“We must not stoop to amuse ourselves at his expense,” I said distractedly, pondering the significance of Mr. Dullard’s presence that evening. It was hard to envision a warm friendship between the stuffy Teutonic Egyptologist and the hirsute missionary (and former vagabond wrestler). Herr Morgenstern must have been desperate for companionship.

“Bloody hell!” snarled Mr. Buddle, then gave me a horrified look. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Emerson. I dearly pray I did not offend you. It is that woman, that irritating, simpering woman with no more sense than a guinea hen!”

It did not require a quick wit to realize of whom he spoke. I gritted my teeth as Miss Smith approached, swathed in lilac silk and ruffles. She sported a matching parasol and dainty shoes.

“Good morning, Mrs. Emerson and Mr. Buddle,” she trilled, fluttering her eyelashes. “Isn’t this exciting?”

I forced myself to return her smile. “What do you find exciting about this? Archaeology can be a very dull process, and most of what is found is composed of fragments and shards. Nonetheless, they must be measured, photographed, recorded, and stored for future analysis, should they be deemed of some consequence. The basement of the Egyptian Museum is filled with unlabeled boxes of fragments. Most tombs have been robbed several times in prior centuries and more recent times. It is rare to come upon a site that has not been looted.”

Miss Smith pursed her lips for a moment. “I am sure that is true, Mrs. Emerson, but I am a neophyte in the field. I am not yet ready to take a cynical view of what may prove to be a spine-tingling adventure. Do you find this boring, Mr. Buddle?”

“I find your expectations unrealistic. I have been here every day since the excavation commenced, and I can assure you that no one has uncovered a golden scepter or a necklace of precious jewels. That is, dear lady, the stuff of fiction. I suggest you return home to write your capricious little books.”

“Then you will be disappointed,” she said. “I am basking in the opportunity to expose myself to the culture so that my books will better reflect the realities of life in the desert.”

I spoke before Mr. Buddle seized the chance to lecture her about her foolhardy endeavor. “If you will excuse me, I am going back to the site to assist my husband. Perhaps you will stop by this evening, Miss Smith? I look forward to seeing you then.” I did not add that I intended to lecture her about her foolhardy endeavor, even if it took all night. With Emerson and Nefret to support me, I might be able to persuade her of her folly—not that Emerson would be happy to see Miss Smith again.

Miss Smith deftly slipped her arm through mine. “A splendid idea, dear Mrs. Emerson. I do have something I would like to discuss with you in private.”