“Why should the War Office inform you of Morley’s departure? They would have no excuse for detaining him, and you had already informed them that he was not a German agent.” “I had also informed them that I was prepared to follow the bastard to Palestine, sacrificing my own plans—” “What plans? You didn’t have any.” Emerson’s response was to snatch up his coat and dash out of the room, leaving the door ajar. Seconds later I heard the front door slam. I knew where he was going—straight up to London by the first train—and why he had departed so precipitately—in order to prevent me from accompanying him. I could only hope that by the time he arrived he would have calmed down enough to be sensible. I would not have wished to go in any case. Shouting at General Spencer would be a waste of time and breath, and I had too many other things to think about. We hadn’t heard a word from Ramses, though I had sent a series of letters to him and Reisner, each more emphatic than the last.
