"I will discuss it with your father," I promised, though I felt like an overburdened donkey who has just had another sack of grain added to his load. "Perhaps something can be worked out."

FROM Ma.n.u.sCRIPT H.

Ramses was sitting with Selim reading from the motorcar manual (his aunt Evelyn having admitted defeat) when the door opened and Sethos put his head in. "Are visitors allowed?"

It was the first time he had seen Selim since the accident. Selim's black eyes brightened and his hand went to his beard. It was certainly more impressive than that of Sethos, though the latter's was coming along nicely. His face was almost back to normal except for a few faded bruises.

"Yes, come," Selim said eagerly. "You are still here!"

Leaning against the doorframe, a picture of sartorial elegance in well-cut tweeds, Sethos gave him a friendly grin. "You didn't suppose I would abandon the family at a time like this? With you out of commission, they need all the help they can get."

"That is true," said Selim, starting to nod and then remembering he wasn't supposed to.

"Thank you both for your confidence," said Ramses.

"You are too honorable," Selim explained. "He is not."

Sethos threw his head back and shouted with laughter. "Right on the mark, Selim. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Tell me about the aeroplane," Selim said eagerly.

"Another time. Fatima said I wasn't to stay. She's bringing your dinner."

Selim groaned. "She brings me food, Rabia and Taghrid bring me food, Kadija brings me food. Soon I will be fat."

"So what are you after, really?" Ramses asked, as they strolled along the path toward the main house. "Visiting the sick isn't your style."

"How cynical. I like Selim." Sethos paused to sniff at a pink rose. "You're right, though. It was you I was after. Would you care to join me in a visit to the gay and glamorous night life of Luxor? Lovely spot, this," he added, gazing sentimentally at a vine covered with blue flowers. "Perhaps when I retire I'll settle down in Luxor. The whole family together, eh?"

Ramses refused the bait. "Why?"

"To pa.s.s my declining years in the company of my nearest and dearest. Oh-you mean why go to Luxor. I think I may be on to something."

He refused to elaborate, claiming that he wanted an independent judgment. His announcement of their intentions was met with raised eyebrows, but without comment, at least not at dinner. When Ramses went to change, Nefret went with him.

"What is this about?" she asked.

"He says he's on to something."

She watched curiously as he selected the suit he intended to wear. "Black tie? Where are you going?"

"He wouldn't say."

"Someplace respectable, at least," Nefret said, "That's a relief. Are you going to take your knife?"

"It doesn't go with evening kit."

She did not return his smile. "It goes with Uncle Sethos. Please."

THE SO-CALLED NIGHT LIFE of Luxor ranged from the repellent to the respectable. The cafes and drinking establishments that catered to tourists were located along the corniche; a few were relatively harmless, but evening clothes would have been glaringly out of place in any of them. The hotels, especially those of the top category, were the centers of social activity for upper-cla.s.s visitors and residents. The tourist steamers and dahabeeyahs drawn up along the bank formed a narrow floating residential street. Lights shone from the decks and saloons.

Their first stop was the Winter Palace, where Sethos was obviously known and welcome. He was choosy about which table to select, and when the waiter hurried up to take their order he said, "Nothing tonight, Habib. But there will be baksheesh for you if you tell the Brother of Demons what you told me."

"About the Italian gentleman and the lady?" Habib asked, with a nod of greeting for Ramses. He extended a thin brown hand.

They visited two other hotels, the Savoy and the Tewfikieh, on the road to Karnak, and got the same story, though not the same description of the "lady." At the latter establishment, which claimed the optimistic designation of "Grand-Hotel," Sethos ordered whiskey and invited Ramses's comments.

"One t.i.tian-haired, one dark, one fair," Ramses said. A breeze rustled the leaves of the arbor over their heads. "Martinelli was quite a ladies' man."

"Come now," said Sethos, with a grin.

"The same woman?"

"He acquired female acquaintances in other places. I've already eliminated them, and a d.a.m.ned tedious ch.o.r.e it was. This one was different. A lady, well-dressed, quiet and very retiring. Except for the hair, the descriptions were the same. Approximately five feet three inches, shapely figure, young."

"None of the waiters recognized her?"

"They all claim they had never set eyes on her before. But I think you have."

"Hathor?" Ramses thought it over. "The description fits, such as it is."

"It must be the same woman. This is the connection between two seemingly unrelated parts of the pattern, and it explains how Martinelli was lured to his death. He'd follow a woman anywhere."

Ramses ran his fingers through his hair. It was late, and he was tired, but several other pieces of the pattern were falling into place. "So he 'borrowed' the jewelry in order to impress her. Offered it to her, perhaps, in exchange for favors she had withheld. He had no intention of paying so high a price, though. It would have meant the end of his lucrative job with Cyrus, and the police on his trail. What a dirty little swine he was."

Sethos lifted his gla.s.s and set it down again, making a pattern of interlocking rings on the table. "A moralist would say he got what he deserved. She agreed to sell her favors, with no more intention of carrying out her share of the bargain than he, and he went panting after her, too blinded by l.u.s.t to wonder why she was leading him into a remote part of Luxor; and in a dark, verminous alley his doom awaited him, as Amelia might put it. He was probably dead before he knew what had happened."

"They bundled him up and tossed him over a donkey and carried him out into the desert." Ramses continued the story. "They took the jewelry, and everything else that might have identified him, and left him for the jackals."

"It was as easy as taking candy from a child," Sethos said, bland and unmoved. He sounded almost admiring. "Brilliantly planned, really. One had only to look at the poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d to know he had had no success with the sort of woman he wanted. No woman of taste would have touched him with a barge pole. He was ripe for the plucking, and she plucked him like a goose."

"Why? If it's the princesses' treasure she's after . . ." He wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. "Could that be it?"

"Why ask me? I'm a reformed character," said his uncle virtuously. "If I were after it-and don't give me that fishy stare, I'm not-I wouldn't go about it in such a disorganized fashion. I certainly wouldn't arrange a series of haphazard attacks; they've only succeeded in putting you on the qui vive. No. What I'd do is bide my time, lull you into a sense of false security, and then strike. I could break into that locked room in sixty seconds, and with a dozen well-trained villains helping me, clear out everything that's portable and be away from Luxor before morning."

"I'll bet you could, at that," Ramses muttered.

"It would be an attractive challenge," Sethos mused. He leaned back and lit a cigarette. His face took on a dreamy expression. "Transport arranged in advance . . . ready admission to the Castle for a trusted friend . . . servants asleep in their wing of the house . . . Cyrus gently escorted back to his room and locked in, with his wife . . ."

He sighed regretfully and blew out a wobbly smoke ring.

"It must be quite a temptation," Ramses said, with unwilling amus.e.m.e.nt. His uncle's expression was that of a man remembering a particularly successful romantic interlude. "How you must miss the good old days, before Mother reformed you. Or has she?"

"Mmmm." Sethos put out his cigarette and leaned forward, elbows on the table, no longer smiling. "Believe this, if you can. I swore to her I would never interfere with their work again. That goes for Cyrus too. I don't steal from my friends."

"Does that mean-"

"We had better go. Your wife will be sending out search parties."

His evasive response roused certain dire suspicions. It wasn't the first time they had entered Ramses's mind. What had Sethos been doing in Jerusalem when he was supposed to be in Constantinople? Since the war the former battlegrounds had been in turmoil, and the preservation of antiquities was undoubtedly low on the list of the occupying powers. It was a perfect opportunity for a picker-up of unconsidered trifles, and Sethos was an expert picker-upper.

There's nothing I can do about it, Ramses told himself, even if it's true. And I can't prove it is.

The colored lanterns began to go out as they left the hotel and started back along the road above the embankment. Ramses loosened his tie. "So if it isn't the treasure, it's something else she wants. Was Martinelli's death part of the plan?"

"He had made a few enemies," Sethos said noncommittally.

"While he was working for you?"

"Then, and when he was working for other people. Given his weakness for women, it isn't impossible that he-er-offended one of them. Tracking him down would be easy. Everyone in Luxor knew he was working for Cyrus." His uncle was a shadow beside him. They pa.s.sed the Savoy and the Hotel de Karnak, now dark except for a few lamps next to the entrances. Bats flapped and swooped between the trees. A long, piercing whistle began and grew louder-the night train from Cairo, several hours late as usual.

It was drowned out by a roar of sound. The black sky to the east reddened and quivered.

"My G.o.d," Ramses gasped. "What was that?"

Sethos's head was raised like that of a pointer sniffing the air. "It's near the railroad station. Come on."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

None of us heard the explosion, which was a good thing, since certain of us might have been worried enough to investigate. When a loud noise is juxtaposed to the absence of Ramses, one naturally a.s.sumes he had something to do with it. As Nefret told me later, he did not return until almost three in the morning. His attempt to undress without waking her did not succeed, and when she lit a lamp the sight of him almost made her drop it. His best evening suit was a complete ruin-torn, smeared with blood and ashes and other unmentionable substances, and his hands were, to quote Nefret, a b.l.o.o.d.y mess. The rest of us did not learn of the matter until breakfast.

"I wasn't hurt and neither was Sethos," Ramses insisted, trying to get a firm grip on his fork. "We were a half mile away when the blast went off. I cut myself up a bit digging people out of the rubble. d.a.m.n it, Nefret, I don't need all these bandages. You always-"

"What happened?" My voice was, perhaps, a trifle loud.

Ramses picked up a sausage in his fingers. "They tried to blow up the train station, just as the express from Cairo was coming in. Mercifully they didn't make a good job of it. The tracks weren't damaged, and only part of the station went up. One man was killed and half a dozen others were injured-all of them Egyptians. The European waiting room and the platform were unscathed."

"They," Emerson said. "Who was responsible?"

Ramses had bit off a chunk of sausage. He shrugged.

"The peasants are revolting," said David. His lips twisted. "The d.a.m.n fools!"

Ramses swallowed. "That is the a.s.sumption. The rioting last spring included similar acts of sabotage."

"d.a.m.nation." Emerson took out his pipe.

"Don't sprinkle tobacco on your eggs, Emerson," I ordered.

"I've finished," said Emerson, sprinkling tobacco on the remains of his breakfast and the surrounding area. "I suppose we can expect a contingent of troops from Cairo. What a b.l.o.o.d.y nuisance. David, perhaps it would be advisable for you to-er-lie low for a while."

David's finely cut lips straightened. "I won't run away, sir. I had nothing to do with this and they can't prove I did."

"The military doesn't need proof," Emerson muttered.

"Yes, by G.o.d, they do," Ramses said vehemently. "David is a British citizen, and some of the biggest guns in the government will vouch for him."

"Including me," said Sethos, posing in the open doorway. "Am I too late for breakfast, Fatima?"

"Can't you ever enter a room without making a theatrical production of it?" I inquired.

"It's a habit," Sethos explained.

"Let me see your hands."

He held them out. "Clean enough?"

"You were digging too," I said, observing the broken nails and sc.r.a.ped knuckles and scorched palms. "Come to the clinic and I will-"

"Well, of course I was digging. Did you expect me to stand idly by while Ramses was being heroic?"

Ramses let out a sound like a softer version of his father's growl. "We were both extremely heroic," Sethos said soothingly. "Don't fuss, Amelia, I applied half a bottle of whiskey-and even a little soap and water." He took a chair next to Maryam and Fatima hurried to set a place for him.

"Are you all right, sir?" Maryam turned a pretty, anxious face toward him.

"Quite. Why are you all getting worked up? This was an isolated incident, and at present the cause is unknown. I telegraphed Cairo to that effect first thing this morning. Unless something else occurs I believe they will be content to leave the investigation in my hands and those of the police."

"I hope so. Candidly," I declared, "at this moment I don't give a curse about riots and insurrections, and the explosion cannot have any bearing on our other problems."

"Problem," Sethos corrected. "There is a common cause, and last night Ramses and I . . . Oh, thank you, Fatima. That looks delicious. Last night we discovered one of the links. Have you told them, Ramses?"

"Haven't had a chance," Ramses said curtly. "Your discovery, anyhow."

I will confess, in the pages of this private journal, that my first reaction to Sethos's account was chagrin. I ought to have thought of it myself. Is not "cherchez la femme" a favorite axiom? Not with me, however, and in a case of presumed strangulation a female does not immediately leap to mind.

"Well done," I conceded. "Though, if I may say so, certain of your conclusions are based on unsubstantiated extrapolation. I do not . . . I beg your pardon, Emerson? Did I hear a reference to pots and kettles?"

"I would never express such a trite aphorism, Peabody."

"Hmm. As I was about to say, I do not see that this gets us much further. We had postulated a gang, had we not?"

"But now we know-" Catching my eye, Ramses amended the statement. "We may reasonably a.s.sume that the appearances of Hathor are not extraneous to the pattern we have been trying to establish. There is a woman involved."

"A young, beautiful woman," Nefret murmured.

"Quite," said Ramses. He snapped off another bit of sausage.

"But what was the purpose of those ridiculous appearances?" I cried in exasperation. "And who the devil is she?"

"A permanent resident of Luxor or a tourist who arrived in Luxor over a month ago," said Sethos.