forming an alarming angle. "Ramses," I said, just as firmly. "Do you suppose I would do anything to endanger Nefret?" "Not intentionally. But you-" "It is high time you got over treating her-and me!-like children." His finely cut lips relaxed into a half-smile. "That's what she said. I'm trying, Mother. It isn't easy." "I know, dear boy. We feel the same about you and your Father." "About us? But we aren't-" "Feeble, helpless women?" Ramses threw up his hands. "All right, Mother, you win. Try not to-oh, confound it, you know what I mean to say. Nefret isn't- er-she isn't the only one I care about." One of his hands had come to rest on my shoulder. I patted it affectionately. "And your father is not the only one I care about. Look after one another, and don't let him do anything foolish. I know the signs. He is up to something," "Unlike you?" I decided to ignore this. We finally got them off, including Bertie. Katherine tried to prevent him, but I felt obliged to oppose her wishes. The boy had improved amazingly in the past few days, and in my opinion maternal fussing is deleterious to young persons. "I never fussed over Ramses," I pointed out to her. "And see how well he has turned out!" There were several domestic matters to be dealt with before we could leave for Luxor. I had always envied male police officers and detectives their freedom from such distractions; Mr. Sherlock Holmes, for example, never had to concern himself with ordering meals, settling disputes with contentious servants, or coping with small sulky children and large sulky cats. Then there was Christmas, now less than a week away. It had to be celebrated in proper fashion, for all our sakes, but especially for Sennia's. She had been happily occupied with nursing Gargery and Bertie, but with both her patients on the way to recovery she had begun to complain-about being forced to remain inside the stout walls of the Castle, about seeing too little of Ramses. It was hard on the child; but I could hardly tell her why we dared not let her go abroad. Then there was Fatima, who was baking Christmas cakes and biscuits in Cyrus's kitchen, to the extreme exasperation of Cyrus's chef. And Horus, who had taken to prowling up and down in front of the door where the Vandergelts' cat Sekhmet dwelled in more than Oriental splendor. Sekhmet had belonged to us before Cyrus and Katherine adopted her; she had only been bred once-to Horus himself, in point of fact-and I had my suspicions about Horus's present interest... With my usual tact, I soothed the chef, set Sennia to making paper ornaments for the tree (wondering where the devil I was to find one), instructed Gargery to keep her amused, and asked Nefret to remove Horus long enough so that the terrified servant who was supposed to look after Sekhmet could get into the room. Unfortunately, Sekhmet whizzed through the door as soon as it opened- thus confirming my diagnosis of her condition-and Nefret was rather badly scratched before we managed to capture both animals. Nefret laughed, though. "Life is never so interesting without you, Mother," she said affectionately, while I painted her scratches with iodine. "When are you going to tell me what scheme you have formed? I don't believe for an instant that you really mean to shop today." "I will tell you all about it as soon as we are alone, my dear. It is certainly a nuisance to keep track of what various persons know and what must be kept from them! I was forced to give Katherine some idea of my plan, to prevent her from accompanying us, so all that remains is to get away without Miss Minton. Mark my words, she will be lying in wait for us." . In fact, the cursed woman was seated in the carriage when we came out of the house, elegantly attired in a shepherd's check suit and wearing a jaunty little hat tipped over one eye. "I hope you don't mind my accompanying you," she said, baring her teeth at me. Her black eyes looked like jet beads. "Out of the question," I said. I won my point, naturally, but not without an argument. She tried every underhanded trick she could think of, from threats and promises of assistance, to pleading. She was forced to give way at last; when she pushed past me, on her way to the door, I saw there were tears in her eyes. "She really cares for him," Nefret said, as I joined her in the carriage. "Those were tears of rage, I expect," I replied. "But I have no sympathy for bathetic sentimentality. She ought to have more pride. So you have discovered my little scheme?" "It wasn't difficult," Nefret said, with a knowing smile. "You are aching to confront him. Do you know where he is?" "At one of the other hotels, I expect. One would not expect such a devious man to do anything so obvious, but that is why it is so clever. One is reminded, is one not, of Mr. Poe's 'Purloined Letter' trick." "I wasn't," Nefret said. "But the same idea had occurred to me. It has only been five days since he fell ill and he knows there is danger of a recurrence if he doesn't take proper care of himself." "Have you mentioned your idea to Ramses?" "No, not yet. But I will, Mother, and if we locate Sethos I will tell him that as well. I can't lie to him. So if you would rather leave me off at the Amelia-" "Good gracious, no. I will tell them all about it myself, this evening. I just didn't want them along, shouting and cursing and confusing the issue." The line between Nefret's brows smoothed out. "What are you going to do with him if you find him?" "That is one of the matters I wanted to discuss with you. I mean to question him intensively, of course. I feel certain he knows more than he admitted. So far we are at an impasse. Oh, I expect that eventually I can work it out, but my investigations may take a little time and I would like to settle the business before Christmas." "Christmas, of course," Nefret murmured. The corners of her mouth twitched. "We may want to bring him back to the Castle with us," I continued. "Good Lord, Mother, you can't do that to poor Katherine! Hasn't she enough to contend with already?" Her face underwent a series of strange alterations. In some alarm I reached for her. She waved me away, sank back into the corner, and laughed so hard tears filled her eyes. I handed her my handkerchief. "I do apologize," she gurgled. "I was picturing Christmas at the Castle, with Horus trying to get at Sekhmet, and Bertie trying to get Jumana off in a dark corner, and Katherine trying to keep him away from her, and the chef storming out of the house because Fatima won't let him use the ovens, and-and-and in the middle of it all, Uncle Sethos, disguised as Father Christmas!" I allowed the dear girl to enjoy her moments of merriment. Far be it from me to mar those moments by
reminding her that if we did not succeed in identifying the villain he might be among the guests. We took the ferry across and as we leaned against the rail, holding firmly to our hats, I told Nefret about my dream, and the one that had preceded it. "But how unkind!" she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling. "To tell you of rich tombs and not disclose their location-" "He was teasing me. He enjoys doing that. Never mind the unknown tombs, Nefret, I have been haunted by the feeling that I missed something of importance-one of those confounded mysterious clues Abdullah is so fond of dropping." "Tell me again what he said." I repeated the conversation. She shook her head. "I can't think what it might be." "You don't really believe in my dreams, do you? It is good of you to pretend to take them seriously." "How could I be arrogant enough to deny the possibility? Even if they are the product of your sleeping mind, they cannot be dismissed as meaningless." "I do not believe in the libido," I warned her. Nefret's face dissolved into laughter. "Of course not, Mother, darling. Anyhow, Abdullah would never be vulgar. We're about to dock; where are we going first?" There were at that time eight European-style hotels on the east bank. Two of them were clean but inexpensive; the other six offered greater amenities along with higher rates. "Again, I would welcome your advice," I replied. "He might have doubled back to the Winter Palace under another name-" "Not in the same suit of clothes," Nefret said. "And not on the same day," I agreed, thinking what a pleasure it was to deal with an intelligent, intuitive (female) mind. "The closest hotel to the Winter Palace is the Luxor .. .Watch your step, my dear, the quay is very slippery." "So we are going to the Luxor?" "No. Sethos told the clerk at the Winter Palace he was going to the railroad station. I believe that is exactly what he did. If he had taken a carriage to any other destination, the driver might remember him, and that he would avoid at all costs. It is easy to lose oneself in the crowd waiting for the train, and slip away. The Hotel de la Gare is within easy walking distance of the station." "That is very ingenious, Mother," Nefret said. I smiled modestly in acknowledgment of the compliment and waved my parasol at a passing carriage. We went first to the Winter Palace, where I learned that Mr. Bracedragon-Boisgirdle (whose eminently forgettable name I had, fortunately, noted in my diary) had taken his departure two days earlier. This was most satisfactory news, for it confirmed one of my theories (not that I had ever doubted its accuracy). I then directed the driver to take us to the Hotel de la Gare. The best Baedeker could say about the station hotel was that it was clean. It certainly did not measure up to my standards; the threadbare carpet in the lobby was gritty with sand and the desk clerk had obviously been wearing the same collar for several days. His jaw dropped when he saw us; it was not the sort of place where ladies of our distinction were likely to come. "Good morning," I said pleasantly, placing my parasol on the desk. "I am looking for a gentleman who arrived yesterday morning." The clerk looked from me to the parasol, to Nefret, and back to me. It took him several seconds to get his jaw into operation. "Yes, Sitt. There were several-" "Let me see the register, please." Seven persons had checked into the hotel the previous day. Two were man and wife-or claimed to be-and there had been a party of three gentlemen. That left two possibilities. It was not necessary for me to elicit descriptions from the clerk; one man had given the name of Rudolf Rassendyll. "His bizarre sense of humor will prove to be his downfall one day," I remarked to Nefret, as we started up the stairs to the third floor. The lift was out of order, of course. "How many people have read The Prisoner of Zenda?" "Quite a lot, I should think. It was careless of him." The door was at the end of a dismal corridor lit only by a nearby window. The advantages of the location were manifest; no one could get at him via his windows, of which there were probably two, since his was a corner room, and they provided convenient exits. No doubt he had already knotted one of the bedsheets into a makeshift rope. "Are you going to pretend to be a servant?" Nefret whispered. I looked at her in surprise. "No, why should I do that?" I removed one of my gloves and knocked emphatically on the door. "It is I, Amelia. Let me in at once." Utter silence followed. I knocked again. "I have no other appointments today," I said in a louder voice. "You may as well open the door." The portal was flung wide, and there he stood. I thought I had prepared myself mentally for the meeting. I had been mistaken. The last time I had seen him he had been lying on a litter, dead or dying, as I believed, drenched in blood and wearing an auburn wig and mustache. It might have been Emerson who confronted me now-ruffled black hair, prominent chin, squared shoulders. Even the scowl was familiar. He was wearing a dressing gown I recognized as one of Ramses's, and his feet were bare. I found myself somewhat short of breath. "Quite right," he said. "You would stand there all day, shouting." He stood back and beckoned us in. "Is that all?" he inquired. "Where are the rest of them? Radcliffe, Ramses, Miss Minton-" "Let us not waste time in irony," I said. "How did you find me?" "That is also irrelevant." The room did have two windows. It also had a narrow bed, a wardrobe, a small table, a single chair, and a set of chipped bathroom utensils, blatantly displayed, without so much as a curtain to conceal them. "Goodness, how unpleasant," I said. "You can't stay here." "Not any longer, no." My knees were a trifle unsteady. I sank into the chair. It wobbled, but held. "Sit down," I ordered, removing a bundle of cloth from my bag. "You don't look at all well." "For God's sake, don't cry," Sethos exclaimed. He began to back away. "You never cry. You didn't shed a tear when I died in your arms. You-" The room was too small for him to retreat far. He fetched up against the edge of the bed and collapsed onto it. Nefret had closed and bolted the door. Since there was not another chair, she sat down next to Sethos. "I have no intention of crying," I said, shaking out the bundle. "What the devil-" Sethos began. "Don't swear," I said automatically. "It is, as you have no doubt observed, a galabeeyah. I took the liberty of borrowing a long scarf from Katherine. It will serve as a turban. You must leave here this evening. I doubt we were followed-your adversary cannot be everywhere-but he may be clever enough to investigate the other hotels. It was foolish of you to use that pseudonym." "I-" said Sethos, trying to pull Nefret's hand away from his forehead. "No fever," she announced. "How much quinine did you give him?" "Enough for five days. Half a grain per day." "Hmmm. I would have recommended more. How many days has it been?" "I've rather lost track," Nefret admitted. She began counting on her fingers. "Sunday, Monday-" Sethos said, "Why-" "Never mind. We will have to risk it. He should be over the worst by now." Sethos said, "How-" "Through the window, of course," I said impatiently. "Mr. Rassendyll will renege on his bill. No doubt they are accustomed to that sort of thing at the Hotel de la Gare. Go straight to the landing and take the ferry across. Someone will be waiting for you on the west bank." "Where-" "The Castle?" Nefret inquired. Sethos gave her a look of abject horror. "No, Selim will take him to our old house. Daoud is staying there too. That should be ample protection. I do not see any dirty crockery, so I assume he has not eaten today. It is necessary to keep one's strength up. Nefret, would you be good enough to go down and order food?" She did not demur by so much as a raised eyebrow; her sympathetic imagination told her that I wished to be alone with him. After she had departed I locked the door and returned to my chair. I had believed my thoughts were in perfect order, but strangely, I found myself mute. We contemplated one another for a few moments. His eyes were the first to fall. "You shouldn't have come here," he said. "I swore never to see you again, and I meant to keep my promise this time." " 'There is a fatality that shapes our ends,'" I remarked. "Or is it the War Office that has shaped them? Don't bother to deny that you are still working for British intelligence. You deceived Ramses and Nefret, but you cannot deceive me. It was on your account that Mr.-er-Smith came to Luxor. You were to report to him, and that is one of the reasons why you were so anxious to get to the Winter Palace. He left the day after you arrived. You had been to Kharga. Why would you go there unless it was to spy on the Senussi?" Much of what I had said was pure surmise-logical, but unproved. He remained silent, head bowed, until I added, "You accepted the assignment Ramses refused." I had been sure that would stir him up. He stiffened and scowled at me. "If you think I did it on his account, you are mistaken." "I would never accuse you of being guided by altruism or affection," I assured him. "He couldn't have carried it off. If he had dropped out of sight, Sidi Ahmed's men would have tried to rip the beard off every stranger who approached the camp." "Your official job is a side issue now. The interesting attentions we have recently received are directly related to the matter of the missing tomb. What do you know that we do not?" He had recovered his composure. He rubbed his bristly chin and gave me a cynical smile. "You do go straight to the point, Amelia dear. I am ignorant of the answers to the two most important questions: the location of the tomb, and the identity of my rival." There was a knock at the door. "Curse it, I didn't suppose she would be so quick," I said. "We must have a council of war. There isn't time for it now. Give me your word-" The rapping became louder and more peremptory. Sethos leaped to his feet. "That isn't Nefret. Amelia, don't open the door." He was too slow to stop me. Ramses had taught me a rather nice little trick of letting an adversary start into the room and then slamming the door hard against his face. I was anxious to try it, and hopeful of capturing one of our foes. Unfortunately, the person in the hall was not a foe. It was Margaret Minton. "Confound it!" I said. "Hell and damnation!" said Sethos. I seized Margaret's sleeve and pulled her into the room. "How did you find us?" "I hired a boat and then located the driver who brought you here. Didn't you realize you were leaving a trail anyone could follow? And you-" She turned furious eyes on Sethos. "Rudolf Rassendyll!" "I will not tolerate criticism from you, Miss Minton," I said coldly. "Forgive me. Accept my abject apologies." She stamped her foot. "I always say the wrong thing, and I'm sorry, I truly am, but it doesn't matter; we've got to get him away from here as soon as possible." "I was about to make those arrangements when you-" Another knock at the door. We were all a trifle tense; I started, Miss Minton let out a little scream, and Sethos swore. "Nefret?" I called. The answer was in the affirmative. Nefret, the waiter, and the tray crowded into the room. After some complex maneuvering we got the tray on the table, the waiter out, and the door locked. Perched on the side of the bed, arms folded, Sethos said, "This is becoming positively farcical. Are we expecting any other guests?" The question was addressed to the company in general, not to Miss Minton. He had not spoken to her or looked directly at her. "Eat your breakfast," I said thoughtfully. "Lunch," said my brother-in-law, inspecting his plate. The vegetables had been stewed into gray ambiguity and the chunks of meat were burned. "I may as well. I won't be allowed to say anything." "Please, Amelia." Margaret clasped her hands and looked at me imploringly. "Don't be angry. I only want-" "What the devil is she doing here?" Nefret demanded. "He must leave now," Margaret insisted. I had arrived at the same conclusion. The advantage of darkness, which had affected my first plan, was now outweighed by several disadvantages. Luxor would soon be gossiping about the procession of well-dressed females who had come calling on the amazing Mr. Rassendyll. Anyhow, it had been naive of me to assume Sethos would go where I told him to go and stay where I ordered him to stay. He was eating the horrible mess with more appreciation than it deserved. The placidity of his countenance aroused the direst of suspicions. "You are correct," I said. Sethos choked. His countenance was no longer placid. The enthusiastic cooperation of two other sensible persons (i.e., women) made the arrangements much easier. In fact, I doubt I could have managed them by myself. Nefret was the first to leave. We gave her ten minutes' start and then proceeded to the next stage of the plan. I left Miss Minton to stand guard outside the door while I hurried down and went round the hotel to wait under the window. Sethos had not objected. He appeared to be somewhat stupefied. The back of the hotel bordered on an empty space occupied only by weeds and mangy dogs. An obscenely fat rat sauntered across the dusty ground, giving me and the dogs an insolent look. I didn't blame the dogs for not wanting to tackle it. I was beginning to fear Sethos had found some way of getting past Miss Minton when the rope of twisted sheets (it had been under the mattress) tumbled out of the window with a suitcase tied to the end. Sethos came down hand over hand. He was wearing the turban and galabeeyah, but his face was too pale. I scooped up a handful of dirt. "Amelia, don't," he said, fending me off. "Let me go out of your life. I'm no good to you or anyone else now." "Dear me, how tragic," I remarked. "You left out the part about returning to your gutter." "I was saving that," said Sethos. His smile lessened his resemblance to Emerson; it had a quality of mockery that was never to be found on the candid countenance of my spouse. "Very well, Amelia-" Miss Minton came trotting round the corner of the building, her hat tipped over one eye. "Good, you've got him," she gasped. "As I was about to say," remarked my brother-in-law, "I can deal with one domineering female, possibly with two, but not with three. Do me one small favor, if you will. Don't dash about looking for our killer. I'll take care of him myself." "Ah," I said. "I thought so. You mean to make a target of yourself in the hope that he will attack you. That's all well and good, and we may yet have to resort to some such expedient, but what, may I ask, is the point of going through the performance unless we are on hand to catch the fellow? Stop arguing and come along, before someone sees us." Nefret was waiting at the dock with the boat she had hired, and a pile of parcels. She shoved them into Sethos's