Gideon, working hard to keep his chin out of the mashed potatoes, had said that it certainly was.

That had been an hour ago. Now he glanced up at the pendulum clock on the wall. Nine-forty. They’d been in Had-don’s study only fifteen minutes. He would give it another twenty to be polite, and then call it quits. Any more than that and they’d have to carry him to his room.

Haddon was sipping brandy and staring at the ceiling, apparently gathering further thoughts on the determined infinitive in Middle Egyptian.

“Any promising fieldwork going on these days, TJ?” Gideon asked, in hopes of heading him off.

TJ came out of her own reverie. “What? Well, yes, as a matter of fact. We’re in our fifth season of a dig right across the river, in the Western Valley. It’s a workers’ community- something like Deir el-Medinah, but not as big. Lambert originally excavated most of it in the 1920s, but in those days they didn’t have the techniques to do the kind of job we can do today, and we’re doing it right this time. We’re learning a lot about New Kingdom daily life-ordinary people, I mean, not the royal court.”

“It sounds interesting,” Gideon said. “Maybe I could get out to see it sometime this week?”

TJ’s teeth flashed. “Sure! Just tell me when-”

“You know,” Haddon said airily, his eyes still on the ceiling, his hands clasped behind his neck, “I was just thinking: these questions pertaining to the split infinitive bring naturally to mind the controversy over the supposed use of the independent pronoun to express a relation of possession. In that matter, I must respectfully take issue with Gardiner’s views. I believe I can do so persuasively. Ahem.”

Gideon steeled himself, but the courageous Bruno took advantage of Haddon’s cogitative pause to change the subject.