Camilla was oddly afraid. This close, the body did not seem grand, but gross. The mustache not lush, but graying moss creeping over the lips and into the mouth. The swollen hand that gripped hers was girded in rings so tight that the flesh burst out around them. The man's breath stank of pipe tobacco and he had already had too much brandy.

The party felt infected.

“And this lovely lady?” he said. A smile crawled out from behind the moss of his mustache.

Camilla tried to smile, but did not achieve it.

“This,” said Archibald Lightner proudly, “is my guest, sir. Miss Camilla Matthews.”

A flicker of amusement went through the man's eyes, and Camilla felt owned, as a slave might be, or a factory hand.

“Ah, yes,” said the guest of honor. “The famous Miss Matthews. The reporter from Kansas.”

In all America, only Mr. Duffie knew there was a Camilla Matthews who claimed to be a reporter. Mr. Duffie and one other man. Camilla tried to step back, but the man did not release his grip, as a gentleman should. “Hiram Stratton, Sr., at your service, ma'am,” said he.

Camilla tried to extricate her hands from his paws but he did not allow it. She would have to scrub her fingers as she had scrubbed herself from the dread of leprosy.

I would rather have leprosy than touch Hiram Stratton, she thought. Why did I not realize that he would come? It is my own telegraph that brought him. Of course he would not trust me to bring his beloved son home. After all, I had no intention of doing it. I intended his son to live out his days, or at least a few years, in an Egyptian prison.

But I have failed.

Whether or not the gold sandal is found among Strat's belongings, nothing will happen to the boy. Hiram Stratton's power is tangible even in this room that belongs to another government. His power will work anywhere. In Egypt, being paid off has been a tradition for thousands of years. There will still be a joyful re-union, and father and son will go home to burn down yet another factory.

“Mr. Stratton, sir!” cried Dr. Lightner. “What a privilege to encounter a man of your stature. It is my hope to be permitted to bring you to Giza, that I may myself escort you among the ancient Egyptian monuments, and have the great pleasure of showing you the excavation under my supervision. Just this week, we uncovered a hitherto unknown tomb. It is full of mystery.”

“Fine, fine,” said Hiram Stratton, already bored.

“In fact, my good sir,” said Dr. Lightner, now somewhat uneasy, “among the young men spending a year with me in lieu of being broadened by travel in the more usual places, young men educated at Harvard and Yale, Princeton and Dartmouth …” Dr. Lightner paused, as if hoping he need not go on.