“Oh,” I said. After pondering for a few moments I said slowly, “He had come upon the bust of Nefertiti and was enamored of it. He knew that in the final division the antiquities people would not let him keep it, so he concealed it and went to the most renowned forger in all of Egypt. I suppose he desired to keep his scheme a secret, which is why he did not choose to stay at the Deutsche Orient-Gesellschaft. However, I am sure he had funds to reside in a nondescript hotel where he would not be—”

“Sitt.”

“Yes, Abdullah?”

“Three men recently tried to murder you. Not an unusual happening,” said Abdullah with heavy sarcasm, “but one that deserves your attention. Or do you not believe these attempts to assassinate you are important?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. It did not succeed. His scowl darkened even more. “Abdullah, don’t reprimand me,” I said. “Emerson will look after me as he always does. Furthermore, I am not incapable of defending myself.”

Abdullah sighed. “My time here is over for now. Sometimes I don’t know why I bother. You will soon go on your merry way without taking even normal precautions. Emerson cannot protect you if you engage in reckless behavior. You must keep a constant vigilance for those who wish you harm. They are very close at hand.”

It seemed an extraordinary thing for him to say. Then I realized I was awake and the voice I heard was not that of Abdullah but that of Emerson, mumbling in his sleep as he sometimes did.

When we left the boat the following morning, we found an old acquaintance waiting: Reis Abdul Azim, Herr Morgenstern’s longtime assistant.

“Good to see you,” said Emerson, shaking hands. (Egyptians had resigned themselves to this habit of Emerson’s.) “Where the devil have you been? What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For Morgenstern Effendi. Or you. Someone who knows what to do.” The old man’s untamed white eyebrows fluttered alarmingly, and he went on with mounting passion, “Who is this von Raubritter? He knows nothing of excavation!”

“You don’t know who he is?” I said, taken aback.

“No, and I will not take orders from him. He came here after Morgenstern Effendi went to Cairo, and stumbled around with a baffled look on his face.” Abdul Azim frowned like an ill-tempered camel. As my Readers know, the majority of camels are sulky and uncooperative, as are some members of my family. I keep a variety of powders for headaches and indigestion in my first aid box, and restock it every season.

“Nor should you,” I replied. “Herr Morgenstern has been ill. He is much better now and will soon be able to resume work. What do you know about his departure for Cairo so early in the season?”