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By Root 1407 0

there is often a germ of truth in the most fantastic of legends. I am quite willing to believe that there are unknown oases in the western desert, far to the south of the known oases of Egypt. Wilkinson names three, in his book published in 1835; he had heard about them from the Arabs. The people of Dakhla—one of the known oases in southern Egypt—tell tales of strangers, tall black men, who came out of the south. And El Bekri, who wrote in the eleventh century, described a giantess who was captured at Dakhla; she spoke no known language, and when she was released, so that her captors could not track her to her home, she outran them and escaped.”

“Fascinating,” Evelyn breathed. “But the Book of Hidden Pearls?”

“Ah, there we enter into pure legend,” Emerson said, smiling affectionately at her. “It is a magical work, written in the fifteenth century, containing stories of buried treasure. One such location is in the white city of Zerzura, where the king and queen lie asleep on their thrones. The key to the city is in the beak of a bird carved on the great gate; but you must take care not to wake the king and queen if you want the treasure.”

“That is simply a fairy tale,” Walter said critically.

“Of course it is. But Zerzura is mentioned in other sources; the name probably derives from the Arabic zarzar, meaning sparrow, so Zerzura is ‘the place of the little birds.’ And there are other stories, other clues.…” Emerson’s face took on the pensive, dreamy look few of his acquaintances are privileged to see. He likes to be thought of as a strictly rational man, who sneers at idle fancies, but in reality the dear fellow is as sensitive and sentimental as women are purported to be (though in my experience women are far more practical than men).

“Are you thinking of Harkhuf?” Walter asked. “It is true that that mystery has never been solved, at least not to my satisfaction. Where did he go on those expeditions of his, to procure the treasures he brought back to Egypt? Gold and ivory, and the dancing dwarf that so delighted the child-king he served.… Then there are Queen Hatshepsut’s voyages to Punt—”

“Punt doesn’t enter into it,” Emerson said. “It must be somewhere on the Red Sea coast, east of the Nile. As for Harkhuf, that was over four thousand years ago. He may have followed the Darb el Arba’in.… There, you see the fascination of such idle speculation? We speculated, and had those friendly drinks, and drew meaningless lines on a piece of paper. If Forth was fool enough to follow that so-called map, he deserved the unpleasant death that undoubtedly came to him. Enough of this. Peabody, why are you sitting there? Why haven’t you risen from your chair to indicate that the ladies wish to retire?”

This question was mean to provoke me; Emerson knew quite well that the custom to which he referred was never followed in our house. “We will all retire,” I said.

Walter hastened to open the door for me. “It is an odd coincidence, though,” he said innocently. “The Dervish uprising had just begun when Mr. Forth disappeared. Now it appears to be almost over, and the message arrives—”

“Walter, don’t be so naive. If fraud is contemplated, the timing is no coincidence. The news of Slatin Pasha’s escape, after all those years in captivity, may well have inspired some criminal mind—”

He broke off with a choking sound. The blood rushed into his cheeks.

I knew what he was thinking. I always know what Emerson is thinking, for the spiritual bond that unites us is strong. The dark shadow of the Master Criminal, our old nemesis, would always haunt us—me, especially, since I had (much to my astonishment, for I am a modest woman) inspired an intense passion in that warped but brilliant brain.

“No, Emerson,” I exclaimed. “It cannot be. Remember his promise, that never again would he—”

“The promise of a snake like that is worth nothing, Peabody. This is just the sort of scheme—”

“Remember your promise, then, Emerson. That never again would you—”

“Oh, curse it,” Emerson muttered.

Though she did not (at least I hoped she did not) know whereof