“Ramses is more than my friend. He is my brother. And there were other reasons. For all his rhetorical bombast, Wardani was not a believer in violent revolution when I joined the movement. He had changed. He kept talking about blood being necessary to water the tree of liberty… It made me sick to hear him. A revolt could not have succeeded, but before it was put down, hundreds, perhaps thousands, of deluded patriots and innocent bystanders would have been slaughtered. I want independence for my country, Aunt Amelia, but not at that price.”

I had long admired David’s strength of character; now, as I studied his thin brown face and sensitive but resolute lips, I was so moved I took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. “My dear,” I said. “You learned of Lia’s expectations, so greatly desired by you both, in September. You could have withdrawn from the scheme then. No one would have blamed you.”

“Ramses urged me to do so. We had quite an argument about it, in fact. He didn’t give in until I threatened to tell Lia the whole story and ask her to make the decision. He knew she’d insist I stand by him. He’s walking a tightrope, Aunt Amelia; there’s a river filled with crocodiles under it, and vultures hovering overhead, and now it looks as if somebody is sawing at the rope.”

“Poetic but uninformative, my dear,” I said uneasily. “Precisely who is after him?”

“Everybody. Except for the few people who are in on the secret, every police officer in Cairo is trying to arrest Wardani. The Germans and the Turks are using him for their own ends; they’d do away with him in an instant if they thought he was playing a double game. Then there are the hotheads in the movement itself. He has to keep them inactive without arousing their suspicions. If they believed he had softened toward the British they would—they would find another leader.”

“Kill him, you mean.”

“They would call it an execution. And of course if they ever learned his real identity, that would be the end of him.”

“And of you. David,” I cried, “it is insane for you and Ramses to take these risks! You said yourself that Wardani is the only man who could lead a successful revolt. Let it be known that he has been captured. His followers will be left leaderless and ineffectual, Ramses will be safe, and you can sail at once for England , and Lia. A pardon or amnesty can be arranged—”

“That is what will happen eventually. But it can’t be done just yet.”

“Why not?”

“The enemy has begun supplying Wardani with arms—rifles, pistols, grenades, possibly machine guns. We must hang on until we get those weapons into our hands, and find out how and by whom they are being brought into Cairo .”

I caught my breath. “Of course! I ought to have realized.”

“Well, yes, you ought,” David said, with an affectionate smile. “Without arms there can’t be a revolution, only a few hysterical students preaching jihad, and Ramses is doing his best to prevent even that. He doesn’t like seeing people hurt, you know.”

“I know.”

“If we act too soon, the Turks will find other supply routes and other recipients. Ramses thinks that one of his own lieutenants is trying to supplant him, and Farouk is not the only ambitious revolutionary in Cairo . The first delivery—two hundred rifles and the ammunition to go with them—was supposed to take place last night.”

“And Ramses was there?”

“Yes, ma’am. At least I assume he was. You see, Ramses took Mrs. Fortescue to dinner at Shepheard’s last night. The idea was… I told him it wouldn’t work, but he…” David gave me a sidelong look from under his lashes. “I don’t think I had better tell you this part.”

“I think you had better.”

“Well, he had to leave at eleven in order to be at the rendezvous. Obviously I couldn’t take his place with Mrs. Fortescue. A substitution at such close quarters… er. So the idea was that he would offend the lady by making—er—rude advances, so she would storm out and leave him—me, that is—to sulk silently but visibly in the bar. Unfortunately she…”

“Was not offended? David, how can you laugh when the situation is so desperate? Confound it, I believe you and Ramses actually enjoy these machinations!”

David got himself under control. “I’m sorry, Aunt Amelia. I suppose in a way we do. The situation is so damned—excuse me—deuced desperate, we have to find what humor we can in it. Someday you must get him to tell you about the time he turned up at a meeting disguised as himself.”

“With that gang of cutthroats? He didn’t!”

“Oh, yes, he did. Gave them a lecture on the art of disguise while he was about it.”

“I do not know what is the matter with that boy! So how did he get away from her? You need not go into detail,” I added quickly.

“You’ll have to ask him. He was late meeting me and in a hurry, and in no mood to answer questions.” The glint in David’s dark eyes reminded me that, for all his admirable qualities, David was, after all, a man.

“Hmmm,” I said. “It is probable then, that he reached the rendezvous unscathed. Dear me, this is confusing! Did the individual who shot him believe he was shooting at Wardani or at Ramses?”

David pushed his hat back and wiped his perspiring forehead with the back of his hand—a good touch, that, I thought approvingly. Ramses never has a handkerchief.

“That’s the question, isn’t it? Apparently Ramses fears the latter may be the case, or rather, that the fellow suspected Wardani was… shall we say, not himself? The truth about Wardani’s present whereabouts is a closely guarded secret, but no secret is one hundred percent secure. If word got out that Wardani was interned in India , people wouldn’t wonder for long who had taken his place. Ramses’s talents are too well known. That’s why I have appeared in public as Ramses on several occasions when Wardani was conspicuously elsewhere.”

“And on at least one occasion you appeared as Wardani while Ramses was conspicuously elsewhere. Really,” I said, in considerable chagrin, “I cannot imagine how I could have been so easily fooled!”

“You had never met Wardani,” David said consolingly.

“That is true. I did sense something out of the way—something oddly familiar about him. My instincts were correct, as usual, but I was misled by—er—well, that is now irrelevant. One of these days I will give myself the pleasure of a little conversation with Thomas Russell. He has been laughing up his sleeve at me the whole time!”

“I assure you, Aunt Amelia, he’s not laughing now. I was supposed to have reported to him early this morning, after I had heard from Ramses. He must be badly worried.”

“You must have been worried too, when Ramses failed to meet you.”

“I was beginning to be when the Professor turned up—scaring me half out of my wits, I might add! Ramses and I always try to meet after these exchanges, if only to bring one another up-to-date; there was one time, I remember, when I had to pretend to be drunk and incoherent in order to avoid a conversation with Mr. Woolley. Lawrence was with him, and I was afraid one of them would demand an explanation next time they saw him.”

“By the time this is over, no respectable person in Cairo will be speaking to Ramses,” I said with a heartfelt sigh. “Do not mistake me, David; if nothing worse than that happens I will be heartily grateful. So he was supposed to have gone to you last night before returning to the house?”

David nodded. His arms rested on his raised knees and his lashes, long and thick like those of my son, veiled his eyes. “I doubt he was in condition to think very clearly. He must have headed blindly for home.”

“Yes.” I took out my handkerchief and dabbed at my eyes. “Good gracious, there is a great deal of sand blowing about today. Well, David, it looks as if we must play this same game again tomorrow. The following day is Christmas Eve; Ramses should be on the mend by then, and we can have a quiet few days at home. All of us except you, my dear. Oh, I wish…”