“Where are Sennia and Gargery?” I asked, standing on tiptoe.

  Like a small up-to-date version of Venus rising from the sea, Sennia was lifted high above David’s head. She too was waving and calling out, though I could not hear her through the noise.

  I did not see Gargery until after the trio had passed through customs. Leaning heavily upon his cane, he tottered up to me. “I brought them, madam.”

  “So I see,” I replied, turning to receive the affectionate embrace of a son from David, and a breath-expelling hug from Sennia.

  She seemed to have grown several inches in the past few months, and at thirteen was quite the little lady—white gloves, parasol and all. Half-English, half-Egyptian, she had the smooth brown skin and long-lashed dark eyes of her mother and, heaven be thanked, little resemblance to her father.

  “Where are the others?” she demanded. “The Professor and Aunt Nefret and the twins and Selim and Daoud and Fatima?”

  “You will see them tomorrow,” I replied, straightening her hair bow. “We are taking the evening train to Luxor.”

  Gargery groaned. “Oh, madam, I had hoped we might have a day of rest, after that dreadful voyage.”

  “You were seasick, I suppose,” I said. “Well, Gargery, I am sorry, but you brought it on yourself. No one asked you to come.”

  I did feel sorry for the poor old fellow, but as I had learned, sympathy only made Gargery groan louder. Gargery didn’t like trains either; by the time we reached Cairo he was so pale and shaky I took the group straight to Shepheard’s and settled Gargery in a comfortable chair in the lobby.

  “We will take tea here instead of on the terrace,” I said, torn between concern and exasperation. “The train doesn’t leave for several hours, so have a little nap, Gargery.”

  “I am not at all tired, madam,” Gargery said haughtily. His eyes closed and his white head drooped onto his chest. He didn’t stir, even when the waiter brought tea and a mouth-watering assortment of biscuits. Forgetting her dignity, Sennia took the sweetest.

  “Curse the old rascal, he doesn’t look at all well,” I said in a low voice. “He can have a compartment to himself. Sennia will share mine and you and Ramses another, David. You will probably sit up all night talking.”

  “I will take care of Gargery,” Sennia said. She picked up the cup of tea I poured for her, her little finger elegantly extended. “Oh, it is wonderful to be back! Can we go to the Museum? Can we go to the suk?”

  “I don’t want to miss the train,” I said, wavering under the appeal of a pair of big black eyes.

  “It will probably be late,” Ramses said. “You want to shop, I suppose, Sennia. Would you settle for a short stroll along the Muski?”

  Sennia, her mouth full of cake, nodded eagerly.

  “I could stand to do a little shopping myself,” I admitted.

  Ramses looked at his watch. “I have a call to make. I shall be back in good time. David, will you go with the ladies?”

  David gave him an odd look, and agreed so readily that I wondered how much Ramses had told him. They hadn’t had much chance to speak privately.

  “What about Gargery?” I asked.

  “He’ll sleep for hours,” David said. He put a gentle hand on the old man’s shoulder and got a faint snore in response. “We won’t be gone long. You had better write a note for him, Aunt Amelia.”

  I did so, and asked the headwaiter to look after our friend.

  With Sennia dancing along at my side, talking incessantly, I had no opportunity to ask David anything. He stood by with that annoying patient look men have on such occasions while Sennia and I purchased Christmas presents. She was a generous little soul and would have emptied her small purse buying gifts for the twins if I hadn’t prevented her. I cannot say the gifts were always in good taste. In one shop she made David turn his back while she negotiated with the owner for a hideous necktie printed with blue and purple scarabs.

  Not until her arms were loaded with parcels, which she would allow no one else to carry, did I manage to persuade her to return to the hotel. Ramses arrived, by cab, at the same time we did and we entered the lobby together, Sennia chattering nonstop.

  “We had better get ourselves to the station,” I said. “The train may be on time for once. Wake Gargery.”

  But the chair he had occupied was empty, and there was no sign of him.

  David went to look for him, in the obvious place. When he returned, his face was troubled. “The attendant said no one of his description had been there.”

  Seeing us, the headwaiter hurried up. “Are you looking for your friend, Mrs. Emerson? He has gone on.”

  “Good Gad,” I exclaimed. “Gone where?”

  “He mumbled something about the railway station, madam.”

  “How long ago did he leave the hotel?” I asked.

  “Shortly after you did, madam. I kept an eye on the old gentleman, as you requested, but—well, we are very busy this afternoon, and I didn’t notice he was gone from his chair until he tapped me with his cane and said to tell you he had gone on. He was mumbling to himself, madam. Complaining, I believe.”

  We stared at one another in consternation, but none of us voiced the alarm we felt because of Sennia. She chuckled. “He gets confused sometimes,” she explained.

  “Perhaps that is what happened,” Ramses said. “We had better look for him at the station.”

  “We have no other choice,” I said uneasily. “We must leave at once. Barkins, if the old idiot—the old gentleman—should come back, hang on to him and send someone to the station to inform us.”

  Our luggage had been sent on, so we got ourselves and our purchases into a cab without delay. Dusk advanced as the cab wound its way along the busy streets. The gathering darkness increased my uneasiness. The note I had left on the table for Gargery was missing too. He must have taken it with him. How could he have misconstrued my instructions?

  My spirits sank further when we reached the main railway station. Supposing Gargery had found his way here, how were we to locate him amid the shoving, shouting crowds? We found the platform where the express to Luxor and Aswan was waiting. There was still half an hour before it was due to leave. Some people were boarding, others stood chatting with friends. Gargery could not have got on board, we had his ticket. He was not among the passengers still on the platform.

  “Find your compartment,” Ramses ordered. “And stay there. We’ll look for him.”

  He waited until we had boarded before he and David went off in different directions. Porters were sorting out the luggage; I identified ours and had it brought to our compartments. I stood at the open window scanning the passersby, replying absently to Sennia’s bright chatter. A quarter of an hour passed. Most of the passengers were boarding.

  Then I saw Ramses and David, converging on the train. Seeing me at the window, they hurried up. I did not need to ask whether they had found him. Obviously they had not.

  “I’m staying,” Ramses said, before I could speak. “David, hop on and toss my bag out, will you?”

  “We can’t go without Gargery,” Sennia exclaimed. “Where is he?”

  “He’s got lost, I expect,” Ramses said with a forced smile. “The rest of you may as well go on; I’ll track him down and bring him with me tomorrow.”

  I could not contain myself. “Ramses, do you think—”

  “I think he’s lost,” Ramses said loudly. “Don’t worry, Sennia, I’ll—”

  She interrupted him with a shriek of delight. “No, he’s not! There he is now!”

  David, in the next compartment, dropped the suitcase he was holding out to Ramses and stared. Ramses turned and stared. I stared. There he was indeed, hatless, white hair standing on end, pushing through the crowd, which gave way to him with good-natured grins. Old age is respected in Egypt.

  Ramses kept his head. He usually does. Shoving his suitcase back at David, he reached Gargery in a matter of seconds, caught hold of him, and towed him toward the train. Gargery was talking and waving his cane, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. The pair made their way to the end of the carriage. I closed the window and went to the door of the compartment. My thoughts were in a whirl. Evidently my worst fears had been unfounded. The old rascal had got himself lost, and that was all. He had scared the wits out of me, though, and had made it only just in time. A jolt and a whistle from the engine betokened the train’s departure. Coming toward us along the corridor were Gargery and Ramses.

  Sennia wriggled past me, squeezed by a large lady enveloped in a feather-trimmed cloak, and flung herself at Gargery. “That was too bad of you, Gargery. We were afraid you would be late.”

  “It wasn’t my fault, Miss Sennia. Wait till I tell you—” Another lurch of the carriage made him stagger. Ramses shoved him into the outstretched arms of David, who stood at the door of their compartment. “Get in there, Gargery. Sit down and keep quiet.”

  We all piled into the compartment. The two long couches which could be made into beds had seating for six. Gargery dropped, wheezing, into his seat, but he looked a good deal livelier than he had before. His lips parted in a grin, displaying an elegant set of false teeth we had had made for him. “I got away from them,” he declared. “Clean away! They made a big mistake, I tell you, thinking they could hold a chap like me prisoner.”

  Sennia’s eyes were as large as saucers. (Small saucers.) She clutched at his arm. “You were a prisoner? Oh, Gargery, are you hurt?”

  “Hell,” said Ramses. He took off his hat, threw it across the compartment, and ran distracted fingers through his hair.

  The cat was out of the bag and the fat was in the fire, and short of gagging him there was no way of keeping Gargery from bragging about his heroic escape—or preventing Sennia from hearing him. He wasn’t as keen about admitting how he had been hoodwinked, but by dint of pointed questions (and, once the train was well underway, the application of whiskey and soda), we got a coherent account out of him.

  He had been awakened (roused from deep thought, as he put it) by a messenger who handed him a note which read, “Meet us at the railway station.” At the suggestion of this helpful individual, he had informed the head waiter of his intention and followed the messenger out of the hotel, where a closed carriage was waiting. Considering that we had sent it for him (as was only his due), he felt no alarm until he found himself seated between two very sturdy strangers wearing masks. They fell upon him, and in a twinkling had him bound and gagged. The prick of a knife at his throat warned him to stop struggling—for, as he assured us, he had put up a valiant fight.

  “Where did they take you?” I asked, when Gargery paused to refresh himself.

  “Nowhere, madam.” Forgetting his manners for a moment, Gargery wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “We drove round and round for hours, madam. Every second I thought one of the bas—one of them would cut my throat, but I was not afraid, madam, I was only biding my time. Finally the carriage stopped…”

  Gargery took another sip of whiskey and appeared to be thinking deeply.

  “And then?” I prompted.

  “And then…” Inspiration came to him. “I had worked my hands free, you see, madam. One of the chaps got out of the carriage, leaving the door open, and I—er—gave the second fellow a hard whack with my cane, untied my feet, and leaped out. It wouldn’t have done to stay and fight, madam, there were three of them, including the driver, and—and—and then I saw the railway station just ahead and ran as fast as I could till Mr. Ramses found me.”

  This remarkable account left us speechless, except for Sennia, who threw her arms round Gargery and informed him that he was a hero.

  “Yes, quite,” said Ramses. He had his voice under control, but not his eyebrows; they formed a black V over his narrowed orbs. “Gargery, why don’t you take Miss Sennia to the dining car? It must be almost time for first service. We will join you shortly.”

  “I am a bit peckish,” Gargery admitted. “As you know, sir, combat has that effect.” With the assistance of his cane, he hauled himself to his feet and treated us to another glimpse of his expensive teeth.

  “It is good to be back in Egypt, madam!”

  David watched the pair reel off along the swaying corridor, and then closed the door. His lips were twitching.

  “David, are you laughing?” I demanded.

  “I can’t help it. The old rascal is enjoying this. He looks ten years younger.”

  “He certainly has a gift for fantastic fiction,” I said sarcastically. “Can you visualize him immobilizing a thug with one blow of his cane? He hasn’t a muscle left in his body.”

  “But he hasn’t lost the spirit of adventure,” Ramses said. He was smiling too, that rare, carefree smile that lit up his entire face. “He didn’t fight his way free, though. They let him go. After driving him around for—what?—two hours, they brought him to the station in time for the train, and walked away. They must have taken the note we left for him before he woke up.”

  David sat down and took out his pipe. “They being the anonymous individuals who have been bothering you?”

  “Yes, they have been a bit of a bother,” I said.

  “Ramses gave me a quick outline of what you’ve been going through,” David said. “I’m not surprised to hear that Sethos is up to his old tricks, but I can’t believe he would invent such an outrageous story, or arrange even nonlethal attacks on any of you.”

  “You have more confidence in his goodwill than I do,” Ramses said.

  “You’re letting your doubts of the man influence your judgment,” David argued. “You haven’t a scrap of evidence against him. He’s devoted to all of you.”

  “So what’s your explanation?” Ramses asked.

  David shrugged. “I haven’t one.”

  “Neither have we,” I said. “What happened to Gargery only makes it more confusing. What was the point of carrying him off and then returning him without so much as a bruise on him?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Ramses was no longer smiling. “Another warning. This time it was Gargery. Next time it may be someone else.”

  FROM MANUSCRIPT H

  Ramses and David did sit up half the night talking. After Sennia and Gargery had been tucked into bed, Ramses’s mother joined them. She was wearing a voluminous dressing gown and her neatly braided hair was covered by a ruffled cap. Ramses always found these demonstrations of feminine vanity amusing; but her eyes were hard and alert, and she did not waste time.

  “I don’t want to leave Sennia alone too long. Where did you go this afternoon?”

  “I was just about to tell David,” Ramses said.

  “And not me?” She sat down on the foot of his bed.

  “I expected you’d turn up,” Ramses said, smiling at her. “Anyhow, there’s not much to tell. We decided, didn’t we, that we wouldn’t contact Smith directly. I made the rounds—the Turf Club, the Gezira, and a few of his other haunts—saw a few familiar faces, but not his. It’s rather odd. None of his acquaintances has seen him for some time.”

  “Perhaps he’s ill. Did you go round to his office?”

  “No. That would have been too direct. I dropped in on Russell instead.”

  “Not a bad notion,” she said, looking chagrined that she hadn’t thought of it herself. “He is a man of integrity—unlike some of your acquaintances in the intelligence services—and as commandant of the police he has informants all over Egypt. I trust you were discreet in your questions?”

  “I didn’t mention Sethos, or cryptic messages, if that’s what you mean. But he did give me a rather grim picture of the current political situation. Assassinations of British officials have increased, and even Russell doesn’t know who is behind them. Most of the attacks occur when the target is on his way to his office, and though his car is preceded and followed by other vehicles containing armed guards, the killers sometimes manage to draw up alongside and fire several rounds before speeding away. Russell’s not concerned with the broader picture except as it affects his work, but the entire Middle East is boiling with discontent.”

  “That isn’t much help.”

  “It was the best I could do without giving away information.”

  “Yes, my dear, I know; I didn’t mean to criticize.” Murmuring discontentedly and shaking her handsome head, she bade them good night and went out. Ramses stood at the door until her door closed and he heard the bolt being drawn.

  “So what about the famous tomb?” David asked.

  “Was that what fetched you? I know you dote on us, but we can’t really compete with Lia and the children.”

  David laughed. “How cynical! The Illustrated London News has offered me a substantial sum for drawings of the objects.”

  “I hate to be discouraging, but your chances are none too good. Father had a falling-out with Carnarvon, and we’ve been banned from the tomb.”

  “I heard about that. Did the Professor really curse him?”

  “It’s no laughing matter,” Ramses said, shaking his head. “The prohibition includes the whole family, and many of our friends. It’s a pity, really. You’d lose your head over some of those artifacts. However, I don’t know that Carnarvon would admit you even if he weren’t angry with father. There’s a rumor that he intends to give exclusive rights to the Times.”

  “Tell me about the tomb.” David knocked out his pipe and stretched out on the bed, hands under his head.

  It was like old times, when they had talked the night away, discussing tombs, treasures, and mummies, or planning some wild adventure. In the early days, before David and he had become involved in darker plots, Nefret had often been a party to their schemes. Sometimes he wondered if she ever missed those days. They had been so young! Young enough to believe they would survive unscathed, however dangerous the scrapes they got themselves into.

  He could talk to David as to no one else, and he spilled the whole story, from Emerson’s initial discovery of the buried step to the cursing of Carnarvon and their own illicit entry into the treasure chamber. Some parts of the tale sent David into spasms of laughter, but he sobered when Ramses described what they had seen on that memorable night. He kept pressing Ramses for more details about the great funerary couches, the golden goddess his mother had seen, the sealed funerary shrine, the black-and-gold statues of the king guarding the burial chamber. When an ear-splitting yawn interrupted Ramses’s description of the chariot, he said, “You can tell me more tomorrow. We’d better get some rest before the family descends on us in the morning.”