"Yes, Peabody," said Emerson, with only the slightest note of irony. "Are you certain you can trust me to carry out an investigation without your a.s.sistance?"

"In this case," I conceded, "you are probably better qualified than I."

"Good Gad," said Emerson. "Probably?"

FROM Ma.n.u.sCRIPT H.

They had been too worried and distressed the night before to discuss what had caused the accident. Anyhow, it would have been unproductive to speculate before they had all the facts, and the wreckage could better be examined in daylight.

In the end, six of them rode to Gurneh. Walter would not be left behind-although, to the best of Ramses's knowledge, he knew very little about the workings of motorcars-and Bertie turned up as they were leaving, to offer what a.s.sistance he could. They spent a little time with Selim's wives, who went about the conventional gestures of hospitality with better spirits than Ramses had expected. They knew Selim had got through the operation.

"The Sitt Hakim sent Daoud to tell us," one of them explained.

Of course, Ramses realized, she would think of that. He hadn't.

Guiltily, praying he was not holding out false hope, he added additional rea.s.surance. "He is better this morning. She says he will live."

They had never doubted it. Not with the Sitt Hakim's magic working for him. Nur Misur was loved and trusted, but a little magic never hurt.

Half the village followed them to the scene of the crash. Nothing had been touched. Emerson had left orders.

In bright sunlight the wrecked motorcar looked even worse than it had the night before. It had gone off the path to the left, fallen onto its side, and slid down before it turned over, leaving a wide swath of disturbed soil littered with broken gla.s.s and bits of metal before crashing into the ridge. If that outcrop had not been there, it would have rolled on down to the bottom of the path-and if Selim had not been thrown out before it fell he would almost certainly have been crushed in the wreckage.

Almost all the structural damage was on the left side of the vehicle: the door ripped off its hinges, the windscreen bent and shattered. One wheel was missing; the wooden spokes of the other were splintered and the tire was flat. The radiator had burst and the petrol tank had been ruptured. By now the petrol had evaporated, though the smell lingered.

"Here's the wheel," David called from farther up the hill. They scrambled to join him. Emerson swept the area with an eagle eye, measuring distance and trajectory.

"If it came off as a result of the impact, it would be under the car, or lower down," he muttered.

"The lug nuts are missing," Ramses said. "All six of them." Even though he had expected this, he felt slightly sick. "They must have been deliberately loosened. The car toppled over when the wheel came off."

"It wasn't an accident?" Bertie looked as sick as Ramses felt.

"Not a chance of it," Emerson replied grimly. "Selim is a first-rate mechanic, and he kept the cursed thing in top condition."

A murmur arose from the watching audience. Some of them understood English; they were pa.s.sing the news on to the rest. A slender black-robed woman picked up the child playing at her feet and hushed it. One of the squatting men lit a cigarette. Otherwise no one stirred. Intent dark eyes followed their every movement as they went over the vehicle inch by inch. Emerson insisted that it would have taken a man's strength to loosen the bolts. Ramses wasn't so sure of that; a long-handled wrench might have done the job if it were in the hands of a determined woman who knew something about motorcars.

"When was it done?" he asked.

Emerson fingered the cleft in his chin. "We put the wheel back on day before yesterday. It was the wheel on the front right-not this one. The job must have been done that night. If I had put the d.a.m.ned car in the stableyard, as your mother kept telling me to do . . ."

The lines around his mouth deepened. "It wouldn't have made any difference," Ramses said. "The stableyard is easily accessible and Ali sleeps like the dead. Loosening the lug nuts would take only a few minutes."

"He, whoever he was, counted on the wheel coming off when Selim hit a steep stretch," Sethos said musingly.

"The car was bound to turn over once it lost a wheel," Ramses argued. "Wherever that happened. He had to keep up a fair speed, that's the only way to drive over rough terrain."

"Agreed. But the damage, to Selim and the vehicle, would have been considerably less if it had happened on a level stretch. It was a gamble-supposing that murder was the intent."

"Just like all the other cases," Ramses muttered.

Emerson looked round. "Daoud. I want the motorcar brought back to the house. Collect every sc.r.a.p."

"It's a total wreck, sir," Bertie exclaimed. "You'll never repair it."

"Do you suppose I give a curse about that?" Emerson demanded.

Daoud flexed big brown hands and nodded vigorously. "It shall be as you say, Father of Curses. Selim can repair the motorcar. You will see."

Emerson's features twisted into a painful grimace. His voice was hoa.r.s.er than usual when he replied. "You are right, Daoud. He can and he will."

"And," said Daoud placidly, "you will find the man who did this and give him to me."

"Inshallah," said Sethos under his breath.

Daoud repeated the word and, after a moment, so did Emerson.

I HAD SENT WORD TO Katherine and Cyrus that morning, for I knew they would want the latest bulletin. Shortly thereafter they came in person.

"We won't stay unless we can be of use, Amelia," Katherine a.s.sured me, seating herself next to me and taking my hands. "What can we do to help? Is he really better?"

I had just left the sickroom, where Kadija sat like a large ebony idol, her very presence rea.s.suring. "He is still unconscious, but his breathing is easier."

"It must have been horrible for Nefret," Katherine murmured, with a little shiver. "The knowledge that the life of someone she knows and loves was in her hands . . ."

"She has always come through when she had to," I said. "Cool and steady as a machine. She will break down eventually, but not before she is certain he is out of danger. You will stay for luncheon, won't you?"

Fatima, who had been trying to force me to eat again, let out a murmur of pleasure and hurried into the house. Cyrus stopped pacing-he had been up and down the length of the veranda a dozen times-and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Sure we won't be in the way?"

"Not at all," I a.s.sured him. "We could use some help with the children. I am very grateful to you for getting Dolly and Sennia away so quickly, but they all know something is wrong and they are, of course, behaving like fiends."

"How well I remember." Katherine rose. "Where are they?"

"Lia and Evelyn have corralled them in Sennia's courtyard. At least I hope they have."

She hurried off. I motioned to Cyrus, who was still pacing. "Sit down, Cyrus. The men will be back soon. They went to Gurneh to inspect the motorcar. Will you wait for them here? I promised Nefret I would sit with Selim while she got a little rest."

She was in his sickroom when I hastened in, bending over the bed. Guiltily I began, "I am sorry, Nefret. I was only away-"

She looked up. Her eyes were luminous. "He's conscious. Kadija came for me."

I dropped to my knees beside the bed. Selim's eyes were open. He saw me; he recognized me. His lips parted.

"Don't speak," I said gently. "Don't move. You had an accident and were badly hurt, but Nefret has taken care of your injuries. You are in her clinic and you are going to be fine."

I thought that answering the most obvious questions would keep him quiet, but he had something else on his mind.

"Did my father tell you-"

"He told me you would live."

"Ah." It was a soft, relieved sigh. I have long been convinced that the mind affects the body in ways we cannot define. With that a.s.surance Selim had gained additional strength and will to live. Who could deny the wisdom of a saint?

Nefret's fingers were pressed to his wrist. "You have a number of broken bones and your head was hurt," she said. "You must not move it. I will give you something for the pain now."

Selim's eyes opened wide, the whites showing all round the pupils. "A needle? No! I do not want-"

"All right, no needle," Nefret said quickly. "Don't get excited."

Selim grunted. Then his expressive orbs rolled in my direction. "Who took my clothes off?"

Nefret began to laugh. It was the sort of laughter that is often followed by tears, so I was relieved when the door opened and Ramses looked in. "What-" he began.

"He asked who undressed him," Nefret gasped. She turned blindly into Ramses's arms, her face streaked with tears.

"I did, Selim," said Ramses, over her bowed head. His voice was steady, but his black eyes shone suspiciously as he gazed at his friend. "With you be peace and G.o.d's mercy and blessing, my friend."

"No needle," Selim whispered.

"Not if you behave yourself," Ramses said. "Sleep now."

Selim's lids snapped shut. I looked at Kadija. She smiled her beautiful, kindly smile, and nodded. I noticed that under the bandages Selim's shaven head was green.

WE HAD A GENUINE CELEBRATION, for even Nefret admitted to cautious optimism about her patient. She looked exhausted but radiant, the violet smudges under her eyes intensifing their blue. "There is always danger of a relapse, but his recuperative powers are astonishing. If I believed in miracles . . ."

"Miracles be d.a.m.ned," said Emerson predictably. "It was your skill that saved him. Well done, my dear girl."

"Well done indeed," Katherine agreed. "I sent messages this morning, postponing our soiree."

"Right. How could we hold a soiree without Selim to waltz with the ladies?" Cyrus demanded. "We'll have a real party once he's fully recovered-and the villain who tried to kill him is dead or in prison."

"Are you sure Selim was the intended victim?" Sethos asked.

Naturally the same question had occurred to me. "A number of people knew that Selim meant to drive the motorcar to the fantasia," I replied. "However, the miscreant could not be certain Emerson would not take it into his head to operate the thing before Selim did."

"Just as the miscreant who sank the boat could not be certain who would be harmed," Ramses said thoughtfully. "There's a nonchalance about all this that is extremely strange. If the fellow is trying to commit murder, he's not very good at it."

Fatima came in with another platter of her famous spiced lamb and rice. Sethos leaned back and folded his hands over his flat stomach. "Thank you, Fatima, but I have already eaten more than I ought. I will be getting stout if I stay much longer."

"How long will that be?" I asked. Maryam, who had eaten in silence, head bent, looked up.

"However long it takes to find your antagonist" was the reply. "You lot are exhibiting less than your usual efficiency. What's the difficulty? I'd have expected Amelia to come up with a suspect or two long before this."

"The difficulty is that we don't know which incidents are relevant and which are accident or coincidence," I replied indignantly.

"It is like finding the original pattern in a jumble of loose beads," David added. "Some of which belong to another piece of jewelry altogether."

Sethos's curiously colored eyes studied him. "An interesting a.n.a.logy. You are something of an expert on restoration, David; how would you go about separating the disparate elements?"

"Lay them all out on a table, examine them, and try them in different arrangements" was the prompt reply. "After long experience, one acquires an instinct for such things."

"Like Amelia's instinct for crime," said Walter eagerly. "And-er-that of-er-"

"Mine?" Sethos's brows rose. "You forget, Walter, that I have investigated fewer crimes than I have committed. However, I have no intention of leaving you without my protection."

Emerson growled.

SELIM CONTINUED TO IMPROVE. He was able to sit up for short periods and his appet.i.te was good-though no one, not even Daoud, could have consumed all the food Fatima tried to force on him. He ought to have been a pathetic sight, encased in sticking plaster, with a miniature turban of bandages covering his shaven head; however, his cherished beard had been left intact, and that seemed to cheer him a great deal. At first his speech was a trifle slurred, but that did not prevent him from asking innumerable questions, most of them about the motorcar.

"It was not your fault," said Emerson, who had been allowed to visit Selim for a few minutes. "Someone deliberately loosened the bolts on the front wheel. As soon as you are fit, we will repair it. By that time we will have found the man responsible."

"Daoud is looking after your family," I added, "and so are we all. You are not to worry about anything except getting well."

"The excavations," Selim said. "You must not allow-"

"Don't worry about that either," Emerson said. "We will carry on as best we can until you are back on the job."

Knowing how trying it would be for a man of Selim's energy to remain quiet, I arranged a schedule of entertainment. In my opinion Emerson was not a soothing companion for a sick man, but Ramses and Bertie came by every day to report on the excavations, and Sennia and Evelyn read to him. I knew he was on the road to recovery when he gravely asked Evelyn to read from a manual on the maintenance and repair of motorcars.

Never suppose, Reader, that my attentions to our friend had kept me from other duties. Unfortunately and infuriatingly, the most imperative of those duties took very little of my time. Emerson brooded morbidly over the wreckage of the motorcar, which had been transported to the stableyard. Even he admitted there was nothing more to be learned from it. Daoud instigated another, more intensive search for Maryam's first attacker, and dragged several quaking strangers to the house to confront Maryam and Ramses. Neither was able to make an identification.

To say that we were watchful and wary is to understate the case. Fatima went through both houses several times a day brandishing a broom, on the lookout for venomous creatures. Kadija and two of her daughters took up permanent residence, sitting with Selim and keeping the children under close surveillance. I refused to allow Emerson to go alone to the dig, which provoked him into furious protests-though he insisted I follow the same precaution. The inevitable result was that everyone became twitchy and irritable, especially the children.

We got on with packing the artifacts. As Emerson continued to point out, with increasing acrimony and inventive swear words, Lacau would d.a.m.n well have to sit and wait until we finished the job, but I had reasons of my own for wanting it completed before he got there. One of them-I feel no shame in admitting it-was that I had no intention of mentioning the stolen jewelry, or of allowing the others to do so. Lacau was unlikely to demand that the carefully packed cases be opened. He would have his lists and his inventory, and would doubtless go over them painstakingly when he unpacked the cases in the Museum. If at that time he realized several pieces were missing . . . sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, as Scripture so wisely reminds us. We would confess if we had to, but not until we had to-and there was still a chance, however unlikely, that we might yet find the thief and murderer. In fact, as Emerson would have expressed it, we had b.l.o.o.d.y well better find him, before he decided to strike again.

At least the packing process kept us occupied. Everyone pitched in with a will, including Maryam. She had a delicate touch, and demonstrated a genuine interest in the precious things.

"You can help me with this, if you will," I said, indicating a painted chest. "I really do not know what we are going to do about packing materials. I have used up all the fabric and most of the cotton wool, and even so I fear the garments in this chest will shatter when it is moved."

"What does the writing say?"

"It is a list of the contents-gloves, sandals, two robes, and a few other articles. Ramses has already copied and translated it. He reads hieratic as easily as he does English."

"I would like to learn more, so that I can help with your work. Perhaps he would give me a lesson?"

"If you are truly interested, we can arrange for you to study the subject." I added, with a laugh, "Though it will take more than a few lessons. You have already been very useful, Maryam. I have been meaning to thank you for your help with the children."

"I want to be useful. And I love being with the children." The next words were so soft I had to strain to hear them. "I am very happy here. I will be sorry to go."

"That won't be for a while. We must have you here for Christmas, at least."

"And afterward? I know it is a great deal to ask. But . . . could I stay with you for a while? You have all been so good to me, and I think I could be useful-with the children, even on the dig, if you will teach me."

It was not only that she was happy with us; she was still uncomfortable with him. I had wondered what on earth he meant to do with her. He traveled a great deal, and so did Margaret. They had no permanent establishment where she could receive the attention she needed. And how in heaven's name would Margaret respond to the role of stepmother? Not well, if I knew Margaret.