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“You don’t know much about women, either of you. A woman may forgive a man for abducting her, and she certainly will not blame him for falling in love with her. What she will never forgive is being made to look like a fool. That is what Sethos has done to Aunt Amelia.”
    “I wish you wouldn’t spout aphorisms,” Ramses grumbled. “You sound like Mother.”
    “That is not an aphorism, it is a simple fact! Don’t you see—the way Sethos used the suffragist movement struck a blow at a cause dear to Aunt Amelia’s heart. It will give fresh ammunition to those male supremacists who claim women are too naive and childlike to deal with the real world. The WSPU will be mercilessly ridiculed for admitting a pack of criminals into their ranks—”
    “That isn’t fair,” Ramses protested. “Sethos has deceived the keenest criminal investigators.”
    “Fair, unfair, what difference does that make to the press? And just wait until some enterprising journalist discovers Aunt Amelia was there. ‘Mrs. Amelia P. Emerson, the noted archaeologist and amateur detective, attacked a constable who was attempting to prevent a gang of thieves from entering the house!’ ”
    “Oh dear,” David exclaimed, paling visibly. “They wouldn’t!”
    “She didn’t actually attack the fellow,” Ramses mused. “But it wasn’t for want of trying. Oh dear indeed. Could we find an excuse to leave town for a few days, do you think?”
    •
    Two
    •
    I am a rational individual. My emotions are under firm control at all times. Being only too familiar with the lies and exaggerations of journalists, I knew what to expect from those villains once the story of the robbery got out. I was prepared for the worst and determined not to lose my temper.
    Nor would I have done if the Daily Yell, London’s most prominent proponent of sensational journalism, had not printed a letter from Sethos himself. It had been sent to the newspaper in care of Kevin O’Connell, who was an old acquaintance of ours. At times I considered Kevin a friend. This was not one of those times.
    “For once,” Emerson remarked somewhat breathlessly, as I struggled to free myself from the steely arms that had wrapped round me, “I must come to O’Connell’s defense. You could hardly expect him to refrain from printing . . . Curse it, Peabody, will you please put down that parasol and stop squirming? I will not allow you to leave the house while you are in this agitated state of mind.”
    I daresay I could have got away from him, but I would not have got far. Gargery stood before the closed door, arms outstretched and frame stiff with resolve; Ramses and David had been drawn to the scene by Emerson’s shouts and my indignant expostulations, and I entertained no illusions as to whose side they were on. Men always stick together.
    “I do not know why you are behaving in such an undignified manner, Emerson,” I said. “Let me go at once.”
    Emerson’s grip did not relax. “Give me your word you will come along quietly.”
    “How can I not, when there are four of you great bullies against one poor little woman?”
    Gargery, who is not especially large or muscular, swelled with pride. “Aow, madam—” he began.
    “Mind your vowels, Gargery.”
    “Yes, madam. Madam, if you want that reporter thrashed you should leave it to the Professor, or to me, madam, or Bob, or Jerry, or—”
    Emerson cut him short with a gesture and a nod. “Come along to the library, Peabody, and we will discuss this calmly. Gargery, pour the whiskey.”
    A sip of this curative beverage, so soothing to the nerves, restored me to my customary self-possession. “I suppose you have all read the letter,” I remarked.
    Obviously they had, including Nefret, who had kept prudently out of the way until then. David said timidly, “I thought it a very gentlemanly and graceful gesture. An apology, even.”
    “A cursed impertinence, rather,” Emerson exclaimed. “A jeer, a sneer, a challenge;