“Might we sit upon one of the Pyramid stones and talk to each other?” asked Camilla. “If you are willing, tell me the details of your discovery for my article.”

They circled the Sphinx. The serpent charmers had packed up, the watermelon vendors were sold out and the tables of souvenirs had vanished. The boy took her arm as if they were off to a dance, and they walked over a vast pavement, tilted now by the ravages of Time, and arrived at Khufu's Pyramid.

The best spot was several stones up and they climbed together. “Girls can't usually swing up like that!” he said respectfully. “I've known only one.”

“What was her name?” asked Camilla.

“Annie.” His voice was so soft she could hardly hear. He traced the outline of the tiny envelope in his pocket.

“What is that in your pocket?” she asked. Working for Duffie had destroyed her inhibition against asking about people's private lives. She must remember that ladies did not pry. Of course, reporters always pried. Perhaps she could not be both.

He answered with courtesy. “Once, long ago, I loved a young lady. We left each other. There was no choice in the matter. All I have of her, and all I ever will, is a lock of her hair.”

He carried that girl's token against his heart. Camilla's own heart was assaulted. Would any man ever feel that way toward her? She could not prevent a prayerful vision of herself and Dr. Lightner together, and had to blush at such foolishness. A great scholar? Interested in a half-educated girl, half his age, pretending to be a reporter?

Perhaps she really could be a reporter. Then there would be one true thing in her life. She would not entirely be a tissue of lies. “You and I were never introduced,” she said. “I must have your name for my article so that you may receive credit for finding the shaft. I am Miss Camilla Matthews, newspaper reporter from Kansas.”

“Really?” he said with interest. “Tell me about Kansas.”

Camilla had never been west of New York City, so her answers lacked validity, but Strat repeated her words carefully. He would probably carry them around all his life.

“This has been a lovely night,” he said then. “Allow me to escort you to the tent that Dr. Lightner has arranged for you, Miss Matthews.”

“I still do not know your name, sir.”

“You need not use my name in your article, Miss Matthews.”

She was astonished. “This discovery could be your future.”

He shook his head, not interested in his future. “What shall I call you then, since I am to stay at your camp for some time?” She extended her hand, firmly and in a masculine fashion, so he would not become confused and think she wanted to lean on him.

“People call me Strat,” he said finally.

The son of the man who had murdered her father shook Camilla's hand.

III