Ramses leaned forward and grasped the front of the shopkeeper’s thobe. “I think you can say, and you will do so now unless you dare defy the Brother of Demons. It will not bode well for you should you lie to me.”

“Now ain’t that pretty, Lucinda?” drawled a voice with a distinctively American accent. “If these folks don’t fancy it, I think it’ll look real fine on our mantel next to that cute lil’ statue of Buddha that we bought in Japan last year.”

“You are welcome to it!” Ramses snapped as he took my arm and led me out of the shop. “Damnation! It is not even a decent copy! Did you see the bl—blasted crook in her nose?”

I insisted that we sit down at one of the tables in front of a café. I was as disappointed as he was, and struggling not to screech in frustration. After several deep breaths, I said, “It is likely to have been sold to Abubakar by one of the less skilled apprentices in Harun’s workshop. The lad not only distorted her nose, he also chipped her earlobe. What is most disturbing is that it cannot be one of the pieces we saw only two days ago, which were in a preliminary stage.”

“Implying that Harun has been making copies for at least a month,” Ramses growled, his teeth bared. An approaching waiter abruptly veered around us to welcome a group of students. “We have no further business here, so I suggest we return to the hotel to question Herr Morgenstern.”

“He might be more forthcoming in a hypnotic state,” I said optimistically, although I had reservations about the outcome. “There are carriages parked across the street, awaiting museum patrons.”

Ramses gave me a dry smile. “Shall I find a driver who can deliver us to Shepheard’s Hotel in less than five minutes?”

“I do not believe that is necessary.” I was about to expound on the prior necessity of expediency when I saw the American gentleman emerge from the shop, clutching the bust of Nefertiti in his arms as if it were an infant. He was wearing tight denim trousers, what I thought was a cowboy hat, leather boots, and a plaid shirt that strained to span his substantial girth. I took a small degree of pleasure as he staggered down the sidewalk with his forty-pound purchase. It would be very much at home on his mantel next to the statue of Buddha, since both were likely to be of minimal value and no artistic merit. His unseen wife, Lucinda, must have remained in the shop to browse for more tasteless souvenirs.