“I suppose it was he who got you up here,” he said, looking at the coil of rope. I opened my mouth to reply, but he waved me to silence with a magisterial gesture. “I beg you to say no more, Peabody. I know only too well what Sethos’s motives were. They have not changed since that day he imprisoned you in his seraglio and wooed you with whimsical speeches and voluptuous surroundings.”

“They made no impression on me, Emerson. I was and am always yours alone.”

“I know that, but I also know you have a certain weakness for the fellow, since he did not take advantage of you—or had not done so before I arrived on the scene. Do not forget that you had not been with him long.”

“How can I ever forget? The sight of you bursting through the door, an unsheathed blade in each hand . . . I confess that the duel that followed made my heart beat faster—”

“—hmph,” said Emerson, giving me a meaningful look. “Keep hold of that thought, Peabody. Let us descend now, before the light fails.”

Nine

By the time I had seen to Emerson’s cuts and bruises in our cabin, we were late to dinner. When we sat down at the table, we found that Mahmoud had burned the roast. He always did it deliberately, in order to punish us for our tardiness, though he would have denied this with his last breath. He was as temperamental as a French chef, and there was no use reprimanding him since his response was to subside onto the floor, looking mournful and declaring himself unable to ever cook again.

Emerson’s brow furrowed when he beheld the charred meat. “Tell Mahmoud he is dismissed! Now, and without a character reference!”

Since this scene occurred every few weeks, Fatima reacted without undue alarm. “Yes, Father of Curses. It is not as bad as it looks.” She seized a large knife and sawed the roast in half. There was a suggestion of pink in the middle of it. After she had carved and served it, Emerson calmed down a bit and we passed the remainder of the meal in congenial companionship with Ramses, David, and Nefret.

Once we had retired to the lounge, I began to describe my encounter with Sethos on the ledge of the cliff. The atmosphere plummeted as if we were in England on a wintry day (in this case, an ice storm).

“You chased after a dark figure?” Ramses said, clearly appalled. “It did not occur to you that you were putting yourself in peril? Von Raubritter was murdered only a day ago. How could you, Mother?”

Nefret frowned at me. “Have you forgotten there are still two Godwin brothers in Egypt? How many attempted assassinations will it take to get your attention, Aunt Amelia?”

“Those beastly Godwins will never give up,” added David as he passed the brandy decanter. “You must be more aware of the danger.”