“So do I.”

“Don’t kiss me, Ramses never does,” I said, sniffing.

He kissed me anyhow. “Now,” he said, “have you given any thought as to how I am going to put on a show for the general populace this afternoon without Nefret getting a close look at me?”

“It is going to be horribly difficult, but that isn’t the only reason I wish Nefret could be told. David, he won’t see a doctor, and I did the best I could, but I am not qualified to treat injuries like those, and she is, and she would never—”

“Aunt Amelia.” He took my hand. “I knew this was going to come up. In fact, I had meant to raise the subject myself if you didn’t. Ramses told me he was afraid he had failed to convince you that she mustn’t know the truth. There are two excellent reasons why that is impossible. One is a simple matter of arithmetic: the more people who know a secret, the greater the chance that someone will inadvertently let it slip. The other reason is a little more complicated. I don’t know that I can make you understand, but I have to try.

“You see, there’s a bizarre sort of gentleman’s code in this strange business of espionage. It applies only to gentlemen, of course.” His finely cut lips tightened. “The poor devils who take most of the risks aren’t included in the bargain. But the men who run the show keep hands off the families and friends of their counterparts on the other side. They have to, or risk retaliation in kind. If Ramses and I were suspected, they wouldn’t use you to get at us, but if it were known that you, or the Professor, or Nefret, or anyone else, were taking an active part in the business, you’d be fair game. That’s why he didn’t want you to find out, and that is why Nefret mustn’t find out. Good God, Aunt Amelia, you know how she is! Do you suppose she wouldn’t insist on taking a hand if she thought we were in danger?”

“She would, of course,” I murmured.

“I know you’re worried about him,” David said gently. “So am I. And he’s worried about you. He’d never have brought you into it if he’d had a choice, and he’s feeling horribly guilty for endangering you and the Professor. Don’t make it harder for him.”

I have always said that timing is all-important in these matters. When we returned to Giza the sun was low enough to cast useful shadows; the tourists had begun to disperse, but there were still a number of people ready to turn and stare. As well they might! Draped dramatically across the saddle and supported by David’s arms, my loosened hair streaming out in the wind, I rested my head against his shoulder and said, under my breath, “This is a cursed uncomfortable position, David. Let us not linger any longer than is absolutely necessary.”

“Sssh!” He was trying not to laugh.

Trailed by a curious throng, Risha picked his way through the tumbled sand and debris till we were close to our tomb. David pulled him up in a flamboyant and completely unnecessary rearing stop, and Emerson came running toward us.

“What has happened?” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Peabody, my dear—”

“I am perfectly all right, Emerson,” I shouted back. “A little fall, that is all, but you know how Ramses is, he insisted on carrying me back. Let me down, Ramses.”

I wriggled a bit. Risha turned his aristocratic head and gave me a critical look, and David gripped me more firmly. Unfortunately the movement resulted in my parasol, slung beside the saddle, jabbing painfully into my anatomy. I let out a shriek.

“Take her straight on home,” Emerson cried loudly. “We will follow.”

“Just in time,” I muttered, while we withdrew as fast as safety permitted. “Nefret had just come out of the tomb; she got only a glimpse of us. David, did you happen to notice the woman to whom Emerson was talking when we arrived?”

David shifted me into a less uncomfortable position. “Mrs. Fortescue,” he said. “Had she been invited to visit the dig?”

“We had spoken of it, but I had not got round to issuing a particular invitation. An odd coincidence, is it not, that she happened to drop by today?”

As soon as I entered the house I told Fatima to prepare a very extensive tea, which got her out of the way. David and I then hurried to Ramses’s room. When I saw that the bed was unoccupied, my heart sank down into my boots. Then Ramses stepped out from behind the door. He was fully dressed, straight as a lance, and several shades paler than usual.

“Goodness, what a fright you gave me!” I exclaimed. “Get back into bed at once. And take off your shirt, I want to dress the wounds. You had no business—”

“I wanted to be certain it was you. How did it go?”

“All right, I think.” David examined him critically. “You’re a trifle off-color.”

“Am I?” He went to the mirror.

I watched as he uncorked a bottle and applied a thin layer of liquid to his face. He must have been in and out of bed several times; not only was he clean-shaven but he had set up a peculiar-looking apparatus on his desk—tubes and coils and glass vessels of various sizes. From it wafted a horrible smell.

“Where is Seshat?” I inquired. “I told her to make sure you stayed in bed.”

Ramses returned the little bottle to the cupboard and closed the door. “What did you expect her to do, knock me down and sit on me? She went out the window when she heard you coming. She’d been here all day.”

“What went wrong last night?” David asked.

“Later.” Ramses sat down, rather heavily, on the side of the bed. “Where are the others?”

“On their way,” I said. “Ramses, I insist you allow me—”

“Get on with it, then, while David tells me what I did today.”

So I got on with it, and David summarized the events of the day. The account served to distract Ramses from the unpleasant things I was doing to him. He was rather white around the mouth by the time I finished, but he laughed when David described our arrival at Giza .

“I wish I could have seen you. Your idea, Mother?”

“Yes. I would have preferred to do something more flamboyant, but I was afraid to risk it. You may be sure Nefret would have been first on the spot, burning to tend to me, and then she would have got a close look at David.”

Ramses nodded approval. “Good thinking. And you say Mrs. Fortescue just happened to be there?”

“Do you suspect her?” I asked.

“It did occur to me,” said my son, glancing at David, “that her—uh—affability the evening we dined together might have been prompted by something other than—er…”

“So, she was affable, was she?” I remarked.

“So David told you about that, did he?” remarked Ramses, in the same tone. “I thought so. I don’t know how you do it, but he babbles like a brook whenever you get him to yourself. I would not have referred to it had I not felt it necessary to clear up certain misapprehensions you both seem to harbor. I do not suspect the lady any more than I suspect all other newcomers without official credentials, but the fact remains that she did her best to detain me when I was on my way to an important meeting. Difficult as it may be for you and David to believe, she may not have been swept off her feet by—er…”

“Now, now, don’t get excited,” I said soothingly. “Without wishing in any way to contradict your appraisal of your personal attractions, I believe it is entirely possible that her motives for calling on us had nothing to do with you. Perhaps it is your father she’s after.”

David and Ramses exchanged glances. “If you don’t mind, Mother,” said my son, “I would rather not continue this line of speculation. David, you’ll probably have to take my place again tomorrow, so you had better stay here tonight. Lock the door after we leave.”

David nodded. “We need to talk.”

“That, too.”

“Ramses,” I said. “You—”

“Please, Mother, don’t argue! There’s no time now. David can’t take my place at dinner, not with Nefret and Fatima there. We’ll talk later. A council of war, as you used to say.”