He was incapable of an audible protest. After I had settled him in the bed and turned off the light, I returned to the sitting room. None of the furniture was designed for a comfortable night’s sleep; the sofa was too short to accommodate me, and the chairs had upright backs and lumpy cushions. In the past, I had slept on the floors of tombs and in primitive tents, but always with Emerson at my side (and often inside my bedroll).

I jammed a chair under the doorknob of the bedroom to prevent Herr Morgenstern from attempting to leave. I removed the cushions and created a makeshift bed on the floor, aware that an uncomfortable night awaited me. I decided it would be prudent to remain in my clothes rather than risk being obliged to chase him down the hallway while dressed unsuitably.

Nearly an hour passed before I drifted into an uneasy sleep.

“Mother must still be asleep,” Ramses said in a subdued voice as he came into the sitting room from the hallway. “Shall we order breakfast in our room or go down to the dining room?”

“I would much prefer to bathe and go to bed,” David said plaintively.

“You were the lucky one. I’m the one who was caught by hose spray and thoroughly drenched. Who would have guessed that the German embassy staff watered the flower beds and shrubbery behind the building?”

“Anyone who battled mosquitoes all night while crouched under prickly bushes.”

“We will need four breakfast trays,” I said as I struggled up from the cushions aligned in front of the sofa. Ramses, who mastered the art of impassivity at a young age, gaped at me. David clutched the doorframe as he recoiled. I must admit I found their expressions droll, but I did not allow myself to smile. “Why four trays, you ask? We have a guest in the bedroom and we must provide hospitality. Please locate Ali and ask him to bring the trays quickly. I am in dire need of coffee.” Based on numerous experiences in the past, I was not surprised that they were dressed in tattered robes, their dirty feet shod in sandals, their faces sporting untrimmed beards and mustaches. “You might want to change into more respectable clothing and remove the faux facial hair as soon as you have the opportunity,” I added. “I am impressed that you managed to enter the hotel dressed as you are.”

David grinned. “We did not come in through the lobby, Aunt Amelia. The basement is a maze, but we are familiar with it.”

“Might I inquire into the identity of this guest?” asked Ramses, refusing to be distracted.

“Herr Morgenstern, obviously,” I responded. “As soon as we have finished breakfast, one of us must fetch Daoud before his feet are permanently embedded in the sidewalk across the street from Harun’s workshop in Khan el-Khalili.”