David sat without moving for a time, his eyes downcast. Johnny had been his foster brother before he became his brother-in-law, but it was of Lia he was thinking now.

“We’ll get you on a boat next week,” Ramses said, unable to bear the stoic silence any longer. “Somehow. I promise.”

David raised his head. His eyes were dry and his face frighteningly composed. “Not until this is over and you’re in the clear.”

“It’s over. I saw Russell before I came here and told him to go ahead. There’ll be no uprising.”

“What about the Canal?”

“That’s not our affair. I’m through. So are you.”

“So you’re going to let Percy get away with it?”

Ramses had always prided himself on schooling his features so as to give nothing away, but David could read him like a book. He started to speak. David spoke first.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night—and what you didn’t say, because I didn’t give you the chance. I can put the pieces together too. The house in Maadi, Percy’s extraordinary interest in your activities—he’s afraid you’re after him, isn’t he?”

“David—”

“Don’t lie to me, Ramses. Not to me. When I think of him smug and safe in Cairo , preening himself on his cleverness, while men like Johnny are dying, I feel sick. You aren’t going to let him get away with it. If you don’t tell me what you’re planning to do, I’ll kill the bastard myself.”

“Do you suppose Lia would thank you for risking yourself to avenge Johnny? Killing Percy won’t bring him back.”

“But it would relieve my feelings considerably.” David’s smile made a chill run through Ramses. He had never seen that gentle face so hard.

“I have a few ideas,” Ramses said reluctantly.

“Somehow I thought you would.” The smile was just as chilling.

It didn’t take long to explain his plan, such as it was. As he listened, David’s clenched hands loosened. There were tears in his eyes. He could grieve for Johnny now.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t Johnny’s face that Ramses kept remembering. It was that of the young German.

Chapter 14

The Vandergelts left us immediately after breakfast next morning. They would have stayed had we asked them to, but I think Katherine understood we wanted to be alone with our grief. The worst of it was that we could do nothing for the loved ones who had suffered most. I had written, and Nefret had done the same; Emerson had cabled, and Ramses had taken the messages to the central post office in Cairo , so that they would arrive as soon as was humanly possible. It was little enough.

Ramses came back in time to bid the Vandergelts farewell. He had left the house before daybreak, and I knew that before posting the letters he had looked for the message that would announce the final end of his mission. Meeting my anxious eyes he shook his head. Not today, then. It would be for tomorrow.

Knowing he had eaten almost nothing before he left, I suggested we return to the breakfast room and give Fatima the pleasure of feeding us again. Her face brightened when I asked her for more toast and coffee.

“Yes, Sitt Hakim, yes! You must keep up your strength. Will you go to Giza today? I told Selim you might not wish to.”

“We could close down for the day,” Emerson said heavily. “It would be the proper thing to do.”

“I doubt Johnny would care about the proper thing,” said Ramses. “But we might plan some sort of ceremony. Daoud and Selim would like it, and the others will want to show their affection and respect.”

“Oh, yes, Sitt,” Fatima exclaimed. “They will all want to come. Those who did not know him have heard of him, of his laughter and his kindness.”

“It is a nice thought,” I said, trying to conceal my emotion. “But not today. Perhaps in a day—or two—we will be able to bring stronger hearts to such a ceremony.”

I was thinking of David. It would be infinitely comforting to have him with us again. How that part of the business was to be managed Ramses had not said, but if the authorities did not acknowledge his courage and sacrifice immediately, I would just have to have a few words with General Maxwell.

“We may as well go to Giza for a while, then,” Emerson said. “Keep ourselves occupied, eh? We will stop at midday . I have other plans for this afternoon.”

Ramses’s eyebrows shot up. “Father, may I have a word with you?”

“You certainly may,” said his father with considerable emphasis. “Nefret, that frock is very becoming, but hadn’t you better change? If you are coming with us, that is.”

It was not a frock, but one of her ruffled negligees. I had not reproached her for coming down to breakfast en dйshabillй, for she did not look at all well, her eyes shadowed and her cheeks paler than usual. However, she was quick to express her intention of accompanying us, and hurried off to change.

With a wink and a nod, Emerson led us out into the garden.

“I am bloody damned tired of this sneaking and whispering,” he grumbled. “What is it now, Ramses? If you tell me the business has been put off I may lose my temper.”

“God forbid,” Ramses said. “No, sir, it hasn’t been put off, but there has been a slight change in plan. Russell wants to wait another day or two before he rounds up the malcontents. If that is what you had in mind for this afternoon, you will have to put it off.”

Emerson’s heavy brows drew together. “Why?”

“Well, they are harmless enough, aren’t they? They are waiting for word, which they won’t get because I won’t give it, and without weapons there isn’t much they can do.”

Emerson was obviously not convinced of the logic of this. He was itching to hit someone, or, if possible, a great number of people.

“You weren’t thinking of warning certain of them, were you?” he demanded. “You seem to have a soft spot for that fellow Asad.”

“I am thinking,” said Ramses, whose narrowed eyes and flushed cheeks indicated that he was close to losing his temper, “that you should leave this in my hands.”

To my astonishment Emerson shuffled his feet and looked sheepish. “Er—yes. As you say, my boy.”

“There’s Nefret. Let’s go.”

Once we were mounted and on our way, Ramses took the lead, with Nefret not far behind. It was a gray, misty morning, and the gloomy skies reflected my unhappy mood.

“Let them go on ahead,” I said to Emerson. “I want to talk to you.”

“And I to you. Proceed, my dear; ladies first.”

“I was surprised to see you so meek with Ramses. Are you really going to take orders from him?”

“Yes, I am. And so are you. He has earned the right to give them. I have a great deal of—er—respect for the boy.”

“Have you told him so? Have you told him you love him and are proud to be his father?”

Emerson looked shocked. “Good Gad, Peabody, men don’t say that sort of thing to other men. He knows how I feel. What the devil brought this on?”

“I was thinking of Johnny,” I said with a sigh. “When it is too late, one always wishes one had said more, expressed one’s feelings more openly.”