"Oh, yes. He tried to brain my old buddy once before"

"He did not appear to be in good health, and that was some years ago. He may have pa.s.sed on But it is imperative that we attempt to discover the present whereabouts of these individuals. If any have been recently released from prison, or have suddenly disappeared from their usual haunts . . ."

"It won't do any harm to ask," said Cyrus. He was obviously unconvinced by my reasoning, which was, I admit, based on somewhat slender evidence. I have found that my instincts for criminal behavior are a more reliable guide than logic, but I sensed that argument would not carry any more weight with Cyrus than it ever had with Emerson, though Cyrus would have expressed his reservations more diplomatically.

His brow furrowed, Cyrus ran his finger down the list. It did not pause at the particular name I had feared might rouse painful memories, and I was of course too tactful to point it out. "Reginald Forthright," Cyrus read. "Is he old Willie's nephew, the one the newspaper stories mentioned? Sacrificed his brave young life in the search for his uncle? I thought he was dead."

"Disappeared in the desert," I corrected. "However, I consider it unlikely that he is involved. For one thing, he knows . . . But I will say no more. Besides, Tarek would have ... I believe I have said all I ought to say."

"Your acquaintances sure have unusual names," Cyrus murmured. "Charity Jones, Ahmed the Louse . . . Sethos? I thought he was dead too."

"You are making a little joke," I said, smiling appreciatively. "The name does not refer to the pharaoh of the same name, who has indeed been dead for several thousand years. Have you never heard that name in a modern context, Cyrus? Perhaps you know him better by his sobriquet 'the Master Criminal.'"

"Can't say I do," Cyrus replied, raising his eyebrows. "Sounds more like a character out of a dime novel. But- hey, wait a minute. I did hear that name once from Jacques de Morgan, the former Director of Antiquities. He'd imbibed rather freely of the flowing bowl that evening, he also claimed your son had been possessed by an afreet, so when he started babbling about master criminals I kind of stopped listening."

"Sethos is no afreet, though he shares certain of their characteristics," I said. "For years he controlled the illegal antiquities market in Egypt. Nameless except for his noms de guerre, a master of disguise whose true face no one has seen, a veritable genius of crime . . ."

"Oh, really," said Cyrus.

"Yes, really. He is without a doubt the most formidable of our old adversaries, and logic would deem him the most likely suspect. He is well-versed in Egyptology. He commands a large criminal organization. His intellect is superior and poetic, the quest for the Lost Oasis is precisely the sort of thing that would fire his imagination. And he has a- a particular grudge against my husband."

"Not only the most likely suspect," Cyrus said slowly, "but ahead of the rest of the field by ten furlongs."

"I hope not, for our chance of finding him is almost nil. The others we may track down, but not Sethos. Furthermore . . ."

"Yes?"

"It is irrelevant," I murmured. "At least Emerson would say it was, and perhaps he would be right.

I don't want Emerson to see this list, Cyrus."

"Not much point, if he doesn't remember any of them. It's just between you and me, Amelia." Cyrus's face reflected his pleasure in being able to a.s.sist me. "We will get the authorities on the trail of these ladies and gents. Might as well go straight to the top, if you will give me a copy of your list I will telegraph the British Consul-General, Sir Evelyn Baring, with whom I am slightly acquainted. He is the most powerful man in Egypt, and- "

"I know him well, Cyrus. He was a friend of my father's and has always been most obliging. I have already written him a letter, that mode of communication seemed best, since the situation is complex enough to require some explanation. Selim or Ali can catch the train tomorrow and deliver the letter by hand."

"As usual, you are right square on top of the business, my dear. But I hope you don't object if I make a few inquiries of my own?"

"You are very kind."

"That's what a pal is for," Cyrus declared.

I accepted his invitation to take a turn about the deck. The night was calm and peaceful,- the brilliant stars of Egypt blazed overhead. But though I strove to open my senses to a scene that had never before failed to inspire and soothe me-though my companion's steps were slowed to match mine and his sympathetic silence answered to my mood-the attempt was a failure. How could I lose myself in the magic of the night when another than Emerson walked at my side? It was not long before I declared my intention of retiring and bade Cyrus an affectionate good night.

On the way to my room I stopped at Emerson's door, thinking he might be in need of some medication to help him sleep. Apparently he was not. There was no answer to my knock.

I hesitated, cursing the bizarre circ.u.mstances that prevented me from following the dictates of duty and affection. I feared to venture in without his permission, yet I could not leave without a.s.suring myself he was not in a swoon or in pain his fort.i.tude would not allow him to express.

Eavesdropping is a contemptible act to which I would never stoop.

The fringes of my shawl somehow got caught in the door hinge. The fringe was very long and silky, and it took some time to untangle it without breaking the threads. As I worked at it I listened for the sounds of snores or groans. There was only silence.

Something pushed against my knee. I let out a muted exclamation of surprise and turned to see the cat Anubis sitting on my skirt, b.u.t.ting his head against me. Next to the cat was a pair of feet wearing curly-toed native slippers. The feet were not those of an Egyptian, however. I knew those members, as I knew every other inch of that particular anatomy.

Emerson stood over me, arms folded, eyebrows elevated. He was clad in one of the loose Egyptian robes

"Where have you been?" I cried, surprise overcoming my awareness of the fact that this question would only elicit a sarcastic and uninformative reply.

"Out," said Emerson. "Now I propose to go in, if I may impose on you to get out of my way."

"Certainly," I said, stepping back.

"Good night," said Emerson, opening the door.

He had entered-preceded by the cat-and slammed the door before I could reply, but not before I had observed that the bandage, which had covered half his face, had been reduced to a patch only three inches square. It had been very neatly done, so I knew he had not done it. The person responsible must have had slim, deft fingers.

Our messenger left before dawn to catch the train to Cairo. Cyrus had suggested we send one of his men instead of Selim, and I was glad to accept the offer. I would need every loyal man from now on if Emerson carried out his scheme of working in the wadi.

When we a.s.sembled for breakfast I studied my companions with the interest of a general taking stock of her forces. The countenances of Charles and Rene aroused some concern,- the combination of sunken eyes and faint smiles was highly suspicious. However, the recuperative powers of the young are great, and I did not doubt they would respond to my orders with vigor and alacrity.

I had not yet accustomed myself to seeing Cyrus without his beard, but I approved the change, I have always thought a goatee a particularly ridiculous form of facial adornment. As always, he looked fresh and alert.

Need I remark that my eyes lingered longest on the face of Emerson? I was pleased to observe that he had shaved that morning, I had expected he would let his beard grow again in order to annoy me. The exposed, shallowest part of the knife wound seemed to be healing nicely. One long strip of sticking plaster adorned the n.o.ble curve of his nose, but the cleft in his chin was visible to my admiring eyes.

His mouth was visible as well, as he met my gaze the corners compressed in an expression that aroused the direst of forebodings, but he did not speak.

I had no proof that he had been with Bertha. I had not inquired. I preferred not to inquire.

When she joined us on the deck I observed that she had made a slight alteration in her attire. Her robe was the same discreet black, but the veil now covered only the lower part of her face, and it was of filmy, almost transparent fabric, through which the rounded contours of her cheeks and the delicate shape of her nose could be seen. The swelling seemed to have disappeared, and though she kept them modestly lowered, her long-lashed dark eyes were clear.

Some authorities claim that charms half-hidden are the most seductive. Bertha's veiled charms certainly seemed to have a powerful effect on Rene (French gentlemen are particularly susceptible, according to those same authorities.) His chivalrous instincts had already been touched by her sad story, on several occasions he had approached her to offer the support of his arm or the consolation of a friendly greeting. As we climbed the path up from the riverbank I saw that he had relieved her of the bundle she carried, and was walking beside her.

I began to feel a certain sympathy for Emerson's views about females on archaeological expeditions. Something would have to be done about Bertha. Even if she was victim instead of spy, she was quite capable of turning the heads of both young men, setting them one against the other, and decreasing their efficiency.

As we left the cultivated fields and set off along the desert track I saw the smoke that betokened the approach of a steamer. Not all of them stopped at Amarna, but apparently this one was about to do so.

"Confound it," I said to Cyrus, who was at my side. "Emerson's temper is not at its best just now, and tourists have a bad effect on him. I hope this lot will leave us alone."

"They stop here only long enough to see the pavement Mr. Petrie found," Cyrus a.s.sured me.

"It is so like Petrie to leave the painting open and exposed to tourists and other vandals," I said critically. "After having had one lovely section of pavement destroyed, we made a point of covering up or removing the bits we found. That is the only proper way to proceed." Cyrus of course agreed with me.

I kept an eye on the steamer, whose location was easily ascertained by the smoke from its funnels. None of the "cursed tourists" came near us. After a few hours the steady column wavered and moved away, and I dismissed the boat from my mind. I had not supposed Kevin would be among the pa.s.sengers, he would come by the fastest conveyance, probably the train. But Vincey- devious, devilish adversary that he was- might make use of an unlikely means of transportation simply because it was unlikely.

Emerson had set the entire crew at work on the foreman's house, leaving me and Ali to finish clearing the last few inches of debris from the second of the smaller ones. It was here that small objects were most likely to be found, and the work had to be done slowly and delicately. Some of the objects, especially those made of the gla.s.sy faience, were extremely fragile, others, such as bead necklaces, still showed the original pattern even though the string had rotted away. It was a demonstration of his increasing confidence in my skill at this finicky task that Emerson had a.s.signed me to it and I believe I may say, without undue modesty, that his confidence was deserved.

The walls surrounding the room in which I was working had survived to a height of a meter or more, so I could not see what was going on in the southwest corner of the site. I could hear, though. Most of the remarks came from Emerson, most were profane, and many were directed against Abdullah. Our devoted reis stuck to Emerson like a shadow, and Emerson, whose movements were inclined to be abrupt, kept b.u.mping into him.

It was Abdullah who first saw the men approaching. His shout of "Sitt Hakim!" brought me instantly to my feet and his gestures directed my eyes toward the forms that had occasioned the warning.

There were two of them, both wearing European clothing. The shorter and stouter of the pair had fallen behind, for his companion advanced with long strides. A pith helmet covered his hair and shaded his features, but there was something about that tall straight body that made my senses quiver with alarm. Scrambling over the wall, I ran to intercept Abdullah, who had started toward the newcomers, a long knife in his hand.