“They” were the usual suspects—potential tomb robbers and other miscreants, scattered among the band of folk curious to see what we would do next and who had followed us. They had stopped when we stopped, at a safe distance from Emerson, and there was a good deal of jostling as everyone tried to get the best view. I recognized Mahmud Farouk’s blind white eye and frosty brows, the piebald beard of Asmar, the pockmarked countenance of Mustafa Ahmed from our first sojourn at Amarna. If Sethos was among them, he was well disguised.

“They will be back tonight,” I went on, “for they know that where there is one, there may be more.”

“I shall not allow that,” said Emerson. He raised his voice to his famous bellow. “I will be here tonight, all night! Let he who would brave the wrath of the Father of Curses—”

“You have made your point, my dear, and very eloquently. Now give the brush to Herr von Raubritter. It has been a busy day and I would like to enjoy a late luncheon and rest.”

Emerson passed von Raubritter the brush and then handed over the head, but with a visible disinclination to trust someone else with his discovery. Squaring his shoulders, von Raubritter said, “I appreciate your offer to help guard the cache, Professor, but that is my responsibility. With all due respect, I think that Herr Morgenstern would not—er—”

“Appreciate our interfering with another excavator’s work,” I supplied. “You are quite right, Herr von Raubritter. It will not happen again. I doubt you will have any difficulty tonight. I bid you good day. Come along, Emerson.”

Emerson sensed he was in for a scolding, as he would have called it. My mild reminders of proper behavior were sometimes taken as such by my sensitive spouse. He offered me his arm as we retreated to the dahabeeyah. Once we were in the salon, Nefret tactfully removed herself.

“I suppose,” began Emerson, “that you are about to lecture me for intruding on the duties of von Raubritter. Curse it, Amelia, I cannot allow—”

I knew I was in disfavor since he had used my given name instead of “Peabody,” which he had originally used as a term of derision, but which had become one of respect and affection. I refused to be put off.

“I have refrained from questioning you about your strange behavior because I hoped the bond between us would lead you to confide in me voluntarily. That bond seems to have weakened, so I must ask: Why do you keep leaping on people who have done nothing to provoke you? What do you know that I do not? If this has become an involuntary habit—”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Peabody!” Emerson snapped, rubbing his chin so vigorously that it reddened. “I am not subject to involuntary habits. My behavior is, as always, perfectly rational.”

“In that case you will not object to explaining it to me.”