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we will find when we get to the Holy Mountain, supposing we do get there, add up to a strong possibility that we will never have to face that particular problem again." "It wouldn't be as risky this time," Emerson mused. "We were limited as to camels and men, and weren't sure that the map was accurate." "That is true," I admitted. "I don't suppose I could persuade you to--" "Remain behind? Don't be absurd, Emerson." "I knew you would say that. Well, Ramses? You have been very silent. I will quite understand if you prefer to spend the winter in Germany, as you--" Ramses interrupted him with an Arabic word that made Emerson's eyes widen. "Good Gad, my boy, where did you learn that one?" he inquired. "You know I intend to go with you," Ramses said furiously. "Yes," said Emerson, trying not to smirk. "You know why I've hesitated." "Yes." Emerson's smile faded. "I too would prevent her if I could. But it is impossible. Tarek was a friend, close as a brother. Moreover, she is a trained physician, and this mysterious illness may be one she can diagnose and cure. Short of locking her up, which is illegal as well as impractical, I can think of no way of excluding her. Can you?" Ramses turned on his heel and walked to the window. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking out into the twilight. Finally his rigid shoulders relaxed, and when he turned he had his face under control. "No, I can't. She went off with Merasen so she could talk to him about Tarek, you know. He'll fire her up even more, especially if he tells her about the child." "He is a remarkable young man," Emerson said. "And it was an epic journey. He could not have survived without those same qualities of wit and courage that marked--" Ramses cut in. "Did you believe his story?" "Why should we not?" I exclaimed in surprise. "We have only his word." Ramses began pacing up and down. "There are a number of things about his narrative that bother me. He'd been in Kent for several days before we found him--camping out, near Tabirka's pyramid, waiting for one of us to come to him." "Perhaps he was shy about approaching the house," I suggested. "But I admit attacking you was a rather odd way of introducing himself." "Oh, I can understand that," Ramses admitted grudgingly. "I might have done something equally idiotic when I was his age, especially if I had been in strange surroundings, uncertain and a little afraid. Win or lose, you've had the satisfaction of asserting your manhood." "If you will forgive me for saying so, my dear, you are in no position to criticize," I said. "To judge by his appearance, he is only a year or two younger than you, and you have not entirely conquered your habit of--" "Hmph," said Emerson loudly. "What makes you doubt his story, Ramses?" "I simply pointed out that it cannot be substantiated." "Oh, bah," said Emerson. He began ticking off points on his fingers as he mentioned them. "He resembles his brother. He speaks the language. He knows of our earlier visit, and"--he coughed modestly--"what we did there. In detail. How else could he have learned these things?" "I don't doubt that he comes from the Holy Mountain, or that he wants us to go there. It is his motive that is unproven. We've nothing in writing, not even Tarek's alleged letter." "Your point is valid," I admitted. "And there are a number of other points that, in my opinion, require to be explained. We need not make a decision this instant. I assure you, Ramses, that I will bring to bear all my expertise at subtle interrogation." "Yes, Mother," Ramses said. "Ha," said Emerson. "Put the map away, Emerson. It is time to dress for dinner." "I am dressed," said Emerson, inspecting his ink-speckled shirt. "See here, Peabody, you don't expect me to get myself up in boiled shirt and black tie, do you?" I took him away. Ramses said he would lock the map in the dispatch case, and we left him brooding over it with a particularly vul-turine air. I allowed Emerson to expostulate for a