“I must leave at once. He’s already several minutes ahead of me.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No.” He took her by the shoulders. “Not this time. My darling, I’m only going to catch him up and remind him this is not a good time to be wandering about in the dark.”

  He was over the sill and out the window before she could reply. He had a last glimpse of her anxious face and parted lips before he turned the corner of the house.

  Ramses swung by the stable and found Jamad asleep and the horses all in their stalls. So David was on foot. He was at least five minutes behind David, and if David had gone toward Gurneh or the western cliffs, he’d already be out of sight. If he had headed toward the riverbank, meaning to cross over to Luxor, there was still a chance of catching him up. He started down the road, running.

  He had thought of several innocent explanations for David’s behavior, including the one he had given. It was understandable that he might feel the need to be alone; the family en masse or individually could be wearing.

  His straining eyes caught sight of a form moving along the road some distance ahead. He didn’t need to see the man’s face to make an identification. Since his war injury, David limped when he moved too fast.

  So much for the first of the innocent explanations. Ramses told himself that David must have a good reason for going off this way, but he decided not to stop him. The main thing was to keep him in sight. Wandering round the streets of Luxor at night, for whatever reason, was to invite trouble.

  Ramses slowed his pace and tried to figure out his next move. So far David hadn’t seen him, but if he followed by boat he would be as conspicuous as a camel caravan. There wasn’t much traffic on the river at this hour. Most of the tourists had retired to their hotels.

  Keeping in the shadow of one of the vessels pulled up on the bank, he watched David negotiate with a boatman and climb aboard. Instead of taking a seat, he stood looking back along the road. Ramses was forced to the only viable means of pursuit. He slid into the water. A few long strokes took him up to the side of the boat as it got under way.

  It was not the most comfortable way to cross the river. His head was under water a good deal of the time, and his wet clothes clung clammily to his body. Now and then he heard the boatman swearing. The fellow had noticed the boat wasn’t answering as readily as usual, but it didn’t occur to him that he had an extra passenger.

  When they reached the other side David jumped out without waiting for the gangplank. He splashed through the shallows toward the bank. Ramses waited until he had climbed it before he pulled himself out of the water and pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. They met the stupefied eyes of the boatman. His mouth dropped open.

  “Quiet,” Ramses whispered. “Don’t speak. I owe you baksheesh, Ali Ibrahim. Tomorrow.”

  The word of an Emerson was good all along the river. The man nodded dumbly. Ramses squeezed the water from the bottoms of his trouser legs and climbed the stairs to the street.

  Unpleasant as the trip had been for Ramses, it had convinced David he had not been followed. Ramses attracted a lot of curious looks as he dripped and splashed along the pavement, but David didn’t look back. He moved like a man who knew exactly where he was going, until he passed the Winter Palace and reached a quieter section of the road. Then he stopped and looked round.

  There were only a few houses nearby, on the north side of the road. Ramses had dropped flat when David halted, there being no other place of concealment he could reach. He felt the water on his clothes mixing with the dust.

  David went to the door of one of the houses—a rather imposing structure several stories high, with a flight of steps leading to a pair of carved columns that flanked the entrance. Ramses jumped up. Mud dripped off him. The hell with this, he thought. I’m going to confront him, ask him what he thinks he’s doing.

  He got as far as the top of the stairs. Arms clamped round his body. He twisted, freeing one arm and striking out. His fist smashed into a surface as unyielding as stone, and other arms gripped him. Someone let out a string of obscene Arabic epithets, and someone else offered a rude suggestion in the same language. A pair of hands closed round his throat. Then a voice called out a peremptory command. “Stop!”

  He recognized the voice. It was that, as much as the stranglehold on his throat, that ended his resistance. Unseen hands pushed him into the house and slammed the door. The interior was dark, but he made out curving walls and a shimmer of reflection from what must be a mirror before he was hastily blindfolded. Half dragging, half pulling, they got him to an inner room and shoved him in. Sprawled on the floor, he heard a muttered colloquy outside the closed door.

  They hadn’t tied his hands. He pulled off the blindfold—a filthy rag that smelled of sweat—and discovered that the groping hands had relieved him of his knife. The door opened. A man entered carrying a lamp, which he put down on a table. The room was small and scantily furnished, with a low couch and a few chairs and tables. It had only one window, small and high in the wall.

  “Are you hurt?” David asked anxiously.

  Ramses got slowly to his feet. He was caked with dirt from chest to feet, and his throat hurt. His arm moved without conscious volition, delivering a hard, backhanded blow to David’s face. David staggered back, his hand over his mouth. Blood dripped between his fingers.

  “It was you,” Ramses said. “All along, it was you.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  WE WERE IN THE DRAWING ROOM WAITING FOR DINNER TO BE ANNOUNCED when Nefret came in.

  “Where are David and Ramses?” I asked. “Dinner is almost ready.”

  “Gone out.” Nefret brushed a loosened lock of hair back from her face.

  I suppose we were all a little on edge—or perhaps it was something in her voice that made Sethos look up with a frown and Emerson get to his feet.

  “At this hour?” I asked. “What has happened?”

  Nefret took a folded piece of paper from her bodice and handed it to me. “Nothing,” she said. “At least—I don’t know, Mother. I couldn’t stop him, he moved too quickly. Out the window and off at a run. I hadn’t finished dressing…”

  “Calm yourself, my dear,” I said, handing Emerson the note. “I presume ‘he’ refers to Ramses, David already having departed?”

  “Yes.”

  “He says he has gone for a walk,” Emerson said. “Unusual, but not alarming. Nefret, my dear, sit down and let me get you a glass of—of something.”

  Sethos, the last to read the message, started to speak and then closed his mouth. Watching him, I said, “Emerson is right, Nefret. Agitation is bad for you, and I am certain you have no reason for concern.”

  For a moment I thought Nefret would swear, as I had done on hearing that phrase. Waving away the glass Emerson offered her, she took a deep breath and said, “I would rather have sherry, if you don’t mind, Father.”

  “Oh,” said Emerson. “Oh. Of course.” He handed me the whiskey and served her as she had requested.

  “Did you happen to see which way Ramses went?” I asked, determinedly casual.

  “Not really.” She was trying hard to keep her composure, but after a sip of sherry she burst out, “Why would David steal out without a word to us? He must have known we would worry about him. Ramses said he only meant to find David and bring him back, but he took his knife, and he wouldn’t wait for me or ask you to help him search, and those devils have taken Margaret, and they’re out there, watching us, and—and you tell me I have no reason for concern!”

  “I’ll go look for them,” Emerson exclaimed.

  “Where?” Nefret demanded. “They could be anywhere from Gurneh to the river by now. Hell and damnation! I should have followed Ramses, in my bare feet and half-dressed!”

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Nefret, don’t.” Sethos got up from his chair and came to her. “Believe me, there is no cause…All right, all right, I won’t say it. I don’t know what’s happened to Ramses and David, but I’m sure they’ll be back soon. Margaret…” He hesitated.

  A tear slid down Nefret’s cheek. She is one of those women who can cry beautifully, with no distortion of her face or reddening of her eyes. She raised those eyes, brimming and blue, to Sethos. “Oh, hell,” he said. “Margaret isn’t missing. I know precisely where she is, and I assure you she is unharmed. Furious, but unharmed.”

  A thunderstruck silence followed this statement. Emerson was the first to recover, and his response was typical of Emerson—a hard blow that sent Sethos sprawling.

  “So,” Emerson said in a voice like a lion’s roar. “It was you. All along, it was you.”

  FROM MANUSCRIPT H

  “No,” David said, his voice blurred by the blood dripping from his nose. He passed his sleeve across it. “No, not all along. Ramses—”

  “Sorry I can’t offer you a handkerchief. Mine is somewhat unsanitary.” Bloodying David’s nose had got some of the outrage out of his system, but his voice shook.

  David fumbled in a pocket and found his own. “I don’t blame you for being angry with me. If you’d just listen—”

  “I’ll listen. I haven’t much choice, have I? Fighting my way out of here wouldn’t seem to be a sensible option.”

  “You look like hell. Sit down, why don’t you?”

  He went to the door and spoke to someone outside. The door opened a few inches; a hand pushed an earthenware container inside. Now conscious of aching muscles and sore spots that would soon be bruises, Ramses lowered himself onto the narrow cot and accepted a drink of water. David sat down on the floor, legs crossed, and offered Ramses a cigarette. He was tempted to refuse what was obviously meant as a peace offering, but that would have been childish. Incredulity had replaced his anger; David looked just as he always had, his well-cut features concerned, his soft brown eyes anxious. His best friend, the man he trusted above all others…

  “Well?” he said, after David had lit the cigarette for him.

  “I’ll tell you everything.”

  “That would be nice.”

  David flinched. “I’d rather you hit me than use that tone of voice. It’s not what you think, Ramses. I knew nothing about this business until I arrived in Cairo. You told me a little, but we didn’t have time to talk at length; there was always someone around. And you were always around, you never left me alone for a minute. As I learned later, other people were waiting for a chance to talk to me in private, before I left Cairo. You wondered why they bothered to carry Gargery off. They hoped we would separate in order to search for him—which we did. As soon as you were out of sight, one of them approached me. D’you remember the man you knew as Bashir?”

  “One of the gang of radicals we infiltrated during the war? I thought he had been rounded up along with the other revolutionaries.”

  “He was. That was his nom de guerre; his real name is Mohammed Fehmi, and he comes from a well-to-do family. After the war, when he’d served his term they let him out, thanks in large part to his father’s influence. He’s now a respectable member of society, employed by one of the ministries. To make a long story short, which he had to do since he hadn’t much time, he told me flat-out that he and his party are planning a coup. A bloodless coup. They’re fed up with Fuad and his devious schemes; they want to replace him with someone who is sympathetic to their aspirations and who will abide by the constitution.”

  Ramses’s lip curled expressively. “I know what you’re thinking,” David said. “But I had no reason not to believe him, Ramses. He insisted that they had harmed no one, that they meant no harm to anyone. I agreed to keep silent, at least for the time being. At that point I hadn’t got the full story from you.”

  “You got it when we talked that night.”

  David nodded. “What you told me confirmed Bashir’s claims. He frankly admitted that a few of their people had got the wind up after Sethos stole their precious document, and had gone a little overboard trying to retrieve it. Since then they have confined themselves to keeping a close watch on you and the family.

  “I wanted to tell you, Ramses, I really did. But—well, I’m not as naive as you think. Bashir had offered the stupid donkey a tasty handful of carrots, but he might be hiding a stick behind his back. I needed to know more about their intentions, and the best way of doing that was to keep on good terms with them—let them believe I was with them wholeheartedly.”

  You are, Ramses thought, noticing that David was avoiding his eyes—with them, if not wholeheartedly. You believed Bashir because you wanted to believe in a bloodless coup that would realize your fondest hopes for your country, support of a cause you’ve believed in and fought for all your life.

  It wouldn’t be bloodless, though. Coups seldom were. There were always a few who joined in for the sick pleasure of violence.

  Ramses knew what it was like to be torn between conflicting loyalties. He’d had to deceive his family, even Nefret, when he was working undercover during the Great War. He had hated the deception, his superiors, and himself, as David must be doing now.

  “So what have you decided?” he asked.

  Sensitive to every nuance of his friend’s voice and expression, David reacted to Ramses’s milder tone with a direct look and a tentative smile.

  “I decided tonight, when I heard about Margaret, that I might have been more naive than I thought. Bashir had given me his word that no action at all would be taken. So I came here to demand an explanation. They had given me the address in case I needed to contact them.”

  “What have they done with Margaret?” Ramses asked, accepting another cigarette.

  “They deny having taken her.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “I don’t know what I believe.” David passed his hand over his face. “Except that I may have made the worst mistake of my life. What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t suppose your chums mean to turn me loose with profound apologies?”

  “You would report this, wouldn’t you? Warn the authorities?”

  He wouldn’t lie to David. What would be the point? “Yes,” he said.

  “I knew you’d say that. I’ll get you out of here, Ramses, I swear. I never meant this to happen.”

  “I know. Never mind that now. I’ve played the fool a few times myself. Perhaps you had better have a chat with the lads and find out what they have in mind—for both of us.”

  “They’ve no reason not to trust me,” David said slowly. “I objected to them manhandling you, but they wouldn’t hold that against me. I haven’t had a chance to ask many questions.” He smiled wryly and got to his feet. “Just as well; I might have said the wrong thing. I’ll report as soon as I can.”

  He was out the door before Ramses could respond. There was no need for a response or a handshake or any other acknowledgment; they had known each other too long and too well. David hadn’t forgiven himself, but he had put guilt aside until he could make amends for his mistake.

  He had left the packet of cigarettes and the jar of water. Ramses helped himself to another drink, rinsed his hands and face, and made an inspection of his prison. It hadn’t been designed as such, though there was only one door, and the single window was barred—a customary precaution against thieves. Someone had occupied it recently, and briefly, to judge by the paucity of personal belongings lying about.

  Which didn’t tell him much. One thing was certain, though. They couldn’t afford to turn him loose. He knew where their headquarters was located. He and David would have to find a way of escaping. If they couldn’t outwit a few ordinary thugs they didn’t deserve the reputations they had earned, but they’d have to get Margaret away as well, supposing she was here and not in another of their lairs. And time was passing. He brushed dried mud off the face of his watch and found, as he had expected, that it had not survived its watery journey. The unmoving hands accused him. Nefret would worry. He’d caused her too much worry.

  Some might have accused him of naïveté for believing in David’s change of heart. They would be wrong. David couldn’t have misled him, even if he had wanted to. He knew his friend too well. “We,” David had said. “What are we going to do?”

  They had been three adventurers together, David and Nefret and he, young and stupid and foolhardy. As a girl Nefret had been as reckless as they; she’d given him a few bad times too. He remembered the time she had blackmailed them into taking her along when they went to one of the worst parts of Cairo in pursuit of a valuable manuscript. They had barely made it out unharmed—with the manuscript. David might have got his throat cut that night if Nefret hadn’t acted, decisively and instantly, while he stood frozen. That bond had never been broken.

  When David came back, Ramses was pacing up and down the small room. Before he could speak David said loudly, “I brought you something to eat. Sit down and keep your hands in sight. If you give us any trouble we’ll have to tie you up.”

  “I won’t make trouble.” Ramses went to the bed and sat down.

  The door, which had been slightly ajar, closed. David handed him a plate. Ramses studied his dinner without enthusiasm. Fuul, the popular dish consisting of mashed beans, and a chunk of bread. No utensils had been supplied. He was accustomed to eating Arab-style, though, so he dipped his fingers into the mess and forced a bite down.

  “You’ll be let go in a few days,” David said, sitting down next to him. “Unharmed. I made that a condition of my continued cooperation. Once they’ve accomplished their goal, there won’t be any need to hold you.”

  He lowered his voice gradually as he spoke. Ramses took the hint. “How many days?” he asked softly.

  “Two, three at the most. Margaret’s not here. When I insisted, they let me search the house.”

  “They must be keeping her somewhere else. If we can take one of them prisoner, he may be persuaded to tell us where.”

  Despite his urgent need to return to his wife, Ramses’s spirits had lifted. Having David on his side was as good as an army—better, in a sense. David was his balance wheel, the sensible member of the group, as he proceeded to demonstrate.