She gently placed her teacup on its saucer and glanced at the telephone. She is not back yet, she thought. This is becoming rather alarming. Marjorie contemplated various scenarios and always her mind went back to the worst. Someone kidnapped her maid. Or some terrible accident occurred with the tour bus. Goodness knows, some of those tour buses appeared as if they were going to fall apart any moment. She rose from her seat and walked slowly to the telephone. She would call the local police first, then notify the British Embassy.

She heard the key in the lock just as she reached for the phone. Turning, she saw a bedraggled, beet-faced Emily step through the threshold.

“Good God, what happened to you?” Marjorie exclaimed.

“I’m so sorry m’lady,” Emily cried out, “our bus broke down on the way back from Giza and we ‘ad to walk for a bit then some farmer gave us a ride on ‘is cart!”

Marjorie stepped closer to her and then wrinkled her nose. “What the devil is that odor?” she demanded.

Emily’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s, it’s goats, m’lady! ‘E ‘ad goats ‘e was takin’ to market!” She stepped back and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m all ‘ot from sittin’ in that sun, and one of those wretched goats tried to eat me ‘at!” she wailed.

Marjorie’s eyes traveled to the sorry looking straw hat Emily held in her hand. It looked a bit chewed up.

“Well, then, you better get a move on and draw yourself a bath,” Marjorie replied, her mouth slightly twitching. “I’ll dress myself as I’m going to the Salon to see Mr. Niall perform. Oh, and order yourself a tea and some dinner afterwards. Don‘t wait up for me, and be sure to get a good night‘s sleep tonight.”

“Yes, m’lady,” Emily responded, “I must say, I’m fagged. Them pyramids were a real eye-opener though.”

“Indeed they are, among other things,“ Marjorie quipped. She quickly turned and walked towards her dressing room so Emily would not see her break down in peals of laughter.