The Last Camel Died at Noon by Elizabeth Peters Page B

the recipient? And what bearing - if any - had the ghastly puddle in the lane upon the matter?

    As for the documentary evidence - the scrap of papyrus and the page from Emerson's notebook - closer examination confused the situation even more. The papyrus was ancient; traces of an earlier text could be seen under the modern writing. This phenomenon was of frequent occurrence in ancient Egypt, for papyrus was expensive and was often erased so that it could be reused. Pieces of ancient papyrus were (I regret to say) easily obtained by any traveller to Egypt. Similarly, the page from Emerson's notebook might have come into the possession of a person or persons unknown. Emerson admitted that he could not remember what had happened to it; Forth might have put it in his pocket, or he might have left it on the cafe table.

    The case, such as it was, appeared to have reached a dead end. Even I could think of nothing more to do. I decided reluctantly to abandon it, especially since other problems were trying Emerson's temper to the utmost.

    Emerson likes to think that he is the master of his fate and the lord of all he surveys. It is a delusion common to the male sex and accounts for the sputtering fury with which they respond to the slightest interference with their plans, no matter how impractical those plans may be. Being ruled by men, most women are accustomed to irrational behaviour on the part of those who control their destinies. I was therefore not at all surprised when Emerson's plans received their first check. Instead of advancing towards Khartoum, the Egyptian Expeditionary Force settled into winter quarters at Merawi, not to be confused with Meroe, which is several hundred miles farther south.

    Rather than resign himself to the inevitable, as a woman would do, Emerson wasted a great deal of time trying to think of ways to get around it. He also refused to accept the obvious arguments against working in a region where food was scarce and trained workmen were in exceedingly short supply.

    'If we could find something to feed them, we would have workers enough,' he growled, puffing furiously on his pipe. 'These stories about the congenital laziness of the Sudanese are only European prejudice. I don't see how we can manage it, though. All transport south of Wadi Haifa is controlled by the military; we can hardly commandeer a railway carriage, load it with supplies.' He fell silent, his eyes brightening as he considered this idea.

    'Not without being somewhat conspicuous,' I replied dryly. 'You would also have to commandeer an engine to pull the carriage, and wood to stoke the boiler, and an engineer, among other necessities. No, I fear the idea is impractical. We must give it up, Emerson, for this year at least. By next autumn our brave lads will have taken Khartoum and wiped out the stain of dishonour that has soiled the British flag since we failed to succour the gallant Gordon.'

    'Gallant nincompoop,' said Emerson. 'He was sent to evacuate Khartoum, not squat like a toad in a puddle daring the Mahdi to come and murder him. Well, well, perhaps it is all for the best. Even if the country were pacified, it has suffered greatly. Not a fit place for our boy, hardy though he is.'

    'Ramses does not enter into it,' I replied. 'He will be at school in Cairo. Where shall we excavate then, Emerson?'

    'There is only one place, Peabody. Napata.'

    'Napata?'

    'Gebel Barkal, near Merawi. I am convinced it is the site of the first capital of Gush, which flourished for six hundred years before the Cushites moved upriver to Meroe. Budge is already there, curse him,' Emerson added, clenching his teeth so violently on the stem of his pipe that a cracking sound was heard. 'What he is doing to the pyramids I dare not think.'

    Poor Mr Budge was at fault because he had had the audacity to be already in the Sudan. It was no use for me to point out that he had only done what Emerson himself would have done, given the opportunity - i.e.,