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He stopped speaking and—did something else. Greatly as I enjoyed the sensation, I recognized one of Emerson’s old tricks of distraction. His explanation had been glib and quite unconvincing.

However, his reminder of the stern duties yet to be faced had a sobering effect; firmly though reluctantly I withdrew from his embrace.

“How selfish is joy,” I said sadly. “I had almost forgotten poor, noble Cyrus. I must help Charlie and Rene make the necessary arrangements. Then there are our dear ones in England to be reassured, and Kevin O’Connell to be threatened into silence, and … so many things. You must write to Ramses at once, Emerson. Er—you remember Ramses, I trust?”

“Ramses,” said Emerson, with a chuckle, “was the most difficult of all my memories to assimilate. On the face of it, my dear, our son is fairly unbelievable. Don’t be concerned; I have already written to him.”

“What? When? How did you… Curse it, Emerson, was it you who searched my room? I ought to have known; no one else would make such a mess.”

“I had to know what was happening to our family, Amelia. I was suspicious enough earlier to take the precaution of warning Walter, but as my memory returned I became deeply concerned about them. Ramses’s letters touched me a great deal; I could not leave the poor lad fretting about my fate.”

“You left me fretting,” I snapped. “Just tell me one thing before we rise and fight again, so to speak. When you kissed me in the tomb—”

“It wasn’t the first time I kissed you in a tomb,” said Emerson, grinning. “Perhaps it was the ambience that snapped my self-control. I was a trifle put out with you, Peabody. You frightened me half to death.”

“I was well aware of that. And you were well aware of our relationship, don’t try to tell me you were not. Yet you— you… You never kissed me like that before!”

“Ah,” said Emerson, “but you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“Well… Emerson, I am seriously annoyed with you. You enjoyed it too, didn’t you? Bullying me, taunting me, insulting me—”

“It had a certain titillation,” Emerson admitted. “Like the days of our youth, eh, Peabody? And I confess I did enjoy being wooed again. Not that your methods of winning a man’s heart are exactly… Peabody, stop that! You really are the most—”

Between laughter, fury, and another emotion that need not be described, I had quite lost control of myself. How matters would have developed I do not know, for a knock on the door interrupted them just as they were becoming interesting. Swearing, Emerson went into concealment in the bathroom; I assumed the first garment that came to hand and went to the door.

The sight of Rene’s sad face sobered me. He was attempting to control his grief with manly fortitude, but it was clear to sensitive eyes like mine.

“Forgive me for disturbing you,” he said. “But I felt you would want to know. We are taking him to Luxor, Mrs. Emerson. He had expressed his desire to be buried there, near the Valley of the Kings, where he had spent the happiest years of his life. We must leave at once if we are to catch the train from Cairo. You understand the need to avoid delay…”

I did understand, and appreciated the delicacy with which he had expressed this unpalatable fact. I wiped away a tear. “I must say good-bye to him, Rene. He gave his life—”

“Yes, dear madam, but I fear there is no time. It is better this way. He would want you to remember him as—as he was.” René’s lips trembled. He turned away to hide his face.

“We will follow, then, as soon as we are able,” I said, patting his shoulder. “His friends must be notified; they will wish to attend the memorial service. I will speak a few words, on that beautiful and appropriate theme: ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ ”

René faced me. “Leave everything to us, madam. You will stay at the Castle, I presume, when you are in Luxor? I feel certain Mr. Vandergelt would want that.”

“Very well.” I gave him my hand. With a graceful Gallic gesture he raised it to his lips.

“Mes hommages,