The Golden One

He took in the scene in a single glance, by the light of the failing torch – the pile of rugs on which Emerson was lying, the jars, the stores of food – and his mother, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, dredging peas out of a tin with her fingers.

“Ah, there you are, my dear,” she said. “And Nefret too? How nice.”

Her face was filthy, her hair gray with stone dust. Arms and shoulders were bare and as dirty as her face; the garment that more or less covered the upper part of her body had narrow ruffled straps, yards of lace, and several little pink bows.

Ramses was unable to speak or move. Nefret had gone at once to Emerson and was examining his arm. She let out a choked laugh. “She’s used the ribs and shaft of the parasol for a splint!”

“Once again proving, if proof were needed, the all-round usefulness of a good stout parasol,” said his mother.

Peas went flying as Ramses snatched her up and hugged her.

“All’s well that ends well,” I remarked, sipping my whiskey and soda.

The axiom was trite, I confess, but I do not believe it deserved the general grumble of disapproval it received. They were all there on the veranda, even Katherine. Di

I ca

“Do be still, Gargery,” I said sternly. “And the rest of you. We had no choice but to act at once.”

“Quite,” said Emerson, who was having some difficulty smoking his pipe and drinking his whiskey with only one serviceable arm. Nefret had tended to him; he had a nice neat cast and a proper sling. Nefret had admitted, in confidence, that she had made the cast twice as heavy and thick as was usual, since she knew he would keep hitting it against things. I saw the logic of this, though I knew it would mean a few more shirts ruined. I had had to cut a long slit in the sleeve of the one he was wearing so he could get it over the cast.

“Well, mebbe so,” Cyrus conceded. “But you four should have left word with someone. You knew we’d be worried.”

Ramses began, “I’m very -”

“Sorry be damned,” said his father gruffly. “For all you knew, there was not a moment to lose. Ramses, my boy – er – thank you. Again.”

Ramses’s thin brown face broke into a smile. “It wasn’t me, Father, it was Daoud and Jumana. Sherlock Holmes couldn’t have done better.”

Daoud beamed. “Who is Sherlock Holmes?” he asked.

“The greatest detective who ever lived,” Ramses replied. None of us laughed, for fear of hurting Daoud’s feelings, but Ramses directed another smile at me. “Except for Mother.”

Then we could laugh. I joined in as heartily as the others, my heart swelling with affection.

“Se

She had to give everyone a good-night kiss and of course she had to have the last word. “The Great Cat of Re would have found you.”

“Ha,” I said, but I said it under my breath. The kitten had grown very fat and lazy. Curled up on Ramses’s lap, it resembled a shapeless bundle of spotted gray fur.

After Se

“Let us now,” I said, “discuss what we have learned. It has not been wasted effort, though we did let Jamil get away from us.”

“I haven’t learned a blamed thing except that you two are incorrigible,” Cyrus grumbled.

“Not at all, Cyrus. First, there is the interesting matter of Jamil’s costume. He was not wearing Jumana’s clothes. They would have been far too small for him. He ca

“No,” Katherine said. “Aside from the question of how he could pay for them, I can’t see him going into one of the shops and trying on blouses and skirts.”

“That is right. We will leave that matter for the moment. I think I know the answer, and it can easily be proved. The second clue… Ramses, at one time you were able to recall the entire contents of a crowded storeroom some hours after you had seen it. Do you remember what was in Jamil’s hideout?”

“Rugs, several jars… I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry, Mother.”

“Quite understandable, my dear,” I said. His impulsive embrace had touched me deeply, even if it had hurt my back. To see my imperturbable son forget all else in the joy of finding his parents alive and well assured me that his affection was sincere and profound.

“Fortunately I had ample time to inspect the place,” I went on. “It was well stocked, but the most interesting items were the tins of food. European food – peas and beans and cabbage, beef, even a tin of foie gras. Someone supplied him with those delicacies, or with the money to purchase them. No, Jumana, I know it wasn’t you.”

I knew because I had been careful to keep all the cash in the house under lock and key. Trust is a beautiful thing, but when someone has done you an injury, you are a fool if you give him the chance to do you another.

“It is begi

“Wait until after di

The Vandergelts stayed, of course. Wild horses could not have dragged Cyrus away, and nothing made Fatima happier than having more people to feed. Some of us were rather inclined to gobble, I am afraid; but I noticed that Bertie was not eating with his usual healthy appetite. Under cover of the animated speculations about another tomb, I said softly, “Are you feeling well, Bertie? How is your ankle?”

“It’s fine. I could walk or climb with no trouble, if everyone would stop fussing over me.” Repenting his surly tone almost at once, he gave me an apologetic smile. “You told me last year you’d let me take a hand in your next adventure, remember? I haven’t done a bl – - blasted thing to help! It’s nobody’s fault but mine, I know that; I’m so confounded clumsy and stupid -”

“Now don’t say that, Bertie. Anyone could suffer an accident like yours, and we are still a long way from a solution to this matter. Who knows, your opportunity may come at any moment.”

The corners of his mouth drooped. “Yes, ma’am, I hope so. I’ve been sitting in that chair staring at the same scenery for so long, it’s driving me crazy. I swear, I know every crack in that cliff face and every brick in those house walls.”

“We will have another look at your foot, Nefret and I,” I promised. “Perhaps with a little strapping you can begin to move about more.”

As soon as we had finished di