“And you have not, Father of Curses?”

“Egyptology can be a perilous occupation. We must go back now so that I can inform the authorities of what has happened.” He kept his arm around my waist as we walked toward the pier. “Why is that woman ululating like a bereaved widow? She will alarm everyone in the village, and possibly Luxor.”

“She writes about violence in a pedestrian manner. Her sheikh may slice off the head of a marauding Turk, but he is never splattered with blood. I doubt she has ever encountered brutality or carnage.” My mind flashed back to the conversation she and I had over tea at Shepheard’s, when she blithely decribed how her heroine had strangled a man with her scarf. “In real life, that is.”

Miss Smith rose to her feet as we neared. “He is dead, isn’t he?”

“From a broken neck,” I said. “Would you care to go aboard and have a brandy to calm your nerves? We are all very upset by what took place.”

“I prefer to go to my hut,” she replied, “but I am afraid.”

Mr. Dullard clumsily took a step in her direction, but froze when she glowered at him. “I will protect you,” he declared.

“Not in your condition,” she said sharply.

Emerson patted her shoulder. “Daoud will escort you and remain outside your dwelling for the rest of the night. Our maid will come in the morning to help you pack. It is too late for you to rejoin the passengers on the steamer, so you must take the train back to Cairo.”

“You are so kind, Professor Emerson. I will feel much safer with a man to protect me. However, I have no use for a maid tomorrow because I am not ready to leave Amarna. I came here for adventure—and have experienced it beyond my wildest expectations.”

Mr. Dullard tried again. “I will protect you, Miss Smith.”

“I think not!” she snapped. “You have dishonored your vow of temperance. You will be fortunate if your Copts take you back into their fold.”

“Temperance? I vowed to serve my God, whose son turned water into wine at the marriage in Cana. We cannot know if he continued to perform such miracles elsewhere.”

“Like turning the Sea of Galilee into beer?” Emerson suggested.

I was too drained to listen to another verbal altercation. I gestured to Daoud to approach us, and instructed him to look after Miss Smith. After Emerson assured him that I would be well protected, Daoud scooped up Miss Smith as if she were a large bag of potatoes and began to walk down the path, despite her shrill objections. Mr. Dullard trotted after them. After we reboarded the dahabeeyah, Emerson sent a cabin steward to stand guard over Absalom’s body.

Nefret embraced me. “Aunt Amelia! What happened?”