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solid rock,” Holmes replied. “Professor, are these laid out in more or less a representation of where they were found?”
    “Good man,” Whitesell remarked. “They are, indeed. At least as closely as we could make it, given the tent is not quite the same shape as the dig field. But each tray represents one grid square, so it is reasonably close.”
    “Capital. Then look here, Leigh: in this tray we have the remains of a fire, into which has been cast the carcase of a chicken. Next to it are a couple of cook-pots, and the remnants of at least one more that has broken. These two squares, and probably several more, would denote the camp kitchen, as it were, likely similar in many respects to our own, saving we have cast-iron stoves versus their open fires, or perhaps some form of rudimentary clay stove,” Holmes pointed out, then strode to the next table. “Here we have a small pot of perfumed unguent; can you smell it, Leigh?”
    “Yes! Ooo, it still smells good!” Leighton exclaimed, bending over the tray and inhaling. “Um… sandalwood?”
    “Most likely,” Holmes agreed. “Yes, the ambers, resins, spices and what-not will have helped to preserve the fats into which they were mixed, which is why you can still sometimes recognise the fragrance, even after millennia. And here next to it we have some tiny brushes, a pot of ground charcoal, a bronze mirror, and a comb made of water buffalo horn. What do you suppose was here?”
    “Someone’s vanity table?” Leighton wondered; the other men stood back with slight smiles, watching silently with pleased approbation as the detective taught the professor’s daughter. “They used charcoal and things to line their eyes, didn’t they? And so maybe the little pot of charcoal is the liner, and the brushes are for applying it, like actors do. The mirror is to see what they were doing. And of course the comb is for the hair…”
    “Very good,” Holmes concurred. “Which means that the vanity table was inside what?”
    “Well, if it had been a village, it would be someone’s home, I suppose,” Leighton considered. “But this was a work site, was it not?”
    Holmes glanced at Whitesell for confirmation.
    “That’s correct,” the archaeologist averred. “We have not seen any sign of permanent structures. No foundations or the like have been found.”
    “And there are some broken tent pegs in the corner tray,” Beaumont added.
    “So it was in someone’s tent,” Holmes noted. “And in all these adjacent trays, we find various items of jewellery, clothing fasteners, sandal straps, and the like. Which means this all comprised what?”
    Leighton gnawed her thumb for a moment, thinking as she looked over the array of items, then finally offered a tentative, “The campsite?”
    “Very good!” Whitesell exclaimed, intensely pleased. “You have reasoned through it all very well, Leighton! And Holmes, my boy, that was a lovely example, not just of reasoning, but of teaching!”
    “Thank you, sir,” Holmes responded, sketching a slight bow, as a delighted Leighton flushed.
    “Thank you, Da, Sherry,” she murmured.
    “So we know where the camp is, and where the kitchens and living quarters were,” Holmes determined.
    “And the, er, the facilities,” Phillips added, flushing in embarrassment.
    “The latrines,” Nichols-Woodall elaborated bluntly, with a dry grin. “For obvious reasons, we do not have any of, ah, THOSE ‘relics’ in the tent.”
    “Eww,” Leighton exclaimed, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “Uncle Parker, please!”
    “After all this time, surely the ordure does not still… smell?” Holmes asked somewhat delicately. “It has been many millennia!”
    “No, no,” Whitesell chuckled. “Not in the desert. By now it is all quite desiccated. But we felt it might still be… unsanitary. So we chose not to risk it.”
    “The workers were not especially happy about finding it, especially those that are Muslims,” Phillips noted.