"Now, Emerson, be calm. I did not mean to imply- "

"Such a discovery at Napata would have drawn every treasure hunter in Africa and aroused the cupidity of the natives. They would have torn the pyramids to bits."

"There isn't much left of them now," I pointed out.

Emerson ignored this. Pacing furiously, hands clasped behind his back, he went on, "There was another consideration I wanted the 'discovery' to be separated in time from Nefret's reappearance. If these objects are found at Thebes they cannot possibly be connected with w.i.l.l.y Forth's lost city."

I saw the sense of his reasoning and candidly confessed as much. This put him in a better humor, and, a tap at the door having announced that my bath was ready, I proceeded to take it.

After luncheon we a.s.sumed our working attire and set out for the Valley, accompanied by Abdullah and Daoud and the cat Abdullah was not a particular admirer of cats, and he viewed this one askance. Anubis responded, as cats will, by lavishing attention on poor Abdullah- twining around his ankles, leaping at him out of hiding in kittenish fashion, pretending (I believe he was pretending) to attack the hem of his robe. Abdullah tried several times to kick him (he did it when he thought I was not looking, but I was). Needless to say, his foot never connected.

Though I would have preferred to dispense with Abdullah and Daoud, not to mention the cat, the expedition could not but delight me. To see Emerson in the costume that becomes him best, his waving black locks shining in the sun, his tanned and muscular forearms displayed by the rolled sleeves of his shirt,- to walk stride by stride with him, agile in my comfortable trousers to hear the musical clash of the tools depending from my belt and clasp the st.u.r.dy handle of my parasol Mere words cannot capture the exhilaration of that experience.

Instead of following the tourist road, we set off along a curving track that led northwest. The Valley of the Kings- Biban el Muluk, literally "Gates of the Kings" in Arabic- is not one valley but two The one most frequently visited is the eastern valley, where the majority of the royal tombs of the Empire are located. It has been popular with tourists and explorers since Greek times, and in our own time it had become too crowded for comfort, thanks to such enterprising merchants as Mr. Cook, whose steamers brought hundreds of idle visitors to Luxor each season.

It would require more than unsuitably clad, garrulous crowds to rob the eastern valley of its grandeur, but to my mind the western valley is even more impressive. "Valley" is not really an appropriate word, suggesting as it does the green and fertile depression watered by a river or stream. These canyons, or "wadis," as the Arabs call them, are as rocky and bare as the desert itself. We followed a twisting path that led through fantastic rock formations into a cup or bowl, floored with fine white sand and enclosed by rugged limestone cliffs. The only color was that of the blue sky high above, no green growing thing, not even a weed or a blade of gra.s.s, refreshed the eye.

Yet there was once water to spare in this arid amphitheater. The wadis were cut through the soft limestone of the cliffs in prehistoric times, when the desert bloomed like the rose and floods cascaded down the Theban hills toward the river. They are still subject to rare but violent flash floods which wash debris down the valleys and into the tombs.

A scorpion scuttled away from my foot, the insect, and a hawk hovering high above, were the only other living creatures in sight, though dark stains, clearly visible against the sun-whitened limestone, marked the nesting places of bats. The rock walls rose steep but not smooth, hundreds, nay thousands, of pockets and crevices, bays and caves turned the cliffs into a ragged fretwork of stone. The silence was absolute, for the sand muted even the sound of footsteps One had an eerie reluctance to break that silence.

I broke it, but not until after Abdullah and Daoud had gone off to investigate a promising crevice. Neither of them knew our real purpose that day. We had not taken our loyal men with us to Nubia- it would have been impossible to provide transport and supplies for a large group in that troubled region- and they knew no more of our activities the previous winter than was known to the general public. The chances of keeping a secret increase in inverse ratio to the number of people who are acquainted with that secret.

"The place is certainly remote and private enough for our purposes," I said. "But is it a likely spot in which to find Cus.h.i.te royal scepters?"

"Egyptology is full of unsolved mysteries," Emerson replied sententiously. "We will give our colleagues another, and let them debate endlessly as to how these remarkable objects could have found their way to a crevice in the rock."

"Thieves' loot," I suggested, my imagination fired. "Hidden by an unscrupulous robber who did not want his a.s.sociates to share in the proceeds, and who was prevented, by accident or arrest, from returning to get them."

"That will be the accepted explanation, no doubt. But where did the thieves find them? I can hear Petrie and Maspero arguing that question for the next twenty years."

His eyes sparkled with enjoyment. I felt he was beginning to like his trick a little too much. "It is a pity we must do this," I said.

Emerson "wiped the grin off his face," as the expressive Americans phrase has it. "You don't suppose I enjoy it, do you?" He did not give me a chance to reply, but went on, "Truth is impossible in this case, nor does it always suffice to end foolish speculation. Don't forget the mummy in the royal tomb at Amarna. I gave Newberry the facts of that matter the other night, but I don't suppose for a moment that will end speculation. Mark my words, scholarly journals for years to come will repeat the rumor that Akhenaton's mummy was found at Amarna. And furthermore- "

"Yes, my dear," I said soothingly, for I recognized the symptoms of one who doth protest too much. Deceit was anathema to that clear, candid brain, but he was right, what else could he do? "What will be your theory?" I inquired.

"Another cache of royal mummies, my dear Peabody. Two have been located so far, as well as a collection of high priests from the later dynasties. However, we are still deficient in priestesses. Where are the burials of the G.o.ds' Wives of Amon- the Adorers of the G.o.d- who ruled in Thebes during the Twenty-Fifth and Twenty-Sixth Dynasties? Several of them were Cus.h.i.te princesses." Emerson turned, shading his eyes with his hand, and surveyed the cliffs that enclosed the Valley like the splintered, broken sides of a gigantic bowl. "This is not an unlikely location for the original tombs."

"No late tombs have been found here," I objected "And aren't we postulating a reburial, a group of mummies hidden away after their tombs had been violated by thieves? The other caches were located near Deir el Bahri."

"The other reburials were done in the Twenty-First and Twenty-Second Dynasties," Emerson retorted. "The Cus.h.i.tes didn't turn up until much later. What do you keep raising objections for? We've got to do something with the cursed things, and unless you can suggest a better alternative . . ."

In such stimulating if morally questionable debate we pa.s.sed the next hours, inspecting the contours of the base of the cliffs, scrambling over rocky slopes. The heat was intense, and we consumed quant.i.ties of the cold tea Daoud carried with him. Anubis refused even the water we had also brought, but managed to knock Abdullah's cup out of his hand and deluge his skirts with tea. The cat went off after that to explore on his own, or, more likely, to hunt.

Emerson had brought along copies of the plans of the Valley made by earlier scholars. He enjoyed himself very much finding errors in srsg' Abdullah and Daoud searched for signs of unknown tombs.

Like most treasure hunts, it was both endlessly enticing and relatively hopeless, for the rock was as riddled with holes as a sieve. Some individuals have, or develop, a seemingly uncanny instinct for such things, Belzoni, the flamboyant Italian strongman who had been one of the first to work in the Valley of the Kings, had an extraordinary talent for locating hidden tomb entrances. He had been a hydraulics engineer and was one of the first to realize that the floods, which were more common in his day than now, could leave evidence of subsidence and displacement. Abdullah and Daoud were not engineers, but they were descendants of the master tomb robbers of Gurnah, who have located more tombs than all archaeologists combined. Any hollow among the rocks might indicate a tomb entrance- or it might indicate only a natural hollow. We probed several such hollows and investigated a heap of stones like the one Belzoni had mentioned in his description of the discovery of the tomb of King Ay, in this very valley- all without result, which was what we had expected.

"Shall we have another look at Ay's tomb?" Emerson asked, indicating the opening that gaped forlornly above.

"The sight would only depress me It was in wretched condition last time we visited it, and I am sure it has deteriorated even more But that can be said of every tomb and every monument in Egypt. It is difficult to decide where to concentrate our efforts, there is so much to be done." Not until sunset stretched glowing fingers across the sky did we turn our steps back toward the house. (It rejoiced, I must add, in the resounding name of "House of the Doors of the Kings," but this appellation appeared only on Cyrus's notepaper. Europeans referred to it as "Vandergelt's place," and Egyptians as "The Castle of the Amerikani.")

The main valley was deserted, tourists and guides had left for the landing where boats would carry them across to their hotels on the east bank. Shadows thickened. Emerson quickened his pace. I heard a rattle of pebbles, and a strangled Arabic oath from Abdullah, trotting behind us; it included the word for "cat," so I deduced that Anubis had caused him to stumble. The animal's tawny-gray fur blended so well with the twilight that he was almost invisible.

He must have gone ahead after that, for he was waiting for us on the doorstep. "You see," I exclaimed. "My method was effective after all."

"Hmph," said Emerson. He had jeered at me when I rubbed the cat's paws with b.u.t.ter during luncheon in the time-honored and traditional method of training it to stay in a new home. He had also pointed out that Vandergelt might not thank us if we turned Anubis into a permanent resident. I replied that we would deal with that difficulty when and if it arose.

I had requested that dinner be served early, since I hoped to persuade Emerson into a moonlit stroll- without Abdullah and Daoud. However, when I proposed it he declined. We retired to the library, therefore- Vandergelt had one of the finest collections of Egyptological works in the country- and Emerson took out his pipe.

"Peabody," he said. "Will you come here?"

He had seated himself on the sofa, a large structure in the Turkish style, with a quant.i.ty of soft pillows.

I had chosen a straight-backed chair and taken up a book.

"No, thank you, Emerson, I prefer this chair."

Emerson rose. Picking up the chair, with me in it, he carried it to the end of the sofa and set it down with a thud. "I bow to your wishes, my dear Peabody."

"Oh, Emerson," I began, and then, as he loomed over me, fists on his hips and lips curving, I could not but smile. I got up and took my place on the sofa.

"That is better," said Emerson, joining me and putting his arm around my shoulders. "Much more friendly. Besides, I don't want to be overheard."

The cat jumped up onto the other end of the sofa and sat down. Its wide green eyes regarded us unwinkingly. "Anubis is listening," I said.

"Be serious, Peabody. I want you to promise me something. I do not order you, I ask you."

"Certainly, my dear Emerson. What is it?"

"Give me your solemn word that you will not go wandering around the cliffs, or anywhere else, alone.

If you receive a message asking for your help, or offering to show you where a valuable antiquity is hidden- "

"Why, Emerson, you make me sound like some silly Gothic heroine instead of the sensible, rational woman you know me to be. When have I ever done such a thing?"

Emerson's lips parted and indignation furrowed his n.o.ble brow, but experience had taught him that contradicting my statements led only to further argument, not to the agreement he wanted. "Let me put it this way. You have an unnerving self-confidence, Peabody, when armed with your parasol you consider yourself capable of defeating any number of adversaries. Have I your word?"

"If you will give me yours, to the same effect." Emerson's brows drew together. I went on, "You have an unnerving self-confidence, Emerson, you consider yourself capable- "

Laughing, Emerson stopped my speech in a manner I find particularly pleasant. It was a rather short embrace, however, the unwinking stare of the cat seemed to disturb him, for he glanced uneasily at it before speaking again.

"The cases are hardly the same, Peabody, but I am willing to take some precautions. I hope you do not suppose I declined your invitation to walk in the moonlight because the idea was unpleasant to me? No. We are not going out at night until this matter is settled."

"What matter?"

"Oh, come, Peabody. You are usually the first to find ominous portents and harbingers of disaster in the accidents that befall us. At the time we first discussed the situation, the evidence was inconclusive, but it is beginning to mount up. The search of our room, three attempts at a.s.sault or abduction in less than a week- "

"Three? I can only think of two."