I did not ask how she could be certain. Presumably she was in a position to know.

She had mistaken the reason for my silence. Dropping to her knees, she took my hands and looked straight into my eyes. “You mustn’t think we were—we were sneaking behind your back, Aunt Amelia. It only happened once…” A faint touch of color warmed her pale face. “One night. We came to you next morning, to tell you and ask your blessing, and that was when…”

“You found Kalaan and the child and her mother with us. Good heavens.”

“You can’t imagine how I felt! I’d been so happy, happier than I could ever have imagined. It was like Lucifer falling from the heights of heaven into the deepest pits of hell in one long descent. Not that there is any excuse for what I did. I ought to have believed in him, trusted him. He will never forgive me for that; how could he?”

I stroked the golden head that now rested on my lap. “He has forgiven you, believe me. But I am in a considerable state of confusion, my dear; I understand some of what you have told me, but what was it you said about betraying Ramses to Percy?”

She raised her head and brushed the tears from her face with the back of her hand. “You are trying to distract me, aren’t you? To keep me from losing my head and acting without direction or thought. I’ve done it before, only too often. It was from me that Percy learned it was Ramses who rescued him from Zaal’s camp. David and Lia knew, and they told me, and swore me to secrecy, and I gave my word, and then one day Percy came sneaking round to see me, and he made me so angry, paying me sickening compliments and making insulting remarks about Ramses, and—and—”

I had not tried to stop her; it was only when her breath gave out that I managed to get a word in.

“I understand. My dear, you mustn’t blame yourself. How could you have known how Percy would react?”

“Ramses knew. That was why he didn’t want Percy to find out. That isn’t the point, Aunt Amelia! Don’t you see—I lost my temper and betrayed a confidence, and that broken promise was the start of it all. If I can’t be trusted to keep my word—”

“Enough of this,” I exclaimed, breaking into a tirade of self-reproach. “You meant no harm, and Percy might have used Sennia to injure Ramses anyhow. He has hated Ramses since they were children. Really, Nefret, I thought you had better sense!”

Sympathy would have broken her down. My stern but kindly tone was precisely what was needed. She stiffened her shoulders and gave me a watery smile. “I’ll try,” she said humbly. “I’ve been trying to think. There is one place they might have gone, but I don’t think Ramses could have known of it, and surely he wouldn’t…”

She got to her feet and I did the same, taking firm hold of her, for I feared she was on the verge of losing control again. “We cannot act on doubtful grounds, Nefret. If you are mistaken we would lose valuable time and we would not be here when Emerson rings.”

“I know. I wasn’t suggesting…” Then she stiffened and pulled away from me. “Listen.”

Her ears were keener than mine; she was halfway to the door before I heard the hoofbeats, and then a shout from Ali the doorman. I followed Nefret through the hall to the front door, in time to see Ali trying to lower a body from the horse that stood sweating and shivering outside. It was that of a man, dead or unconscious. Nefret sprang to Ali’s assistance.

“Take his shoulders, Ali,” she said crisply. “Get him into the drawing room. Aunt Amelia—”

I helped her to raise the man’s feet, and the three of us, staggering under his dead weight, bore him through the hall and into the lighted room, where we lowered him onto the rug.

It was David, deathly pale, insensible, and bleeding, but alive, thank God. There was blood everywhere—on my hands, on those of Nefret, and on her skirts. David’s right leg was saturated, from hip to foot. Kneeling beside him, Nefret pulled his knife from the scabbard and began cutting away his trouser leg. She snapped out orders as she worked.

“Ring for Fatima and the others. I want a basin of water, towels, my medical bag, blankets.”

Within seconds the entire household was assembled. The shock to poor Fatima on seeing her beloved David, not only here, but desperately injured, was extreme; but she pulled herself together, as I had known she would, and flew into action.

“A bullet wound,” Nefret said, tightening the strip of cloth cut from her skirt. “He’s lost a great deal of blood. Where the devil is my bag? I need proper bandages. Ali, take Asfur to the stable and have a look at her. The bullet went straight through David’s thigh, it may have injured her. Then saddle two of the other horses. Fatima , hold this. Aunt Amelia, ring the hospital. Ask Sophia to come at once.”

I did as she asked, telling the doctor to make haste. When I went back to Nefret she was knotting the last of the bandages.

“Twenty minutes,” I reported. “Nefret—”

“Don’t talk to me now, Aunt Amelia. I’ve stopped the bleeding; he’ll do until she arrives. Fatima , obey Dr. Sophia’s orders implicitly. David…” She leaned over him and took his face between her small bloody hands. “David. Can you hear me?”

“Nefret, don’t. He cannot—”

“He can. He must. David!”

His eyelids lifted. Pain and weakness and the effects of the injection she had given him dulled his eyes—but not for long. His gaze focused on her face. “Nefret. Go after him. They—”

“I know. Where?”

“Palace.” His voice was so faint I could scarcely make out the word. “Ruin. On the road to…”

“Yes, all right, I’ve got it. Don’t talk anymore.”

“Hurry. Took me… too long…”

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll get him back.”

He did not hear. His eyes were closed and his head rested heavy in her hands. Nefret kissed his white lips and rose. She looked as if she had been in a slaughterhouse, skirts dripping, hands wet, face streaked with blood—but not with tears. Her eyes were dry, and as hard as turquoise.

“I’m going with you,” I said.

She looked me over, coolly appraising, as she would have inspected a weapon to make certain it was functional. “Yes. Change. Riding kit.”

Leaving Fatima with David, we hastened up the stairs. “Will he live?” I asked.

“David? I think so.” She went into her room.

I exchanged my tea gown for trousers and boots and shirt and buckled on my belt of tools. Nefret seemed to know where we were going. How, I wondered? David had not given us precise directions. I felt torn apart leaving him, even though he was in good hands. How much harder had it been for Nefret, who loved him like a brother and who had the medical skill he needed? There was only one thing on her mind now, however; I did not doubt she would have passed my bleeding form without a second glance if she had to make the choice.

When I hastened to her room I found her lacing her boots. “Not your belt, Aunt Amelia,” she said, without looking up. “It makes too much noise.”

“Very well,” I said meekly, and distributed various useful articles about my person. “Shouldn’t we try to reach Emerson?”

“Write him a note. Tell him where we have gone.”

“But I don’t know—”

“I’ll do it.” She rose and snatched a sheet of writing paper from the desk. “Send Ali or Yussuf after him. Russell’s headquarters first. If he isn’t there, they must track him down. I’ll make a copy and leave it with Fatima in case the Professor comes back here before they find him.”

She had thought of everything. I had seen her in this state before, and knew she would hold up until she had accomplished her aim… or had seen it fail. A shiver ran through my frame. What in God’s name would become of her if she were unable to save him?

What would become of me, and his father?

We paused in the drawing room long enough to give Fatima her final instructions. David lay where we had left him, covered with blankets and so still my heart skipped a beat. Nefret bent over him and took his pulse.