“Should I have permitted him to accost my wife?” Emerson rose to his feet, his expression formidable. “Are you familiar with the word ‘assassin’? It comes from the word ‘hashshashin,’ and was used to describe a sect of Nizari Ismalis formed in the late eleventh century and based in Syria and Persia.”

Emerson’s lecture would have gone on at length had I not clutched his arm and gestured at a man hurrying toward us. He would have been a fine-looking young fellow, had it not been for the unseemly scar that disfigured his cheek. I deduced he must be German, since students of that nation take a peculiar pride in such stigmata.

“Mr. and Mrs. Emerson, I presume,” he began, but he got no further because Emerson leapt upon him and bore him to the ground.

“Emerson, please stop doing that,” I said in vexation. “You must excuse my husband, Mr.—er—”

Emerson, looking somewhat sheepish, removed himself and I assisted the newcomer to his feet and retrieved his hat. “Allow me the honor of introducing myself,” he said hoarsely. “Eric von Raubritter, at your service.”

I could not help but admire his self-possession. Few people remember their manners after being knocked down and nearly dismantled.

“How do you do,” I said. “Allow me to present you to Dr. Nefret Forth.”

Von Raubritter had already removed his pith helmet; he bowed in formal German style as Nefret smiled and nodded. Before either could continue with the courtesies, Emerson said, “Who the devil—”

I raised my voice to a well-bred pitch that can silence even Emerson. “Herr von Raubritter is obviously one of Morgenstern’s staff, my dear. You had no business knocking him down.”

“Then who was that other fellow?”

“What other fellow?” von Raubritter asked.

“The hairy fellow,” Emerson growled. “Black hair all over him.”

“I did see someone run off,” von Raubritter said, obviously bemused by this description. “But I saw only his back. We certainly have no such . . .”

“Hirsute man,” I said helpfully. “Imagine a bear.”

He shrugged. “None of the men fit that description.”

“Aha.” Emerson gave me a meaningful look. “You see, Peabody?”

“No, I don’t, Emerson.”

“It should be obvious, Peabody.”

“It is not, Emerson.”

Von Raubritter laughed. Little dents at the corners of his lips gave him a good-natured look, as if he were always on the verge of smiling. “What a pleasure it is to hear such affectionate domestic exchanges. As you deduced, I am Herr Morgenstern’s second-in-command. If you will excuse me . . .”

I gestured at Mr. Buddle. “This gentleman claims to speak for Herr Morgenstern.”

Buddle shook his head. “I merely repeated what he told me. I represent the interests of my employer.”

“He has no authority over the site,” said von Raubritter.

“Well, then,” Emerson said, “we will just have a quick look round, in case we notice something Morgenstern may have overlooked.”

The sheer effrontery of this statement took the young man aback. “But—but, sir,” he stammered.