A River in the Sky

Plato complied readily, explaining that he was giving us only the part of the text that contained directions as to the location of the treasure. It was certainly a curious document. It read in part: “Now while the workmen were lifting up their picks there was a rift on the right hand, one hundred cubits from the entrance, leading to the place of the treasure, and one hundred cubits was the height of the rock over the heads of the workmen.”

“This is, of course, a translation,” said Emerson, studying the paper. “You read ancient Hebrew?”

“At one time I did. My memory-”

“Aha,” said Emerson. “If you are the scholar you claim to be, you ought to be able to reproduce at least part of the original.”

Plato blinked at him. “Do you understand-”

“Are you hungry?” Emerson replied with a wolfish smile.

Plato picked up the pen.

To my astonishment he proceeded to inscribe several lines of what certainly appeared to be a variety of Hebrew. Emerson’s smile vanished. He cannot read the ancient form of the language any more than I can, but he knew enough, as did I, to tell that the text was not a scribble of meaningless symbols.

Nefret spoke for the first time. “Touch'e, I believe,” she remarked.

BY THEN THE HOUR was late for luncheon and the dining salon was only half full. Emerson, still in a state of aggravation, directed Plato to a table clear across the room from the one at which we gathered.

“I wish to discuss a number of matters that don’t concern him,” he said, in response to Nefret’s attempted objection. “I have yet to make up my mind about the creature.”

“I quite agree,” I said. Selim nodded emphatically.

“Very well, then,” said Nefret, frowning. “Let us begin with the matter of Ramses and David. You said we should wait a few days. We have waited. I propose one or all of us leave for Samaria tomorrow.”

“If we do that, it will mean postponing our activities here for several days,” I said. “There is a great deal to do. Setting up the house-a complex chore in itself-keeping watch over Morley, arranging for Emerson’s excavations.” Nefret’s lips parted, so I hurried on. “Would you care to explain to us, my dear Emerson, what intrigues you about that particular site?”

The waiter delivered the soup we had ordered, which gave Emerson time to consider his response. It took the form of a lecture.

“Egypt ruled this entire region during the fourteenth century B.C., including Jerusalem, which is mentioned in the Egyptian archives. Yet no artifacts of that period have been found here.”

He paused to have a sip of soup, and I took advantage.

“Don’t tell me you have found evidence of remains from that remote period? After a cursory examination of surface material? I understand, my dear, why you would be thrilled to discover Egyptian material here, but surely-”

“You would not sacrifice the safety of your son for such a discovery?” Nefret cut in. The verb is appropriate; her voice was as sharp as a knife blade.

“Certainly not,” Emerson exclaimed. “You wound me deeply by such a suggestion. However, we have no proof at this time that his or David’s safety is at risk.”

“Proof!” Nefret cried. “What are you waiting for, a ransom note, or…” She paused, biting her lip. The image in her mind was as clear to the rest of us as it was to her. There was no putting her off, and to be candid I had come round to share her concerns.

“I will go,” Selim said. “Daoud and I. To Samaria.”

“A compromise,” I said. “One more day. If, by the day after tomorrow, we have had no word, we will all go. Are we agreed? Emerson? Nefret? Selim?”

It is the nature of compromise that it pleases none of the parties concerned. The agreement, in the form of nods or mumbles, was not wholehearted, but it was unanimous.

“Good,” I said. “Next comes the question of Mr. Plato. He sought Morley out today, on our behalf, as he claims, or on his own, as I believe. He came away-”

“Aunt Amelia!” It was not like Nefret to interrupt me. “Surely he is the least of our concerns just now. He is only-”

“We do not know what he is,” I said, raising my voice just a trifle. “That is the point, Nefret. Until we are certain of his true motives we cannot assume he is not a danger to us. Do you happen to have a photograph of him?”

She had not expected that question, but she was not stupid. After a moment she said, “I see what you are getting at. Yes, I think I do. I took a number of photographs.”

“At my request,” I said with a forgiving smile. “They will be wonderful souvenirs of our visit to Jerusalem. Now if I may go on? Thank you. As I was saying, Plato came away from his encounter with Morley with the belief that they had reached some sort of agreement. The later attack upon him may have proved his assumption was incorrect, or it may have been instigated by another party. We know almost nothing about him. I suggest that we take steps to inquire further into his background, here and through-” I caught myself in time. “Through-er-other sources.”

“What sources?” Nefret demanded, eyes narrowing.