It was a dramatic moment. I believe my voice and my look carried conviction. I certainly meant them to.

Cyrus took his hands from my shoulders and turned away. I said gently, "You mistake friendship for deeper feelings, Cyrus. One day you will find a woman worthy of your affection." Still he sat in silence, his shoulders bowed. I always think a little touch of humor relieves difficult situations, I added cheerfully, "And just think-it is most unlikely she will have a son like Ramses!"

Cyrus squared his broad shoulders. "No one else could have a son like Ramses. If you mean that as consolation, however . Well, I will say no more. Shall I fetch Abdullah to you now? I guess if I don't you'll hoist yourself out of bed and go stumping off after him."

He had taken it like a man. I had expected no less of him.

Abdullah looked even more out of place in my room than Cyrus had. He studied the frills and furbelows with a scowl of deep suspicion, and refused the chair I offered. It did not take me long to force him to confess that he too had deceived me.

"But, Sitt, you did not ask me," was his feeble excuse.

"You ought not have waited till you were asked. Why did you not come to me at once? Oh, never mind," I said impatiently, as Abdullah rolled his eyes and tried to think of another lie. "Tell me now. Precisely what did you learn this afternoon?"

Before long Abdullah was squatting comfortably on the floor next to the bed, and we were deep in friendly consultation. Accompanied by Abdullah, Daoud and Ali (he had at least had sense enough to take them with him), Emerson had attempted to learn where the mysterious tourists had gone. No boatman admitted to having taken them across the river, and it was unlikely the former would have lied- for, as Abdullah innocently expressed it, "the threats of the Father of Curses are stronger than any bribe." That meant that the men we sought were still on the east bank. An itinerant camel driver had confirmed this a.s.sumption, he had seen a group of hors.e.m.e.n heading for the northern end of the plain, where the cliffs swung close to the river.

"We lost them then," Abdullah said. "But they must have a camp somewhere in the hills or on the high desert, Sitt. We did not look farther, it was growing late, and Emerson said we would turn back. He was looking very pleased."

"Of course he is, curse him," I muttered, clenching my fists. "That explains his sudden interest in boundary stelae, it is only an excuse to search that area and, with any luck- as Emerson would probably put it- be violently attacked again. Furthermore, he believes I am out of commission and cannot interfere with his idiotic scheme. Well! Just wait till he sees- "

An almost imperceptible twitch of Abdullah's beard made me break off. His is a particularly impa.s.sive countenance, or so he fondly believes. Since he also believes that I have occult powers, he finds it difficult to conceal his thoughts from me.

"Abdullah," I said. "My father. My honored friend. If Emerson tries to leave the boat tonight, stop him by any means necessary, including violence. And if you tell him of our conversation . . ."

I paused for effect, having found that unuttered threats are the most terrifying. Besides, I could not really think of one I was capable of carrying out.

"I hear and will obey." Abdullah rose in a graceful flutter of skirts. The formal words of submission would have impressed me more if he had not been trying to repress a smile. He added, "It is very difficult, Sitt, to walk the knife's edge between your commands and those of Emerson. He said the same thing to me not an hour ago."

CHAPTER 15.

"Martyrdom is often the result of excessive gullibility."

I was up and dressed at dawn, belt of tools strapped at my waist, parasol in my hand. My martial appearance was only a trifle marred by the pale-blue woolly slipper on my left foot. Leaning heavily on the parasol, I made my way to the dining saloon. (The stairs presented something of a difficulty until I thought of ascending them in a sitting position.)

There was less fuss and complaint than I had expected. Kevin greeted me with a knowing grin, and Cyrus's feeble, "Amelia, I really don't think you ought . . ." was never completed. Emerson looked at the pale-blue woolly slipper, raised his eyebrows, opened his mouth, closed it, and reached for another piece of bread.

After we had finished eating, Cyrus went off to make sure the donkeys were ready. Bertha, followed by the three young men like ganders after a comely lady goose, had offered to collect my gear, an offer I was glad to accept.

"Just a moment, Emerson," I said, as he pushed his chair away from the table. "I want to speak to you for a moment about Charles."

He had not expected that Pausing with his hand on the back of the chair, he studied me suspiciously, his head tilted. "What about him?"

"He has not told you of his fear of heights? Oh, dear, I feared he would not. Men are so- "

"He did tell me," Emerson interrupted. His brows drew together in a scowl "How he ever expects to qualify as an archaeologist I cannot imagine. What with tombs in the cliffs, and pyramids, and- "

"That is all right, then," I said, recognizing the start of one of Emerson's notorious lectures. "It was cruel of you to tease him about it yesterday."

"Don't push me too far, Peabody," said Emerson between clenched teeth. "I am holding on to my temper with both hands as it is. How dare you turn up this morning in that preposterous slipper wearing that expression of maddening self-confidence? I ought to lock you in your room and tie you to the bed! By heaven, I will!"

Though my parasol was fastened to my wrist by its little strap I made no attempt to prevent him from sweeping me up into his arms. I am a strong-minded woman, but even the best of us is not always able to resist temptation. When he started toward the stairs, I said firmly, "Just carry me directly to a donkey, if you please. You may as well spare yourself time and trouble, Emerson, for no method you employ will suffice to keep me in that room if I choose to leave it."

Emerson deposited me on the donkey and stormed off, shouting at Abdullah, since he knew there was no use in shouting at me Abdullah glanced at me. If he had been English he would have winked.

We were soon on our way. Bertha and I rode donkeys. After considering its options with an uncanny air of deliberation, the cat chose to ride with me. The others walked, including Kevin, over his piteous objections. Our path led us almost due north along the bare desert track that pa.s.ses through the mountain defile at one end of the Amarna plain and runs parallel to the river before rising again over the hills to the south. Nothing marked it except the prints of men and donkeys, on either side the waterless waste lay empty under the sun. Yet once this had been the royal road of a great city, lined with fine houses and painted temples. From the Window of Appearance of the king's palace he had thrown collars of gold to favored courtiers. Now only low mounds and sunken hollows remained, time and the ever-encroaching sand had destroyed the evidences of man's ephemeral presence, as they would one day destroy all traces of our own.

The distance from Haggi Qandil to the northern boundary is a little over three miles. Already the sun was hot. Kevin puffed and groaned and mopped his streaming brow. I offered him my parasol, but he refused it,- some silly notion of appearing unmanly, I suppose. I only hoped he would not inconvenience me by collapsing with heat prostration. Unlike the others he was unused to the climate, and Emerson moderated his pace for no man- or woman.

To the right, several miles distant, were the northern tombs and the boundary stela we had seen on the first day. Emerson did not turn aside. As we went on, the cliffs curved more sharply toward the river, until only a narrow s.p.a.ce a few hundred yards wide separated them from the bank. The shade they offered was welcome, but I began to feel the same sense of oppression that had overshadowed me while we were camping in the royal wadi. The rock face was even more broken here (or so it seemed to my anxious eyes), not only by crevices and innumerable small wadis but by the remains of ancient quarries

At last Emerson came to a stop and looked up Anubis jumped down from my lap and went to stand by him.

High above on the stony wall I saw fragmentary reliefs and rows of hieroglyphic signs. So there was a stela. I would not have been surprised to find that Emerson had invented one. This was a new one- new to archaeologists, I mean, for it was certainly very old and worn-and far north of any of the others. A brief tremor of archaeological fever ran through me, but it quickly pa.s.sed. I felt sure Emerson had not come here to add a few more hieroglyphs to the texts of the boundary stelae.

Cyrus managed not to swear aloud, though he choked on the unut-tered word. "Holy- er- Jimminy.

All this way- for that!"

"The text is probably identical with the others," I replied. "But you know how battered they all are,- we may find a portion here that has not survived elsewhere, and fill in some of the missing sections."

"Well, you sure aren't going to find anything," Cyrus declared. "Only a lizard could slither up that cliff. Come and sit down here in the shade, my dear-what there is of it."

He lifted me off the donkey and placed me on the rug Bertha had spread out. The men were already unloading the supply donkeys. Rene and Charles, goaded by Emerson's caustic comments, pitched in with a will. Kevin flung himself down at my feet with a martyred sigh and begged for water I poured a cup for the afflicted journalist and reminded him that it was his own fault he was enduring thirst and heat "Curiosity killed the cat, you know, Kevin. I hope yours may not be the death of you."

"Speaking of cats," Kevin said, "tell me about that diabolical-looking creature that follows the professor around. I thought when I first saw it that it was the one you adopted after l'affaire Baskerville, but this one appears to be much more savage and less domesticated."

"We are taking care of it temporarily for a friend," I replied. "There is no news story in that, Kevin.

Will you excuse me? I want to see what they are doing."

"Should you be walking on that ankle?" Kevin asked, as I levered myself to my feet with the aid of my trusty parasol.

"It is not broken or sprained, only a trifle sore. Stay here, Kevin, I don't need you."

Under Emerson's direction the men were fitting together a rough scaffold, binding the strips of wood together with rope. It was a horribly ramshackle affair, but I knew that it was a good deal st.u.r.dier than it looked. I had often seen our men scampering up and down such structures with the insouciance of tightrope walkers, apparently oblivious to the way the boards creaked and swayed This time, I knew it would have to bear a heavier weight.

Cyrus was so intent on the work that he did not see me until I stood next to him. I brushed aside his protests and his attempt to pick me up. He followed me, still protesting, as I hobbled on

Beyond the shoulder of rock a ravine cut at a sharp angle into the cliff. The usual litter of broken stone and flood-deposited pebbles covered its floor, and the sides were laced with black shadows where crevices of all sizes and shapes broke the rocky walls.

I looked up and my heart gave a great leap as I saw the figure of a man silhouetted against the sky. Then I recognized Ali. Leaning precariously over the edge, he helped another of the men to climb up beside him. Turning, they looked down, not at me but at those just around the corner of the cliff.

"What are they doing?" Cyrus asked curiously.

"Ali and Daoud are lowering ropes. The men below will fasten them to the top of the scaffold. There is no other way of anchoring the structure, since even steel spikes, which we do not have, would be difficult to drive into solid rock. Emerson will tie another rope around his waist as a safety measure.

At least I hope he will."

"If he does not, you will remind him," Cyrus said with a smile.