A hand touched my shoulder. I spun around, fists readied to defend myself. Emerson caught my hand before I could punch him in the nose. “Peabody,” he said, “why are you here by yourself at this unlikely hour?”

“When I went to look in on our patient, I found him much improved. Nefret and I helped him to bed. She returned to her cabin, and I came up here to admire the sunrise. As you can see, Emerson, it is a spectacular display of God’s palette.”

“Fatima will not be serving breakfast for at least another hour.”

“I am not in the mood to partake of sustenance, although a cup of tea might be nice.”

“Then you shall have one, even if I have to make it myself.”

“And risk Fatima’s wrath? You are a brave man, my dear husband.”

“Perhaps not that brave,” he murmured as he took my hand.

I was enjoying a generous serving of fluffy scrambled eggs when Nefret joined us in the dining room. She glanced at Emerson, who was lost in his own thoughts, and said, “Herr Morgenstern is sleeping soundly. I did not want to disturb him, but I could see from the doorway that his complexion is normal—or as normal as it can be considering the extent of his sunburn. Skin is already flaking on his nose. He is a lucky man to have survived the heatstroke.”

“Lucky that Peabody found him,” Emerson muttered.

“For the second time,” I said as I refilled his coffee cup. “He simply cannot keep vanishing like this, first in Cairo and then in the Eastern Desert. Had he not serendipitously encountered the Bedouin tribe, he would have lasted no more than another hour. We need to craft a collar and put him on a leash, or tether him to a stake.”

Nefret frowned. “I think it might be more practical to confine him to the boat until he regains better control of his behavior. Daoud can guard the plank. He is capable of flicking Herr Morgenstern into the water with one finger, and undoubtedly will take pride in doing so.” She sat down and rubbed her face. “I studied chemistry and pharmacology during my first term, and I have forgotten much of the material. To some extent, his symptoms could be those of a mental disease called ‘la folie circulaire,’ or circular insanity, consisting of alternating bouts of mania and melancholia. As I do not have easy access to the books here, I shall send a telegram to my professor in Paris for details.”

“Balderdash.” Emerson held out his cup for more coffee. He considers himself to be the epitome of even-temperedness. Those with the audacity to contradict him are more than aware of his temper, but they hardly consider it to be even. The word “tempestuous”comes to mind.