After they had taken their leave, I returned to my letter to Katherine, reminding her that she and Cyrus were coming on Christmas Day. I refrained from mentioning the Godwins, since the attempted assassinations might cast a pallor on our festivities, nor did I explain why we had been given permission to excavate at Amarna. Cyrus would demand details, but I would leave that up to Emerson.

I decided not to partake of dinner in the dining room. Although the idea of dining alone did not perturb me in the least, I was leery of being joined by Miss Smith. Ali, the suffragi who had been remiss during our initial stay, was on duty in the hallway nearby. I requested that a tray be brought to my quarters, trusting that he would be speedy to make up for his earlier inefficiency in the matter of Judas. I then resumed my seat and took out my journal to make a list of everyone we had encountered or had been referred to after our arrival in Cairo. Since I intended to share it with Emerson, I omitted the name of the individual likely to have a deleterious effect on my beloved’s good nature.

The Godwin clan headed the list, needless to say. Simply gazing at their odious names gave me a feeling of queasiness. We had no way of learning where they were staying, so all we could do was protect ourselves when the next occasion arose. Judas had not wasted any time. I was not sure when Ramses encountered the knife-wielding villain in Alexandria, but it had happened soon after his arrival from Palestine. Guy had made his ill-fated attempt the previous day. I had to admit the Godwin brothers were diligent.

On our arrival in Amarna, we had first come upon Octavius Buddle. His failure to react to my warning based on the card in Judas’s pocket was odd. Mr. Dullard, upon whom Emerson had leapt, seemed to be nothing more ominous than a missionary. However, events in the past had proved that no one could be eliminated as a suspect. Von Raubritter, another victim of Emerson’s impetuosity, fell into the same category. Ramses and David had nominated the German attaché for my list. Herr Morgenstern, in cahoots with Harun, was obviously up to no good.

That left Ermintrude de Vere Smith, prolific writer of dubious talent. Ramses’s remark about acknowledging strangers in public had a degree of validity. Had I proffered an icy stare and turned away when she spoke to me in the shop, I would not have been avoiding her in the hotel. I was confident that she was not Sethos in one of his sillier disguises. For those of my Readers speculating about the possibility, let me note that Miss Smith was shorter than I and had pale blue eyes.