I changed my traveling clothes and went down to the drawing room. Tybalt and Tabitha were sitting side by side on the sofa examining some plans.

As soon as I entered Tabitha jumped up. "Tea will arrive immediately," she said. "I daresay you are ready for it. Traveling is so tiring."

Ellen wheeled the tea wagon in and stood by while Tabitha poured.

Tabitha wanted to know how we had enjoyed the honeymoon and then Tybalt began a long explanation of the Roman site.

"You must have had a very interesting time, Tybalt," said Tabitha smiling. "I trust Judith found it equally so."

She looked at me slightly apprehensively and I assured her that I had enjoyed our stay in Dorset very much.

"And now," said Tybalt, "we must begin to work out our plans in earnest. It's astonishing how the time flies when there is so much to do. I want to leave in February."

So we talked of the trip and it was pleasant sitting there in the firelight while the dark afternoon faded into twilight. I could not help thinking of those occasions when I had dreamed of sharing Tybalt's Life.

"I'm happy," I assured myself. "I've achieved my dream."

My first night in Giza House! One of the maids had lighted a fire in the bedroom and the flickering flames threw their shadows over the walls. How different from those of the Dartmoor cottage; these seemed like sinister shapes which would assume life at any moment. How silent the house was! There was a door behind a blue velvet curtain. I opened this and saw that it led into the room where the sarcophagus had been.

I had entered in advance of Tybalt; and the room in firelight with only two candles burning in their tall candlesticks on the dressing table seemed alive with shadows.

I started to wonder about Sir Edward and his wife who had never lived in this house, for she had died before they came here. And in the attic apartments of this house was Nanny Tester, who would be aware that Tybalt and I had returned from our honeymoon. I wondered what she was doing now and why Tybalt was so long. Was he talking to Tabitha, telling her things which he did not want me to know? What an idea! I must not be jealous of the time he spent with Tabitha.

It's the house, I said to myself. There's something about this house. Something . . . evil. I felt it right from the first before they came here when I used to frighten Theodosia.

Tybalt came into the room, and the sinister shadows receded; the firelight was comforting; the candlelight, I remembered, was becoming.

"What," he asked, "are you doing in that room?"

"I found this door. It's the room where the sarcophagus was."

He laughed. "You weren't thinking of dressing up as a mummy were you ... to frighten me?"

"You . . . frightened of a mummy! I know you love them dearly."

"Not," he replied, "as dearly as I love you."

On the rare occasions when Tybalt said things like that, my happiness was complete.

"Do you like the room I had prepared for you?" asked Tabitha next morning. Tybalt had gone to his study; he had a great deal of correspondence to deal with concerning the expedition.

"It's a bit ghostly," I said.

Tabitha laughed. "My dear Judith, what do you mean?"

"I always thought there was something rather haunted about Giza House."

"It's all those trees and shrubs in the garden, I daresay. That room is the best in the house. That's why I had it made ready for you. It used to be Sir Edward's."

"I guessed it. And the room which leads from it is where the sarcophagus used to be."

"He always used that room for whatever he was working on. He often worked late at night when the fancy took him. Would you like to change the room?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Judith, anything you want you must do, you know. You're mistress of the house now."

"I can't get used to being the mistress of anything."

"You will in time. You're happy, aren't you?"

"I have what I've always wanted."

"Not many of us can say that," she replied with a sigh.

"And you, Tabitha?"

I wished that she would confide in me. I was sure there were secrets in her life. She was youngish—a widow I supposed. Life was by no means over for her and yet there was about her a resignation, a subtle secrecy which was perhaps one of the reasons why she was so attractive.

She said: "I have had my moments. Perhaps one should not ask for more than that."

Yes, there was something decidedly mysterious about Tabitha.

Christmas was not far off. Sabina said we must celebrate Christmas Day at the rectory, and she would insist on my aunts joining us.

I fancied Dorcas and Alison were a little reproachful. They were so conventional. I think they believed I should have gone to them at Rainbow Cottage or they come to me at Giza House.

I swept all that away by pointing out the convenience of Sabina's suggestion and what fun it would be to be back in the old drawing room where so many of our Christmases had been celebrated.

The days were passing swiftly. There was Christmas to think of and always, of course, the expedition. Tabitha and I decorated the house with holly and mistletoe.

"It was something we never did before," said Tabitha.

The maids were delighted. Ellen told me that it was more like a house since I'd come home. That was a compliment indeed.

They liked me, those maids; they seemed to take a pleasure in addressing me as "my lady." It invariably startled me, and sometimes I had to assure myself: Yes, it's true. You're not dreaming this time. This is the greatest dream of all come true.

It was at the beginning of December when the first uneasy situation occurred.

I had never quite understood Mustapha and Absalam. In fact they made me uncomfortable. I would be in a room and suddenly find them standing close behind me—for they seemed to move about together—having been completely unaware of their approach. I often looked up suddenly to find their dark eyes fixed upon me. Sometimes I would think they were about to speak to me; but then they seemed to change their minds. I was never quite sure which one was which and I believe I often addressed them wrongly. Tabitha could easily tell the difference but then she had known them for a very long time.

It was afternoon—that hour when dusk was beginning to fall. I had gone to our bedroom and on my way saw that the door which led from the corridor into that room which I called the Sarcophagus Room was ajar. I thought perhaps Tybalt was there, so I looked in. Mustapha, or was it Absalam, was standing silhouetted against the window.

I went in and as I did so, the other Egyptian was standing behind me . . . between me and the door.

I felt the goosepimples rise on my skin. I was unsure why.

I said: "Mustapha . . . Absalam, is anything wrong?"

There was a brief silence. The one by the window nodded to the other and said: "Absalam, you say."

I turned and faced Absalam.

"My lady," he said, "we are your most humble slaves."

"You mustn't say that, Absalam. We don't have slaves here."

They bowed their heads.

Mustapha spoke then. "We serve you well, my lady."

"But of course," I replied lightly.

I saw that the door was shut. I looked at that which led into our bedroom. It was half closed. But I knew Tybalt would not be there at this hour of the day.

"We have tried to tell you many times."

"Please tell me now then," I said.

"It must not be," said Mustapha shaking his head gravely.

Absalam began to shake his.

"What?" I asked.

"Stay here, my lady. You tell Sir Tybalt. You tell. He must not go."

I began to grasp their meaning. They were afraid to go back to Egypt, the scene of the tragedy which had overtaken their master.

"I'm afraid that's impossible," I said. "Plans are going ahead. They couldn't be altered now."

"Must be," said Mustapha.

"I am sure Sir Tybalt would not agree with you."

"It is death, there. There is a curse . . ."

Of course, I thought, they would be very superstitious.

I said: "Have you spoken to Sir Tybalt?"

They shook their heads in unison. "No use. No use to speak to his great father. No use. So he die. The Curse comes to him and it will come to others."

"It's a legend," I said, "nothing more. All will be well. Sir Tybalt will make sure of that."

Absalam came to me and stood before me. The palms of his hands were together, his eyes raised. "My lady, must speak. My lady is the new wife. A husband listens to his beloved."

"It would be impossible," I said.

"It is death . . . death."

"It is good of you to be so concerned," I said, "but there is nothing I can do."

They looked at me with great sorrowing eyes and shook their heads mournfully.

I slipped through to the bedroom. Naturally, I told myself again, they would be superstitious.

That night as we lay in bed I said to Tybalt: "The Egyptians spoke to me today. They are very frightened."

"Frightened of what?"

"What they call the Curse. They believe that if we go to Egypt there will be disaster."

"If they feel that they must stay behind."

"They asked me to speak to you. They said a husband loves his beloved and would listen."

He laughed.

"I told them it was futile."

"They are very superstitious."

"Sometimes I'm a little frightened."

"You, Judith?"

I clung to him.

"Only because of you," I assured him. "What if what happened to your father should happen to you?"