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you on what you will need for a sojourn in Egypt as she wintered there herself a few years ago.”
    “Thank you, Uncle Neville. You seem to have thought of everything.”
    “I try,” he said. “Emily—you have met Emily, haven’t you?”
    “This morning. She seems quite sweet, and very efficient.”
    “Emily has agreed to accompany us, and act as your chaperon. She and her husband will wait on you when I am away.”
    “Wasn’t Emily going with you before this? She mentioned that she was going when we spoke this morning.”
    Neville shook his head.
    “No, I only just asked her and Bert last night.”
    Jenny looked puzzled, then she grinned.
    “You guessed all along that I’d rather go to Egypt than stay here!”
    Neville nodded. “I know determination when I see it.”
    And I don’t think you’ve quite finished being determined, Miss Benet. There will be time enough to deal with that once you’ve seen Egypt for real. I suspect that you will change your mind about going into the desert without my pressing.
    Jenny touched his hand.
    “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
    Neville accepted this as a promise.
    “Would you be willing to grace me with your presence this afternoon? Our other traveling companion is coming to call. I should like you to meet him before you finalize your decision.”
    Jenny frowned.
    “I’ve made my mind up, sure as anything, Uncle Neville. What’s wrong with this man?”
    “Mr. Holmboe is . . .” Neville hesitated, searching for the right word. “Very clever and very talented. He is also a bit odd—annoying some find him, though I do not.”
    “He is abrasive and argumentative? Or is he one of those learned fellows who has to let you know just how much smarter than you he is?”
    “I would prefer for you to make your own decision regarding Mr. Holmboe. However, I thought it only fair to warn you that he is not terribly popular in some circles.”
    Jenny toyed with the lace edging on one sleeve, clearly fascinated.
    Neville continued, “I had reasons other than Mr. Holmboe’s talents for hiring him. One is that I do not wish news of our planned venture to spread. He is outside the usual circles, and therefore not likely to gossip.”
    “You’re not doing something illegal?” Jenny asked sharply.
    “Perhaps on the fringes of legality,” Neville admitted. “I will explain everything at tea. Then you will have time to consider whether you wish to continue associating yourself with this venture by traveling in my company. Lady Lindenmeade would be happy to have you.”
    Jenny frowned, but no matter how much she wheedled, Neville would say no more. There were things he would prefer to talk about as little as possible.
    The hours between Uncle Neville’s arrival home and when high tea was served late that afternoon dragged interminably for Jenny. Belzoni’s book, once so fascinating, could no longer hold her interest. After she’d read the same half-page three or four times, she marked her place and set the book aside.
    Then she went up to her room. She hadn’t had much need for her guns on the steamer across from Boston, but even with them locked up in their case, the salt air wouldn’t have done them much good. Taking out oil and cloth, she methodically cleaned both six-shooters and the derringer. Emily hadn’t found the Winchester in its fitted box that was flush with the bottom of her longest trunk—or, if she had, her curiosity had been amply satisfied that morning. In any case, the rifle remained in its padding, nearly as pristine as it had been on the day its custom-made beauty had arrived at the finishing school, along with a note from Papa promising that they would go hunting soon after the term ended.
    Jenny had taken the rifle out and practiced assiduously when visiting tolerant friends in the Massachusetts countryside, but she had lost heart for the sport the day the telegram had arrived announcing the burning of her parents’ new ranch and their deaths