Lady Marjorie found Emily waiting for her in the suite.

“Emily, I’m not to be disturbed, I’m completely spent now,” she declared as she threw herself onto the large queen sized bed fully dressed.

“M’lady you ought to let me ‘elp you out of those clothes so you can be comfortable,” Emily said reproachfully. “You’ll get them all wrinkled!”

Marjorie sighed and stood up obediently. While Emily was undressing her she thought of something. “Have you been downstairs talking to anyone in the kitchen today?” she asked.

“Why yes, M’lady, I was talkin’ to the scullery maid there ‘o told me all about the ‘orrible murder!” Emily declared as she unbuttoned Marjorie’s silk dress. “They says it served ‘im right, that Frog, to get ‘imself killed like that.”

“And how did they know how he was killed?” Lady Marjorie asked sharply.

“Why, Mahmoud the bellhop was there braggin’ about ‘ow ‘e saw the body and ‘ow it ‘ad this awful red mark about ‘is neck and it must have been a strangulation.” Emily carefully hung the dress in the armoir. “Cook went all pale like and told ‘im to leave ‘is kitchen and stop scarin' the scullery maid. But she wasn’t scared at all. Then Mahmoud said there was a bullet ‘ole in his ‘ead too but ‘ardly any blood at all… Isn’t that strange, m’lady? Why wouldn’t there be much blood when the ‘ead was shot? I always thought that the ‘ead bleeds like the dickens when it’s cut…”

“That’s because he was already dead when he was shot,” Marjorie replied. She lifted her arms as Emily draped her nightgown over her head and let it slide down over her body. “If you’re already dead you won’t bleed much afterwards. Why do they say he deserved to die?” Marjorie persisted.

“Well, seems like ‘e did some bad things in the war and lots of ‘is own people died for it. Don’t know what it was, but that’s what they say…” Emily answered absently as she placed Marjorie’s shoes inside the armoir.

“Yes, well, it’s not really their place to pass judgment on their betters, now is it?” Marjorie replied. “They don’t know the poor chap and so it hardly seems fair to be speaking ill of the dead.”

Blighted, Emily quickly nodded, “Yes, m’lady, I’m sorry. I was just sayin’ what they were talkin’ about downstairs.” She placed Marjorie’s slippers next to the bed. “Cook was the one sayin’ that the gent was a bad ‘un. ‘E’s been in a ‘igh dudgeon all mornin’ when the maid came down with the trays of food. She was goin’ to scrape the scraps into the bucket for the dogs outside when ‘e scolded ‘er real fierce like and told ‘er to make sure they were thrown away so no one would get to them. She broke into tears then because she liked to feed the poor starvin’ dogs in the alleyway.”

“Seems reasonable to want to feed the dogs what was going to be tossed away anyhow,” Lady M observed, “but then maybe he was afraid the dogs would fight over them and cause a commotion.”

“Oh no, m’lady, she feeds the dogs every day. It just seems that Cook was in a snit this mornin’ and wouldn’t let ‘er today.” Emily looked around the room in satisfaction after she tidied it up.

“Indeed, Emily…” Lady M said thoughtfully. “Well, my dear, you may take the afternoon off if you would like and go see the sights.”

“By myself, m’lady?” Emily stared in horror. “With a murderer about?”

“Well then maybe you can find one of the maids to go with you. It seems you’ve become rather chummy with them, haven’t you?”

Emily looked thoughtfully at her mistress. “Well, m’lady, I wouldn’t say that exactly… we just like to talk and all… Maybe I will see if someone can go with me. It wouldn’t do for me to be ‘ere in Egypt and never see the Pyramids…”

“Of course, dear. I’ll have a nap for a few hours. Just be back before dark.”

“Yes, m’lady, and thank you!”