Again the puzzled expression played over the young man’s broad features. “Do they not go to the teahouse?”
Mina sensed the cause of his confusion. “Oh, sure. There are still tea shops around-loads of them. But increasingly, people take their tea at home. Also, they take a light afternoon meal along with it.”
Giles accepted this explanation with his customary nod.
She turned to him and began walking at a pace along the street. “Speaking of meals-are you hungry? We have just time enough to grab a sandwich-” She regarded the blank look on her companion’s face and guessed its source. “Sorry, I forgot you won’t know about those yet. But don’t worry. You’ll like them.”
Three ham, cheese, and mustard baps, two mugs of milky tea, and a carriage ride later-the tea was drunk at a cab stand, and the sandwiches devoured in the back of the carriage by a ravenous Giles who pronounced the experience a very marvel-they arrived on the steps of a large stone house on Charlotte Street. Wilhelmina yanked the bellpull, and in a moment the black enamelled door was opened by a young woman in a serving maid’s blue uniform. She gazed at them impassively, but said nothing.
“We have come to see Dr. Thomas Young,” Mina announced. “I believe he is staying here.”
“I am to say that Dr. Young is with his family. He is not seeing patients today.”
“We are not patients,” replied Mina crisply. “We are fellow explorers. Rest assured, we would not disturb him unless it was of the highest importance and interest to him. Please inform Dr. Young that we have come from Egypt with important information about his forthcoming expedition.”
“If you please to wait here”-the girl turned away-“I will tell him.”
A minute later the door was opened again-this time by a bewhiskered man wearing round steel-rimmed glasses and a black frock coat. “Good day to you, friends. How can I be of service?”
“Good day, Dr. Young. Thank you for agreeing to see us. We will try not to take up too much of your time.”
“Am I to understand that you have information regarding my expedition to Egypt?”
“Information, yes,” affirmed Wilhelmina. “And a proposition for you to consider.”
The doctor made no move to open the door, nor admit them. “A proposition,” he said flatly, taking in her curious garb. “Am I to know the nature of this proposition?”
“It concerns the discovery of the tomb of Anen, High Priest of Amun, and the recovery of a wealth of treasures, many of which have never before been seen.”
The kindly doctor smiled knowingly. “I’m sorry, but you are mistaken, dear lady. There is no such tomb.”
“I must beg to differ, Doctor. The tomb exists, but has not yet been discovered. However, I can assure you that it will be.” Mina leaned forward and imparted her secret. “And you are the man who will discover it.”
He gazed at her benignly from behind his glasses, his professional manner firmly in place. Clearly, he was accustomed to dealing with people in all manner of debilitating mental and physical states. “May I presume to ask how you can possibly know this?”
“Because,” replied Wilhelmina, offering her most sincere and confident smile, “I am from your future.”
CHAPTER 5
Kit strolled into the village: a small farming hamlet consisting of low mud-brick houses strung along the banks of the slow, silent Nile and surrounded by darkly fertile fields of beans and squash, onions, leeks, melons, sesame, and the like-all of it guarded by a noisy greeting party of mongrel dogs. The houses, he noted, were mostly unadorned mud brick, though some featured the occasional wall daubed blue or green. The buildings were uniformly doorless, windowless, and most had small beehive-shaped ovens in their bare backyards. The more prosperous- looking dwellings had small cloth-covered, palm-lined pavilions on the roof-to make use, no doubt, of any errant cooling breeze-but the roofs of the more humble dwellings were topped with heaps of sun-blasted rubbish; any discarded, used-up household items ended their useful lives roofside, along with the accumulated garbage and detritus of daily life.
He glimpsed the first dog as he passed the third house on the edge of the hamlet; the animal was quickly joined by two more, which were in turn trailed by a pack of curious children. They all stared at him, dogs and kids, with wide dark eyes. Kit smiled and waved, which sent the youngsters racing off to find their elders, setting off a general commotion of greeting for a stranger who had wandered out of the desert.
Kit was mightily relieved to discover that his first attempts at communication were met with success. Whatever time he had landed in, Westerners were apparently a common enough sight among the locals that it did not provoke instant alarm; at least, his appearance did not send them reaching for weapons or running for cover. Instead, as the small crowd of villagers gathered around, a dark-skinned older fellow with stubbly grey hair stepped forward and handed Kit a clay cup full of water, which Kit accepted with a smile and nod. Kit tipped the cup to his lips and guzzled it down. The man watched him, then said, “Deutsch? Francais?”
“English,” replied Kit, wiping his mouth. “ Parlez vous English?”
“Non,” said the man. He laid hold of a nearby boy and spoke a quick command that sent the lad racing away. Turning back to Kit, he said, “Francais?”
“No,” replied Kit, passing back the empty cup.
The man sighed with weary resignation, and then everyone stood looking at each other and at Kit until a slender young man in a white kaftan appeared.
“Hello, sir,” he said, pushing his way through the throng. “I am Khefri.”
“You speak English.”
The young man nodded gravely. “What is your name, sir?”
“Call me Kit,” he said. “Kit Livingstone.”
“How can we help you, Kit Livingstone?”
“I am travelling hereabouts,” replied Kit. “I am on my way to Luxor. Do you know of anyplace where-”
“You are on foot?”
“Yes.”
“You have been in the desert?”
“Yes, that’s right. I-”
“You have been in the desert on foot?”
“Yes, you see, I am looking for someone.”
“You are looking for someone,” repeated Khefri, his large dark eyes narrowing in disbelief, “in the desert on foot?”
“As it happens, yes,” said Kit, feeling that this line of questioning could go on for quite some time. “But now I am on my way to Luxor-”
“You have money?” wondered Khefri.
“A little,” replied Kit. Wilhelmina had given him a handful of coins. “Not much.”
“This is my father,” said the youth, indicating the older man, who was now smiling and nodding in welcome. “He is head man of this village. You will stay with us tonight, and I will take you to Luxor in the morning.”
“Great,” said Kit. “Terrific. I mean, thank you very much.”
“It is pleasure. The cost will be six dinar.” Khefri exchanged a few words with his father, then said, “You are invited to come now and share a meal with us. My father would speak to you of your England.”
“I would be delighted,” said Kit, trying on his most charming manner. “But I do not wish to put you to any trouble.”
“It is not trouble for us,” replied Khefri. “Hospitality is a duty. If you will please to follow me, I will take you now.”
The dark-eyed young man turned and pushed his way through the onlookers, crying for them to make way. Kit followed in his wake, in a procession that displayed all the qualities of a two-man parade.
“You speak very good English,” Kit pointed out from his place a few steps behind his guide. “Where did you learn?”
