"The amount of time we spend with them is entirely up to you, Emerson. If you would give up a few hours each day we could take them sightseeing and visiting, arrange little games, teach them to ride, and so on. Evvie and Dolly haven't been to the Castle, or to Selim's house, or even to Luxor."

"You are an absolute genius at putting the blame onto a fellow," Emerson grumbled.

I went to the veranda, where Evelyn was chatting with Fatima as she set out the tea things. Walter was sorting through a pile of letters.

"I hope you don't mind, Amelia," he said. "I was looking to see if there is anything for Evelyn or me."

"Pray continue sorting it, Walter. The post has rather piled up the last few days. I haven't had time to look at it."

After extracting several letters, one of which he handed to Evelyn, he pa.s.sed the basket with its overflowing contents to me.

"From Raddie," Evelyn said, and began reading with a happy smile.

"A brief note from w.i.l.l.y," said Walter. "And a letter from Griffith. He wants more Meroitic inscriptions."

"Why the devil does he suppose we will find them in Luxor?" Emerson demanded.

"One never knows what the dealers may have," Walter said mildly. "I've given up Meroitic, as you know, so anything I find will go to Frank."

"You and Mr. Griffith have a remarkably cordial relationship," I remarked, handing Emerson a pile of letters. "Most Egyptologists are quarrelsome and possessive."

"If that was meant for me, Peabody, I flatly deny it," said Emerson, hastily looking through his letters and tossing them back into the basket.

"Wasn't that a letter from Mr. Winlock?" I asked.

"I don't care what the b.a.s.t.a.r.d has to say."

Shrieks of childish antic.i.p.ation prevented me from asking what Mr. Winlock had done to incur Emerson's ire. The twins burst in, accompanied by their parents, and I lifted the post basket high in the air, out of reach of Davy, who loved letters and believed everything that came was directed to him. Emerson took the children on his lap. I handed Ramses and Nefret their messages and began opening my own.

"Nothing from . . . ?" Emerson asked.

"No. Most of these are the usual thing."

"The usual thing?" Evelyn inquired.

I read a few aloud, for the amus.e.m.e.nt of the others. " 'My dear Mrs. Emerson. You don't know me, but my brother is the son-in-law of Lady Worthington, and I would like to make your acquaintance. At what time would it be convenient for me to call on you?' "

"Who is Lady Worthington?" Nefret asked.

"I have no idea. 'My dear Mrs. Emerson. It would be a great privilege to be shown round the sites of Luxor by your husband. We will be at the Winter Palace this week.' "

"More letters from impertinent visitors?" David asked. He and Lia came in with the two children and Sennia. Evvie ran to Davy and embraced him fiercely. He hugged her back, twittering melodiously, while Charla scowled at both of them.

"We get that sort of thing all the time," said Sennia in a worldly manner. "Read some more, Aunt Amelia, they are quite amusing, really."

"This is a particularly charming example," I said. " 'We are two young American ladies who are anxious to meet your son. Mr. Weigall, whom we met in London last month, a.s.sures us he is very knowledgeable, and handsome, too.' "

"I owe Weigall one for that," Ramses muttered.

"I doubt he said any such thing," I replied, tossing another half-dozen epistles into the wastepaper basket.

"He was certainly the social b.u.t.terfly when he was inspector," Nefret remarked. "Always bragging about Prince This and Lady That."

"We mustn't be uncharitable, my dear. In his official capacity Mr. Weigall had to be polite to important visitors. So do some of our colleagues who are dependent upon private contributions. We are under no such constraints, and people like that are only a nuisance if one allows them to take advantage. Gargery has been quite useful in that respect; if strangers turn up asking for us, we send him out in full butling mode. When he looks down his nose and intones, 'The Professor and Mrs. Emerson are not at home,' even the most importunate Americans beat a retreat."

"Gargery can't look down his nose at everyone," said Lia with a laugh. "He's only five- Oh, Gargery. I am sorry; I didn't see you."

"That is quite all right, Miss Lia," said Gargery, putting her in her place by calling her miss instead of madam.

"Gargery can look down his nose at anyone," I said. "It is not a matter of height, but of presence."

"Thank you, madam," said Gargery. "Shall I bring the drinks tray, Professor?"

"Yes, why not?" He sat down on the floor and beckoned the children to gather round. "See what I found today."

It was a small statue of limestone, approximately six inches high. The workmanship was rather crude, but the face had a smiling, naive charm. "This was dedicated to the queen Ahmose Nefertari by a fellow named Ikhetaper," Emerson explained, tracing the line of hieroglyphs with his finger. "You may look but don't touch. It is not a dolly."

"I would like to go and dig with you and Mama and Papa," said Evvie. "If I find something, can I keep it?"

Charla shot her an evil look, which Emerson did not miss. He knew better than to accede to that request. "I'll tell you what," he said heartily. "Supposing I teach you all how to ride a donkey. As I said to your grandmother the other day, it is high time you learned."

The offer was received with general acclamation. I am not a petty-minded woman. I did not mention that it had been my idea.

On the whole, the riding lesson was a success. That is to say, it was a success with the children. The donkeys were less than pleased and one of the adult persons present behaved rather badly. I refer of course to Emerson, who kept s.n.a.t.c.hing the children off the little beasts whenever they (the latter) moved faster than a walk. Evvie fell off twice and Davy once-to express his solidarity, I believe, on the second occasion. The happiest of all was Dolly, who trotted round and round the courtyard like someone who had been riding all his life. When Emerson, puffing and dust-covered, declared an end to the lesson, Dolly obediently dismounted. He came to me and took my hand.

"That was very good," I said. "We will keep this particular donkey for you."

"Thank you, Aunt Amelia. When I am older I will ride a great white horse, like my great-great-grandfather."

"Only one 'great,' " I said, wondering what the devil Emerson had been telling him. Abdullah had never been an enthusiastic horseman.

"When will we go and see him again?"

"Soon. Run along now and wash up for supper."

Charla did not want to get off the donkey. She stuck like a c.o.c.klebur until Ramses detached her and carried her away.

Since I had remained a safe distance from the circus it did not take me long to tidy myself. I treated myself to a brief stroll through the gardens, checking on my plantings. One of the roses appeared to me to be a trifle wilted; I made a mental note to remind Fatima to remind Ali to water it. What a restful place it was-the sweet scent of blossoms, the melodious songs of birds. A bee-eater flashed overhead, iridescent bronze and steel blue and green, and a dove let out its strange cry, almost like a human laugh. The cry ended in a squawk and I plunged into the shrubbery in time to detach Horus from the dove before he could do much damage. The dove flapped off and Horus swore at me. Such a peaceful place . . .

I had been guilty of a certain degree of hubris when I implied to Nefret that I had everything under control. I had not exactly lied to her-I never lie unless it is absolutely necessary-I had only applied the rea.s.surance I thought she needed. However, things had happened so fast that it was hard to keep track of them. The infuriating Mr. Smith's visit had added additional complications.

It was time to make one of my little lists.

As soon as dinner was over I excused myself, claiming I had work to do-which was the truth. Seating myself at my desk, I began by ruling my paper into neat sections and then headed one column "Annoying and Mysterious Events," the next, "Theories," and the third, "Steps to Be Taken."

"The Veiled Hathor of Cairo" was the first event to be considered. Three possible explanations occurred to me: first, that she was someone out of Ramses's past; second, that she hoped to be someone in his future; third, that her motive was something other than personal attraction. I could not think what on earth that motive could be. The only course of action open to me was a thoughtful consideration of the women who had been involved with my son at some time or other. Asking Ramses would have been the logical next step, but I knew that wouldn't get me anywhere. I drew another sheet of paper to me and began another list.

After I had finished, I studied it in some surprise. I hadn't realized there had been so many. Nor, I felt sure, was the list complete. However, several of the names merited investigation.

A hairpin dropped onto the desk and a lock of hair fell over my eyes. I brushed it back with a muttered "Confound it," and shoved several other loose pins back into place. When I am deep in thought I have a habit of pressing my hands to my head. This has a deleterious effect upon one's coiffure, but it does seem to a.s.sist in ratiocination.

The Affair at the Temple of Hathor came next to mind. Had it been the same woman? It is the duty of a good detective to consider all possibilities, but it seemed hardly likely that there were two resentful females in league. At any rate, Maryam could not have been the second Hathor.

The incident had, at least, supplied two physical clues. Nefret had given me the crumpled white garment found at the temple. I took it and the torn sc.r.a.p of linen from the drawer and spread the robe out across the desk, determined to subject it to a closer a.n.a.lysis than I had been able to give it before.

It was of plain white cotton and simple pattern-two rectangles sewed up the sides and across the top, leaving s.p.a.ces for arms and head. It had been sewn by hand, rather clumsily. There were several rents, one of them near the hem, where Nefret's arrow had penetrated the fabric, the others along the seams where the st.i.tches had parted, possibly as the result of a hasty removal of the garment. There was absolutely nothing distinctive about it. I felt certain it had not been purchased in the suk, but had been constructed by the wearer.

The sc.r.a.p of cloth snagged on the wall had not come from the robe. The fabric was completely different-finely woven linen, pleated and sheer. It must have been torn from the garment she wore under the robe, when she scrambled over the wall-a diaphanous, seductive garment like the one Ramses had seen in Cairo.

Agile though she must be, and familiar with the terrain, luck had played a large part in her successful escape. If Justin and his entourage had not thrown her plans into disarray . . . An unpleasant p.r.i.c.kling sensation ran down my spine as a new theory trickled into my mind. She must have known of the children's intention of visiting the temple that night. Yet she had risked capture and exposure, for she had been alone and there had been four of them, all young and quick and just as familiar with the terrain.

Unless she stopped them before they got close enough to seize her . . . Had there been a weapon concealed in the folds of that voluminous garment? A single bullet would have prevented pursuit if it killed or seriously wounded even one of them. She had a.s.sured Ramses she meant him no harm, so he could not have been the intended victim. Which of them, then? David? Lia? Nefret? Or was it Ramses after all? He had managed to free himself. Who could tell what her real intentions toward him had been?

So deeply engrossed was I in ugly speculation that I let out a little shriek and bounded up out of my chair when the door opened.

"Expecting a murderer, were you?" Emerson inquired. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Peabody."

"Oh, Emerson, I have just had a horrible idea."

"Nothing new about that," said Emerson. His smile faded and he caught me in a hard embrace. "My darling girl, you are all atremble. Tell me your horrible idea."

Emerson likes me to tremble and cling to him. In his opinion I do not do it often enough. So I dutifully clung and trembled, while I explained my latest theory. I had hoped he would scoff and tell me my rampageous imagination had run away with me; but when I looked up into his face his brow was furrowed and his lips compressed. Slowly he shook his head.

"d.a.m.nation, Peabody," he remarked. "I hate to admit it, but it makes a certain amount of sense."

"I had hoped you would scoff and tell me my rampageous imagination had run away with me."

The lines in his forehead smoothed out and he smiled a little. "It has, my darling, it has. The plot would do nicely for a sensational novel, but it is all based on surmise. Here, give me a kiss."

"What does that have to do with-"

"Nothing at all," said Emerson, removing the remaining pins from my hair with a single sweep of his fingers and tilting my head back.

When he had finished kissing me, he drew a long satisfied breath. "That's better. Now then, sit down and tell me what other brilliant deductions you have made. I presume that is one of your famous charts?"

Meekly I handed him the paper. He perused it in a single glance-admittedly there wasn't much to see. "Hmmmm. With all due regard for your abilities, my dear, I can't see that this gets us any farther. What's this?" He picked up the other list and ran his eye down it. It was self-explanatory, particularly to a man of Emerson's intellect. When he looked at me his expression was a mixture of admiration and consternation. "How the devil did you get this? Not from Ramses, surely."

"Of course not. I would not be ill-bred enough to approach him about such a sensitive subject. I don't suppose you-"

"Good Gad, no!" Emerson's handsome countenance changed from bronze to copper.

"Well, then, can you think of anyone I have omitted?"

"I would not be ill-bred enough to speculate," said Emerson primly. But his eyes remained fixed on the paper. "Hmmmm. Yes, I remember the Bellingham girl. Dreadful young woman. Who is Clara?"

"A girl he met in Germany. He mentioned her in his letters."

"How do you know he . . . Never mind, don't tell me. Violet? Oh, Lord, yes, she was in hot pursuit, wasn't she? But I'm sure he never . . . Good Gad. Not Mrs. Fraser! Though I did wonder at the time . . ." His voice rose from a mumble to a shout. "Layla? See here, Peabody, you cannot possibly be sure they . . ."

"I am not sure of any of them," I retorted. My composure had returned; it was delightful to engage in detectival speculation with my dear spouse, and even more delightful to see him enjoy the sort of rude gossip he pretends to deplore. "She saved his life, at some risk to herself, and I a.s.sume she expected something in return. She was a-er-hot-blooded woman. She had her eye on you at one time, I believe."

"She had her eye on a good many men," Emerson retorted. "That was her profession. She couldn't have been the veiled Hathor, Peabody. Ramses said she was young. Layla was a mature woman ten years ago."

"She does have one of the qualifications the latest apparition must have possessed, however. She knows every foot of the West Bank."

"And all the men who live there," Emerson agreed, with the sort of smile I make it a habit to take no notice of. "What's become of her?"

"I don't know. But Selim will. Emerson, there are a number of other perplexing issues facing us, but in light of my latest theory we must consider the unmasking of Hathor of primary importance."

As if drawn by a magnet, Emerson's eyes returned to the list of names. "Mrs. Pankhurst?!"

I HAD BEEN OF TWO minds as to whether to tell the children about my unpleasant new theory. A good night's sleep, a bright morning, and (particularly) the affectionate attentions of my spouse restored my natural optimism and reminded me that they were not children but responsible adults, and that it was my duty to warn them of a potential danger. I waited until Sennia had finished breakfast and gone off to gather her books before I told them.

The only one who took it seriously was Gargery. Like the romantic he was, he had been vastly intrigued by the veiled lady. The others expressed the same reservations Emerson had hinted at the night before, namely and to wit, that the whole thing was a figment of my imagination.

"What made you think she might have had a weapon?" Ramses asked, the tilt of his brows expressing his skepticism. "I feel sure one of us would have noticed if she had pointed a pistol at us."

"I am not at all sure you would have," I retorted. "With all respect to you, my dear, n.o.body seems to have noticed very much."

"There was quite a lot going on," David said. He reached for the marmalade. "I'm beginning to feel rather sorry for the poor woman. It must have been disconcerting in the extreme to have her performance interrupted by that screaming mob-and can you picture her scrambling over the wall, tearing her elegant robe?"

"Nevertheless," said Emerson, who had finished eating and was glancing pointedly at his watch, "we must take every possibility into account. Peabody's wild-er-unorthodox theories have often-er-sometimes proved true. Keep a sharp eye out, all of you."

As soon as we arrived at the site I found Selim and informed him I wanted to talk to him. He had been a bit shy of me since the arrival of the motorcar, but this morning he had a new grievance.

"When may we give a fantasia of welcome, Sitt Hakim? It should have been done before this. Ramses said he would talk to you, and we have been waiting for you to say when it will be."

"I am sorry, Selim," I said, acknowledging the justice of his complaint. "Ramses did speak to me, and the matter slipped my mind. You know how difficult it is to get Emerson to agree to attend a social event."

"This is not a social event," said Selim. Now that he had me on the defensive, he folded his arms and gave me a severe look. "It is an obligation and an honored custom as well as a pleasure. The Father of Curses will obey your slightest wish."

"He ignored my wishes about the motorcar."

"You did not forbid him to get one, Sitt."

His beard twitched, just as his father's had done when he was trying to repress a smile. I could not help laughing.

"You are in the right, Selim. I have been remiss about entertaining the family. Mrs. Vandergelt wants to give a party for them too, and several old friends in Luxor have sent invitations. But your fantasia must come first. Would this coming Friday suit you?"

Selim no longer repressed his smile. "I will tell Daoud and Kadija."

"Now that that most important matter is settled, I want to go over a few things with you." I unfolded a piece of paper. I had found time to make another list. It was headed "Outstanding Questions."

"Ah," said Selim. "A list."

Several of the items were of long standing and Selim had nothing new to add. The purported madman who had attacked Maryam had not been identified, nor had the individual responsible for the sinking of Daoud's boat. There had been no sign of the jewelry stolen from Cyrus, or of Martinelli. Selim's face grew longer and longer as I read on. He prided himself on his connections and he hated admitting he had drawn a blank. The last question took him by surprise.

"Layla? Yes, Sitt, of course I remember her. The third wife of Abd el Hamed. Why do you ask about her?"