CHAPTER SIX

               Another Shirt Ruined!

The newcomer's approach was slow

and deliberate. By the time his head appeared at the opening of the tunnel, Emerson was waiting.

My husband presented a horrifying picture, his face distorted in a snarl, his raised fists streaming blood—for, clumsy with haste, he had in the process of freeing himself inflicted several nasty cuts on his wrists—and I was not at all surprised when Selim yelped and retreated, like a turtle pulling back into its shell. Emerson reached in and dragged him out.

"What the devil do you mean, creeping up on us like that?" he shouted.

"Emerson, please lower your voice," I begged. "The noise is positively deafening in this confined space. I do wish you would not be so precipitate; just look at you, you are bleeding all over the antiquities. I could have told you it was Selim approaching."

"Then why didn't you?" Emerson picked up the knife and freed my hands and feet.

"You did not give me the opportunity, that is why. Fortunately I brought two handkerchiefs. Let me tie up your wrists, you cannot climb a rope when your hands are slippery with blood."

"Oh, bah," said Emerson. But he said no more because Selim was spouting questions and excuses. He had not known how to proceed. Had he delayed too long? Had he come too soon? What should he do now?

"Get out of here, I should think," I replied to the final question. "I hope you will not take this as criticism, Selim, for you acted quite properly, but if someone cuts that rope we will be in deep difficulty."

"Deep indeed," said Emerson. "Selim—I apologize for shouting at you, my boy, I was not myself—how did you elude the gentlemen who climbed that same rope a few minutes ago?"

"No one climbed it, Father of Curses. I saw no one. I heard terrible noises, the falling of rock, the voices of demons from the depths, but finally they died away. Sitt Hakim, I did not hesitate out of fear, I waited only because—"

"Impossible," I exclaimed.

"Hmmm," said Emerson, fingering his chin. "I suggest we postpone further discussion until after we have acted upon your sensible suggestion, Peabody. I will go first, then you, my dear. Put out the lantern before you follow her, Selim; some of these scraps are as dry as tinder."

Emerson was waiting for me on the lip of the opening, a lighted candle in his hand. "This explains one mystery," he said, indicating a second rope that hung down from the edge. "Our friends departed by means of the back door. Shall we follow their example?"

I took the candle from him and leaned out. "But it is a dead end, Emerson; I can see the bottom of the cleft, only a few feet below."

"Nonsense. The rope would not be here if it led nowhere. Curse it, Peabody, don't stand so close to the edge. I will go down and have a look."

Grasping the rope, he lowered himself. "Ah," he said, with satisfaction. "I thought as much. There is an opening. A bit narrow, but I believe I can .. . Stop where you are, Peabody, don't so much as stir until I give you permission."

Slowly he sank down out of sight; first his feet and lower limbs, then his body, and finally his head were swallowed up by shadows. Selim, still in the tunnel awaiting my word to proceed, began to wail.

"Oh, Sitt, what is happening? Oh, Father of Curses, do not leave me here!"

"Be quiet!" I said sharply, for my nerves were beginning to feel a certain strain. So thick were the shadows below, I felt as if I had seen Emerson swallowed up by black quicksand.

Then his head rose out of the depths. "All right, Peabody," he said cheerfully. "Wait until you feel three sharp tugs on the rope before you follow me; I would rather not risk a double weight. It is easy going once you squeeze through that narrow space, my dear; can you manage?"

The face that looked up at me wore an encouraging smile, but his furrowed brow was evidence of his concern.

"I got down this far, didn't I?" I replied. "Oh, Emerson, do be careful."

"And you, my love."

"Sitt Hakim," said a quavering voice from the tunnel. "Something is holding my foot. It is an afreet, I think."

Kneeling, my eyes fixed on the taut, quivering rope, I said over my shoulder, "Give me your hand, Selim. My power will pass through you down to your foot and the afreet will let you go."

Sure enough, he was able to free himself from the afreet (actually a bit of fallen stone), and I helped him out onto the ledge, suggesting that he remain motionless since the space was confined. Scarcely had he emerged than the rope went limp.

"Emerson!" I shrieked, unable to control my anxiety.

Three tugs followed, and then Emerson's voice, weirdly distorted. "Come ahead, Peabody."

Once I had got through the opening—quite ample in size for me, though it must have been a tight squeeze for my stalwart spouse—I was surprised to find a sloping surface instead of a perpendicular drop. Emerson had lit a candle and placed it on a ledge. His hands were waiting to grasp me by the waist and set me on my feet.

While we waited for Selim to join us I lit my own candle and looked around. The space was only a few feet in extent, and it looked as if it might collapse in on itself at any second: boulders of various sizes bulged from either side and from overhead. If I had not known there must be a way out I doubt I could have found it, for it was necessary to squeeze past one rock and around the jutting corner of another, until one final squeeze brought us out into the cool night air. We were on the slopes of Drah Abu'l Naga, only a few hundred yards from Deir el Bahri. Its colonnades glimmered pale in the starlight.

"No wonder the place has gone undiscovered so long," I gasped. "The tomb entrance cannot be seen from above or below. Who would suppose this pile of rocks concealed an opening?"

"I suspect there was no opening until recently," Emerson said thoughtfully. "But let us save speculation of that sort for a more leisured moment. We had better collect the children and get back to the dahabeeyah."

Leaving Selim to mark the spot, we went off arm in arm, Emerson matching his longer strides to mine.

"Cold, my dear?" he inquired, as a shiver ran through my frame.

"On such a beautiful night? Only look at the stars! It is excitement that moves me. What a discovery! What courage and what brilliance you displayed in locating it! I wonder you are not skipping with happiness."

"A pretty sight that would be. Never mind the flattery, Peabody; luck had as much to do with our success as my talents. And this evening's adventure has had several odd aspects. When I arrived in the tomb I fell into the middle of a small war."

"Please elaborate, Emerson."

"The men we saw descend into the tomb were members of an illustrious family of Gurnawi thieves. I recognized several of them. But they were not the men you saw, for by the time you arrived on the scene, the Gurnawis had been taken prisoner by another group of individuals who must have arrived sometime earlier via the lower entrance. When I emerged into the antechamber, one of the second group was waiting for me, pistol in hand, and I saw no reason to object when they bundled the Gurnawis out through the tunnel. Evidently the latter were persuaded to descend the lower rope while you were descending the upper."

"That seems a logical deduction. But how extraordinary, Emerson! You did not identify any of the second—first?—you know who I mean, the men who were waiting for me."

"How could I? They were wrapped to the eyebrows, and careful to say as little as possible. Which makes one wonder—"

"—if we might have recognized an acquaintance had they been less cautious. Yes, Emerson! Sir Edward—"

"What the devil are you talking about? I met him last year; he is a typical, annoying young aristocrat, but so far as I know, perfectly respectable. Nor," Emerson added with a chuckle, "was Miss Marmaduke one of them. (You were about to suggest her, were you not?) What I intended to say before you interrupted me was that I wonder if some or all of them were not Egyptians."

"That would explain their disguises and their reticence," I said. "At least we can be certain that none of them was Signor Riccetti."

"Impossible to disguise that bulk," Emerson agreed. "But he is in this up to his fat neck, I have no doubt of it."

"He may be as dishonest as he is obese, Emerson, but does not the encounter of this evening substantiate the statement he made—that there are those who would aid us if they could? No, my dear, please don't bellow"—for I knew the signs that preceded that exercise—"just listen. The second group of individuals meant us no harm. They did not even search me for weapons. In fact, if they had not been there when you entered the tomb, you might have been killed or seriously injured by the Gurnawis. They were, if I may be permitted to call them that, our Preservers."

"I cannot prevent you from calling them anything you like," Emerson replied furiously. "But the idea is even more fantastical than your usual theories. Abandon the subject, Amelia, if you please."

I did so, since I did not wish discord to cloud the pleasure of our starlit stroll. After a time Emerson began to whistle. It was the agreed-upon signal—the stirring strains of "Rule Britannia"—and in response a trio of ghostly forms materialized from the darkness.

                                      

 Ramses was extremely annoyed at having missed "the fun," as he called it. Nefret was more interested in the strange men. In the intervals between Ramses's complaints she peppered us with questions until we reached the boat and Emerson ended the discussion with a reminder that there were a number of things that must be done without delay.

"Quite right," I said. "I must see how David is getting on, and make sure Gertrude is safely tucked in her bed; Howard Carter must be notified, and M. Maspero. And I am very worried about Selim, alone out there in the darkness."

"He won't be alone for long," said Emerson.

When I joined him in our room I was not surprised to learn that he meant to return to Selim at once. Attempting to dissuade him would have been a waste of breath. "At least take Abdullah and Daoud," I begged.

"My dear, I will be knee-deep in assiduous assistants by morning," Emerson said, stripping off his filthy, bloodstained shirt. Tossing it onto the floor, he grinned at me. " 'Another shirt ruined,' " he quoted.

I could not joke. The premonition of danger was so strong it clung to my lips like the taste of bitter herbs. I caught hold of him. "Let me go with you."

Gently he loosened my clinging hands. "Now, Peabody, don't carry on. Abdullah has gone to collect the men; I will meet them at Deir el Bahri, and knock Carter up while I'm about it. I can hardly wait to see his face."

"You are taking Ramses. Why can't I—"

"Because you are needed here. Yours may be the post of greatest peril, Peabody. We still don't know why the boy was attacked. If it was to prevent him from telling us about the tomb, then he is out of danger, but I doubt that was the motive. It is most unlikely that he could have learned such a closely kept secret. He must be guarded, and you must watch Miss Marmaduke as well."

"Yes, I know. But—"

"I will take Anubis. How's that?"

"A great consolation," I said sourly. Upon hearing his name the cat, who was lying on the bed, sat up. Emerson snapped his fingers. Anubis jumped down and followed him to the door. In fact the knowledge that the catwould be with him did console me a little. Anubis's brindled coat and heavy muscular body, not to mention his surly disposition, were those of a feral animal, and he was utterly devoted to Emerson.

"Get some sleep, Peabody."

"Oh, certainly. The easiest thing in the world."

After he had gone I changed my own garments, which were in little better case than Emerson's. Descending cliffs on a rope and crawling through bat guano has a deleterious effect on one's wardrobe. Then I returned to David. He had been asleep when I first looked in on him, and I had left Nefret to watch him. He was awake now, his great black eyes fixed on Nefret, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor and staring owlishly back at him.

"He woke," she said.

"So I see." I sat down on the bed and felt the boy's forehead. It was cool. The fever had broken, but he was still very weak.

"Where he gone?" David asked.

I knew to whom he referred but before I could answer, Nefret said, " 'Where has he gone.' "

David bobbed his head. "Where hasss he gone?"

"He is trying to learn proper English," Nefret explained, as I turned a critical eye upon her. "He asked me to correct him."

"I see. Well, David, Ramses has gone with his father. We have found the tomb. You know the one I mean."

David shook his head. "Many tombs. I do not know them."

"The tomb of which I speak is in El-Dira. It has been known to certain men of Gurneh for several years. The Father of Curses and I found it tonight. He and Ramses have gone back to guard it, with our men. Now, David, it is late and you need to rest. Only answer one question. If you didn't know about the tomb, why did Hamed try to murder you?"

"I not ..." He hesitated, glancing at Nefret, and went on slowly, "I do not know. I leave him. He try to make me stay. I said he was a ..."

Again he hesitated, this time, I thought, because he had remembered Emerson's instruction on using improper language in the presence of females. The boy had a quick retentive mind and commendable ambition. We might make something of him—if we could keep him alive.

Leaving Yusuf, another of Abdullah's innumerable offspring, on guard, I sent Nefret off to get a few hours' sleep, though I doubted she would. As for me, how could I close my eyes when Emerson might be in danger?

I did because I knew I must, but I was awake with the dawn and ready for duty. Emerson had entrusted me with a number of vital errands and I performed them with my customary efficiency, though every particle of my being ached with the desire to abandon duties whose interest paled bycomparison to the thrilling activities he was enjoying. It was mid-morning before I was able to mount my donkey and urge it (with words alone, since I have never struck an animal) toward the hills north of Deir el Bahri. Nefret and Gertrude accompanied me; I felt it advisable to keep the latter individual under my observant eyes from now on.

It was not difficult to locate the spot I sought. A good-sized crowd had gathered. I was amused to see among the onlookers members of several of the more notorious tomb-robbing families of Gurneh, trying without success to look pleased. Hussein Abd er Rasul greeted me with effusive congratulations and offered the assistance of himself and his brothers. I declined the offer.

Conspicuous by their European dress were Emerson and Howard Carter. His eyes shining with excitement, Howard congratulated me and then began to scold me. "Honestly, Mrs. E., you must not do this sort of thing! It is horribly dangerous. Why didn't you come to me?"

"You know Emerson," I replied.

"Yes, and I know you," Howard said forcibly.

"Not now, Howard." I turned to my husband, who was shouting orders at Abdullah. "Good morning, Emerson."

"Oh," said Emerson. "So there you are, Peabody. What kept you?" Without waiting for an answer, he cupped his hands round his mouth and called, "Ramses, come down from there this instant! I told you you would have to wait until Nefret and your mama arrived before you enter the tomb."

"So you have not been back inside?" I inquired. "Thank you, Emerson; it was good of you to wait for me."

Sleeves rolled to the elbow, bared black head shining in the sunlight, Emerson looked as fresh as if he had slept for eight solid hours, but affectionate concern prompted my next suggestion. "I brought tea and food, my dear; have something to eat and tell me of your plans."

Emerson put a casual arm around me and drew me out of the path of a boulder that went rumbling down the hillside. The spectators scattered and then reassembled, like a group of ants around spilled sugar.

"As you can see, Peabody, I am clearing the lower entrance. We can't continue climbing up and down that bloo—er—blooming rope. If the passage is widened we can use ladders or build stairs."

He accepted a cup of tea, and Ramses, who had joined us, remarked, "It may be possible to open the lower part of the passage entirely, Father. I believe it was an avalanche or earthquake that closed it in ancient times. Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Nefret. Good morning, Miss Marmaduke."

Emerson cut the civilities short. "At any rate, we won't be able to beginwork in the tomb itself for several more days. Oh—here is your parasol, Peabody. You left it on top last night."

"Thank you, my dear, I am glad to have it back. You sent some of the men up to guard the upper entrance?"

"No need," Emerson replied, smacking a boiled egg against a convenient rock. "Our fellows will be here below. If anyone tries to slide down that rope they will hear him, and ... Well, I would not care to be in his position. Now then, Peabody, tell me the news. How is David? Did you telegraph Maspero and send messages to the others?"

It was like him to ask first after the sick boy. With an affectionate smile I reassured him as to David's condition, and went on, "The most amazing thing, Emerson. When I went to the telegraph office, I found a message from Walter. He must have sent it moments after our telegrams arrived."

"They are coming, then?"

"They intend to leave today. What on earth did you tell them? Walter's mention of 'deep concern' could hardly have referred to the tomb."

"I told them Ramses was ill," Emerson said calmly. "And that you were in a state of intense depression."

"Emerson, how could you?"

"I do not scruple to employ drastic measures when they are required, Peabody. In this case they were required." He popped another egg into his mouth and, speech being beyond him at that moment, gestured inquiringly.

"Oh, dear," I murmured. "Poor Evelyn; what a state she will be in. Well, there is nothing I can do about it now. As you requested, I left a message for Sir Edward repeating our invitation to dinner."

Emerson swallowed. "Curse it, Peabody, I told you to get him over here immediately. I want a complete photographic record of our work, from start to finish."

"Then why didn't you wait before moving those rocks? The original appearance—"

"The boulders are a natural phenomenon. I am speaking of—"

"How do you know they weren't deliberately placed there? Such information—"

"Because I examined the damned things!" Emerson shouted. "They could not have been—"

"Emerson, will you please stop—"

"Peabody, if you continue to—"

Realizing I was on the verge of behaving in an undignified manner, I stopped speaking. Emerson stopped speaking because he had run out of breath. Ramses, who had been waiting for a lull in the conversation, said only, "Ouch!" because Nefret, rising, had stamped on his foot.

"I am so sorry, Ramses," she exclaimed. "How clumsy of me! I havegot quite stiff sitting on this rock. Professor, I brought my new pocket camera. Its scope is limited, of course, but if you like, I will try a few photographs."

"Oh, have you one of those?" Howard exclaimed. "So do I. It does quite well out-of-doors, with a bright sun, but in shadow or darkness—"

"That is a problem we will have to work out," Emerson declared. "I believe reflectors will do the job. Go ahead, Nefret, and see what you can get."

Nursing his foot, Ramses remarked, "Sir, you said we could enter the tomb after Mother came."

"Mother and Nefret," said that young person, with a sweet smile at Emerson.

"It is a difficult climb," Ramses protested. "Even with a rope."

"And how do you know that?" Nefret demanded. "Have you tried it? You were told to wait."

"Never fear, Miss Nefret," said Howard, with an admiring glance at her flushed, indignant face. "We'll get you in by one means or another."

"There will be no difficulty." Emerson got to his feet and stretched. "I set Mohammed to work earlier constructing a rope ladder. I will take it with me when I ascend the rope, and anchor it firmly. The rest of you can follow—two at a time, the space is limited."

Abdullah, who had known better than to try to get a word in, cleared his throat. "I will go first, Emerson, and carry the rope ladder."

Emerson gave him a companionable grin. "Wait your turn, Abdullah. First Ramses and ... er ... no, ladies first. You and Nefret, Peabody, then Ramses and Carter, then ... Excuse me, Miss Marmaduke, I did not mean to overlook you."

She had made it easy for him to do so. Seated a little distance away from the rest of us, head bowed and hands folded like a humble governess in polite company, she had not said a word. Now she looked up.

"It is kind of you to think of me, sir. I yearn to see that wonderful place, but I would rather not behold it until all is prepared."

"May as well wait till we have the steps up," Emerson said, visibly relieved. "Very well, then. Abdullah and Daoud after Ramses and Carter. Abdullah, tell the men to hold off working while we are on our way up there; the whole structure is extremely unstable and I don't want anyone mashed by a falling rock."

It had seemed to me that very little had been accomplished, but now I realized why Emerson was proceeding so slowly. Whether the entrance had been deliberately blocked (and I felt sure it had been, despite Emerson's dogmatic statement to the contrary) or closed by an accidental avalanche,the rocks were unstable; the removal of the wrong one could bring others tumbling down.

Emerson slung the rope ladder over his back, grasped the end of the rope and began to climb. Standing close to me, Nefret remarked, "Why do we need the ladder, Aunt Amelia? The slope cannot be steeper than forty-five degrees, and with the rope—"

"It is not so easy as Emerson makes it appear, my dear," I replied, watching uneasily as darkness engulfed my husband. "You are young and agile, but you have not his strength in the arms and shoulders. When he—" I broke off, shielding my face with my arm, as a shower of broken stone rained down.

"Look out below!" Emerson called—somewhat belatedly. "My apologies, my dears; this cursed stuff crumbles at a touch."

It was not crumbling rock I feared. Desperate men had awaited us the night before, and Emerson's position now was even more vulnerable. A missile falling from above could loosen his grasp; a sharp knife severing the rope would have the same effect, inducing a fall that would almost certainly be fatal. And the most dangerous moments would be the last, when he neared the entrance. I believe I did not draw a deep breath until I heard him repeat his warning, and the rope ladder came tumbling down the slope, accompanied by a rattle of stone. Needless to say, my foot was on the lowest rung as soon as it was within reach.

As soon as my head passed through the narrowest part I saw Emerson. He had lighted several candles and stuck them onto the rock face. Leaning over, he grasped my wrists and lifted me onto the ledge.

"Proceed, my dear, but watch out for bats. They were stirring uneasily."

"You have already entered the chamber?"

"Before ever I let down the ladder, Peabody. Do you suppose I would allow you and Nefret to venture here until I was certain there were no uninvited guests? You will have to feel your way, I did not want to leave an open flame unattended."

Many archaeologists would have considered Emerson's concern about fire unnecessary, and few men would have sent their wives into a pitch-black tomb chamber filled with bats and bits of mummy. I agreed with his precautions; and his unquestioning confidence in my abilities was the firm foundation on which our marriage rested. As I crawled along in the dark, with sharp edges of rock jabbing into my knees and hands, I acknowledged, as I had so often done, that I was the most fortunate of women.

My entrance into the chamber irritated several of the livelier bats and I had to speak sharply to them before they settled down again. I lit a candle. When Nefret and Emerson joined me I was still staring in disbelief at the object that had immediately engaged my attention.

I interrupted Emerson's introductory remarks.

"Look. I did not see it last night. Was it there when you entered the room just now?"

"Was what where?" Emerson demanded irritably. "I didn't carry out a detailed inspection, Peabody, I only made certain no one was... Oh, good Gad."

The statue was approximately two feet high and carved of black basalt. It had been placed next to the door leading to the burial chamber. Jaws parted to display its formidable teeth, swollen abdomen framed in bands of reflected light, it depicted the grotesque hippopotamus goddess, Taueret.

                                         

By the time everyone had had his or her turn in the tomb, it was mid-afternoon, and even Emerson conceded that we had better return to the dahabeeyah. However, as we jogged on side by side he kept up a grumbling monologue. "We haven't enough men, confound it. They will have to stand watch round the clock, and I dare not leave fewer than five of them on guard. Did you see the look on Mohammed Abd er Rasul's face this morning? I wouldn't put it past him and his brothers—"

"Emerson, you know you have done the best you could, so stop worrying about it."

I persuaded him to get a few hours' sleep. I hoped this would put him in a better mood, because I had arranged a little dinner party, of the sort Emerson particularly dislikes. Since it had been necessary to invite Sir Edward, I decided I might as well include several of our professional colleagues, who would be clamoring for news of the new tomb.

A bath and a change of clothing quite refreshed me, and I went to see what the others were doing. Gertrude was in the saloon transcribing the notes Emerson had made that morning. She looked tired, and would have liked to chat, but I excused myself. Her forlorn look made me feel a little guilty. Had I been wrong about her? If she was an enemy she was not a very efficient one. Thus far I could accuse her of nothing except making eyes at my husband, and there was nothing unusual in that.

I found Ramses and Nefret with David. All three of them were sitting on the floor around a tray of food—collected, clearly, by Ramses, since it consisted of a stomach-churning combination of Egyptian and English dishes. Upon seeing me Ramses got to his feet, as I had taught him. David promptly followed suit, and I exclaimed, "You should not be out of bed, much less standing. Let me see that foot."

A thick green paste covered the injured toe. When I asked, where he had got the horrid stuff, David gestured at the window. Daoud, who had been watching with an avuncular smile, hastily withdrew his head. I called him back. Interrogation produced the information that the "salve" was an old family remedy consisting primarily of various herbs and mutton fat.

"Primarily?" I repeated suspiciously.

"It appears to have done no harm, Mother," said Ramses. "Though doubtless it was your treatment that has proved so efficacious. As you can see, the swelling has subsided and he can stand without pain." He went on without drawing breath. "Will you not join us? We are telling David about the tomb and having a council of war."

More flattered than I cared to demonstrate, I accepted the biscuit and glass of sugarcane syrup he offered me and took a chair.

"What makes you suppose a council of war is necessary?" I inquired.

"Surely that is obvious," said Ramses. "We have yet to account for the inexplicable behavior of the individual who visited your rooms in Cairo, for the equally strange visit of Signor Riccetti, and for the even more peculiar affair of the second set of tomb robbers."

"Only they weren't," Nefret said. "If they had gone there to rob the tomb, they would not have behaved so nicely to you and the Professor. / think they went there to protect you."

"Why the dev------Why should they do that?" I demanded.

Ramses crossed his legs and looked at me seriously. Years of experience had given me some clues as to how to read that enigmatic countenance of his, and there was a glint in his eyes that made me extremely uneasy.

"Did not Signor Riccetti mention two different groups of individuals— those who would aid you and those who would interfere with you?"

Relief swamped me. Ramses was not supposed to know that, but the information was less uncomfortable than certain other facts he was not supposed to know. "I suppose you wormed it out of your father," I said resignedly.

"Father informed me of the matter," Ramses corrected. "In his opinion the information had become relevant in view of what occurred last night. Those events would seem to substantiate a statement that initially appeared—"

"Ramses, do you have to talk that way?" Nefret demanded. "David doesn't understand half the words you have used and your long-winded, pompous speech patterns are cursed aggravating."

I couldn't have put it better myself. Ramses blinked—an extravagant display of emotion for him—and Nefret went on, "Everything goes to prove what Aunt Amelia and I have known all along. The man who had the ring was sent by the leader of one group—probably Riccetti—and he was killed by someone from the other group."

"But how was it done?" I asked.

"You were the one who thought of it, Aunt Amelia," Nefret said. "The killer was on the balcony. He shot Mr. Shelmadine with a poison dart."

"Good Gad," I exclaimed. "Naturally I had thought of that, Nefret, but it really does seem ... well ... just a bit theatrical, doesn't it?"

"It is the only explanation," Nefret insisted. "The murderer may have bribed the suffragi to let him in, or, what is more likely, crossed to your balcony from another near at hand. It was dark, and our rooms were high above the street; no one would have seen him. Then, after he struck the Professor, he or a confederate sent the suffragi off on an errand and carried the body into a nearby room—the same one from which he had reached your balcony. They could get rid of the body later, in a trunk or box."

"Hmph," I said. "What do you say, Ramses?"

"It is a reasonable hypothesis—er—idea," said Ramses. "So we have been discussing who these mysterious individuals—er—people—might be. Who would have a motive—er—reason—to prevent us from excavating— er—clearing—er ..."                                                                  

He had taken Nefret's criticism to heart, but his attempts to simplify his vocabulary were not very successful. Nefret smiled patronizingly at him. "Allow me, Ramses. Obviously these people want to keep us away from the tomb so they can steal its contents. That means they are or have been connected with the trade in illegal antiquities. Riccetti is certainly one of them. Then there is the man called Sethos ... What is the matter, Aunt Amelia?"

"A crumb caught in my throat," I said. "How do you know of Sethos, Nefret?"

"From Ramses, of course. He warned me not to mention the fellow to you or the Professor, but I cannot understand why," Nefret said with seeming innocence. "He sounds a fascinating man. I am sorry I never encountered him."

"I am very glad you did not," I muttered. "It has been five years since we heard from Sethos, and as Ramses knows, his last message informed us he was leaving Egypt for good."

"And we have no reason to doubt that assurance," said Ramses. It was a statement, not a question, but his cool black eyes focused on my face as if awaiting a response.

"None," I said firmly. "Sethos cannot be involved in this business."

"Then," said Ramses, after a long, nerve-racking pause, "his empire is leaderless. We may be facing some of his former subordinates—er— lieutenants—curse it, the people who worked for him." He looked rather piteously at David, who nodded vigorously.

Ramses went on with more assurance. "Sethos had many assistants, of all nationalities and both sexes. Since most are known to us, it behooves us to ask ..."

He broke off, looking self-conscious. Nefret said calmly, "Is Miss Marmaduke a spy for a group who want to rob the tomb?"

"She is not the only possibility," said Ramses, with a malevolent glance at his "sister." "Sir Edward is a highly suspicious character."

"I can think of at least two reasons why Sir Edward might wish to improve his acquaintance with us," Nefret murmured. "Neither involves a criminal motive."

David had been following the dialogue—for such it had become—with openmouthed interest, his head turning from one speaker to the other. How much he understood I could not say, but / was under no illusion as to where the discussion was heading.

Ramses said, "Hmph," as Emerson would have done when faced with incontrovertible female logic, and Nefret smiled at him.

"I agree, dear brother, that we should take nothing for granted. There are two of us and two suspects. I leave it to you to ingratiate yourself with Miss Marmaduke and worm her secrets out of her. Sir Edward will be my responsibility. I quite look forward to the challenge."

                                             

Emerson fussed and fumed when I told him of the dinner party. Not only did he refuse to wear evening dress (which I had expected), but he refused to dress at all, appearing in the saloon wearing his wrinkled work clothing and boots. He was the only one of the gentlemen (I do not include my son in that category) who had not made an effort. Howard and the other archaeologists wore their best suits and Sir Edward was in full evening kit, which set off his fair hair and well-knit form only too well.

He was unable to monopolize Nefret, however, because several of the other gentlemen (and Ramses) surrounded her. M. Legrain, who was in charge of the work at the Karnak temple, found her particularly fascinating. He was French, of course.

In such a group and on such an occasion, idle social chitchat soon gave way to professional conversation. We were besieged with questions about the tomb, but Emerson, usually decided to the point of dogmatism, was uncharacteristically cagey.

"At this stage I prefer not to commit myself. You know my views on excavation. The corridor is filled with debris; it will take some time to clear it and examine the material."

"But the burial chamber," Howard exclaimed. "Did the thieves enter it? Is the mummy intact? Surely you will investigate that before—"

"Surely not," said Emerson, giving him a frosty stare. "Mrs. Emerson and I are motivated by scientific principle, not idle curiosity."

"So Mrs. Emerson will be working with you?" The speaker was Sir Edward. Raising one eyebrow, he looked from me to Emerson and back to me. "Doing what, if I may ask?"

"Excavating," I said. "Examining the debris, noting any artifacts we may find and their precise location."

"In the tomb itself?"

"It would be difficult to carry out those activities anywhere else."

The eyebrow rose even higher. Then he laughed and raised his glass of wine. "My respectful salutations, Mrs. Emerson. I begin to see that a lady may be ... in short, a lady, with all the grace, beauty and charm of her admirable sex, and still be as daring and capable as any man. My prejudices have been shaken; dare I venture to hope that continued association with you will shatter them entirely?"

"Speaking of that," said Emerson, and drew the young man aside.

This rather abrupt ending of the general discussion caused the others to break up into smaller groups. Ramses was deep in conversation with M. Legrain; as I approached I realized the latter was describing, with exuberant Gallic gestures, an event that had occurred at Karnak a few months earlier. Several of the monolithic columns of the Hypostyle Hall had collapsed, with a crash that shook the entire town of Luxor.

"It was an event formidable," Legrain exclaimed.

"It must have been," said Ramses politely. He added in a meditative voice, "Lucky for me I was not there at the time."

"Pardon?" said M. Legrain.

I came to a dead stop and stared at the back of my son's head. I was not tempted to ask him to repeat the statement—I had heard it quite clearly—but I could not believe what I had heard. I did have a tendency (an understandable tendency, considering his history) to blame Ramses for anything untoward that might occur in his immediate vicinity, but surely he did not suppose that I would suspect him of blowing up the temple of Karnak!

Could it be that Ramses was developing a sense of humor?

Ramses turned and saw me. There was certainly a gleam in his eye. In anyone but Ramses I would have called it a twinkle.

                                                  

By the end of the evening even I had begun to flag a trifle, after a sleepless night and a day full of exertion, but as I sat before the mirror giving my hair its usual hundred strokes I mentally reviewed the activities of the day and felt satisfied that all was in order. Another cot had been moved into Ramses's room. M. Legrain had offered his assistance and that of his men. (Emerson, who had no intention of letting another archaeologist in on our discovery, had declined the offer.) Messages had begun to pour in—from M. Maspero, offering congratulations; from Cyrus Vandergelt, just arrived in Cairo, expressing his intention of proceeding as quickly as possible to "the shoot-out," as he put it; from other archaeological friends, asking what they could do to help. Emerson had offered Sir Edward a position as official photographer, adding that the offer might be withdrawn if Sir Edward continued to make eyes at his wife—

"For pity's sake, Emerson!" I exclaimed, dropping my brush. "He was only being polite. I hope you didn't express it so bluntly as that."

"What do you take me for, Peabody? I don't recall the precise words, but I was the soul of tact, as always."

His hands came to rest on my shoulders and his face was reflected in the mirror before me. I could not help laughing, he looked so pleased with himself.

"The young man doesn't give a curse about your wife, Emerson. It is Nefret he is interested in."

"He scarcely spoke to her all evening."

"Precisely. Emerson, what are you doing?"

"I am making certain," said Emerson, "that you will not be led astray by the attentions of a smooth-talking young aristocrat."

"But Emerson, you must be weary, and I have not finished my one hundred strokes, and it is late ..."

"Then why are we wasting time in conversation?"

It was certainly a reasonable argument. Besides, I had intended to use all possible means to prevent Emerson from returning to the tomb that night. This means proved to be as effective as I had hoped.

However, we were not to enjoy a restful night's sleep. It was a little after two in the morning when the now familiar sounds of a violent struggle roused me. Long years of practice had trained me to respond alertly and instantaneously; I had retrieved my nightdress and slipped into it before Emerson came fully awake. I called out a little reminder—"Don't forget your trousers, my dear"—caught up my parasol, and ran to the door.

I found myself a trifle confused initially, for of course I had instinctively started for Ramses's room, which was across the corridor from ours. His door stood ajar, but so did another—that of Nefret's chamber. Light streamed through the opening and the continuing sounds of an altercation issued therefrom.

Parasol at the ready, I dashed in—and stopped short. Two individuals were struggling. I had anticipated as much. What I had not anticipated was that the individuals should be Nefret and Miss Marmaduke.

Advancing, I ordered them to desist at once. They broke apart, panting and trembling. Gertrude's loosened hair hung over her face and her nightgown had lost several buttons, but Nefret was in worse case. Her gown hung open to the waist and had been pulled off one shoulder. Catching my eye she hurriedly adjusted it and burst into speech.

"She struck him, Aunt Amelia! She was trying to—"

"Oh, heavens!" Gertrude sagged at the knees and leaned heavily against the wall. "I did not know! I thought—good God! He has come back! Don't let him go near her!"

"He" was David, accompanied by Ahmed, who had been on guard outside Ramses's window. Nefret had flung herself down on her knees at the foot of the bed. It struck me as an inappropriate moment for prayer, but before I could comment on this Nefret turned to me with a gesture of appeal and I saw to my horror that her raised hand was stained crimson.

"Help me, Aunt Amelia. And don't let that woman—"

"Certainly not," said Emerson, from the doorway. "Amelia, you had better do as she asks. No one else move."

I knew what I would see. Only one member of the party was not visible, and he was usually the first to turn up.

Ramses was curled up on the floor, half-hidden by the tumbled bedclothes and by the bed itself. Nefret was tugging at his bloody hands, which were clasped tightly over his side. His eyes were open.

Seeing me, he said, "Good evening, Mother. It was not David."

"Indeed?" I pushed Nefret out of the way, rather more forcibly than was necessary, and knelt by Ramses. He allowed me to lift his hands, remarking, "It would be advisable to stop the bleeding, I believe; I am beginning to feel a trifle giddy, and there are several things I want to say before—"

"I can well believe that, Ramses."

He had been holding a part of the sheet over the gash in his side. I folded another section into a heavier pad and pressed down on it.

"Ouch," said Ramses. "Mother—"

"Be quiet. Emerson, fetch my medical kit. Nefret, tear that sheet into strips."

Emerson was back almost at once. "How is he?"

"Luckier than he had any right to expect. The lung has not been punctured, probably because the knife struck a rib. Ramses, stop squirming. I know the alcohol stings, but I must disinfect the wound before bandaging it."

"I am not squirming," said Ramses, faintly but indignantly. "That was an involuntary physical reflex. And may I say, Mother, that I take exception to the word 'lucky.' Observing a glint of light along the blade of the knife I was able—"

"Be quiet, Ramses."

"He can still talk, at any rate," said Emerson, with a long breath of relief. "What the devil happened here?"

"The boy crept in and tried to—to—assault her," Gertrude cried. "I heard her scream and came at once, but he must have got out the window before I could—"

"That is a lie," Nefret said. "It was not David."

"It was dark." Gertrude's voice rose hysterically. "How could you see who it was? I saw his outline against the window."

"You saw Ramses," Nefret said. "He was the first to respond to my call for help. The man who ... the man let me go and ran to the window. Ramses went after him." Her hands continued to move mechanically, tearing strips from the sheet, but she was as pale as her nightdress and her voice was unsteady.

"That will do, my dear," I said. "Emerson—"

He took her into a fatherly embrace. "We'll sort this out tomorrow," he said, clumsily patting the bright head that had come to rest on his breast. Emerson's hands, as I had cause to know, were never clumsy. It was rage that made them tremble now.

With seeming coolness he went on, "Miss Marmaduke, return to your room. I will speak with you later. Nefret, your aunt Amelia will take you to our room as soon as she has finished with Ramses. He had better remain here. I will stay with him. David—"

"It was not David." Ramses's eyes were half-closed, but he was alert enough to hear how his father's voice had hardened when he pronounced the boy's name. "He was just stirring when I left our room. The individual was larger and stronger than David, though dressed the same. Someone is trying ..."

"You have made your point, Ramses," Emerson said. His arm around Nefret, he drew her toward the foot of the bed and stood looking down on his son. "Well, Peabody?"

"You can put him on the bed now," I said, tying a neat knot. "Carefully."

This operation having been performed, I covered Ramses and wiped the perspiration from his face. I believed him to be asleep or unconscious, but I might have known Ramses would insist on having the last word. His lips parted.

"Now you will be able to retain your reputation for honesty with Aunt Evelyn. When she arrives you can show her ... a genuine ..."

He would have gone on quite a bit longer, I suppose, if he had not lost consciousness. Leaving Emerson tight-lipped and silent by his bedside, and noting that David had settled down in the corner with a look that told me it would require force to remove him, I put my arm round Nefret and led her to our room.

There was no question about it, Ramses was developing a sense of humor. As I might have anticipated, it was a deuced peculiar sense of humor.