“Hmph,” said Emerson, glowering at him over the menu. “Another of Daoud’s sayings? Not one of his best.”

He beckoned imperiously to the waiter. After we had got through the business of ordering our meals he planted his elbows on the table and looked curiously round the room.

Not all the tables were occupied. The hour was early for the “Best People.” The only ones I recognized were Lord Edward Cecil and several of his set. Catching Lord Edward’s eye, I nodded, and the gentleman hastily wiped the grin off his face.

“Who are those people with Cecil?” Emerson inquired.

I told him the names, which would mean no more to my Reader than they did to Emerson. “And that fellow who is smirking at Cecil?” he asked.

“His name is Aubrey Herbert,” Ramses said. “One of Woolley’s and Lawrence’s associates. He was once honorary attachй in Constantinople .”

“You know him?” Emerson demanded.

“I have met him.” A spark of amusement shone in Ramses’s half-veiled eyes. “I’ve been informed that he considers me frightfully underbred.”

“The opinions of such persons should not concern you,” I said indignantly.

“I assure you, Mother, they do not. May I ask, Father, what prompts your interest in him?”

“I am looking for someone,” said Emerson.

“Who?”

“That fellow Hamilton . You know him, don’t you, Ramses? You can point him out.”

“I don’t see him,” Ramses said. “What made you suppose he would be here?”

“He lives at the Savoy , doesn’t he? I know!” Emerson pushed his chair back. “I will send up my card.”

And off he went, fumbling in his pockets.

“Why this sudden interest in Major Hamilton?” I asked Ramses, nodding at the waiter to serve the soup. There was no sense in waiting for Emerson, who would return if and when he chose.

“I don’t know.”

“I do hope he doesn’t mean to quarrel with the Major.”

“Why should he?”

“The Major was somewhat rude at first, but Nefret said he was charming to her. Oh, dear. You don’t think your father intends to warn the Major to stay away from her, or—”

“No, I don’t.”

“Or perhaps it is the little girl. He might wish—”

“Mother, it is surely a waste of time to speculate. Why don’t you eat your soup before it gets cold?”

“Speculation,” I retorted, “is never a waste of time. It clears away the deadwood in the thickets of deduction.”

Ramses retreated behind his serviette.

“Something caught in your throat?” his father inquired, returning and resuming his seat.

“No, sir. Was the Major in?” Ramses was a trifle flushed. I hoped he was not coming down with a fever.

“That we will discover in due course,” said Emerson, beginning on his soup. He eats very neatly but very quickly; he finished before me and then resumed speaking. “I sent up a message saying I was here and wanted to see him.”

The response to his message did not take the form he expected. Ramses saw her first; he said something under his breath, and directed my attention toward the door of the dining salon.

“It is only Miss Molly,” I said. “Why such bad language?”

“I am beginning to think of her as a Jonah,” Ramses said.

“Nonsense,” said Emerson, turning to smile at the dainty little figure. She saw us at the same moment and came tripping toward us. I could tell from her affected walk and her pleased face that she thought she looked very grown-up. Her pink satin frock was so fresh she must have just put it on, and the ringlets framing her face were held back with a circlet of artificial rosebuds. Clothing makes the woman, as I always say; in this ensemble, which was more suitable for a jeune fille than a child, she did appear older than her admitted age. It must have been her indulgent uncle who had authorized the purchase.

Miss Nordstrom followed close on the heels of her charge. Her face was even more forbidding than it had been on the occasion of our first meeting, and I thought she looked very tired.

“I hope you are recovered,” I said sympathetically.

“Thank you, Mrs. Emerson. It was only a mild—er—indisposition. You must excuse us for interrupting your dinner,” she went on. “Come along, Molly, and don’t keep the gentlemen standing.”

“Can’t we sit with you?” Molly asked me.

“As you see, we have almost finished dinner,” I said.

“Oh, so have I. Finished dinner, I mean. Nordie said I could come downstairs for a sweet if I drank all my milk. The milk here tastes very horrid.” She made a comical face at Emerson, who beamed down at her from his great height.

“Certainly, my dear. And you too, of course, Miss Er-um. Will the Major be joining us?”

The waiter brought two more chairs and we all shifted round, to the great inconvenience of all concerned. Miss Molly settled herself into her chair between me and Ramses with an air of great satisfaction.

“He can’t,” she said.

“I hope,” said Ramses, “he is not suffering from an alimentary indisposition.”

Molly giggled. “An upset stomach, you mean? No, that was—”

“The Major was about to leave for a dinner engagement when your message arrived,” Miss Nordstrom said, turning pink. “He sends his regrets and hopes to see you another time.”

“Ah,” said Emerson. If he was disappointed he hid it very well. In fact, if I had not known better, I would have thought he appeared pleased.

Miss Molly took her time about ordering a sweet, asking everyone’s opinion in turn. She divided her attention between Emerson and Ramses—getting very little in the way of conversation out of the latter—which left me to entertain Miss Nordstrom. An uphill job it was, too. All she could talk about was how much she disliked Cairo and yearned to return home.

“The food does not agree with me, Mrs. Emerson, and it is impossible to keep to a normal regimen with the child. At home, you know, one has complete control and a proper schedule for school hours, healthful exercise, and visits with parents. The Major’s hours are so erratic I never know when he will be here, and then he wants to be with Molly.”

“Quite natural,” I said.

“Oh, yes, no doubt, but it does not make for proper discipline.” She lowered her voice. “I assure you, I would not have allowed her to disturb you if he had not given in to her pleas. I do not hold with such late hours for children, or with such rich food.”

The gвteau au rhum which Miss Molly was devouring certainly fell into that category. Her enjoyment was so obvious I could not help smiling.

“A little indulgence now and then does not hurt a child,” I said. Miss Molly, talking with her mouth full, did not hear this. Ramses did. He gave me a sidelong look.

As Miss Molly chattered cheerfully on, I began to be a trifle uneasy about the time. Miss Nordstrom had declined a sweet but had accepted coffee. The dining salon was now full, and several acquaintances stopped by to say good evening on their way to or from their tables. One of these was Lord Edward.

The son of Lord Salisbury, he was in birth and lineage the most distinguished of all the young men whom Kitchener had brought into the Egyptian civil service. He had had no training for his position in the Finance Ministry, but by all accounts he had done an excellent job and was high in the confidence of the Government. He also had a certain reputation as the wittiest man in Cairo . Making fun of other people is the easiest way to acquire such a reputation. What he and his set said about us behind our backs I could only imagine. They would never have had the audacity to say it to our faces.

Gravely and deferentially he congratulated Emerson on the discovery of the statue, told me how well I looked, pinched Miss Molly’s cheek, and asked after Nefret. Miss Nordstrom got a condescending nod. Last of all he addressed Ramses.

“I thought you might like to know that Simmons has been reprimanded and cautioned to behave himself in future.”