“But now we have lost both boys,” I murmured. “What if-”

“No what-ifs, Peabody. Bear in mind they are not boys but young men who have had a good deal of experience in unusual situations. Give them a few more days.” He patted my hand. “Now cheer up and drink your whiskey like a lady.”

FROM MANUSCRIPT H

“What have you done to him?” Ramses pulled away from Mansur and knelt beside David. There was blood on his face, but he was breathing evenly.

“He brought it on himself.” Mansur sounded somewhat rattled. “He should not have resisted. I must-I have another matter to attend to.”

The guard had backed off a few feet, his weapon raised. Ramses gave him an ingratiating smile, and prodded David.

“I know you’re awake. Sit up very, very slowly and tell me what the hell you’re doing here.”

“Looking for you.” David opened one eye and then the other. Ramses braced his shoulders as he raised himself, very very slowly, to a sitting position. “I went to Samaria and-”

“You needn’t explain what you did.” The same idea might have occurred to him if their positions had been reversed. David had shown himself at or near Samaria, dressed like Ramses and imitating his mannerisms and speech as only David could do, in the hope that word would get back to the kidnappers that there was a second Ramses Emerson on the loose. It was a wild, crazy scheme, but obviously it had worked. Up to this point. He and David did look enough alike that a verbal description would have matched both: six feet tall, black hair and eyes, thin faces and prominent features, brown skin. But no one seeing them together could mistake one for the other.

“Why did you put up a fight when they caught up with you?”

“I felt it advisable to live up to your reputation for bellicosity.” David raised a hand to his head and winced. “It may not have been such a clever idea.”

Worry made Ramses’s voice sharper than it should have been. “Not that I don’t appreciate your good intentions, but I can’t see that they have improved the situation. Unless you have a pistol or two tucked into your trouser pockets.”

“’Fraid not. They searched me quite thoroughly. But it was worth it. At least now I know you’re alive.”

Touched, terrified, and furious, Ramses found it difficult to speak for a moment.

“Talk fast,” he said urgently. “The guard doesn’t understand much English, but Mansur won’t leave us alone together for long. What made you believe I was a prisoner when I wrote that note?”

“It was enclosed in a woman’s handkerchief. Your mother was the first to point out that if you had done something so uncharacteristic as run off with a woman, you wouldn’t have advertised it. But she said she could think of several innocent reasons why someone else-”

“Yes, she would.” For once Mansur had been a little too clever.

And it had led to this.

“Who are these people?” David asked. “And what do they want?”

“Good question.” He wondered what was delaying Mansur. Was it David’s unexpected advent that had thrown him off balance, or was something else going on? Well, they would find out soon enough. No use crying over spilled milk, as a lady of his acquaintance might have said. Take the bull by the horns and time by the fetlock, put your shoulder to the wheel, and figure out what to do now.

“Their aim is to expel foreigners, especially Englishmen, from this part of the Ottoman Empire. It may come to jihad one day, but at present they are preparing the ground and spreading the word. Mansur is one of the leaders; the other is a woman, a German.”

David started to speak. Ramses raised a hand for silence and went on rapidly: “Her motives may not be the same as Mansur’s, but they have formed an alliance because their goal is the same. They murdered a British agent who was with their group in disguise. He told me several things before they caught him. They are searching for some sort of talisman to inspire the faithful. It could be an artifact, a manuscript, even a man. If-when-you get out of here you must take that information back to Father. He’ll know what to do with it.”

“When we get out of here,” David said, in that gentle inflexible voice.

Ramses shook his head vehemently. “I must stay with them. I haven’t made any attempt to escape-probably couldn’t have brought it off anyhow, but I didn’t try because I need to know what they’re after. And stop them if I can.”

“Why you?”

It was a reasonable question, and one he couldn’t answer. Not patriotism, not love of country, not duty; they were catchwords that could be used for good or ill. Certainly not a fanatical dedication to the ideal of empire, which had inspired so many young idiots like Macomber. Because a lot of innocent people will be killed if they bring this off? That made better sense, but it wasn’t the only reason. And one of those reasons did him no credit. He wanted to get back at Mansur. It had become a personal duel.

He was trying to think what to say when the door opened, to admit not only Mansur but a group of servants carrying loaded trays. They moved efficiently around the room, moving two of the small tables together and spreading them with cloths, setting them with silverware, crystal, and even linen napkins. Ramses’s empty stomach reacted embarrassingly to the savory odors wafting from various dishes. He hadn’t had anything to eat or drink for hours.

Mansur stood looking on with folded arms, then dismissed most of the servants with a lordly wave of his hand. The few that remained, including Mansur’s servant and a veiled female, took up their positions behind the chairs that had been placed at the tables. Four chairs.

She swept into the room with the assurance of a queen, head high and step firm. She wore a long gown of some pale blue floating stuff, and little jeweled slippers; her fair hair was wound round her head in a braided coronet.

David leaped to his feet, eyes widening. The image he had formed in his mind of the unnamed German female obviously didn’t match the reality.

She inspected him with cool detachment and then glanced at Ramses.

“Can there be any doubt?” she inquired of Mansur.

“No. No, lady.”

“Then why is he here?” She gestured dismissively at David.

“Those who brought him had not seen the other. They heard him spoken of by name.”

“And there is a certain resemblance,” she agreed. “Perhaps they are not wholly to blame. But it does present a difficulty.”

“One that is easily solved, lady.”

They had spoken English. Ramses felt sure the choice of language was deliberate; they wanted him and David to understand the half-veiled threat. He managed to refrain from question or comment. She was watching him as if through a microscope, alert to every change of expression.

Then a smile curved her lips. “Of course, Mansur. We will dine together, like reasonable beings, and find a way out of our difficulty.”

The china was Bavarian, the glasses crystal, the silverware heavy and ornate. Frau von Eine had done Gertrude Bell one better; she had brought along the family silver, complete with crest.

The veiled woman waited on her mistress and Mansur’s servant on him. The latter avoided looking at Ramses or David, but the woman stole glances at them from time to time. She had big, soft brown eyes outlined with kohl, and the veil was thin enough to outline a neat little nose and rounded chin. Once Ramses caught her eye and smiled. Madame saw the smile. She didn’t miss much. It seemed to amuse her.

The other servants were competent enough, though not so well trained as the personal attendants of their host and hostess. The food was excellent: lamb prepared with spices and vegetables, fresh-baked bread, bowls heaped high with fruit.

“I trust you find yourselves comfortable here?” was Madame’s opening gambit.