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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