We returned to our table, where Nefret removed her hat and tossed it onto a chair. It was a warm day; heat and perspiration made her gold tendrils of hair cling to her temples and coil over her ears. The waiter who brought her cup and saucer could scarcely keep his eyes in their respective sockets. Several young officers at other tables appeared to have the same difficulty.

“Has the Professor condescended to inform you of where we will be working this season?” Nefret asked with amusement.

It was one of Emerson’s more exasperating habits—which I did not find at all amusing—to delay this announcement until the last possible moment. On some occasions he had done so because he had procrastinated about applying for a firman and had in consequence been given a site nobody, including me, wanted.

“Oh yes,” I replied, anticipating Emerson. “M. Maspero has asked us, as a personal favor, to return to Amarna.”

“Excellent!” she exclaimed.

“Herr Morgenstern has the firman,” I went on. “Or, to be precise, the Deutsche Orient-Gesellschaft has it. According to M. Maspero, Herr Morgenstern was sent to replace Borchardt, who returned to Germany for personal reasons. Morgenstern has been neglecting his work to linger in Cairo, and we have M. Maspero’s official permission to replace him if we believed him to be incapable of carrying out his duties.”

Nefret’s lips curved in a smile. “That leaves you quite a wide latitude.”

“We would never take advantage of that.”

“Of course not, Aunt Amelia.”

“But first we must complete the excavation we began at the end of last season, at Zawaiet el’Aryan.” I took her hand in mine. “If you fear it will cause you grief, you need not accompany us. You could, perhaps, take the train to Luxor and spend a few days at the clinic.”

She shook her head resolutely. “I will come with you to Zawaiet. I have conquered those horrid nightmares and I will not allow melancholic memories to dictate my life.”

I overcame the lump in my throat and assumed a cheerful voice. “You see, Emerson, it was advantageous for us to wait. We now have a skilled photographer.”

“Yes, Peabody,” he said, his face lowered to hide what I suspected was an errant tear.

We had agreed not to mention my encounter with the assassin to Nefret; as I had pointed out to Emerson, there was no sense in worrying the girl about matters she could not assist us with. The following day I took the precaution of sending a note to Mr. Russell, asking him to call on us at a time when I knew Nefret would be out visiting friends, and he was good enough to comply. When he joined us, I apologized for seeming to press him. “I know,” I began politely, “that you would inform us immediately of any new discoveries you have made.”