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By Root 1159 0

often. All had been known to earlier archaeologists; none had been properly cleared or recorded; no one particularly wanted to clear them; but the terms of Emerson’s firman did not permit HIM to investigate them, because they were considered to be royal tombs. Cartouches of Ramses III had been noted in number Three, though that monarch had actually been buried in another, far more elaborate, tomb elsewhere in the Valley. Number Four, attributed to Ramses XI, had been used as a stable by Christian Arabs and was assumed to have been thoroughly ransacked. The name of Ramses II had been seen in number Five, but he also had a tomb elsewhere, and attempts to investigate this tomb—the latest by our friend Howard Carter five years earlier—had been frustrated by the hard-packed rubble that filled the chambers.

Emerson would have been the first to admit that the possibility of discovering anything of unusual interest was slight, but it infuriated him to be prevented from making the attempt because of an arbitrary, unfair decree. The firman granting permission to look for new tombs in the Valley of the Kings was held by Mr. Theodore Davis and it was strictly enforced, not only by M. Maspero, but by the local inspector, Mr. Arthur Weigall.

“We had better catch him up,” I said uneasily. “If he should encounter Mr. Weigall he is sure to say something rude.”

“Or do something rude,” said Nefret with a grin. “The last time he met Mr. Weigall he threatened to—”

“Hurry,” I begged.

Most of the tourists were going in the opposite direction from ours, so our progress was slower than I would have liked. I had to agree with Emerson’s assessment; in general they were a silly-looking lot, unsuitably attired and vacantly gaping. The men had the advantage, since they were unencumbered by high-heeled shoes and corsets. Men and women alike stared at Nefret, who strode as easily as a slender boy in her sensible boots and trousers. At my insistence she wore a coat, but her shirt was open at the neck and golden-red locks had escaped from her pith helmet and curled round her face. She paid no heed to the impertinent stares—critical on the part of the women, quite otherwise on the part of the gentlemen.

As I had expected, we found Emerson planted firmly in front of tomb number Five. Only those tombs containing painted reliefs had been provided with locked gates. The barrier that prevented entrance to this one was equally effective—heaped-up rubble and miscellaneous trash that concealed all but the outline of a door.

I was sorry to see that my premonition had been accurate. Facing Emerson, his back to the tomb, was a young man wearing a neat tweed suit and a very large pith helmet—Mr. Weigall, who now held our friend Howard’s former position of Inspector for Upper Egypt. Neither their postures nor their expressions were combative, and I was about to dismiss my forebodings when Emerson swung his arm and struck Mr. Weigall full in the chest. Weigall toppled over backwards, into the half-filled opening.

•

Five

•

We celebrated Christmas in the good old-fashioned way, with a tree and carols and friends gathered round. To be sure, the setting was a trifle unusual—golden sand instead of snow, a balmy breeze wafting through the open windows instead of sleety rain pounding at the closed panes, a spindly tamarisk branch instead of an evergreen—but we had spent so many festal seasons in Egypt that it seemed entirely natural to us. Even the spindly tamarisk made a brave show, thanks to David’s ingenious decorations. Comical camels, garlands of delicate silvery stars, and innumerable other designs cut from tin or shaped of baked clay filled in the empty spaces and twinkled in the lights of the candles.

Mr. Weigall and his wife had declined our invitation. They appeared to harbor a grudge, though I could not imagine why; Emerson’s prompt action had saved the young man from far more serious injuries than he received when he landed (rather heavily, I admit) on the hard surface, and my heroic husband was still favoring his left leg, which had been badly