“Are you saying he murdered the poor fellow?” Emerson demanded.

“We may never know. In a way, Jenkins is a tragic figure; had he but turned his talents to honest labor he might have been an authority in the field of biblical history. His memory was phenomenal, his ingenuity superb. The inscription he produced when you challenged him to reproduce part of his scroll was a copy of the inscription found in the Siloam tunnel. It is now in Constantinople and has been reproduced in various books.”

“How do you know that?” Emerson demanded skeptically.

“I showed it to Ramses.”

“Oh,” said Emerson.

“At any rate, Jenkins has received his just deserts. I do not doubt that the girl he seduced was not the first or the last. A man of base appetites and no morals, he may have pursued other victims during the hours he was not in our company. Finally he became careless. The vengeance of an outraged parent or betrothed caught up with him. Let us hope it occurred before this poor girl was ruined, like Ghada.”

“Like who?” Emerson said in bewilderment.

He can never remember the servants’ names, but in this case I couldn’t blame him. She had not been often in his presence. Nefret remembered, though.

“Ghada? Do you mean that Plato”-she choked on the name-“was her seducer?”

“Herbert Jenkins,” I corrected. “I rather think so. The baby is fair-skinned, and you recall Plato’s behavior when he saw her. He fled precipitately and never came here with us again. He knew he could not count on his disguise rendering him unrecognizable, for the eyes of love-or hate-are not easily deceived.”

“Hate, surely,” Nefret muttered. “He took me in completely, Aunt Amelia. We must do something for Ghada.”

“We will discuss it later, Nefret.”

Which we did, as soon as the gentlemen had left. I had, of course, considered the problem of Ghada and arrived at a solution, which I proposed at once.

“A sizable dowry would probably be sufficient inducement for a young man to overlook her-er-other deficiency. You might consult Kamir. He seems to have a soft spot for her, otherwise he would not have sent her to us. He can suggest some suitable candidates, and make sure the chosen suitor treats her well.”

Nefret’s jaw was set at an angle I was more accustomed to see from Emerson. “Are you actually suggesting I purchase a husband for her? I cannot believe you mean it.”

“It is the only thing you can do for her,” I said sadly but firmly, “and probably the thing she would choose for herself. Don’t let your kind heart and romantic notions overcome your common sense. You cannot snatch her away from her home and her people and try to turn her into someone other than who she is. In time, let us hope, her daughter or granddaughter or great-granddaughter will have other choices.”

“Let us hope.” Nefret turned her head away for a moment. “It is such a sweet baby.”

“A very sweet baby.”

“I will interview the candidates personally.”

“You might give Ghada a voice in the decision too,” I suggested.

Nefret gave me a watery smile and a hearty hug. “You are always right, Aunt Amelia.”

I DID NOT NEED to make a new list of “Things to Be Done.” All the pressing issues on the original list had been dealt with, except for two. I decided to confront the least difficult first.

I had determined that Frau von Eine was staying at the Grand Hotel, the best in Jerusalem. The effrontery of the woman was amazing! Her plot had been thwarted, her influence ended. It must be pure arrogance that kept her here. In fact, we would have had a difficult time proving she was guilty of a crime. The Turkish authorities would never have arrested a prominent citizen of a nation whose influence with the Sublime Porte was so high.

I sent up my card and received an immediate response. A veiled servant opened the door and was dismissed with a wave of Frau von Eine’s hand.

“Please sit down, Mrs. Emerson. I will order tea.”

“No, thank you, I prefer to stand. I will not keep you long.”

“Have you come to revel in your triumph?”

In fact, I had, but it was an unworthy motive, one I preferred not to admit. “Only to settle a few details,” I said.

“It is only a temporary triumph, you know. This particular strategy failed, but I have laid the groundwork for a movement that will win in the end.” Her chin lifted proudly and her pale eyes glittered. “I work for my country, Mrs. Emerson, as you do for yours. The Ottoman Empire will crumble, it is rotten to the core. And when it does it will be replaced by a firm yet benevolent government that will give these poor people the security they deserve.”

“They don’t want it, not from another occupying power,” I said in some exasperation. “They want independence and the right to make their own mistakes instead of suffering from the mistakes of others. Good Gad, you are as bad as the British imperialists like Mr. Hogarth.”

“We will never agree on that, Mrs. Emerson.”

“No. I did not expect my reasonable arguments to prevail, but I felt obliged to make them. Good day, Frau von Eine.”

“Give my regards to your son. Making his acquaintance has been an interesting experience.”

I did not linger. As I made my way to the lift I pondered her last speech and the faint enigmatic smile that had accompanied it. Was it possible that Ramses…No, I told myself. I decided, however, that I would not pass on her regards.

EMERSON AND I WERE first at the breakfast table next morning. In fact, Emerson had been first, which was unusual enough to get me out of bed and dressed when I discovered he was absent. He greeted me with a nod and then retired behind a book. I was accustomed to that version of rudeness; taking a few papers from my coat pocket, I spread them out on the table.

Emerson’s eyes appeared over the top of the book. “One of your little lists, Peabody?”

I did not like the look of those blue eyes. They had a sparkle that seldom appeared at that hour of the morning.

“Yes,” I said.

“Surely,” said Emerson, still behind the book except for his eyes, “you have by now ticked off all the items on that particular list. You have been even more efficient than usual, my dear.”

I had already begun to suspect he was up to something. His present behavior confirmed the suspicion. “As you know perfectly well, Emerson, there is one major item that has not been dealt with: the reason we came to Palestine in the first place. Major Morley is still working.”

Emerson chuckled. “Very good, my dear. Major item indeed.”

Now I knew he was up to something. “We must make one more attempt to confront him, Emerson.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Emerson, continuing to chuckle in a particularly annoying manner. “Major Morley has been dealt with.”

I snatched the book from his hands. His smug smile showed almost all his teeth.

“By you,” I said.

“By me.” Emerson reached for the coffee jug and poured into both our cups. “Now don’t be a dog in the manger, Peabody. You have taken care of everything and everybody else. Allow me one small triumph.”

“Well…” He was quite right, and I did not even blame him for teasing me a little. “Tell me about it, Emerson.”

“It was rather clever, if I do say it as shouldn’t. More along your line than mine, Peabody. It occurred to me, you see, that Morley must be getting rather frantic. His pits and tunnels have been flooded, he hasn’t found a cursed thing. He would, I reasoned, be susceptible to any idea, no matter how chancy or illegal, if it gave him one final chance of success. So Ali Bey and I put our heads together. To make a long story short, Ali Bey got word to Morley that with the proper bribe he could gain admittance to the Noble Sanctuary itself and excavate under the floor.”

“Good Gad,” I exclaimed. “That is outrageous, Emerson.”