"I am doing so," said Ramses. "The cat Bastet also appears to appreciate the aesthetic qualities of the view, but I a.s.sure you it does not interfere in the slightest with my ability to join you in-"

"Miss Debenham must have been taken by force," I insisted. "No properly brought-up Englishwoman would run away-" insisted. "No properly brought-up Englishwoman would run away-"

"Her conduct makes it fairly evident that she was not not properly brought up," said Emerson. properly brought up," said Emerson.

I ignored this remark. "She would have remained, chin up and shoulders squared, to face the music. And I feel I am safe in a.s.serting, Emerson, that she would have come to me. She had received my letter; it was found, open, on her dressing table."

"That is a point against the lady," Emerson said stubbornly. "It proves that she did return to her room last night. It places her at the scene of the crime, Peabody, a scene from which she has disappeared. According to the police, she also changed her clothing."

"But they don't know which garments are missing from her wardrobe. She may have been carried off in her night-clothes, Emerson. The horror of it!"

"Along the corridors of the hotel, down the stairs and out into the street?" Emerson laughed disagreeably. "No, Amelia; not even your favorite Master-"

He stopped himself, pressing his lips together and scowling at me.

"Now it comes out," I exclaimed. "I did not want to accuse you unjustly, Emerson, but you force me to be blunt. You are determined to blame poor Miss Debenham for a crime she did not commit because of your unaccountable reluctance to face the truth. How you can be so stubborn, after your own encounters with the man-"

"I warn you, Peabody," Emerson snarled.

"Who attacked us and hara.s.sed us at Mazghunah last year? Who organized the inefficient amateur tomb robbers of Egypt into a great professional conspiracy? Who is a master of disguise, as was proved by his appearance in the role of Father Girgis, priest of the church at Mazghunah? Who, Emerson?" in the role of Father Girgis, priest of the church at Mazghunah? Who, Emerson?"

Emerson, breathing furiously through his nose, did not reply. "The Master Criminal," piped Ramses.

Emerson turned an awful glare upon his son. Unperturbed, Ramses went on, "I share your dislike of that sensational and ambiguous appellation, Papa, but I am forced to agree with Mama that no more appropriate name comes readily to mind. We have good reason to suspect that Prince Kalenischeff had fallen out with his master; his decision to leave Egypt, suddenly and secretly, suggests as much. And I am inclined to agree with Mama's belief that this mysterious personage was the one behind the attempt on me last night. The criminal mind is a fascinating study; it may well be that the person in question harbors some resentment toward me because I-with your a.s.sistance, of course-foiled his attempt to steal the Dahshoor treasure."

Emerson acknowledged the reasonableness of this a.s.sessment with a m.u.f.fled "Curse it." He said no more, because I spoke first.

"Ramses is correct, Emerson. The guides who were with him said they were dismissed by an American gentleman. There were a number of tourists atop the pyramid last night. In fact-in fact, I may have spoken to the man! Who else could he have been but a confederate of the Master Criminal?"

"Why not the Master Criminal himself?" Emerson tried to speak sarcastically, but he was half convinced by my irrefutable logic, and his doubt showed in his voice.

"Because the Master Criminal was lying in wait at the foot of the pyramid! And I know who he is. We thought he might be an Englishman-"

"Oh, come, Amelia, that is really going too far, even for you," Emerson shouted. "Not Ramses' rescuer? Why would he arrange for the boy to be kidnapped, and then save him?" for you," Emerson shouted. "Not Ramses' rescuer? Why would he arrange for the boy to be kidnapped, and then save him?"

"Don't forget that it was my intervention that saved Ramses. My first impression, that the man was carrying him off, was undoubtedly correct. Once captured by me, he talked his way out of the situation with the ingenuity one might expect from such a clever man. And the proof, Emerson-the proof is that he never turned up this morning, as he promised he would."

Nemo's failure to keep his appointment was an additional cause of Emerson's ill humor. He is accustomed to having people do as he tells them.

"He was alarmed by the presence of the police, I expect. A man of his antecedents-"

"My dear Emerson," I said in a kindly manner, "such wild rationalization is unworthy of you. Every fact leads to the same conclusion-my conclusion."

Emerson did not reply. It was Ramses who cleared his throat and remarked, "If you will excuse my mentioning it, Mama, that is not strictly accurate. Several facts contradict your a.s.sumption, and one, I fear, is insuperable."

Emerson looked hopefully at his son. "And what is that, my boy? Something you observed while you were alone with the young man?"

"No, Papa, you and Mama observed it too. I do not refer to Mr. Nemo's struggle with the men who carried me off, which might conceivably have been staged- though I must say it was done with a degree of verisimilitude few actors could have achieved-for I can think of several reasons why the Master Criminal might have arranged such a misleading performance, in order to-"

"Ramses," I said.

"Yes, Mama. The fact that demolishes your otherwise intriguing theory is that my rescuer's physical attributes were not those of the man we knew as Father Girgis."

"He is a master of disguise, Ramses," I said. "The black beard and wig he wore were false-"

"But the black eyes were not," said Ramses. "We had ample opportunity to observe their color, did we not? The eyes of the Englishman-or, as Papa observed, the Scot-are blue."

It was a cruel blow. I tried to rally. "The scientific achievements of master criminals often exceed those of scholars. A method of changing the color of the eyes-"

"Exists, I fear, only in fiction," said Ramses. "I have made some study of the matter, Mama, and I know of no method of dying one's irises."

Emerson began to laugh. "A hit, Peabody-a palpable hit! Talk your way out of that one."

I did not deign to reply. Though admitting I may have been in error on one small point, I could not see that Ramses' statement had affected the essential issue. The poor young English lady was innocent; and if the renegade Englishman was not the Master Criminal himself, he was surely one of the latter's lieutenants. I felt certain he had been involved in the abduction of Ramses, and that we would never see him again.

There is no railroad station at Dahshoor, which is almost equidistant between Medrashein and Mazghunah. Rather than have our extensive baggage transported by donkeyback from either of those locations, Emerson had requested that the train stop briefly at the point nearest the site. I daresay that this favor would not have been accorded anyone else; but Emerson's reputation is so well known and his powers of persuasion, particularly of a vocal variety, are so emphatic, that the engineer of the train did as he was asked, and the complaints of the other pa.s.sengers were ignored by the porters. accorded anyone else; but Emerson's reputation is so well known and his powers of persuasion, particularly of a vocal variety, are so emphatic, that the engineer of the train did as he was asked, and the complaints of the other pa.s.sengers were ignored by the porters.

A party of our loyal men awaited us. They had been there for five hours, since we had been unable to notify them that we had missed the early train. They were not put out by, or worried about, the delay; when we first caught sight of them they were sprawled in a patch of shade, smoking and fahddling fahddling (gossiping). The Egyptian temperament accepts delay with a shrug and a murmured reference to the will of Allah. This att.i.tude exasperates Europeans and Americans (especially the latter), who complain that the most frequently used word in the Arabic vocabulary is (gossiping). The Egyptian temperament accepts delay with a shrug and a murmured reference to the will of Allah. This att.i.tude exasperates Europeans and Americans (especially the latter), who complain that the most frequently used word in the Arabic vocabulary is bokra bokra (tomorrow). Emerson says the Egyptian approach is much more intelligent than our own constant bustle and fuss, but although he may be correct in his judgment, he is the first to fly into a rage when his plans are thwarted. (tomorrow). Emerson says the Egyptian approach is much more intelligent than our own constant bustle and fuss, but although he may be correct in his judgment, he is the first to fly into a rage when his plans are thwarted.

Be that as it may, as soon as the train slowed, the brave fellows got to their feet, and when one of them saw Emerson descend from the carriage, the whole group erupted into wild gesticulations of welcome. Outstanding among the men in physical stature as in dignity was the reis, Abdullah, who had served as our able foreman for many seasons. He immediately enfolded Emerson in a fraternal embrace, the voluminous folds of his robe billowing around my husband like a sudden snowstorm. Emerson suffered this gesture stoically, and sent the rest of the men scampering off to a.s.sist with the removal of our baggage.

I received Abdullah's respectful and affectionate salutation somewhat distractedly, for, to my utter astonishment, there before me was the man who had called himself Nemo.

He made no attempt to conceal his presence. He stood aloof from the other men, his arms folded across the breast of his ragged robe. He was bareheaded, and the noonday sun turned his red-gold hair to flame.

Abdullah's eyes followed the direction of my gaze. "I hope I did not err in allowing him to remain here, sitt. He is dressed like the lowest beggar, but he said Emerson had hired him, and when we saw he was an Inglizi..."

"Yes, quite right, Abdullah." So that was why the fellow had abandoned his disguise. Our loyal men would have driven him away otherwise.

Nemo strolled toward me. "Good morning, Mrs. Emerson. Or should it be good afternoon? I am a trifle out of practice with expressions of polite usage."

The fellow had the effrontery to be sarcastic. His drawling voice and educated accent, the courteous inclination of his head (in lieu of removing his hat, of which he had none) were in the best manner. He had even shaved. I must confess that the countenance thus displayed would have prejudiced me in his favor had I not had reason to suspect him of the most appalling duplicity. It was no wonder I had taken him for a Berber. His high cheekbones and hawklike nose, his broad brow and thin lips were characteristic of that race.

"How is your arm?" I inquired.

"I beg you will not mention it." The scowl that accompanied this courteous disclaimer turned the statement into a demand.

' 'It is necessary for me to mention it in order to ascertain whether you are fit for the duties for which you have been employed," I declared. "I do not allow anyone on my expeditions to suffer from an ailment I can relieve. That includes the donkeys. Abdullah-" relieve. That includes the donkeys. Abdullah-"

"Yes, sitt," Abdullah said resignedly. "The donkeys have been washed."

"Good. You see, Mr. Nemo, I am showing you the same concern I would show a donkey-an animal which in many ways you resemble. If you are not ready to accept this, you can take yourself off."

A spark of emotion that might have been amus.e.m.e.nt or anger warmed the sea-blue depths of Nemo's eyes. They were clear; apparently he had not recently indulged in drugs. "Very well, Mrs. Emerson. I will demonstrate my ability to carry out my duties, and I think I had better begin at once. Young Ramses is about to be flattened by that packing case, which is too heavy for him."

So saying, Nemo departed. His leisurely stride was deceptive; he covered the ground at quite a rapid pace, arriving on the scene he had described just in time to lift the case under whose weight Ramses was slowly sinking to his knees.

"Well, Abdullah," I said. "What do you think?" I had the greatest regard for Abdullah, whom I had known for many years. He was a splendid specimen of manhood, almost as tall as Emerson; and though his hair and beard were snowy white, he had the strength of a man half his age. He and his group of a.s.sociates had been trained by Emerson in the methods of proper excavation, so that many of them were better qualified than the majority of European archaeologists. They were in great demand by other excavators, but their loyalty to Emerson-and, I think I may say, to me-was paramount. I would have trusted Abdullah with my life; Emerson trusted him with his excavations, which was as high a mark of favor. Indeed, Abdullah's only weakness (aside from his extensive collection of wives) was an irradicable and deep-seated superst.i.tiousness. He had never abandoned his belief in efreets and demons, although on innumerable occasions he had seen us tear the veil from seemingly supernatural terrors and expose the ordinary human villains behind the mystery. an irradicable and deep-seated superst.i.tiousness. He had never abandoned his belief in efreets and demons, although on innumerable occasions he had seen us tear the veil from seemingly supernatural terrors and expose the ordinary human villains behind the mystery.

Abdullah also prided himself upon the imperturbability of his countenance. This characteristic seemed more marked than usual that day; his thin, well-cut lips scarcely moved as he replied stiffly, "Think, honored sitt? I do not permit myself to think, unless ordered to do so by yourself or Emerson."

I understood the reason for his ill-humor. "It was not because of dissatisfaction with your son Selim that we employed the Inglizi to act as guard to Ramses," I a.s.sured him. ' 'Like all your people, Selim is too valuable to be wasted as a nursemaid. Besides, we hoped to do a charitable action in helping the Englishman."

Abdullah's rigid face relaxed. "Ah. I understand, sitt. Charity is pleasing to Allah, and your kind heart is well known. But, sitt, do you know that the man is a smoker of opium?"

"I intend to break him of that vile habit, Abdullah."

"Ah," Abdullah said again, stroking his silky beard. "It is not easy to do that. But if anyone can break a man, it is you, Sitt Hakim."

"Thank you, Abdullah. Will you please explain to Selim, so he won't be disappointed?"

"Disappointed," Abdullah repeated thoughtfully. "No, sitt, I do not think Selim will be disappointed."

"Good. What I meant, Abdullah, by my question, was whether the Englishman looked familiar. Think carefully, Abdullah. Have you ever seen him before?"

Abdullah did not stop to think at all. "No, sitt. Never."

Thinking back over the events of the not-too-distant past, I realized that Abdullah had not beheld the Master Criminal in his final apotheosis, for he had been drugged at an early stage in the proceedings and had slept through the whole exciting denouement. However, he had seen the Master Criminal in his role as Father Girgis on a number of occasions. past, I realized that Abdullah had not beheld the Master Criminal in his final apotheosis, for he had been drugged at an early stage in the proceedings and had slept through the whole exciting denouement. However, he had seen the Master Criminal in his role as Father Girgis on a number of occasions.

"Are you certain, Abdullah? Do you remember the priest of Dronkeh?"

"Yes, how could I forget him? He ..." Abdullah's mouth remained open; his eyes emulated his mouth, widening till the whites showed around the dark centers. Then his shoulders began to twitch and strangling noises issued from his parted lips. A casual observer might have mistaken his reaction for amus.e.m.e.nt; but of course I knew better.

I hastened to rea.s.sure him. "There is nothing to be alarmed about, Abdullah. I have the matter well in hand. I am glad you were also sharp enough to penetrate the villain's disguise-"

"No, sitt, no." Abdullah regained control of himself. "You mistake me, sitt. A slight coughing spell... The dust in my throat... Perhaps my ears deceived me, or my aging brain failed to understand what you meant. Are you saying that this Inglizi is the-the same person as the-the.

"You had better let me give you some medicine for your throat affliction," I said. "Your ears did not deceive you, Abdullah, and your brain is as good as ever. Better than the brain of a certain person who ought to be wiser. I mention no names, Abdullah."

"No, sitt, of course not. But, sitt, it cannot be. This is not the same man."

"The huge black beard and the long black hair were false-"

"The priest had black eyes, sitt. This man's eyes are blue."

I should have known better than to depend on Abdullah. He was, after all, only a man. "I have no time to explain," I said. "Just watch the fellow, Abdullah. It is better to have him with us, under our eye, than lurking in the desert plotting against us. But don't trust him."

"I hear and will obey," said Abdullah, his lips twitching.

"I have the most implicit confidence in you, Abdullah. But I cannot stand around chatting any longer. We must get underway."

The donkeys had been loaded, but it was necessary for me to greet each of the men individually, or their feelings would have been hurt. They were all old friends, and most were sons of Abdullah (I have already referred to his proclivities toward procreation). Selim was the youngest of his offspring, a lad of fifteen with an almost Grecian beauty of feature. I congratulated him on his recent marriage, for the proprieties had to be observed even though I deplore the horrid eastern custom of sending boys and girls into the hazards of matrimony at such tender ages. Then I explained to him, as I had to his father, why we had found someone else to look after Ramses.

Selim a.s.sured me that he was not at all distressed at being replaced, and I must say that he concealed his disappointment very well. He helped me to mount and walked beside me as we started forward, laughing and chatting cheerfully about John, our footman, who had been with us the year before. John had made himself quite popular with the men, and Selim was pleased to learn that his friend had also taken a wife in the interval.

Our little caravan proceeded along the path leading west. The inundation had receded from the fields, after depositing its annual layer of rich fertile mud, and the green sprouts of the new crops could be seen against the black earth. Our road led along one of the dikes raised above the fields, toward the village of Menyat Dahshoor, which stood on the edge of the cultivated land at the point where the earth turns abruptly to desert sand. depositing its annual layer of rich fertile mud, and the green sprouts of the new crops could be seen against the black earth. Our road led along one of the dikes raised above the fields, toward the village of Menyat Dahshoor, which stood on the edge of the cultivated land at the point where the earth turns abruptly to desert sand.

Emerson led the way as was his habit, perched on a minuscule donkey. If he had straightened his legs and stood up, the donkey could have walked right through them, but Emerson pictures himself on such occasions as mounted on a fiery horse leading his troops into battle. I would not for all the world have spoiled his innocent pleasure by pointing out that a man of six-foot-odd looks ridiculous on donkeyback.

Ramses rode behind him, engaged in animated conversation with Nemo, who had refused a mount and was walking alongside the boy, his long strides easily matching the plodding pace of the donkey. I wondered what they were talking about. Not that there was anything unusual in Ramses' talking.

Not for long was my attention held by those in my immediate vicinity, for my eyes were drawn to the splendor of the view beyond. The two stone pyramids of Dahshoor loomed on the horizon. The brilliance of the midday sun was reflected by the white limestone blocks of their sides and they shone as if silver-plated. They are among the oldest funerary structures in Egypt, predating even the mighty tombs of Giza. The larger of the two is exceeded in height only by the Great Pyramid. The excavations of M. de Morgan had proved that it was built by King Sneferu of the Fourth Dynasty. (Emerson and I had suspected this all along, of course.) The name of the builder of the second stone pyramid was still unknown. That was one of the mysteries we hoped to solve that season. But only one of the mysteries-for this second stone structure has a number of curious features not found in other pyramids. Most conspicuous is its shape. A sudden change in the degree of the slope, from approximately fifty-four degrees in the lower section to a more abrupt forty-two degrees fifty-nine minutes (if memory serves me) in the upper section has bestowed upon it the appellation of the Bent or Blunted Pyramid. Why this anomaly? And, even more thrilling in its implications, what was the cause of the strange winds that occasionally swept through the dark and stifling interior pa.s.sageways? hoped to solve that season. But only one of the mysteries-for this second stone structure has a number of curious features not found in other pyramids. Most conspicuous is its shape. A sudden change in the degree of the slope, from approximately fifty-four degrees in the lower section to a more abrupt forty-two degrees fifty-nine minutes (if memory serves me) in the upper section has bestowed upon it the appellation of the Bent or Blunted Pyramid. Why this anomaly? And, even more thrilling in its implications, what was the cause of the strange winds that occasionally swept through the dark and stifling interior pa.s.sageways?

I particularly dote on the interiors of pyramids. There is some strange fascination in the awesome darkness, the airless silence, and the flapping of bat wings. Though I had promised myself many hours of delightful exploration within the Bent Pyramid, seeking the source of the uncanny and intermittent winds, I knew I could not count on much help from Emerson. He sympathizes with my pa.s.sion for pyramids, but he does not share it, and he had always pooh-poohed the theory that there were hidden openings and chambers within the Bent Pyramid, even though I had myself felt those eerie winds. "Bats, Peabody. Dozens of bats flapping their leathery wings and blowing out your candle. I do not deplore your imagination, my dear, for indeed it is one of your more charming qualities. But..."

It is a waste of time to talk to Emerson when he has made up his mind about Egyptological matters; but I privately vowed he would experience the phenomenon himself-if I had to hold him prisoner inside until it happened.

His main concern that season was to identify the owner of the Bent Pyramid. The burial chambers of the Sixth Dynasty pyramids are covered with texts identifying their owners, but, strange as it may seem, none of the earlier tombs has a single inscription inside or on it. The only way of ascertaining the names of the kings to whom they belonged is from the a.s.sociated structures- temples and subsidiary tombs, enclosure walls and causeways.

(In revising these journals for eventual publication I have added a few paragraphs for the edification of readers who do not share my expert knowledge. Edification, not entertainment, is my aim, as it should be the aim of any intelligent reader. I have no intention of succ.u.mbing to the numerous requests I have already received to permit my personal diaries to be published in my lifetime, but my high regard for science demands that the interesting and useful information contained in these pages be one day disclosed to the world. Wishing to spare my heirs the painful labor of revision-and also wishing to do myself justice, which no one else can do as well-I have undertaken a few modest changes.) Our path led past the village, whose small flat-roofed houses and minareted mosque we could see among the palms and tamarisk trees. I wondered what sort of home Abdullah had found for us. My expectations were low. When I first met Emerson, he had set up housekeeping in a tomb, and experience has taught me that members of the male s.e.x have very peculiar standards of comfort and cleanliness. I wished we could have returned to our headquarters of the previous season. The abandoned monastery had proved a commodious and comfortable residence, once I had it remodeled to suit my requirements. But though Mazghunah was only a few miles to the south, it would have been a waste of valuable time to transport ourselves and our gear that distance daily.

Modest though my hopes were, I felt a distinct sense of depression when we reached our destination. It was on the outskirts of the village, on the west side, nearest the desert. A mudbrick wall enclosed a courtyard of beaten earth. Within the compound were several structures, some no more than one-room huts or sheds. One was a house, to use that word loosely. It was built of the ubiquitous unbaked brick coated with mud plaster, and was only one story high; on the flat roof were some miscellaneous shapes that might have been rotted screens. Some hasty efforts at repairing the crumbling walls had been made, and that recently; the rough plaster patches were still damp. on the outskirts of the village, on the west side, nearest the desert. A mudbrick wall enclosed a courtyard of beaten earth. Within the compound were several structures, some no more than one-room huts or sheds. One was a house, to use that word loosely. It was built of the ubiquitous unbaked brick coated with mud plaster, and was only one story high; on the flat roof were some miscellaneous shapes that might have been rotted screens. Some hasty efforts at repairing the crumbling walls had been made, and that recently; the rough plaster patches were still damp.

Abdullah had drawn ahead of me. When I dismounted he was deep in conversation with Emerson, and he pretended not to see me until I tapped him on the shoulder.

"Ah, sitt, you are here," he exclaimed, as if he had expected I would be lost on the way. ' 'It is a fine house, you see. I have had all the rooms swept."

I did not reproach him. He had done his best, according to his lights; Emerson would have done no better.

I had come prepared. Rolling up my sleeves, literally, I put everyone to work. Water was fetched from the well-its proximity was, I admit, a point in favor of the location-and some of the men began mixing more plaster, while others sprinkled the interior of the house with disinfectant. (Keating's powder, I have discovered, is one of the most effective.) The house had four small rooms. After one look at the high, narrow windows and floors of dirt, I decided Emerson and I would sleep on the roof. The debris I had observed there was the remains of plaited screens; once they were replaced, the flat surface would serve as an extra chamber, as was often the case. I a.s.signed two of the rooms in the house to Ramses and Mr. Nemo. The latter's supercilious smile vanished when I handed him a broom. smile vanished when I handed him a broom.

By evening the place was fit for human habitation. A quick visit to the village market had procured the screens for the roof and a few other necessities. As the day wore on, we had a constant stream of visitors offering "presents" of food-eggs, milk, bread, chickens-for which we were, of course, expected to pay. At dusk I ordered the stout wooden gates closed. Naturally we were objects of curiosity to the village people, but we could not have them wandering in and out, especially if we were fortunate enough to discover valuable antiquities.

Thanks to our location on the west of the village, we had a splendid view of the pyramids from our doorstep, and when we settled down to our evening meal, we saw them silhouetted against one of the glorious sunsets for which the region is famous. We dined out-of-doors; though the smell of donkey was somewhat pervasive, it was preferable to the even more pervasive odor of Keating's powder that clung to the interior of the house.

Nemo had accepted my invitation to dine with us, not so much because he enjoyed our company as because the men had indicated they did not enjoy his. He refused a chair; squatting on the ground with his dirty robes wadded under him, he ate with his fingers and then wiped the grease off on his skirts. I felt sure he did it to annoy me, so I said nothing.

Conversation lagged at first. Emerson was preoccupied with the next day's work, Nemo was determined not to be affable, and even I was a trifle weary. But Ramses was never too tired to talk, and the monologue was his favorite form of discourse. First he brought us up to date on the activities of the men. We heard all about Selim's wedding and Abdul's divorce and Yusuf's twins and the three-headed goat that had been born in a neighboring village. (Such wonders are always to be found in a in a neighboring village. (Such wonders are always to be found in a neighboring neighboring village, and are known only through village, and are known only through reliable reliable reports from people whom no one happens to know personally.) reports from people whom no one happens to know personally.) Moving from the specific to the general, Ramses went on to summarize Abdullah's report on the summer at Dahshoor. Though I do not as a rule encourage Ramses to talk, I did not interrupt him on this occasion, since the exigencies of domesticity had prevented me from hearing this news firsthand. We had expected there might be trouble at the site of the excavations. During the previous season a gang of professional thieves, under the direction of that desperate and enigmatic person I have mentioned, had attempted to loot the tombs around the pyramids. We had foiled their dastardly deed, but I feared they might be tempted to try again during our absence, and there were the village amateurs to contend with-if any tomb robber in Egypt can be said to be an amateur. The fellahin have been at it for generations, clear back to the time of the pharaohs, and many of them are more skilled at finding hidden tombs than are professional archaeologists. Wretchedly poor, and lacking any national pride after centuries of Turkish rule, they see no reason why they should not profit from the riches of their ancestors.

However, according to Abdullah, there had been no sign of illicit digging. He and his sons had taken it in turn to guard the site, traveling back and forth from their village south of Cairo.

As Ramses meandered endlessly on, I noticed that Nemo was listening with an interest the personal lives of the men had failed to inspire. I broke into Ramses' discourse.

"You appear intrigued, Mr. Nemo. You are not familiar with the prevalence of tomb robbing in Egypt?"

"One can hardly remain ignorant of the practice if one lives for any time in Cairo," was the bland reply. "Every antiquities dealer in the city sells such merchandise."

"Have you never been tempted to join in the trade?"

Nemo smiled insolently. "Digging requires effort, Mrs. Emerson. I am opposed to physical effort. Forgery, now . . . There is a chap in the Sharia 'Kamel who manufactures fake antiquities, and I have sold my share of imitation scarabs to tourists who don't know better."

The word "scarab" had roused Emerson from his meditations. Instead of expressing outrage at this callous speech, he chuckled. "Don't try salting this site, Nemo. You would not deceive me."

"I have better sense than that, Professor."

"I hope so. Er-speaking of the site, I think I might just take a stroll and refresh my memory of-er-the site. Care to join me, Peabody?"

I was sorely tempted for several reasons, not the least of which was Emerson's meaningful smile. Before long the silvery globe of the moon would hang low above the Libyan hills, and as our national poet Shakespeare so nicely puts it, "such a night as this" was made for affectionate exchanges. However, I knew I ought not to yield. Ramses would want to go with us, and I had no excuse for refusing such a request, since it was still early; but if Ramses went with us, there would be no point in our going. (If the Reader follows me, which I am sure he or she does, a.s.suming he or she has the slightest trace of romantic sensibility.) Naturally I could not explain my reasoning aloud, so I sought refuge in a (quite valid) excuse.