She thought better of it when she beheld Emerson, looming behind me. Words had never failed Margaret; they did not do so now.

  “So you have decided to show your face at last!” she exclaimed. “This time you have gone too far, Mrs. Emerson. I will blazon your perfidy across the front page of every newspaper in the world!”

  “Well put,” I said appreciatively. “However, in this case your accusation is unwarranted. Make yourself comfortable and we will—”

  “Mother,” Nefret interrupted. Her voice was peremptory, even, one might say, critical. Ramses and David had not been here, that was evident.

  “I will be as expeditious as possible,” I promised.

  Margaret put the jug down and folded her arms. She was wearing the frock, now crumpled and sweat-stained, that she had worn to our party. It was an act of defiance; several other garments were hung on hooks or draped over chairs. The sight of them made me blink, for they were the sort of thing one finds in the bazaars, designed for tourists—sewn with beads and covered with gold and silver braid. Sethos must have supplied them, but no doubt Margaret had taken them for another of my comments on her unattractive attire, and resented them accordingly.

  A quick survey of the chamber assured me that the old beldam had earned her pay. The room was clean and adequately, if not luxuriously, furnished. There was a basket of figs and grapes on the table, and the means of ablution had been supplied.

  “It was not I who gave the orders for your abduction,” I began.

  “The carriage driver had been ordered to stop along the road,” Margaret said, her eyes flashing. “When he did, Daoud climbed in and took hold of me. Whom else would he obey but you? Don’t lie to me.”

  “I never lie.” (Unless, I added mentally, it is absolutely necessary.) “Daoud did what he believed I would approve, but he was manipulated by another person.”

  I stepped away from the door. There was a little scuffle outside; then Emerson appeared, holding his brother by the collar. He shoved him into the room. “Here is the perpetrator,” he said.

  Margaret stared. “You?” she exclaimed.

  Seeing no way out (for Emerson blocked the doorway) Sethos smiled in an ingratiating manner. “My intentions—” he began.

  “Damn your intentions!” Margaret shouted. “Please don’t repeat that fantastic tale of being pursued by enemies. I didn’t believe it when Amelia told it me, and I don’t believe it now. You didn’t abduct me to keep me safe!”

  “No,” Sethos said. “I did it…I did it because…”

  For once his glib tongue failed him. Looking from him to Margaret, I said, “He had planned to stage a daring rescue, Margaret.”

  Margaret’s face was a study. “Rescue? From that decrepit old man and his octogenarian wife?”

  “Oh, I’d have arranged it more dramatically,” Sethos said, perking up. The signs were encouraging; she hadn’t thrown anything at him or called him names.

  Neither of them seemed to know what to say next.

  “Get your things together, Margaret,” I said.

  She picked up her evening bag, shot a scornful look at the embroidered robes, and strode out of the room without looking at Sethos.

  Matters were progressing nicely on that front. I only wished I could deal as easily with the others.

  FROM MANUSCRIPT H

  Safely surrounded by bright lights and mobs of people, Ramses collapsed onto the steps of the hotel and fought for breath. At last he managed to get out a few words.

  “Are you all right?”

  David nodded. “You?”

  “Yes. I wonder…why they didn’t…fire at us.”

  “I don’t know.” David wiped his sweating face with his sleeve. “D’you want something to drink?”

  “No time.” Ramses got to his feet. “We’ve got to inform the police.”

  “I thought you were anxious to get back to Nefret.”

  “I am, but they’ll get—”

  “Away,” David finished. “It can’t be helped. By the time we get to the zabtiyeh and convince the man on duty we have a legitimate complaint, and round up enough men, they’ll have cleared out.”

  His reasoning was irrefutable. The police wouldn’t be in any hurry to act; they might insist on getting authority from Aziz, who would have to be dragged out of bed. It wouldn’t take the gang long to gather their scanty belongings and decamp.

  “What’s the time?” Ramses asked.

  “Half after midnight. Let’s go.”

  Not many people crossed the river at that hour, but there were a number of boatman about, hoping to entice tourists into a moonlight sail or pick up a late-leaving resident of the west bank. They headed toward Ramses and David, quarrelling over who had the right to this fare; but the first to reach them, pushing frailer bodies aside, was Daoud’s son Sabir. He caught David in a crushing grip.

  “Here you are, you are safe, alhamdullilah!”

  David freed himself, laughing, and Sabir fell on Ramses. Ramses was made aware of bruises he hadn’t noticed till then. Though Sabir was not as tall as his father, he had Daoud’s large frame, and arms toughened by operating oars and sails.

  “Yes, God be praised,” he said, once he had detached himself from Sabir’s fond embrace. “Were you looking for us?”

  “Yes, yes, they sent me to wait. Come quickly. Nur Misur weeps and the Father of Curses swears, and the Sitt Hakim is putting bullets in her gun, and—”

  “I hate to think what else,” Ramses said. “We must hurry, then.”

  Sabir’s was one of the few vessels that boasted an outboard motor. They got across in record time, and found Selim waiting with horses. He had seen them approaching, and his shouts had brought others of the men. They had to endure more loving embraces and cries of praise to Allah—with which Ramses was inclined to agree. Call it God, call it luck, call it Fate, he was perfectly willing to thank something.

  “How did you know to expect us?” he asked Selim, as Risha nuzzled his shoulder.

  “We did not know. We hoped,” Selim said simply. “When the family found you had not gone to Gurneh, they sent Sabir and me to ask the boatmen whether anyone had taken you across. We have been waiting.”

  Selim, who loved drama, wanted to arrange a procession and was with some difficulty persuaded to have the procession follow instead of preceding them. Torches flaring, voices raised in song and praise, the whole lot ran along behind. David rode with Selim, at a canter, but Ramses let Risha out. Now that he was almost there, he could hardly wait to see her.

  The house was lit from one end to the other. She came running to meet him, holding out her arms. He brought Risha to a halt and met her halfway.

  “Now tell us,” Selim urged. “Tell us all your adventure.”

  No one could possibly think of going to bed. The return of the lost had revived all spirits, even those of Daoud. We had stopped at his house on the way back from Gurneh, to tell him we knew all about it and that we did not blame him.

  Kadija was not so forgiving. “So that is why you have been pretending to be sick. Daoud, you great fool…”

  When she heard about the boys having gone missing she left off berating Daoud and said she would come with him to the house. Hoping against hope that the wanderers had returned, we left them to follow (with, I expected, a pot of Kadija’s famous green ointment).

  Having discovered that our hopes had not been fulfilled, I at once took steps, sending Daoud and Selim to gather our people and begin inquiries. It was Sabir who located the boatman who had taken the boys across. (He had added that the Brother of Demons had not paid for his passage, and that money was owed.)

  “What are we waiting for?” Emerson demanded, after Sabir reported this. “They are somewhere in Luxor. I will—”

  “Search the entire town, house by house?” I interrupted. “The boatman lost sight of them after they climbed the embankment.”

  My rational arguments had no effect on Emerson, who was storming up and down the veranda knocking over tables and annoying the cat. It was Nefret, perhaps the only one who could have done so, who dissuaded him. “We don’t want to lose you too, Father. Give them a little more time.”

  She wouldn’t have been so calm if one of her premonitions had gripped her. I would never forget the frantic girl who had begged for our belief and help when Ramses was in the hands of his worst enemy. She was the first to sense their coming. She ran out the door, and a few moments later we heard the shouts and saw the blazing torches. It is impossible to describe our feelings, but the sensitive Reader will have no difficulty in imagining them.

  FROM MANUSCRIPT H

  David was suffering the reaction Ramses had feared. The loving embraces and exclamations of relief had been like scratching a bleeding wound. Lips tight and brow furrowed, he stared at his folded hands and did not respond to Selim. He was leaving it to Ramses.

  The pandemonium following their arrival had given Ramses no opportunity to plan what he would say. Fatima kept running in and out with platters of food, Kadija smeared both of them with her famous green ointment, and everyone talked at the top of their lungs. His arm round his wife, savoring safety and her presence, Ramses postponed his explanation by asking about Margaret. Seeing her sitting quietly in a corner was one less weight on his conscience.

  “It seems,” said his mother, “that her disappearance had nothing to do with the—the other business. A certain individual took it upon himself to carry her off, for reasons of his own. She was never in danger. Let that suffice for the time being. We are eager to hear your story.”

  Sethos, sitting some distance away from his wife, stared off into space with a look of innocence that didn’t deceive Ramses for a moment. Bastard, he thought. If it hadn’t been for you…

  The story could not be put off any longer. He hoped to get through the first part of it as quickly as possible, with as few details as possible. “Not long ago the conspirators got in touch with David, who cleverly pretended to be sympathetic to their cause—”

  “No, Ramses.” David raised his drooping head. “I won’t have you make excuses for me. I willingly cooperated with them. I didn’t tell Ramses or anyone else. I betrayed your trust.”

  A stir of surprise ran through the listeners. Ramses said quickly, “They had given him their word they would take no steps against the family and our friends. Margaret’s disappearance made him think their word could not be trusted. He went to Luxor tonight to demand an explanation. I followed, and was fool enough to let myself be caught. I’d still be a prisoner if it weren’t for David. He risked his life to get me away.”

  As Ramses might have expected, his mother was the first to break the astonished silence. Rising, she went to David and put her arm round his bowed shoulders. “As he has done innumerable times before. I think I understand, David. Do not reproach yourself. You are not the only person present who has committed an error of judgment. To err is human, to forgive—”

  “For God’s sake, Peabody, spare us the poetry,” Emerson exclaimed. “Er—David, my boy, what about a whiskey and soda?”

  His eyes moist, David accepted the glass Emerson pressed into his hand.

  “Sir,” he began.

  “Never mind,” Emerson said hastily. “Now let us hear the details, eh? You look as if you’ve been in a scrap.”

  “It was a bit dodgy at times,” Ramses said. His father could only stand so much sentiment. “David had to pick the lock of the room in which I was confined, and knock out the guard outside the door—all that without making a noise that would awaken the rest of the fellows. We had another encounter at the front door, where there was another man standing guard. He took David for one of his own long enough for David to tackle him and bring him down. Between the two of us we put him out of commission, but we had made a certain amount of racket, and by the time we got out the door, the rest of them were in hot pursuit. I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast in my life. When we reached the Winter Palace we knew we had made it. Sabir was looking for us, and…You know the rest.”

  His father leaned forward. “The place is near the Winter Palace? Where exactly?”

  Ramses explained. “We should have gone directly to the police, I suppose, but—”

  “No point in that,” said Emerson, once more in charge. “The birds would have flown. But we had better do so at once.”

  “That will take hours,” his wife said. “It can wait until morning and so can everything else.”

  Like Ramses, she had seen that David was on the verge of collapse from emotional as well as physical strain. She took him firmly by the arm. “Come along, dear boy. A nice warm glass of milk will send you off to sleep directly.”

  There would be “a soupçon of laudanum” in the milk, Ramses thought. Nefret didn’t offer him milk, but she refused to let him get in bed until he had washed off Kadija’s green ointment. It was undeniably therapeutic, but the stains were hard to get out.

  The next morning we all felt like survivors of a shipwreck who had endured long hours of despair before finding, against all odds, that all had indeed survived. I had given thanks, kneeling by the bed, while Emerson stood by, muttering. Now it was time to get to work. Taking a paper from my pocket, I said, “I have made one of my little lists.”

  Smiles suffused every face, including that of David, who was still inclined to mope. “Well, Peabody,” said Emerson good-humoredly, “what is the first item to be considered?”

  “Informing Inspector Aziz and requesting him to search the suspected premises.”

  “Be damned to that,” said Emerson, giving his boiled egg a hard smack. “I intend to inspect the cursed premises myself. You may come along if you like.”

  Naturally I had intended to do so. A woman’s eye, I always say, is keener than that of a man. “After that,” I continued, “we must have a council of war.”

  Urged by Fatima, David had made a good start on his breakfast. Now he put down his fork. “I haven’t told you what I learned about the conspiracy, Aunt Amelia. You didn’t give me time last night.”

  I raised an admonitory finger. “Everything in order, David. ‘Quiet calm deliberation will untangle every knot.’ At least I hope it will.”

  Ramses and Nefret sat side by side, holding hands under the table. “I am coming to Luxor too,” Nefret announced, in a tone that brooked no argument. She didn’t mean to let him out of her sight.

  Margaret was wearing one of my day dresses, a nice little frock of eau de Nil, whose lace trim and skillful cut became her well. After she had removed her horrible dress I told Fatima to cut it up for dusters.

  “May I go to the hotel?” she asked meekly.

  “No,” I said. “We will pack your things and bring them back with us. I want you to attend our council of war. You,” I went on, fixing Sethos with a stern look, “will come with us. And come back with us.”

  “Yes, Amelia,” Sethos said meekly.

  Ordinarily his ready acquiescence and that of Margaret would have struck me as highly suspicious. I thought they would both do as they were told, but I meant to keep a close eye on my brother-in-law. Just in case.

  We had no difficulty in finding the suspected, or cursed, house. It was one of a number of expensive villas that had been built during the extravagance of the prewar period. Rather than waste time, I had dispatched a message to Inspector Aziz, requesting that he meet us there. We were a sufficient force in ourselves, even supposing we encountered opposition. It did not seem likely that we would. Like several others, this house had a derelict air, as if it had been long unoccupied. The flower beds were overgrown and untended, the shuttered windows broken.

  Emerson marched up the steps and kicked the door open. A strong smell of mold and decay met us—but that was all. A quick search made it clear that the birds had indeed flown, leaving behind rotting food, a few discarded garments, and certain other evidences of their disinterest in elementary sanitation. Having made certain that there was no danger of an ambush, we divided forces for a more detailed search, examining every scrap of paper and piece of cloth. We were engaged in this when Inspector Aziz arrived. His hail brought us all to the entrance hall, where he stood with folded arms and a critical expression.

  “Your message was not very informative, Mrs. Emerson,” he said sternly. “Why did you break into this house?”

  “We are not guilty of breaking and entering, only of entering,” said Emerson. “The door was not locked.”

  “Don’t tease, Emerson,” I said.

  Ramses and David had come here searching for Margaret, I explained, and went on to tell the rest of it. As he listened, Aziz’s expression changed from sternness to one of gloomy resignation.

  “I have become accustomed to your habits, Mrs. Emerson, so I accept the fact that I won’t get any more out of you. You ought to have reported this immediately.”

  “That would have meant getting you out of bed in the middle of the night, Inspector. And for no purpose. The miscreants took to their heels as soon as Ramses and David made good their escape.”

  “Who were they?” Aziz demanded.

  “That is what we are endeavoring to ascertain. Do you happen to know who owns this house?”

  “No, but I will find out. Is he responsible for this?”

  “I doubt it,” Ramses said. “The house was empty, so they simply moved in.”

  We left Aziz to carry out his own search. He was a conscientious man, and a good man; I regretted having to deceive him, but it was absolutely necessary.

  We stopped by the hotel long enough to pack a suitcase for Margaret. The men left this to me, except for Margaret’s notes and papers, which Emerson gathered into a bundle. I intended to have a close look at them before I handed them over.

  When we reached the house we found Sennia and Gargery on the veranda. Both were bristling with indignation. Sennia ran to Ramses and threw her arms round him.

  “Fatima told me! Why wasn’t I told before? I would have gone and found you.”