“Thank you, that is most kind.” The polite young man’s face was ashen.

“Come along, Peabody,” said Emerson. And off he went, clasping my arm and leaving von Raubritter staring after us.

“How rude you were, Emerson,” I scolded.

“Not at all. You must not encourage these fellows, Peabody. They are likely to mistake your courtesy for—er—something warmer.”

It is a delusion of Emerson’s that every male person I meet develops amorous feelings toward me. It is rather an endearing delusion, though, so I have given up trying to convince him that he is mistaken.

“I am sure Herr von Raubritter’s intentions are completely honorable. He seemed extremely perturbed about Herr Morgenstern’s condition. Germans tend to be stoic. Do you not find that ominous, Emerson?”

“I do not even find it interesting,” he replied blandly.

I did not believe him for an instant.

Eight

Von Raubritter did not turn up for tea. I assumed Emerson’s rudeness had frightened him away, and since we were fully occupied (with one thing and another) for the remainder of the evening, I did not give him another thought.

I was, therefore, surprised when after we had sought the marital couch Emerson suddenly burst out, “What the devil do you suppose happened to von Raubritter? It is time I had a talk with that young man.”

“He is not so young. I would estimate his age—”

“It is not his age, but his credentials and his motives that I question. Curse it, Egyptology is becoming an unsupervised game! People pop up out of nowhere and begin digging. That fellow Biddle—”

“Buddle, Emerson.”

“Biddle, Baddle, Buddle, whatever his name! Who the hell is he, anyhow? And the hairy fellow—”

“He is a missionary.”

“So he says. Have you ever heard of the Church of the Enlightened whatever it was?”

“No,” I said, “but there are a number of odd religious sects wandering around the English countryside. I have been told that in America one can find them on corners with signs that proclaim the imminent destruction of the world. As far as I can tell, it has yet to happen. Apocalyptic fear has gripped many ancient cultures, including Rome. They made numerous predictions going back to 753 b.c. The Essenes, a sect of Jewish ascetics—”

“Do not lecture me, Peabody! I am well aware of such religious twaddle. Our concern is Amarna. There are too many unidentified persons roaming about. First thing tomorrow I will catch up with von Raubritter and interrogate him. I have an uneasy feeling about him.”

“Why, Emerson!” I exclaimed. “Are you having a premonition?”

“I never have premonitions,” he said emphatically.

Naturally, I did not contradict him.