“Aunt Amelia, don’t! It’s me!”

My first impulse was to throw my arms around him, but I was sensible enough to draw him into the room before I did so. It was as well he had spoken; even in the light I would not have recognized the bearded ruffian whose scarred face was set in a permanent sneer. The scar ran up under the patch that covered one eye, but the other eye was David’s, soft and brown and shining with tears of emotion. He returned my embrace with such hearty goodwill that his beard scraped painfully across my cheek.

“Oh, David, my dear boy, it is so good to see you! Where is Emerson?”

“Coming through the house in the usual way. We thought it better for me not to risk that.”

“You ought not have risked coming here at all,” said a critical voice from the bed.

The key turned in the lock and Emerson slipped into the room. “Whew,” he remarked. “That was close. Fatima will be stirring soon. Peabody , put the knife down. What the devil do you think you are doing?”

“Defending her young,” said David, with a horrible, distorted grin. “She was about to fly at me when I identified myself.”

“You ought not be here,” Ramses insisted. Obviously I had not given him quite enough of the sleeping medication. His eyes were half-closed, but the extremity of his annoyance enabled him to articulate.

“We haven’t time to argue,” Emerson said coolly. “David, hurry and change, and get rid of that beard, and—do whatever else you need to do.”

“Don’t worry,” David said, peeling off his beard and turning toward the washbasin in the corner of the room. “I’ve played Ramses often enough lately to fool most people. But you’ll have to keep Nefret away from me. She knows both of us too well to be deceived. I need more light, Aunt Amelia.”

I picked up the lamp and went to him. After rummaging in a nearby cupboard he removed several bottles and boxes and studied his face in the small shaving mirror.

“May I be allowed to say a word?” inquired Ramses, still prone and still thoroughly exasperated.

“No,” said his father. “David and I have it worked out. Peabody , you will tell Fatima that Ramses is in the middle of some filthy experiment, and that she is not to allow anyone in the room. It won’t be the first time. I depend on you to make sure he is supplied with everything he needs before we leave the house this morning. Now get out of here so David can change his clothing.”

I put the lamp down on a table. David had wiped off the scar and removed the invisible tape that had pulled his mouth out of shape. He saw me staring and gave me a sidelong smile. “The resemblance needn’t be that exact, Aunt Amelia. They know Ramses is here and they know I’m not, so they will see him, not me. It will be all right—if I can get out of the house without encountering Nefret.”

“Later… on the dig…” I began.

“Precisely,” said Ramses. “David cannot possibly carry this off. If we were working at a larger site, such as Zawaiet, he might be able to stay at a distance, but we’ve only cleared one room of the tomb, and I’ve been—”

“We will have to extend the area of our operations, that is all,” said Emerson coolly. “Leave it to me.”

“But, Father—”

“Leave it to me, I said.” Emerson fingered the cleft in his chin. “If I understand the situation correctly, the important thing is that you must be seen today behaving normally and with no sign of injury.”

Ramses stared at his father. “How much do you know?”

“Explanations will have to wait. There is no time now. Am I right?”

“Yes, sir.” The lines of strain (and temper) that marked his face smoothed out. Emerson has that effect on people; the very sight of him, blue eyes steady and stalwart frame poised for action, would have been reassuring even to one who did not know him as well as did his son.

“In fact,” Ramses went on, “it would be helpful if David could put on a brief but very public demonstration of strength and fitness at some point.”

“Any suggestions?” David added a few millimeters of false hair to his eyebrows.

“You can rescue me,” I said. “I will persuade my horse to run away with me, or fall into a tomb shaft, or perhaps—”

“Control yourself, Peabody,” said my husband in alarm.

Laughing, David turned from the mirror and gave me a quick hug.

Our performance at breakfast resembled some energetic children’s game—a combination of musical chairs and hide-and-seek. Mercifully Nefret was not yet down; I cannot imagine what we would have done if she had been at table, since I scuttled in and out with baskets of food and pitchers of water, while David and Emerson pretended to eat twice as much as they actually consumed and David sat hunched over his plate speaking only in monosyllables and Emerson distracted Fatima by breaking various bits of crockery (not an uncommon occurrence, I might add). My rapid comings and goings reduced Ramses to speechlessness (which was an uncommon occurrence). After I had made certain he had everything he needed I ordered him to go to sleep, left Seshat on guard, and locked his door before I went downstairs. Shortly after I took my place at the table Nefret came in.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

I put my spoon down and looked more closely at her. Her cheeks were pale and her eyes circled by violet shadows.

“My dear girl, are you ill? Or was it one of your bad dreams? I thought you had got over them.”

“Bad dreams,” Nefret repeated. “No, Aunt Amelia, I haven’t got over them.”

“If you could come to an understanding of what causes them—”

“I know what causes them, and there is nothing I can do about it. Don’t badger me, Aunt Amelia. I am perfectly well. Where is—where are the Professor and Ramses?”

“Gone on to the dig.”

“How is he this morning?”

“Ramses? Just as usual. A trifle out of sorts, perhaps.”

“Just as usual,” Nefret murmured.

“Promise me you won’t lecture him, my dear. I have spoken with him myself, and any further criticism, especially from you—”

“I’ve no intention of lecturing him.” Nefret pushed her untouched food away. “Shall we go?”

“I haven’t finished yet. And you should eat something.” Emerson obviously had some scheme in mind for getting David out of the way, and since I did not know what it was I wanted to give him plenty of time.

“Did you have a pleasant evening?” I asked, reaching for the marmalade.

A line of annoyance appeared between Nefret’s arched brows, but she began to nibble at her egg. “It was rather boring.”

“So you came home early.”

“It wasn’t very early, was it?” She hesitated for a moment, and then said, “Why don’t you just ask me straight out, Aunt Amelia? I saw a light under Ramses’s door and felt the need of intelligent conversation after a tedious evening with ‘the Best People.’ ”

“So I assumed,” I said. “There was no need for you to explain.”

“I’m sorry.” She pushed a loosened lock of hair away from her forehead. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Not only you, I thought, and went on eating my toast. Nefret gave herself a little shake. “As a matter of fact, I did meet one interesting person,” she said, looking and sounding much brighter. “None other than Major Hamilton, who wrote that rude letter to you.”

“Is he one of the ‘Best People’?” I inquired somewhat sardonically.

“Not really. He’s older than the others and less given to silly jokes—that’s how they spend their free time, you know, ragging one another and everyone else. Perhaps,” said Nefret, “that is why he talked mostly to me. He’s really quite charming, in a solemn sort of way.”

“Oh, dear,” I said. “Nefret, you didn’t—”

“Flirt with him? Of course I did. But I didn’t get very far,” Nefret admitted with a grin. “He behaved rather like an indulgent uncle. I kept expecting him to pat me on the head and tell me I’d had quite enough champagne. We spent most of the time talking about Miss Hamilton. Nothing could have been more proper!”