• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Bedrock was several meters below the unexcavated portion of the cemetery, so my little rest area was walled by sand on two sides. All of us (except Emerson) retired thither, and I poured tea.

“I trust our discovery has not lured you away from your duties,” I remarked. “We are counting on you gentlemen to save us and the Canal from the Turks, you know.”

My friendly touch of sarcasm was not lost on Woolley, who laughed good-naturedly. “Fortunately, Mrs. Emerson, your safety is not solely dependent on the likes of us. All we do is sit poring over maps. It is good to get away from the office for a while. I miss being in the field.”

Lawrence was discussing Arabic dialects with Ramses, who—for a wonder—let him do most of the talking. One had to admire the young man’s zeal, if not his appearance; he was not wearing a belt, and his uniform looked as if he had slept in it. I thought Ramses looked bored.

It was Nefret who first saw the newcomers. She nudged Ramses. “Brace yourself,” she said.

“What for?” He looked in the direction she indicated, and jumped up in time to catch hold of the bundle of flying hair and skirts that came tumbling down the slope of sand beside him. Miss Molly brushed herself off and grinned broadly.

“Hullo!”

“Good morning,” said Ramses. “Where is Miss Nordstrom?”

“Sick,” said the young person with, I could not help suspect, some satisfaction. “At her stomach.”

“Surely you did not come alone,” I exclaimed.

“No, I came with them.” She gestured. Peering down at us was a pair of faces, one surmounted by a solar topee, the other by a large hat and veil. “Their names are Mr. and Miss Poynter. I heard them tell Nordie they were coming out to see the statue, so I said we would come with them, but then Nordie got sick—at her stomach—so I came without her.”

Trying not to grind my teeth, I indicated an easier descent to the Poynters and greeted them more politely than I would have done had they not accompanied the young person. When Miss Poynter removed her veil, displaying a countenance that consisted mostly of chin and teeth, she looked so pleased with herself I realized she must have made use of the child to gain an introduction. We had achieved a certain notoriety in Cairo and were known not to welcome strangers.

They settled down with every intention of remaining indefinitely and Miss Poynter began telling me all about her family connections and the swath she was cutting in Cairo society. Bored to distraction, I heard Miss Molly demanding that Ramses take her to see the statue, and his somewhat curt reply.

“As you see, we have other guests. You will have to wait.”

How she got away unobserved I do not know; but several minutes later I tore my fascinated gaze away from Miss Poynter’s teeth in order to acknowledge Woolley’s farewells. “We’ve played truants long enough,” he explained. “Thank you, Mrs. Emerson, for—”

“Where is she?” I exclaimed, rising. “Where has she gone?”

All of us except the Poynters immediately scattered in search of the girl. Knowing the reckless habits of young persons of a certain age, I was filled with apprehension; there were pitfalls and tomb shafts all over the area. We had been looking for several minutes before a shrill hail attracted our attention toward a dump area west of the street of tombs. Ours was not the only expedition to pile sand and rubble there; the mound was almost twenty feet high. Atop it a small figure waved triumphantly.

“She’s up there,” Lawrence said, shielding his eyes. He chuckled. “Spoiled little devil.”

Nefret looked anxious. “She could hurt herself. Someone had better go after her.”

“She’s quite capable of getting down by herself,” said Ramses, folding his arms.

Nefret had removed her coat earlier. Slim as a boy in trousers and flannel shirt, she began to mount the slope. She reached the top without mishap and held out her hand to the child. Miss Molly danced blithely away from her. A shrill laugh floated down to us.

“Stop