Emerson had been calmly eating his soup. “Excellent,” he remarked. “Shepheard’s always does a superb potage а la duchesse.”

“Are you trying to annoy me, Professor?” Russell asked.

“Why, no,” said Emerson. “But I’m not going to help you find Wardani either.”

Russell was not easily roused to anger. He studied Emerson thoughtfully. “You are in sympathy with his aims? Yes, well, that doesn’t surprise me. But even you must admit, Professor, that this is not the right time. After the war—”

Emerson cut him off. My husband is easily roused to anger. His blue eyes were blazing. “Is that going to be your approach? Be patient, be good little children, and if you behave yourselves until the war is won, we will give you your freedom? And you want me to make the offer because I have a certain reputation for integrity in this country? I won’t make a promise I cannot keep, Russell, and I know for a fact you, and the present Government, would not keep that one.” Refreshed and relieved by this outburst, he picked up his fork and cut into the fish that had replaced his bowl of soup. “Anyhow, I don’t know where he is,” he added.

“But you do,” Nefret said suddenly. “Don’t you, Mr. Russell? That’s why you asked the Professor to join you this evening—you’ve located Wardani’s hideout, and you are planning to close in on him tonight, but you’re afraid he will get away from you, as he has always done before, and so you want… What the devil do you want from us?”

“I don’t want anything from you, Miss Forth.” Russell took out his handkerchief and mopped his perspiring forehead. “Except to remain here, and enjoy your dinner, and stay out of this!”

“She cannot dine alone, it would not be proper,” I remarked, draining my glass of wine. “Shall we go now?”

Emerson, eating heartily but neatly, had almost finished his fish. He popped the last morsel into his mouth and made inquiring noises.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Emerson. I do not suggest you carry out Mr. Russell’s insulting proposal, but an opportunity to talk with Mr. Wardani is not to be missed. We may be able to negotiate with him. Anything that would avoid bloodshed—including his—is worth the effort.”

Emerson swallowed. “Just what I was about to say, Peabody .”

He rose and held my chair for me. I brushed a few crumbs off my bodice and stood up.

Russell’s eyes had a glazed look. In a quiet, conversational voice he remarked, “I don’t quite know how I lost control of this situation. For the love of heaven, Professor and Mrs. Emerson, order—persuade—ask Miss Forth to stay here!”

“Nefret is the only one of us who has met Mr. Wardani,” I explained. “And he is more likely to listen to an attractive young lady than to us. Nefret, you have dropped your gloves again.”

Russell, moving like an automaton, reached under the table and retrieved Nefret’s gloves.

“Let us make certain we understand one another, Russell,” Emerson said. “I agree to accompany you in order that I may speak with Mr. Wardani and attempt to convince him he ought to turn himself in—for his own good. I will make no promises and I will brook no interference from you. Is that clear?”

Russell looked him straight in the eye. “Yes, sir.”

I had not anticipated this particular development, but I had thought something of interest might ensue, so I had come prepared. As I watched a bemused Assistant Commissioner of Police help Nefret on with her cloak, I realized she had done the same. Like my outer garment, hers was dark and plain, with no glitter of jet or crystal beads, but with a deep hood that covered her hair. I doubted she was armed, for the long knife she favored would have been difficult to conceal on her person. Her skirt was straight and rather narrow, and layers of petticoats were no longer in fashion.

My own “arsenal,” as Emerson terms it, was limited by the same consideration. However, my little pistol fit neatly into my bag and my parasol (crimson to match my frock) had a stout steel shaft. Not many ladies carried parasols to an evening party, but people had become accustomed to my having one always with me; it was considered an amusing eccentricity, I believe.

“I will drive us to our destination,” Emerson announced, as we left the hotel. “Fortunately I brought the motorcar.”

Unfortunately he had. Emerson drives like a madman and he will allow no one else to drive him. I did not express my misgivings, for I felt certain Mr. Russell would express his. After a long look at the vehicle, which was very large and very yellow, he shook his head.

“Everyone in Cairo knows that car, Professor. We want to be unobtrusive. I have a closed carriage waiting. But I wish the ladies would not—”

Nefret had already jumped into the cab. Russell sighed. He got up onto the box next to the driver and Emerson politely handed me in.

After circling the Ezbekieh Gardens the cab passed the Opera House and turned into the Muski. The hour was early for Cairo ; the streets were brightly lighted and full of traffic, from camels to motorcars. The excitement that had filled me at the prospect of action began to fade. This section of Cairo was boringly bright and modern. We might have been in Bond Street or the Champs Йlysйe.

“We are heading toward the Khan el Khalili,” I reported, peering out the window.

But we never reached it. The cab turned south, into a narrower street, and passed the Hotel du Nil before coming to a stop. Russell jumped down off the box and came to the door.

“We had best go on foot from here,” he said softly. “It isn’t far. Just down there.”

I inspected the street he indicated. It appeared to be a cul de sac, only a few hundred yards long, but it was nothing like the enticingly foul areas of the Old City into which I had often ventured in search of criminals. The lighted windows of several good-sized houses shone through the dark.

“Your fugitive appears to be overly confident,” I said disapprovingly. “If I hoped to elude the police I would go to earth in a less respectable neighborhood.”

“On the other hand,” said Emerson, taking my arm and leading me on, “they aren’t as likely to look for him in a respectable neighborhood. Russell, are you sure your informant was correct?”

“No,” the gentleman replied curtly. “That is why I asked you to come with me. It’s the third house—that one. Ask the doorkeeper to announce you.”

“And then what?” Emerson inquired. “Upon hearing our names Wardani will rush into the room and welcome us with open arms?”

“I’m sure you will think of something, Professor. If you don’t, Mrs. Emerson will.”

“Hmph,” said Emerson.

Russell struck a match and examined his watch. “It is a quarter past ten . I’ll give you half an hour.”

“Hmph,” Emerson repeated. “Nefret, take my other arm.”

Russell withdrew into a patch of shadow and we proceeded toward the door he had indicated. The houses were fairly close together, surrounded by trees and flowering plants. “What is he going to do if we don’t come out within thirty minutes?” Nefret asked in a low voice.

“Well, my dear, he would not have implied he would rush to our rescue if his men weren’t already in position,” Emerson replied placidly. “They are well trained, aren’t they? I’ve only spotted two of them.”

Nefret would have stopped in her tracks if Emerson had not pulled her along. “It’s a trap,” she gasped. “He’s using us—”

“To distract Wardani while the police break in. Certainly. What did you expect?”

Raising the heavy iron ring that served as a knocker, he beat a thunderous tattoo upon the door.

“He lied to us,” Nefret muttered. “The bastard!”

“Language, Nefret,” I said.

“I beg your pardon, Aunt Amelia. But he is!”

“Just a good policeman, my dear,” said Emerson. He knocked again.

“What are you going to do, Professor?”

“I’ll think of something. If I don’t, your Aunt Amelia will.”