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.

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 assistance. His assailant 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-mâché 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.’

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, 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 associates I have managed to capture. Through him we may reach his dread master. Would 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 eyeballs showed. His hands flew to his throat. He fell over backward and lay still.

Nemo rushed to him. ‘Its 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 odour 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 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–’

‘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 bloody sleeve. ‘Please take Ali or Hassan 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 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 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 towards 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 dishevelled and sandy, accompanied by a bloody–’

‘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 be explained to you, Emerson,’ I said soothingly. ‘Mr Nemo does indeed deserve your thanks, and the first expression of our gratitude 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 embarrassment that suffused even his bare breast assured me he had not lost as much blood as I feared.

I hastened to set him at ease. ‘I assure you, Mr Nemo, bare skin is no novelty to me. I have tended many wounds and seen many naked breasts – 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 colour rushed back into her face. She darted forward. She raised her hand – and struck Nemo full across the face! ‘You bloody idiot!’ she cried.

Even I was taken aback. Such behaviour 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 pawn 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 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.

‘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 identity. 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 assume you are intimately acquainted with Mr Nemo here, or you would not have addressed him so informally. Who is he? What is your relationship?’

Nemo rose to his feet. ‘I can answer those questions and others. If I can spare Enid – Miss Debenham – that shame, in recounting a history replete with–’

‘Never mind the rhetoric,’ Emerson snapped. ‘I am a patient man, but there are limits to my patience. What the devil is your name?’

‘My name is Donald Fraser.’

I started up. ‘Ronald Fraser?’

‘No, Donald Fraser.’

‘But Ronald Fraser–’

The vibration of the dimple in Emerson’s chin warned me that he was about to roar. I stopped, therefore, and Emerson said, with the most exquisite courtesy, ‘I would be grateful, Mrs Emerson, if you would refrain from any comment whatever – refrain, if possible, even from breathing loudly – until this gentleman has finished. Begin at the beginning, Mr Fraser – for of your surname at least I feel fairly confident – and do not stop until you have reached the end.’

Thus directed, the young man began the following narrative. ‘My name is Donald Fraser. Ronald is my younger brother. Our family is old and honourable; never, until recently, did a blot of shame darken the name of Fraser–’

‘Humph,’ said Emerson sceptically. ‘I take leave to doubt that. The ancient Scot was a bloodthirsty fellow; wasn’t there some tale about an ancestor of yours serving up the severed head of an enemy to the widow of the deceased at a dinner party?’

I coughed gently. Emerson glanced at me. ‘Quite right, Amelia. I did not mean to interrupt. Continue, Mr Donald Fraser.’

‘It will not take much time, Professor. The story is only too familiar, I fear.’ With an attempt at insouciance, the young man started to cross his arms, but winced and let the injured member fall back. For an instant the girl’s face mirrored the pain on his and she made as if to rise. Almost immediately she sank back onto the stool. Ha, I thought, but did not speak aloud.

Donald – as I shall call him, in order to prevent confusion with his brother – proceeded. ‘Being the elder, I was the heir to the estate upon the death of our parents a few years ago. Our family was not rich, but thanks to my father’s prudent management, we were left with enough to maintain us in modest comfort. I say we, because morally, if not legally, half of what I had inherited was Ronald’s.

‘My father had purchased a commission for me in – in a regiment of the line... . There is no need, I believe, to mention which one. After his death my brother nobly offered to take over the management of the estate so that I might pursue my military career. I had ... I incurred debts. Allow me the favour of refusing to be specific about their nature; they were ... They were not the sort one likes to mention, especially before ...’

He gazed at Enid. I was as intrigued by the silent interchange between them as by his halting speech. She never looked at him, he never took his eyes off her; and the air between them fairly crackled with emotion. When his voice faltered, she started to her feet. Her cheeks were flaming.

‘You lie!’ she cried. ‘Despicably, stupidly–’

Emerson put one big brown hand on her shoulder and gently but inexorably returned her to her seat. ‘Be silent, Miss Debenham. You will have your chance at rebuttal. Sir – finish your story.’

‘It is quickly told,’ Donald muttered. ‘The regiment was gazetted to Egypt. Being in need of funds, I had forged a signature on a bill. My crime was discovered. The person I had attempted to defraud, a fellow officer, was generous. I was given the choice of resigning my commission and – and disappearing. I did so. That is all.’

He had come to the end, but so abruptly, that Emerson and I were both left staring. Assuming my husband’s prohibition ceased to have effect at that time, I exclaimed, ‘Upon my word, Mr Fraser, that is a rather curt narrative. I think, though, that I can fill in some of the details you have omitted. Your brother is in Egypt–’

‘I know. I saw him yesterday.’

‘I presume he came to find you and extend a brother’s hand in forgiveness and affection.’

Nemo’s drooping head sank lower. From Enid, squirming under Emerson’s hand, came a scornful laugh. I turned to her. ‘And you, Miss Debenham, also came here on an errand of mercy and redemption, to save your old playfellow?’

‘I came to tell him what I thought of him,’ the girl cried. She twisted away from Emerson’s grasp and jumped to her feet. ‘He is a stupid fool who deserves everything that has happened to him!’

‘No doubt,’ said Emerson, studying her with interest. ‘But if you will forgive me, Miss Debenham, I am determined to push doggedly onward – against the opposition of everyone present – to some understanding of the facts themselves. Is that how you became involved with Kalenischeff? For I do you the credit to assume you would have better taste than to take up with such a villain for his own sake.’

‘You are quite right,’ Enid said. ‘I had not been in Cairo two days before Kalenischeff approached me. He offered his assistance – for a price, of course – in finding Donald, who, Kalenischeff assured me, had slunk off like a whipped cur and hidden himself in Cairo’s foul underworld.’

Donald winced and covered his face with his hand. Enid went on remorselessly, ‘Alone I had no hope of entering that disgusting ambiance or approaching its denizens. Kalenischeff persuaded me that we should pretend to be – to be interested in one another in order to conceal my true purpose and lull Donald and his criminal associates–’

‘That was rather credulous of you,’ Emerson said critically. ‘But never mind; I take it you did not, in fact, murder the rascal in a fit of pique or in defence of your virtue? No, no, don’t lose your temper; a simple shake of the head will suffice. I never believed a woman could strike such a blow, penetrating the muscles of the chest and entering the heart–’

‘Emerson, how can you!’ I cried indignantly. ‘You told me–’

‘You misunderstood,’ said Emerson, with such sublime indifference to truth that I was struck dumb with indignation. He compounded the insult by continuing, ‘Well, well, we are in a confused situation here, but that is nothing new; and at least the story these two young idiots – excuse me, young people – have produced puts an end to your theory that Sethos was responsible for Kalenischeff’s death. There is no evidence–’

‘But there soon will be,’ I assured him. ‘Abdullah and Hassan are bringing it – the body of one of the Master Criminal’s henchmen, dead by his own hand after he had failed his dread master in the assignment of abducting me. That is to say, he did not know it was me; I was disguised as Enid, and he–’

‘You were disguised,’ Emerson repeated slowly, ‘as Miss Debenham?’

I explained. Emerson listened without interrupting once. Then he turned to Nemo – or Donald, as I must call him.

‘You, sir, were present, when these remarkable events occurred?’

‘Emerson, do you doubt my word?’ I demanded.

‘Not at all, Amelia. The only thing I doubt is that anyone could mistake you for Miss Debenham.’

‘Donald did,’ I declared triumphantly. ‘Is that not true, Donald? You followed me, believing I was Enid. No doubt you were trying to work up courage enough to reveal yourself.’

But the untenability of this assumption was apparent as soon as I voiced it, for Nemo had remained in concealment for an hour and a half without making his presence known. The deep flush of shame that dyed his manly cheeks betrayed his true motive. He loved her – deeply, hopelessly, desperately – and his only joy was to worship her dainty form (or what he believed to be hers) from afar.

Tactfully I turned the subject. ‘The evidence will soon be forthcoming, Emerson. I believe I hear Abdullah coming now.’

It was indeed Abdullah, with Hassan close on his heels.

‘Where have you put the body?’ I asked.

Abdullah shook his head. ‘There was no body, sitt. We found the spot you described; there were signs of a struggle, and bloodstains upon the ground. We searched far and wide, thinking the man might have recovered and crawled away–’

‘Recovered from being dead?’ I exclaimed. ‘Abdullah, do you think I don’t know a corpse when I see one?’

‘No, sitt. But dead or alive, he was gone. No doubt he was dead, as you say, for we heard his ghost calling in a high, thin voice, as spirits do.’

Hassan nodded in emphatic confirmation. ‘We ran away then, sitt, for we did not want the dead man to mistake us for his murderers.’

‘Oh, good Gad,’ I said disgustedly. ‘That was not a ghost you heard, you foolish men. There are no such things. It must have been a bird, or a – or a –’

‘Never mind, Peabody, I will conduct my usual exorcism,’ said Emerson. The use of that name instead of ‘Amelia’ indicated that he had forgotten his annoyance with me in the pleasurable anticipation of the theatrical performance to which he had referred. Emerson had often been called upon to perform exorcisms, Egypt being, in the opinion of its citizens, a particularly demon-ridden country. He has quite a reputation as a magician and is deservedly proud of it.

‘Emerson,’ I said, interrupting his description of how he meant to go about the ritual. ‘Emerson – where is Ramses?’

We looked in Ramses’ room, purely as a matter of form; I knew, as did Emerson, that if he had been anywhere about, he would have come to see what the commotion was, talking and interrupting and asking questions and making comments.

We set out en masse for the Bent Pyramid. Emerson soon outstripped the rest of us, but Donald was not far behind him. The young man’s look of haggard remorse was so poignant I had not the heart to reproach him for neglecting his duty. Love, as I reflected philosophically, has a corrosive effect on the brain and the organs of moral responsibility.

Since I had not mentioned to Emerson the collapse of the subsidiary pyramid, he had no idea where to start looking; when I arrived on the scene he was rushing around like a dog on a scent and making the evening hideous with his stentorian repetitions of Ramses’ name.

‘Be silent a moment,’ I begged. ‘How can you hear him reply if you keep shouting?’

Emerson nodded. Then he turned like a tiger on poor Abdullah and clutched him by the throat of his robe. ‘From what direction did the cry you heard come?’

Abdullah gestured helplessly and rolled his eyes, finding speech impossible because of the constriction of the cloth around his throat.

‘If you will forgive me, Emerson, that was a foolish question,’ I said. ‘You know how difficult it is to determine the origin of a faint, muffled cry in this barren region. I have, I believe, more pertinent information which I will produce as soon as you are calm enough to hear it. Look there, Emerson. Look at the small pyramid.’

One glance was all that trained eye required. His hand fell in nerveless horror from the throat of our devoted reis; his eyes moved with mingled dread and deliberation over the new-fallen debris at the base of the small structure. None knew better than the dangers of a careless attack on the unstable mass.

It was young Selim who gave a heartbreaking cry and flung himself onto the debris, where he began digging frantically. Emerson dodged a perfect rain of broken stone and lifted Selim up by the scruff of his neck. ‘That won’t do, my lad,’ he said in a kindly voice. ‘You will bring the rest of the heap down on your head if you aren’t careful.’

Contrary to popular opinion, Arabs are very soft-hearted people and feel no shame in displaying emotion. Selim’s face was wet with tears, which mingled horribly with the sand to form a muddy mask. I patted him on the shoulder and offered him my handkerchief. ‘I don’t think he is under there, Selim,’ I said. ‘Emerson, do call again. Just once, my dear, and then wait for an answer.’

No sooner had the echoes of Emerson’s poignant cry died into silence than there was an answer, high and faint and far away, quite easily mistaken by superstitious persons for the wailing of a lost spirit. Abdullah started. ‘That was it, O Father of Curses. That was the voice we heard!’

‘Ramses,’ I said, sighing. ‘He has found the entrance, curse – I mean, bless him. Emerson, do you see that shadow ten feet above the debris and slightly to the right of centre?’

A brief and, on my part, rational discussion of the situation resulted in the conclusion that the opening might indeed be the long-concealed entrance, and that it would be possible for us to reach it if we exhibited a reasonable amount of care. Emerson kept interrupting me with whoops of ‘Ramses!’ and Ramses kept answering, in that uncanny wail. I finally put an end to the procedure by reminding Emerson that shouting used oxygen, a commodity of which Ramses might be in short supply if indeed, as one could only assume, he was shut into a place from which he could not extricate himself unaided. Emerson at once agreed, and I must say I found it much easier to cogitate without him bellowing.

Like the larger stone pyramids, this smaller version had been built of blocks that ascended like a giant, four-sided staircase. However, this structure was – as we had evidence – much less stable than its neighbour; it would be necessary to ascend with extreme caution, testing each block before putting one’s weight upon it. Emerson insisted upon leading the way. As he correctly (but, I thought, depressingly) pointed out, if the block would not hold his weight, I would know if it was not safe to step on it.

At last we reached the level of the opening and discovered that it was indeed the entrance – or, at least, an entrance – to the interior. Nothing but blackness showed within. Emerson took a deep breath. I stopped him with a soft reminder. ‘Even the vibrations of a loud shout ...’

‘Hmmm,’ said Emerson. ‘True, Peabody. Do you think he is in there?’

‘I am certain of it.’

‘Then I am going in.’

But he could not. The narrow opening would not admit the breadth of his shoulders, twist and turn them as he might. I waited until he had exhausted himself before I mentioned the obvious. ‘My turn, Emerson.’

‘Bah,’ said Emerson; but he said no more. An exclamation of distress came from quite another quarter. Donald had followed us; I had observed the skill with which he moved on the uneven surface, and deduced that he must have done some climbing. Now he said softly, ‘Professor, surely you don’t intend to let her–’

‘Let her?’ Emerson repeated. ‘I never let Mrs Emerson do anything, young man. I occasionally attempt to prevent her from carrying out her more harebrained suggestions, but I have never yet succeeded in doing so.’

‘I am narrower through the shoulders than you,’ Donald persisted. ‘Surely I am the one–’

‘Balderdash,’ Emerson said brusquely. ‘You have had no experience. Mrs Emerson has an affinity for pyramids.’

While they were discussing the matter, I removed my coat and lighted a candle. After discovering that Ramses was not in his room (and before leaving the house) I had dashed to the roof to retrieve my belt and my parasol. The latter I had of necessity left below, but the belt and its accoutrements had again proved their utility.

‘A bientôt, Emerson,’ I said, and wriggled head-first into the hole.

There was no reply, but a surreptitious caress upon the portion of my body yet exposed was sufficient evidence of his emotions.

I found myself in a narrow passageway lined with stone. It was high enough for me to stand erect, but in view of the steep angle at which it descended I considered it better to proceed in a crawling position. I had not gone far before I saw something unusual. The darkness ahead was broken by an irregular patch of brightness. The light strengthened as I moved slowly forward, and I found that it streamed through a narrow gap in a huge fall of stone and brick which had blocked the passage. Cautiously I assumed an upright position and applied my eye to the gap.

Seated on a large block of stone, his back against the wall of the passage, was Ramses. He had stuck a candle onto the stone with its own grease, and he was scribbling busily on a notepad. Though I knew he must have heard my involuntary gasp of relief at finding him unharmed, he did not stop writing until he had finished the sentence and ended it with an emphatic jab of his pen. Then he looked up.

‘Good evening, Mama. Is Papa with you, or have you come alone?’

* * *

No, dear Reader, the break in the narrative at this point is not intended to keep from your ears (or eyes) the words I spoke to my son. I did not dare shout at him for fear of disturbing the delicate balance of the stones around me. In fact, it was Ramses who spoke, describing in wearisome detail the method by which we ought to remove the fallen rubble in order to free him. He was still talking when I left.

My head had scarcely emerged from the entrance hole when it was seized by Emerson. In between raining kisses on my face, more or less at random, he asked questions I could not hear owing to the fact that his hands were covering my ears.

I was pleased but surprised; Emerson’s demonstrations of affection, though extravagant in private, are not often displayed before an audience. And indeed, if he had seen Donald Fraser’s grin, he would have desisted at once.

Having solved the auditory problem, I explained the situation. ‘I cannot shift the stones, Emerson; they are too heavy for me. I think we will have to take advantage of Mr Fraser’s offer after all.’

‘Is Ramses all right? Is the dear boy injured?’ Emerson inquired anxiously.

‘He is working on a manuscript which I presume to be his Egyptian grammar,’ I replied curtly. ‘Mr Fraser, if you will?’

Donald followed me into the passageway. At the sight of the obstruction he let out a soft whistle. In the dim flame of the candle I held, he resembled one of the ancient workmen crouching on hands and knees before the burial chamber in which he had left his royal master hidden (as he vainly hoped) for all eternity.

I said softly, ‘Study the situation, Mr Fraser, I pray, before you touch any of the stones. A careless move–’

‘I understand,’ Donald said.

Then we heard a thin, high voice. ‘I suggest, Mr Nemo – or Mr Fraser, as the case may be – that you endeavour to locate the pivotal point on which the relative mass of the rockfall is balanced; for according to my calculations the total weight of the portion of the pyramid over our heads is approximately eighteen and one-third tons, give or take a hundred weight...’

I find myself quite incapable of recording the rest of Ramses’ lecture. It was accompanied by a monotonous undercurrent of profanity from Donald Fraser, for which, I must say, I could hardly blame him. He performed well, particularly under those somewhat exasperating circumstances, and soon succeeded in enlarging the hole through which I had first seen the light of Ramses’ candle. As soon as it was big enough, Ramses’ face appeared in the opening, hideously shadowed by the candle he held. His thin face looked alarmingly like the mummy of his namesake, and he was still offering suggestions. ‘Mr Nemo – if you will permit me to continue the use of that pseudonym until I am formally introduced to you under your proper name – I strongly request that you do not remove anything to the left – your right, it would be – of the present gap. My appraisal of the situation–’

The speech ended in a squawk as Donald, driven beyond endurance, snatched his charge by the throat and dragged him through the opening. It was a chancey thing to do, but it had no ill effect except on the nether portion of Ramses’ anatomy, which, as I later discovered, was violently scored by the rough edges of the rocks as he passed rapidly under them.

‘Precede me, Ramses, if you please,’ I said coldly.

‘Yes, Mama. I would rather do that in any case, since I have the distinct impression, from the strength of Mr Nemo’s grip, that he is in a state of emotional excitation that makes me prefer to have some obstacle between myself and his–’

I gave Ramses a push. He said later that I had struck him, but that is not correct. I simply pushed him in order to hasten his progress. It certainly had that effect.

Our return to the house was effected in utter silence. When we arrived it was completely dark, and Hamid the cook informed us indignantly that dinner was burned to a crisp because we had not told him we would be late.

After the required repairs to our physical and sartorial deficiencies had been effected, and a distinctly inferior meal had been consumed, we gathered in the sitting room for a council of war.

Feeling that repairs to shattered nerves were also required, I offered whisky all round, except to Ramses, of course. He and the cat had milk and Enid chose a cup of tea. The genial beverage (I refer in this instance to the whisky) had the desired effect, though in Emerson’s case the improvement of his sprits was due in large part to the relief of recovering his son more or less unscarred, and to the fact that I was about to admit him to my confidence. As he put it, during a brief moment of privacy, while I was removing my (or Enid’s) dishevelled costume, ‘Much as I deplore your insane escapades, Peabody, I resent even more being excluded from them.’

Yet, as I explained once we had settled around the table in the sitting room, there was very little he did not know, now that the identities of the two young persons had been disclosed. He could not blame me for failing to inform him of Enid’s real name, since he claimed to have recognized her from the start.

Ramses, of course, also maintained he had penetrated Enid’s disguise. ‘The bone structure is unmistakable. A student of physiognomy is never misled by superficial changes in appearance such as are wrought by clothing, ornaments or cosmetics. Which reminds me, Miss Debenham, that at some future time I would like to discuss with you the devices ladies employ in order to change their natural appearance – for the better, as they no doubt assume, or they would not resort to such things. The colouring of the lips and cheeks reminds me of the Amazulu people, who often paint broad stripes–’

We stifled Ramses, figuratively speaking – though Donald looked as if he would like to have done so literally. He had already informed me that he was beginning to understand my warnings concerning Ramses. ‘The boy doesn’t need a bodyguard, Mrs Emerson, he needs a guardian angel – or possibly a squad of them.’

The young man was wearing his new shirt and trousers, and for the first time resembled the English gentleman I knew him to be. He sat with eyes downcast and lips pressed tightly together. Enid was also silent. The concerted effort both made to avoid touching or looking at one another was in my opinion highly significant.

Emerson was the first to break the silence. ‘It seems that whether I will or not, I have become involved in the little matter of Kalenischeff’s murder. Let me say at the outset that I cannot help but believe there is some connection between that event and the domestic matters Mr Fraser has outlined. It is too much of a coincidence that a third party should have decided to do away with the villain – much as he deserved it – at the precise time when Miss Debenham had hired him to help find her missing kinsman.’

‘Coincidences do occur, Emerson,’ I said. ‘I know you would rather eliminate from consideration that individual whose name I refrain from mentioning–’

‘Oh, the devil,’ Emerson growled. ‘You cannot mention his name, Amelia, for you don’t know what it is. Call him whatever you like, so long as it is pejorative.’

‘Whatever we call him, it would be folly to deny that he is involved. He has favoured us with communications on no fewer than four occasions. First, the attempted abduction of Ramses; second, the return of the stolen communion vessels; third, the presentation of the flowers and the ring; and last, today’s attack. Only a mind hopelessly and irrevocably prejudiced’ – I carefully refrained from looking at Emerson, but I heard him snarl– ‘would deny that all four events bear the signature of Sethos.’

‘I beg your pardon, Mama,’ Ramses said. ‘I concur with your conclusions regarding the last three incidents, but in the first case–’

‘Who else would want to abduct you, Ramses?’

‘A great number of people, I should think,’ said Emerson. ‘Ordinarily I would agree with your premise, Peabody – that there cannot be many individuals in Egypt who yearn to make off with Ramses – but as I have learned to my sorrow, we seem to attract criminals as a dog attracts fleas. I should feel hurt if we had fewer than five or six murderers after us.’

‘He is speaking ironically,’ I explained to Donald, whose bewildered expression betokened his failure to comprehend. ‘However, there is some truth in his statement. We do attract criminals, for the simple reason that we threaten to destroy them and their vile activities.’

‘Yes, but curse it, we aren’t threatening anyone now,’ Emerson cried. ‘At least ... Ramses! Look Papa straight in the eye and answer truthfully. Are you threatening any criminals at this time?’

‘To the best of my knowledge, Papa–’

‘Just answer yes or no, my son.’

‘No, Papa.’

‘Have you unearthed any buried treasures or antiquities you neglected to mention to your mama and me?’

‘No, Papa. If you would allow me–’

‘No, Ramses, I will not allow you to elaborate. For once in my life I intend to direct the course of a family discussion and decide upon a sensible course of action.

‘To return, then, to the subject of the murder. I find it difficult to believe that the police really consider Miss Debenham a serious suspect. If she were to surrender herself–’

Donald started up from his chair. ‘Never!’ he exclaimed. ‘Even if she were to be cleared of the crime, the shame – the notoriety –’

‘Be still a moment,’ I said. ‘Emerson, I think you underestimate the strength of the case against her. Let me play devil’s advocate and state the facts as they will appear to the police. Item: Miss Debenham and Kalenischeff were intimately acquainted – lovers, to put it bluntly. (Donald, I insist that you be quiet.) They quarrelled on the night of the murder. He was found dead in her bed, and she was with him in the room when the dastardly deed was done. Alone with him, mark you, and in her nightclothes. Her story of a midnight intruder who rendered her helpless by means of a drug will be dismissed as not a very clever invention. You may be sure no one else saw a sign of the fellow.’

‘Kalenischeff’s shady reputation – his criminal connections–’ Emerson began.

‘His criminal connections are no more than suspicions in so far as the police are concerned. As for his reputation – don’t you see, Emerson, that might work against Miss Debenham? To put it as nicely as possible, Kalenischeff was a ladies’ man. Is not jealousy a motive for murder?’

Emerson looked grave. ‘Is there no other suspect?’

‘Er – yes,’ I said. ‘As a matter of fact, there are two.’

Emerson brightened. ‘Who?’

‘Both,’ I said, ‘are in this room.’

Emerson’s eyes moved, quite involuntarily, I am sure, to Ramses.

‘Oh, come, Emerson,’ I said impatiently. ‘If a woman could not strike such a blow, how could an eight-year-old boy? No! Who is the man with thews of steel and a formidable temper, who has been heard on numerous occasions to describe Kalenischeff as a villain and a rascal and has stated that his very presence was an affront to any decent woman?’

A modest smile spread across Emerson’s face. ‘Me,’ he said.

‘Grammar, Emerson, if you please. But you are correct. You are the person I meant.’

‘On my word, Peabody, that is cursed ingenious,’ Emerson exclaimed. ‘If I didn’t know I hadn’t done it, I would suspect myself. Well, but who is the other suspect?’

‘She is referring to me, Professor,’ said Donald, carefully avoiding the grammatical error Emerson had committed. ‘I was at the hotel that night. You had told me to meet you there–’

‘But you didn’t,’ Emerson said.

‘No. I – I was in a strange state of mind. Appreciating your trust and yet resenting your interference ... I wandered half the night trying to decide what to do.’

‘I believe I can understand, Mr Fraser. But the fact that you were in the motley crowd outside the hotel doesn’t make you a suspect. You were there other evenings, you and dozens of other nondescript Egyptians. I assume you did not enter the hotel?’

‘How could I?’ Donald asked with a wry smile. ‘A ragged beggar like myself would not be admitted to those precincts.

‘Then I fail to see how you can fall under suspicion.’

Ramses had been trying for some time to get a word in. ‘Papa – were Mr Fraser’s true identity known –’

‘Just what I was about to say,’ I remarked, frowning at Ramses. ‘Mr Donald Fraser might have a motive for killing Kalenischeff that a ragged beggar would not. Furthermore, I know for a fact that he is suspected.’

‘Who told you?’ Emerson demanded. ‘Baehler?’

‘No, it was–’

‘You went to police headquarters the day you were in Cairo,’ Emerson said accusingly. ‘You misled me, Amelia. You promised–’

‘I made no promise, Emerson. And in fact the police were of little assistance. I cannot think why our friend Sir Eldon has such incompetent people as his aides. Major Ramsay is a perfect fool, and he has no manners besides. The person I was about to mention is a well-known private investigator. I started to tell you about him last night before you – before we–’

‘Please continue with your narrative, Amelia,’ said Emerson, glowering.

‘Certainly, Emerson. I only mentioned the – er – interruption because I don’t want you to accuse me of concealing information from you.’

‘Your explanation is noted and accepted, Peabody.’

‘Thank you, Emerson. As I was saying, I happened to meet this gentleman outside the Administration Building. He recognized me and addressed me – most courteously, I might add – and it was he who informed me that a certain beggar in a saffron turban was under suspicion. His name is Tobias Gregson. He has solved such well-known cases as the Camberwell poisoning–’

I was not allowed to proceed. Every member of the group – with the exception of the cat Bastet, who only blinked her wide golden eyes – jumped up and attempted to speak. Enid cried, ‘Ronald is behind this? How could he ...’ Donald declared his intention of turning himself in at once. Emerson made incoherent remarks about the moral turpitude of private detectives and told me I ought to know better than to speak to strange men. Ramses kept exclaiming, ‘But, Mama – but, Mama – Gregson is – Gregson is –’ like a parrot that has been taught only a few phrases.

By speaking all at once, each defeated his (or her) purpose, and as the hubbub died, I seized the opportunity to go on. ‘Never mind Mr Gregson; we won’t speak of him since he has aroused such a storm. It is out of the question for Donald and Enid to give themselves up. Donald’s case is as desperate as Enid’s – indeed, it may be worse, for I am sure the authorities would prefer to arrest a man rather than a young lady. No; we must sit pat, as one of my American friends once said – in regard, I believe, to some sort of card game. Our game is a dangerous one, and we must hold our cards close to our persons. I have made one attempt to lure Sethos out of hiding; I propose to continue that method tomorrow–’

Another outcry silenced me, punctuated, like the monotonous tolling of a bell, by Ramses’ reiterated ‘But Mama.’ Emerson won over the rest this time, by sheer volume.

‘Rather than allow you to repeat that imbecile and hazardous experiment, Amelia, I will bind you hand and foot. Why must you take these things on yourself? Can’t you leave it to me to smoke out the villain?’

‘I cannot because I am the only one who can pass for Enid. Or do you propose to assume women’s clothing and walk with her dainty, tripping steps?’

The very idea outraged Emerson so thoroughly that he was momentarily mute. It was Enid who said timidly, ‘But, Amelia – are you absolutely certain it was I the man wanted? Perhaps you were the intended victim all along.’

‘By Gad,’ Emerson exclaimed. ‘Out of the mouths of babes and ... Hem. Excuse me, Miss Debenham. Precisely the point I would have made had I been permitted to speak without these constant interruptions.’

‘Nonsense,’ I said. ‘My disguise was perfect. Donald here was deceived–’

‘I was not,’ Ramses said quickly. ‘I knew it was you. Mama, there is something I must–’

‘There, you see,’ Emerson exclaimed triumphantly.

‘The eyes of true love cannot be deceived,’ Enid said. Donald glanced at her and glanced quickly away.

Emerson’s lips tightened. ‘That,’ he said, ‘is what I am afraid of.’

Emerson refused to explain this enigmatic remark; nor, in fact, did any of us ask him to explain, for we had more important matters to resolve. We finally decided to wait upon events for another day or two, in the hope that something would turn up. I should say, ‘Emerson decided,’ for I was opposed to the idea. He promised me, however, that if nothing happened in the next two days, we would go together to Cairo in an effort to obtain information.

‘Let me work for a brief time without distraction,’ he groaned piteously. ‘The stratification of the structure next to the pyramid is not clear in my mind as yet.’

I knew what Emerson was up to. He had no more intention than I did of sitting with folded hands awaiting Sethos’ next move. He was deceiving me, the sly fellow – trying to get the jump on me in another of our amiable competitions in criminology. Well, I thought, smiling to myself – two can play that game, Professor Radcliffe Emerson! I had a few cards up my own sleeve.

‘Very well,’ I said pleasantly. ‘That will give me a chance to explore the interior of the subsidiary pyramid.’

‘It will prove a wasted effort, Mama,’ said Ramses. ‘The burial chamber is empty. Indeed, I suspect it was never used for a burial, since its dimensions are only seven feet by–’

‘Ramses,’ I said.

‘Yes, Mama?’

‘Did I not, on an earlier occasion, forbid you to go inside a pyramid without permission?’

Ramses pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘Indeed you did, Mama, and I assure you I have not forgotten. I might claim that since you were present, though at some little distance, I was not violating the literal sense of the command. However, that would be disingenuous. In fact, my position was on the very edge of the entrance opening – technically neither in nor out – and I had every intention of remaining there, and would have done so, but for the fact that a careless move on my part caused me to lose my footing and slide down the passage, which, if you recall, had a slope of perhaps forty-five degrees fifteen minutes. It was my body striking the wall that disturbed the delicate equilibrium of the structure, whose stones had already been–’

‘Ramses.’

‘Yes, Mama. I will endeavour to be brief. Once the passage was blocked and I realized that my strength was inadequate for the purpose of freeing myself, I took advantage of my position to explore the rest of the interior, knowing it would be some time before my absence was noted and a rescue party–’

‘I think, my son,’ said Emerson uneasily, ‘that your mama will excuse you now. You had better go to bed.’

‘Yes, Papa. But first there is a matter I feel obliged to bring to Mama’s attention. Gregson is–’

‘I will hear no more, wretched boy,’ I exclaimed, rising to my feet. ‘I am thoroughly out of sorts with you, Ramses. Take yourself off at once.’

‘But, Mama–’

I started toward Ramses, my arm upraised – not indeed to strike, for I do not believe in corporal punishment for the young except in cases of extreme provocation – but to grasp him and take him bodily to his room. Misinterpreting my intentions, the cat Bastet rose in fluid haste and wrapped her heavy body around my forearm, sinking her teeth and claws into my sleeve. Emerson persuaded the cat of her error and removed her – claw by claw – but instead of apologizing, she chose to be offended. She and Ramses marched off side by side, both radiating offended hauteur, the cat by means of her stiff stride and switching tail, Ramses by neglecting to offer his usual formula of nightly farewell. I daresay they would have slammed the door if there had been one to slam.

Emerson then suggested we retire. ‘After such a day, Peabody, you must be exhausted.’

‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘I am ready to go on talking for hours if you like.’

Emerson declined this offer, however, and after gathering our belongings we started for our tent. I was uneasy about leaving the others, but we had taken all possible precautions, requesting Abdullah to close and bar the gates and to set a guard. I felt sure I could rely on Donald, not only to watch over both his charges, but to maintain a respectful distance from one of them. Poor boy, he was so in awe of the girl, he hardly dared speak to her, much less approach her.

I promised myself I would have a little talk with him on that subject. For in my opinion (which is based on considerable experience), there is nothing that annoys a woman so much as fawning, servile devotion. It brings out the worst in women – and in men, let me add, for a tendency to bully the meek is not restricted to my sex, despite the claims of misogynists. If someone lies down and invites you to trample him, you are a remarkable person if you decline the invitation.

I told Emerson this as we strolled side by side through the starlit night. I half-expected him to sneer, for he takes a poor view of my interest in the romantic affairs of young people; instead he said thoughtfully, ‘So you recommend the Neanderthal approach, do you?’

‘Hardly. What I recommend is that all couples follow our example of marital equality.’

I reached for his hand. It lay lax in my grasp for a moment; then his strong fingers twined around mine and he said, ‘Yet you seem to be saying that a certain degree of physical and moral force–’

‘Do you remember remarking on one occasion that you had been tempted to snatch me up onto a horse and ride with me into the desert?’ I laughed. Emerson did not; in fact, his look was strangely wistful as he replied, ‘I do remember saying it. Are you suggesting I ought to have done so?’

‘No, for I would have resisted the attempt with all the strength at my disposal,’ I replied cheerfully. ‘No woman wants to be carried off against her will; she only wants a man to want to do it! Of course, for old married folk like us, such extravagance would be out of place.’

‘No doubt,’ Emerson said morosely.

‘I admit that a proper compromise between tender devotion and manly strength is difficult to achieve. But Donald has gone too far in one direction, and I intend to tell him so at the earliest possible opportunity. He adores her; and I rather think she reciprocates, or would, if he went about wooing her in the proper manner. She would not say such cruel cutting things to him if she did not–’

We had reached the tent. Emerson swept me up into his arms and carried me inside.