"I am not as frivolous as my recent conduct may have led you to believe," Enid said with a wry smile. ' 'I took it for granted that boots and short skirts would be useful for exploring ruins and descending into tombs. And indeed they were, though not in the sense I had expected. When I woke from my sleep or swoon that awful morning, my first thought was to get away. I knew what people were saying; I knew what the police would believe if I were found with the dead body of my supposed lover. To make matters worse, we had quarreled the evening before, and several of the hotel employees could have testified to the fact."

I had intended to inquire into the details of Enid's flight at another time. Here she was confiding in me voluntarily, without the firm interrogation I had thought might be necessary. The moment was not the one I would have chosen, but I feared I would lose her confidence if I put her off; so I settled myself, with a degree of interest the Reader may well imagine, to hear her story.

She continued in an abstracted tone, as if she were speaking to herself and exorcizing the anxiety of that dreadful experience by reliving it in memory. "I find it hard to believe I could have acted so quickly and coolly. Shock, I am told, does sometimes have that effect. I dressed myself, selecting a costume suited to the physical hardships I expected I would have to endure. It had the additional advantage of being one I had not worn before, so it would not be recognized. I left the room by means of the balcony outside my window, descending a stout vine that had twined up the wall. A few tourists had a.s.sembled before the hotel, though it was scarcely daybreak. Hiring a carriage, I asked to be taken to Mena House, for some of the others were going to Giza. By the time I reached the hotel, the reaction had set in; I was sick and trembling and had no idea what to do next. I knew I could not remain undiscovered for long, since an unaccompanied woman would provoke questions and-and worse. scarcely daybreak. Hiring a carriage, I asked to be taken to Mena House, for some of the others were going to Giza. By the time I reached the hotel, the reaction had set in; I was sick and trembling and had no idea what to do next. I knew I could not remain undiscovered for long, since an unaccompanied woman would provoke questions and-and worse.

"I was having breakfast in the dining room when a gentleman asked if I was one of the archaeologists working in the area. That gave me the idea, and also reminded me of your letter. I had no one else to turn to, and I determined to make my way to you. It was a council of desperation-"

"Not at all. It was a sensible decision. But how did you remain undiscovered that night and throughout the following day?"

"It was not easy. For, as you know, the archaeological sites are infested with guides, beggars, and the like, who follow one like a cloud of flies. I finally realized that the only persons who pa.s.s unnoticed are Arab women of the poorest cla.s.s. I purchased a robe from one of them, a.s.sumed it in the privacy of an unoccupied tomb, and began walking. No one paid the least attention to me, and I spent the night huddled in a cleft in the rock somewhere between here and Sakkara. I cannot say I slept well.... When I reached here the next afternoon, I was on the verge of collapse. I had only strength enough to remove my disguise and conceal it, with the few small articles I had brought away with me, before I made myself known to you and the professor."

"Well," I said judiciously, "allow me to say, Enid, that you displayed a tenacity and inventiveness that do you credit. I take it that the coat to your bicycling dress was among the objects you hid?"

"Yes. The notion of disguising myself as a lady archaeologist was still in my mind; when, from concealment, I saw you talking with the professor, I tried to adjust my dress to match yours. You were not wearing your coat, so I removed mine. I had decided to attempt to deceive you as well-"

"You need not apologize, my dear. I would have done the same. I had better retrieve your belongings for you. Can you describe the place where you hid them?"

She did so, with such accuracy that I felt sure I could find the place. "I meant to get them last night," she went on. "But when I looked out the flap of the tent, the desert was so cold and eerie ... And I heard strange noises, Amelia-soft cries and moans-"

"Jackals, Enid. Jackals. However," I added thoughtfully, "you must promise me you will not leave your tent at night, whatever you may hear."

When I left her, I took with me the skirt of her bicycling costume, explaining that I would have it cleaned and brushed. Emerson was still doggedly drawing plans. There was a great spatter of ink on the wall, so I deduced he had encountered a stumbling block and had got over it, as he often did, by hurling his pen across the room.

I said encouragingly, "Persevere, Emerson; persevere, my dear." Then I went up the stairs to the roof.

Behind the shelter of the screen I changed into Enid's divided skirt, and removed my belt. It cost me a pang to leave it and its useful tools behind, and to abandon my parasol; but I knew I could never be mistaken for another while I had them. After I had put on tinted spectacles and fastened a pith helmet on my head, I had done all I could to complete the resemblance. Rather than pa.s.s through the parlor and prompt questions from Emerson, I descended from the roof by means of the holes and crevices in the wall.

Though the sun was sinking, the village yet drowsed in the somnolence of the afternoon nap. I crossed my arms casually across my chest-the dimensions of that region being the most obvious difference between Enid's figure and mine-and emulated her slower, swaying walk.

I had not gone a hundred yards from the compound before I felt eyes upon me. Nothing moved on the broken expanse of the desert slope ahead; no living creature could be seen, save the eternal vultures swinging in slow graceful circles down the sky. Yet I knew I was being observed-knew it with the certain instinct described so well by Mr. Haggard and other writers of fiction. It is a sense developed by those who are often the object of pursuit by enemies; and certainly no one had been pursued more often than I.

I went on at a steady pace, but the hairs at the back of my neck were bristling. (Emerson would probably have claimed the sensation was produced by perspiration, and I admit that the pith helmet was cursed hot. However, Emerson would have been mistaken.) The sensation of steady, watching eyes increased until I could bear the suspense no longer. I spun round.

The cat Bastet sat down and returned my look with one of amiable interest.

"What are you doing here?" I inquired.

Naturally she did not reply. I continued, "Return to the house at once, if you please." She continued to stare at me, so I repeated the request in Arabic, whereupon the cat rose in a leisurely fashion, applied her hind foot to her ear, and walked away.

The p.r.i.c.kling at the back of my neck did not lessen as I went forward. Though I raked the landscape with keen eyes, turning from time to time to look behind me, I saw no living form. Bastet had abandoned her pursuit; it had not been her eyes I felt fixed upon me. As I had told Emerson, I felt certain that Sethos had kept and did keep us under constant observation. That he would strike again I felt certain; that he had selected Enid as the scapegoat for his hideous crime and would endeavor to deliver her to the police-I was equally certain of that. Cheered and encouraged by the confirmation of my suspicions, in the form of that significant p.r.i.c.kling sensation, I proceeded on my way. keen eyes, turning from time to time to look behind me, I saw no living form. Bastet had abandoned her pursuit; it had not been her eyes I felt fixed upon me. As I had told Emerson, I felt certain that Sethos had kept and did keep us under constant observation. That he would strike again I felt certain; that he had selected Enid as the scapegoat for his hideous crime and would endeavor to deliver her to the police-I was equally certain of that. Cheered and encouraged by the confirmation of my suspicions, in the form of that significant p.r.i.c.kling sensation, I proceeded on my way.

It was not difficult to find the place where Enid had concealed her belongings. She had not buried them deep, and in fact a fold of black fabric protruded from the sand like a sable banner.

I dug up the parcel, glancing furtively round as I thought Enid might do under those circ.u.mstances, and hoping the a.s.sailant I expected would make his move without delay. There were many places nearby where such a person might be concealed, for, as I believe I have mentioned, the rocky plateau was marked by innumerable ridges and crevices.

Nothing happened, however. Continuing my role, I gathered the bundle in my arms and returned with it to Enid's tent, where I could examine it at leisure.

The worn black tob tob and and burko burko (face veil) were of the poorest quality, and sadly worn-worn often and continuously, to judge by the odor that pervaded them. They would have to be washed-boiled, in fact-before they could be worn again, but I put the garments aside. One never knows when a disguise may be useful. (face veil) were of the poorest quality, and sadly worn-worn often and continuously, to judge by the odor that pervaded them. They would have to be washed-boiled, in fact-before they could be worn again, but I put the garments aside. One never knows when a disguise may be useful.

The robe had been wrapped around a small handbag within which was a pitiful collection of odds and ends, obviously s.n.a.t.c.hed up at random in the panic of that fearful morning. A little box of pearl powder and a pot of lip paint, an ivory-handled brush and a dainty handkerchief were objects she might have had already in the bag. Crammed on top were a few pieces of jewelry, including a gold watch and a locket of the same precious metal, adorned with pearls. The most interesting item, however, was a large roll of banknotes. The total came to over five hundred pounds. fearful morning. A little box of pearl powder and a pot of lip paint, an ivory-handled brush and a dainty handkerchief were objects she might have had already in the bag. Crammed on top were a few pieces of jewelry, including a gold watch and a locket of the same precious metal, adorned with pearls. The most interesting item, however, was a large roll of banknotes. The total came to over five hundred pounds.

The girl had been described as an heiress, and the names of the couturiers she had mentioned bore out the a.s.sumption that she had ample wealth at her command. Yet this was an astonishing amount for a young woman to carry on her person. Thoughtfully I returned the money and the watch to the bag. There were unplumbed depths in that young person; they might or might not have bearing on her present dilemma, but I was determined to know the facts so that I might decide for myself. To that end I permitted myself another violation of propriety. I opened the locket.

It was with a sense of inevitability that I saw a familiar face enshrined there. The frame of the locket cut off the lower part of the chin, and the color of the hair was reduced to sober gray. I knew the color, though, as I knew the features.

Was the photograph that of Nemo or of the other man who so nearly resembled him? Was one, or both, Enid's cousin Ronald? And if one was Ronald, which one? And which, if either, was Sethos?

I confess that for a moment my thoughts were in a whirl. But was I distracted from my purpose by this startling development? Never believe it, Reader! I hung the locket round my neck. I shook out Enid's coat, which had been wrapped around the bag. It was quite snug across my chest-in fact, the b.u.t.tons would not fasten. That was all to the good, however, for I wanted the locket to be seen. fasten. That was all to the good, however, for I wanted the locket to be seen.

Settling myself atop a promontory some distance from the tents, I prepared to wait. I had no a.s.surance that anything interesting would occur that day, but sooner or later my efforts must bear fruit. Nothing escaped the notice of that unknown genius of crime; he must know of Enid's presence at Dahshoor. He would not have been deceived by her masquerade any more than I had been. All things come to him who waits, as the saying goes, and I did not doubt that a.s.sault and/or abduction would come to me.

I felt horridly undressed without my belt and my parasol. However, the pressure of my pistol, in the pocket of the trousers, was rea.s.suring, if uncomfortable. Once I thought I saw something move, behind a rock some distance away, and with hope rising high in my heart, I deliberately turned my back. But no one came.

I was not bored. An active mind can never be bored, and I had a great deal to think about. In between musing on the possible location of my pyramid's entrance and my plans for washing Nemo's robe (and Nemo) that evening, I considered means of keeping Enid safe that night. I was forced to admit that my initial plan, of having Enid sleep in a tent near our own, was unsatisfactory. I had neglected to consider the fact that my marital obligation (which is also, let me hasten to add, my pleasure) would distract me to such an extent that I would be unable to hear, much less prevent, an attack on the girl's person should such occur. At last I concluded that it would be better for Enid to remain at the house that night. Proper chaperonage, though important, had to yield in this case to more vital matters, such as Enid's survival and Emerson's and my conjugal felicity.

As the sun sank lower in the west, the changes of light along the sloping sides of the pyramid produced fascinating aesthetic alterations, and I found myself musing about the long-dead monarch whose mummified remains had once rested in the now desolate burial chamber. With what pomp and circ.u.mstance had he been carried to his tomb; with what glitter of gold and glow of precious stones had his petrified form been adorned! A natural progression of ideas led me to recall another Pharaoh-the one whose name had been taken by the terrible man whose emissaries I awaited even now. The tomb of the great Sethos, Pharaoh of Egypt, lay far to the south in the Valley of the Kings at Thebes. It had been discovered in 1817 and it was still among the leading attractions of the area. The magnificent carvings and paintings of that most splendid of all royal tombs suggest that Sethos' funerary equipment must have excelled all others; yet alas for human vanity! Thousands of years ago, the monarch had been robbed of his treasures and his mortal remains had been ignominiously thrust into a humble hole in the cliffs, with others of his peers, to save them from destruction. The cache of royal mummies had been found a few years before, and the remains now rested in Cairo, where I had seen them. Sethos' withered features still retained the stamp of royalty and the pride of race. In his day he was a leader of men and a remarkably handsome individual-like his son Ramses, a lion in a valley of goats. I wondered if the modern-day Sethos had ever contemplated the shrunken yet n.o.ble features of his ancient namesake. Was it that mummy that had prompted him to select his nom de guerre? Not too fanciful an idea for a man who had already demonstrated a poetic imagination and considerable intellectual ability. I felt a certain unwilling kinship for him, for I have the same qualities myself.

The lengthening shadows reminded me that the afternoon was almost spent and that Emerson would be wanting his tea. I decided to wait five more minutes, and shifted my position so that I faced the northeast. I could see the green of the cultivated fields and the trees that half-concealed the minaret of the village mosque. A haze of smoke from the cooking fires hung over the town like a gray mist.

A rumbling crash behind me brought me to my feet. Turning, I saw a cloud of dust and sand rise from the base of the small pyramid. Apparently our excavations that afternoon had weakened the crumbling stone, and part of the north face had given way.

Mercifully it had not happened when our men were working underneath. That was my first thought. My next reaction was one of excitement. Surely there was something visible on the northern face that I had not seen before-a square of shadow too regular to be anything but man-made. Had the fortuitous accident disclosed the hidden entrance?

Forgetting detectival duties and marital responsibilities, I started eagerly down the slope. In the surge of archaeological fever I had forgotten my reason for being there. A herd of antelope could have swept down upon me without my noticing them.

The person who attacked me made far less noise. I was unaware of his presence until an arm, sinewy as braided leather, lifted me off my feet. A folded cloth, reeking of an odor that set my senses reeling, was pressed to my face. I fought to extract my pistol from my pocket. I could feel it against my body, but I could not reach the cursed thing. The voluminous size of the trousers defeated the attempt. However, Amelia P. Emerson does not cease struggling until comatose, and I continued to fumble through endless folds of brown velvet, though my eyes were dimming and my fingers were numb.

Eight.

Suddenly there was a violent upheaval. I found myself on hands and knees, staring dizzily at what seemed to be twenty or thirty feet dancing briskly around me. A few inhalations of blessed ozone cleared my brain; the feet reduced themselves to four.

When I had gained strength enough to sit up, the combatants were locked in a close embrace. In their flowing robes they looked absurdly like two ladies performing a polite social ritual. Only the looks of agonized strain on their faces betrayed the ferocity of the struggle. One of them was Nemo. His turban had been displaced, and his bare head blazed in the rays of the setting sun. The other was a man I had never seen before. The darkness of his complexion suggested that he was a native of southern Egypt.

In a frantic flurry of fabric the men broke apart. Neither held a weapon. The hand of the Egyptian moved in a bewildering blur of motion. Nemo grunted and staggered back, his hands pressed to his midsection. It was a foul blow; but my defender was not daunted. Recovering, he knocked his opponent down with a shrewd uppercut to the jaw, and fell upon him. in a bewildering blur of motion. Nemo grunted and staggered back, his hands pressed to his midsection. It was a foul blow; but my defender was not daunted. Recovering, he knocked his opponent down with a shrewd uppercut to the jaw, and fell upon him.

The struggle was horrible to behold. I can only excuse my delay in halting it by pointing out that the fumes of the drug still clouded my mind, and that I was still trying to find my pocket. By the time I did so, Nemo was definitely in need of a.s.sistance. His a.s.sailant had both hands around his throat, and his face was turning black.

In my excitement I forgot myself, and shouted a phrase I had learned from an American friend: "Hands up, you varmint!" I doubt that the miscreant understood, but the tone of my voice was vehement enough to attract his attention, and when he glanced at me the sight of the pistol I held had the desired effect.

Slowly he rose from Nemo's prostrate form. The fury of battle had faded from his face, to be replaced by a look of quiet resignation, as lacking in character as a mummy's papier-mache mask. There was nothing distinctive about his features or his faded cotton robe; they were similar to those of thousands of his fellow countrymen.

Nemo rolled over and staggered to his feet. He was panting heavily, in contrast to his opponent, whose breast was as still as that of a man in prayer. White patches which would shortly be bruises marked Nemo's face, and a bright stain on his torn sleeve told me the violence of the struggle had reopened his wound. He edged toward me, circling to keep out of the line of fire. "Splendid, Mrs. E., splendid," he gasped. "Why don't you give me the pistol now?"

"And risk this fellow escaping while we made the exchange? No, Mr. Nemo. You may question my willingness to fire at a fellow human being-and my ability to hit him if I did-but I'll wager he has no doubts. You know me now, don't you, my friend? You made a mistake. I am not the lady you took me for, but the Sitt Hakim, wife to the great magician Emerson, Father of Curses, and no less dangerous to evildoers than Emerson himself. My eye is as keen as those of the vultures overhead, and like them I lie in wait for criminals." exchange? No, Mr. Nemo. You may question my willingness to fire at a fellow human being-and my ability to hit him if I did-but I'll wager he has no doubts. You know me now, don't you, my friend? You made a mistake. I am not the lady you took me for, but the Sitt Hakim, wife to the great magician Emerson, Father of Curses, and no less dangerous to evildoers than Emerson himself. My eye is as keen as those of the vultures overhead, and like them I lie in wait for criminals."

I had, of course, addressed the man in Arabic. It is a language that lends itself to vainglorious self-applause, which is indeed a style Egyptians rather admire. The little speech had its effect. In the same tongue the man said softly, "I know you, sitt."

"Then you know I would not hesitate to use this weapon-not to kill, but only to wound. I want you to live, my friend-to live and talk to us." Unable to control my excitement any longer, I added in English, "Good Gad, Nemo, do you realize who this man is? He is the first of the Master Criminal's a.s.sociates I have managed to capture. Through him we may reach his dread master. Do you approach him-carefully, if you please-and bind his arms with your turban. Are you too badly injured to do that?"

"No, of course not," Nemo said.

The man raised his hand. There was such dignity in the gesture that Nemo halted. The Egyptian said quietly, "I have failed my master. There is only one fate for those who fail him; but I feel no shame at losing to the Sitt Hakim, who is not a mere woman, but one who has the heart of a man, as I was told. I salute you, sitt." And he moved his hand from breast to brow to lips, in the respectful gesture of his people.

I was about to respond to this graceful compliment when a dreadful change came over the man's face. His lips drew back in a hideous grin; his eyes rolled up until only the blank white of the eyeb.a.l.l.s showed. His hands flew to his throat. He fell over backward and lay still. lips drew back in a hideous grin; his eyes rolled up until only the blank white of the eyeb.a.l.l.s showed. His hands flew to his throat. He fell over backward and lay still.

Nemo rushed to him. "It's no use," I said, lowering my pistol. "He was dead before he struck the ground. Prussic acid, I suspect."

"You are right. There is a distinct odor of bitter almonds." Nemo straightened, white to the lips. "What sort of people are these? He took the poison rather than..."

"Allow himself to be questioned. Curse it! I should have taken steps to bind his hands immediately. Well, I will know better next time."

"Next time?" Nemo raised a trembling hand to his brow. His sleeve was drenched with blood and I said, recalling myself from my chagrin, "You are not yourself, Mr. Nemo. Loss of blood has weakened you, and we must tend to your injuries without delay."

Dazed and shaken, Nemo allowed me to bind his arm with a strip torn from the hem of his robe. "That will stop the bleeding," I said. "But the wound requires to be cleaned and bandaged. Let us return to the house at once."

"What about-" Nemo gestured.

I looked at the dead man. His empty eyes seemed to stare intently at the darkening vault of heaven. Already the vultures were gathering.

"Turn him over," I said brusquely.

Nemo glanced from me to the birds circling overhead. Silently he did as I asked.

When we got back, the gates were open and Abdullah was standing outside. "Sitt," he began, as soon as we were within hearing range, "Emerson has been asking-" were within hearing range, "Emerson has been asking-"

"So I imagine." I could hear Emerson rampaging around the house, yelling my name. I had nurtured the fond hope he might still be absorbed in his work; but now there was nothing for it but to admit at least part of the truth.

"There has been an accident," I explained to Abdullah, who was staring at Nemo's b.l.o.o.d.y sleeve. "Please take Ali or Ha.s.san and go at once to the ridge behind the tents. You will find a dead body there. Carry it here."

Abdullah clapped his hand to his brow. "Not a dead man, sitt. Not another dead man..." A flicker of reviving hope returned to his stricken face. "Is it a mummy you mean, sitt? An old old dead man?" dead man?"

"I am afraid this one is rather fresh," I admitted. "You had better fashion a litter or something of that sort with which to carry him. Get on with it, if you please; I cannot stand here fahddling fahddling with you, can't you see Mr. Nemo needs medical attention?" with you, can't you see Mr. Nemo needs medical attention?"

Abdullah staggered off, wringing his hands and muttering. A few words were intelligible: "Another dead body. Every year it is the same. Every year, another dead body..."

"Am I to understand you make it a habit to discover dead bodies?" Nemo asked.

I drew him toward the house. "Certainly not, Mr. Nemo. I don't look for such things; they come upon me, so to speak. Now let me do the talking, if you will. Emerson is not going to like this."

Before we reached the door, Emerson came bursting out. He stopped short at the sight of us. The blood rushed to his face. "Not again!" he shouted. "I warned you, Amelia-"

"Sssh." I put my finger to my lips. "There is no need to make such a fuss, Emerson. You will alarm-"

"A fuss? A fuss?" Emerson's voice rose to a pitch I had seldom heard, even from him. "What the devil have you been up to? You disappear for hours and then return disheveled and sandy, accompanied by a b.l.o.o.d.y-"

"Emerson! Language!"

"The adjective was meant literally," Emerson explained. "Mr. Nemo, am I to understand that once again I have to thank you for saving a member of my immediate family from doom and destruction?"

"It will all be explained to you, Emerson," I said soothingly. "Mr. Nemo does indeed deserve your thanks, and the first expression of our grat.i.tude ought to be the tending of the wounds he courageously incurred in our service. Will you be so good as to fetch my medical equipment? I believe I will operate in the open air, where the light is better, and he won't drip blood on my carpets."

Silently, ominously, Emerson did as he was asked, and I led Nemo to the back of the house, where I had set up a primitive but efficient area of ablution. It was even possible to bathe behind a modest arrangement of woven screens, for a ditch served as a drain to carry off the water. Emerson and Ramses did so daily, Emerson of his own free will, Ramses because he was made to; but since the exercise involved having a servant pour jars of water over one from above, I did not consider it suitable for me to emulate them.

When Emerson joined me, I had persuaded Nemo to remove his tattered robe. It was beyond repair, and I directed one of the men, who had gathered round, to fetch one of his, promising, of course, to replace it. Under his robe Nemo wore the usual cotton drawers, reaching to his knees and tied around the waist with a drawstring. The bright flush of embarra.s.sment that suffused even his bare breast a.s.sured me he had not lost as much blood as I feared.

I hastened to set him at ease. "I a.s.sure you, Mr. Nemo, bare skin is no novelty to me. I have tended many wounds and seen many naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s-and yours is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, your pectoral development is quite admirable."

A growling sound reminded me of the presence of my irate spouse, and I hastened to add, "Though not as admirable as Emerson's. Now, Emerson, as I work I will inform you of the latest occurrence-''

But that offer had to be delayed. Through the ring of interested onlookers burst a slight form, wild-eyed and agitated. Nemo made a violent movement as if to turn, but stopped himself.

For a moment they confronted one another in a silence fraught with emotion, their faces matching one another's in snowy pallor. Enid raised a delicate hand to her throat. "You," she choked. "You ..."

I said sharply, "Do not for a moment entertain any notion of fainting, Enid. I cannot attend to both of you."

"Fainting?" The hot color rushed back into her face. She darted forward. She raised her hand-and struck Nemo full across the face! "You b.l.o.o.d.y idiot!" she cried.

Even I was taken aback. Such behavior and such improper language from a young lady left me momentarily incapable of speech. It was my dear Emerson who rose to the occasion as only he can. Enid turned and ran, her hands over her face. The men gave way before her, but not Emerson; his mighty arm swept out and wound round her waist, lifting her clean off her feet. As she hung in his grasp, kicking and-I regret to say-swearing, he remarked calmly, "This has gone far enough. I have resigned myself to being the p.a.w.n of those vast impersonal powers who guide the destinies of humanity; but I am cursed if I will submit to being manipulated by mere mortals, and kept in ignorance even by that individual whom I had believed united to me by the strongest bonds of faith and affection, not to mention trust." not Emerson; his mighty arm swept out and wound round her waist, lifting her clean off her feet. As she hung in his grasp, kicking and-I regret to say-swearing, he remarked calmly, "This has gone far enough. I have resigned myself to being the p.a.w.n of those vast impersonal powers who guide the destinies of humanity; but I am cursed if I will submit to being manipulated by mere mortals, and kept in ignorance even by that individual whom I had believed united to me by the strongest bonds of faith and affection, not to mention trust."

The eloquence of his speech-aye, and the justice of his complaint-brought an unaccustomed flush to my cheeks. Before I could respond, Emerson went on in a less literary vein. "Sit down," he bellowed. "You too, young lady-" And he deposited Enid onto the nearest stool with a thump that made two combs and a number of hairpins fly into the air. "No one is moving from this spot until I have received a full account of this astonishing affair."

"You are quite right, Emerson," I murmured. "And I will sit down-I really will-the instant I have finished washing-"

"You can wash him just as easily in a sitting position," thundered Emerson.

I sat.

Appeased by this gesture of compliance, Emerson lowered his voice to a fairly endurable level. "Pray confine your attentions to the young man's injury, Amelia. If the rest of him requires washing, he can do it himself."

"Oh, quite, Emerson. I was only-"

"Enough, Amelia." Emerson folded his arms and surveyed us with a masterful air. The men had collapsed onto the ground at the instant of his command, and now formed a fascinated audience, mouths ajar and eyes wide. Enid clutched the sides of the stool with both hands, as if she were expecting to be plucked off it; Nemo sat with bowed head, the mark of the girl's fingers printed crimson on his cheek. formed a fascinated audience, mouths ajar and eyes wide. Enid clutched the sides of the stool with both hands, as if she were expecting to be plucked off it; Nemo sat with bowed head, the mark of the girl's fingers printed crimson on his cheek.

"Ha," said Emerson, with satisfaction. "That is better. Now, young lady, you had better begin. I address you in that manner since I am certain your name is not Marshall."

I could not but admire my husband's cleverness; for his statement was admirably composed so as not to give away the fact that-as I firmly believed, and believe to this day-he was still ignorant of her true ident.i.ty. Only the briefest flicker of his lashes betrayed his surprise when she admitted who she was, and repeated the narrative she had told me.

"Most interesting," said Emerson. "Of course I recognized you immediately, Miss Debenham. I was merely-er-biding my time before challenging you."

He fixed his stern gaze on me, where I sat next to Mr. Nemo. I started to speak, but thought better of it.

"Ha," Emerson said again. "However, Miss Debenham, you have omitted something from your most interesting story. You have, in fact, omitted everything of importance. I a.s.sume you are intimately acquainted with Mr. Nemo here, or you would not have addressed him so informally. Who is he? What is your relationship?"