The Golden One

“You would like a few more days at the hospital, wouldn’t you?” Emerson asked.

“Well, yes; but I wouldn’t want you to change your plans on my account.”

I must give my dear Emerson credit; he was too forthright to pretend he was doing it on her account. “The tomb has already been robbed and the loot dispersed,” he explained. “And I expect everyone knows the identity of the thieves – the Abd er Rassuls, or one of the other Gurneh families who specialize in such activities. It is strange, though, to have some of the objects turn up in Cairo. The local boys usually work with Mohassib or another of the Luxor dealers. Ramses, are you certain that ointment vessel is Eighteenth Dynasty?”

“No, of course not,” Ramses said, somewhat defensively. “I’m not an expert on hard stone vessels. The same forms and materials were used over a long period of time. If you think it’s important, we might pay a visit to the Museum and see what examples they have.”

“If we can find them,” Emerson muttered. “The way that place is arranged is a damned disgrace.”

Emerson always complained about the Museum and about almost everything else that was not under his direct supervision. I pointed out that Mr. Quibell, the director, was doing the best he could under difficult circumstances. Emerson nodded grudgingly.

“No doubt. I suppose we ought to call on him. Or we might have one of your little archaeological di

My di

A brief period of reflection explained his change of heart. The letter from Cyrus and the discovery of the artifacts at Aslimi’s had whetted his curiosity; Cyrus’s mention of Howard Carter being in some ma

Unfortunately I was unable to locate the archaeologist whom Emerson had hoped to interrogate. Howard Carter was not in Cairo. No one knew where he was. However, when the sadly diminished group met next evening, he was the chief topic of conversation. Owing to the short notice, the Quibells were the only ones who had been able to accept my invitation.

“You just missed him,” A

She smiled at her husband, whose equable temper was well known, and who said calmly, “I presume his duties for the War Office called him away, but I had hoped to hear more about his recent work in Luxor.”

“And his dealings with Mohassib?” Emerson inquired, motioning the waiter to refill James’s wineglass.

“Who told you that?”

“Cyrus Vandergelt,” I replied. “Is it true?”

James shrugged. “I’ve heard the rumor too, but I doubt Carter would admit it to me, even if it were true. He spent several months out in the southwest wadis, where the princesses’ tomb was found; when he was in Cairo for a few days early in December, he gave me a brief report. Did you hear about his finding another tomb of Hatshepsut’s? This one was made for her when she was queen, before she assumed kingly titles. It was empty except for a sarcophagus.” He picked up his glass and sipped his wine appreciatively.

“Where?” Emerson asked.

“High in a cleft in the cliffs, in one of the western wadis,” A

“Bah,” said Emerson vehemently. “I wonder what else he did?”

“So do I,” said James.

Having failed to locate Howard, Emerson was ready to leave for Luxor at once. However, it was not to be. We were finishing breakfast en famille in our sitting room when a messenger arrived with a letter for Emerson. It was a delightful little domestic scene, with Se

“Whom is it from?” I demanded.

Emerson frowned over the epistle, which he was holding so I couldn’t read over his shoulder. “Wingate. He would like me to come to his office at my earliest convenience.”

“Sir Reginald Wingate? What does the Sirdar of the Sudan want with you?”

“He replaced MacMahon as high commissioner last month,” Emerson replied. “He doesn’t say what he wants.”

We had all fallen silent except for Se

“Yes, sir. When?”

“Later. He says ‘at our convenience.’ It is not convenient for me at present.”

Se

Ramses rose, smiling. “A short lesson, then. Let’s go to your room where we won’t be distracted.”

The door closed behind them – and Horus, who went wherever Se

“Sir -”

“I said, go away.”

“But sir -”

“If there is anything you need to know, Gargery, I will tell you about it at the proper time,” I interrupted. “That will be all.”

Gargery stamped out, slamming the door, and Nefret said quietly, “Do you want me to leave too?”

“No, of course not.” Emerson leaned back in his chair. “It isn’t the military or the secret service this time, Nefret. Wingate probably wants us for some tedious office job.”

“Are you going to accept?”

“That depends.” Emerson got to his feet and began pacing. “Like it or not, and God knows we don’t, we ca

“You and Ramses,” Nefret repeated, with a curl of her lip. “Men. Never women.”

“You offered your services as a surgeon, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Nefret’s eyes flashed. “The military isn’t accepting women physicians. But that would have been saving lives, not -”

“There are other ways of saving lives, or at least minimizing suffering. You can’t keep him out of this forever, Nefret; I’ve seen the signs, and so have you. He’s feeling guilty because he thinks he is not doing his part.”