“Lord Cavendish?” whispered David as they approached the front entrance. “Why not the Prince of Wales or, better yet, William the Conqueror?”

“No sniggering,” Ramses whispered back. He stuck out his chin as the door opened and a gray-haired man gazed questioningly at them.

“Guten Tag. Kann ich dir helfen?” he said in a gravelly voice.

“Please tell the ambassador that Lord Cavendish of Devonshire wishes to call upon him,” Ramses replied.

The man beckoned them into an entry hall and led them to a small sitting room. “Warten hier, bitte.” They did as instructed and sat in silence, although Ramses could almost hear David’s highly amused thoughts. After fifteen minutes, a young man with slick black hair and a pencil-thin mustache entered the room.

“I apologize for the delay,” he said in accented English. “The troubles in Europe and the Middle East keep us very busy. The ambassador is in a meeting at the present. I am Helmut Gunter. May I be of assistance?”

Ramses shrugged. “Ah yes, I’ve heard there’s a bit of a bother these days, although it’s damned hard to remember the details. Actually, I’m looking for a friend of mine named Morgenstern. We met when he was excavating in Syria several years ago, and had some bloody exciting chess games. My assistant”—he tilted his head in David’s direction—“learned that Morgenstern is at a remote place called Amarna. I thought I’d pop in and surprise him, so I hired a boat to take us to the spot, but damned if the chap wasn’t there. I was told that he’s been in Cairo for several weeks. Do you have any idea where he’s staying?”

“We are aware of his presence in Egypt, but he is with the Deutsche Orient-Gesellschaft. The ambassador has no knowledge of Herr Morgenstern’s current whereabouts. If that is all, gentlemen . . .” Gunter stepped back and opened the door to the foyer.

“Jolly good of you to see us, old boy,” Ramses said, shaking the man’s hand vigorously. “We’re staying at Shepheard’s. Please let us know if Morgenstern comes by the embassy. Come along, Arbaaz, we must get back in time for tea. There’s a delightful young French mademoiselle who winked at me several times in the dining room last night.”

“She also winked at me, the waiters, the wine steward, and her elderly chaperone,” David said. “Her excessive nictitation may be the symptom of a serious medical condition.”

Ramses punched him on the shoulder. “Arbaaz, you scoundrel! You have shattered my fantasy of spending the evening in the arms of la trés belle mademoiselle. We must find a watering hole where I can heal my broken heart with gin and tonic.” He looked at Gunter. “Can you recommend a place hereabouts, Helmut?”

“I find the bar at Shepheard’s to be satisfactory; there is nothing closer than that,” Gunter replied stiffly.