of the heavy, serviceable type a military man might favour. “So!” he cried at last. “Here you are!”
“Here I am indeed,” confirmed Kit. The physician stood gazing at him as at a prize exhibit in a zoo until Kit, growing uncomfortable under the man’s scrutiny, blurted, “I believe we have a mutual friend.”
“Yes,” agreed Thomas Young amiably, “I rather believe we do.”
“Wilhelmina—”
“Striking girl,” said Thomas, stirring himself. “Most remarkable young woman. Possessed of a strength of will one encounters only rarely. A genuinely unique individual.”
“She’s all that,” conceded Kit.
“Come, sir, it is the heat of the day. We must not stand out here jawing like a pair of yahoos. I have a jug of lemon water standing by. Splendidly refreshing. Will you share a drink with me in my tent?”
“I would be delighted,” replied Kit, falling into the more formal rhythms of nineteenth-century speech. “I am positively parched.”
“Khalid!” shouted Thomas. “We are retiring to my tent. Rest the workers now and give them something to eat and drink. Tell them we will resume at the usual time. When you have done that, join us, please.”
The servant made a slight bow and then, turning, clapped his hands for attention. As the workers moved off, Kit observed, “You sent him to look for me.”
“I did,” replied the doctor, leading the way to a large tent that had been erected in the scant shade of twin palm trees. “Every day at this time he went to look for you. I thought if you came at all, it would be in the morning. It is just too hot later. It is still early in the season,” he said, “and already it is beastly—much too warm for this time of year.” He stepped to the entrance of the tent and held aside the opening flap. “I fear I shall soon be forced to suspend excavations. Pity.”
Kit ducked under the flap and into a commodious, well-ventilated space that was less tent than open-sided marquee. Two sides were hung with gauzy material; periodically, a servant would come by to sprinkle it with water using an olive branch and a wooden pail—a primitive but surprisingly effective form of air-conditioning. The reprieve from the heat and hammering sun was instant and welcome, and Kit could not help offering up a sigh of relief.
The interior was divided into two distinct areas: a working place with a desk and lamp, three folding chairs, and a wicker settee, and a sleeping place with a cot shrouded by insect netting; the two were divided by a standing screen of woven palm fronds. The slightly uneven floor was covered by heavy Egyptian carpets laid one atop another. It was, Kit decided, the temporary abode of a well-seasoned traveller, one who knew and understood his surroundings. This was further demonstrated when the doctor removed the lid of a covered bowl and drew out a roll of wet cloth. “Put this around your neck,” he said, passing the roll to Kit. He took one for himself and draped it around the nape of his neck. Kit did likewise and instantly felt the better for it.
Beside the desk stood a small tripod bearing a large oval tray of brass; on the tray were a painted pottery jug and several upside-down glasses. A shallow bowl of almonds sat beside the jug, and it was to this that Thomas Young was first drawn. “Here, my good fellow, get some of these into you,” he said, offering the bowl.
Kit took a few of the heavily salted almonds and popped them into his mouth; his host did the same.
“You need the salt in this heat. It’s good for you. Prevents heat prostration.” Returning the bowl to the tray, he waved Kit to a chair. “Please, sit down, Mr. Livingstone. We will rest awhile and chat.”
Kit lowered himself into the canvas chair and accepted a glass of the pale yellow liquid. It was tepid, but the sharp tang of the lemon made it palatable. Thomas settled into his chair behind the desk and sat gazing at his guest from behind an untidy mass of papers and various drawing utensils. Kit sipped his water and waited for his host to begin.
“Do I dare ask if you have brought something for me?” wondered Thomas at last.
“As it happens,” replied Kit. He placed his half-empty glass on the tray and, fumbling at the buttons on the front of his shirt, produced the brown paper package he had retrieved from the hotel. “I was instructed to