"I'm here, Theodosia." "My . . . sister." "Yes," I said.

"It's right over me now, Judith . . . the big black bat . . ." "Oh Theodosia . . ."

"I'm not afraid though. Evan, I'm not . . ." I heard Evan whisper: "Oh God." And Tabitha's hand was on my shoulder. "It's all over, Judith," she whispered. I stood up.

I could not believe it. Yesterday she had been well. Only two days ago we had been in the souk together. And now Theodosia was dead.

The effect of Theodosia's death was dynamic.

Had not Sir Edward died? And now another death. This was the Curse of the Pharaohs!

Mustapha and Absalam watched me with great pleading eyes. "Go home, Lady," said those eyes. "Go home before the Curse strikes again."

Tybalt was distressed. "This has upset Tabitha," he said. "She can't forget that she suggested the expedition. I tell her that she did it to help Theodosia, but that doesn't comfort her."

I had rarely seen him so affected. For Tabitha!

What was happening to me? I was growing resentful and suspicious. Now, I was telling myself, he is more concerned with the effect this is going to have on Tabitha than on Evan, whose wife Theodosia was, and on myself who was her sister.

"I have set up an enquiry immediately," he told me. "We have to find out how such an accident could have happened. The bridge was used frequently and had been strong enough to hold men and a certain amount of heavy equipment. Why should it have broken when a young woman attempted to cross it? There has to be a logical explanation. If we don't find one, those ridiculous rumors will start up again."

There was, however, nothing he could do to prevent that—particularly when it was proved impossible to discover how the bridge had broken.

The Curse had made the bridge fall apart, was the verdict of many. It was the work of the angry gods.

But why should the victim be Theodosia, who had done nothing to offend? It was her first visit to the tomb; she had wanted to go home. If the gods were angry why should they have chosen to wreak their vengeance on her?

Some of the workmen would not go into the tomb, a fact which held up operations considerably.

I was chiefly concerned with Evan who was beside himself with grief.

He could not concentrate when one spoke to him. His eyes would fill with tears; sometimes he would talk of Theodosia and his happiness with her and the hopes they had shared for the future of their child. It was painful; it was more than that. It was unendurable, and I spoke to Tybalt about it.

I said: "Evan will have to go home. He can't stay here."

"We need him here," said Tybalt.

"Not in his present state surely."

"He's pretty useless of course."

I said sharply: "He has just lost a wife and child."

"I know that. I thought perhaps it would be good for him to immerse himself in work."

I laughed shortly. "I'm going to make a suggestion," I said, "which will horrify you. Everything here reminds him of what he has lost. He must go home at once."

"What will he do there? He will only mourn for his wife. Work will help him to overcome his grief."

"Do you realize, Tybalt, how much Evan loved his wife?"

"He was devoted to her, I know."

"I daresay you would find it difficult to understand Evan's feelings for Theodosia."

He looked at me oddly.

"Yes," I continued sharply, "I know you would. But I understand them. At the moment he is dazed by his grief. We have to help him, Tybalt. He has lost what is most dear to him, more dear than anything you can understand. Work cannot save him. Nothing can save him. I think he must go away from here. Here there are too many memories."

"Are there not at home?"

"Different memories. Here he keeps thinking of her as she was here ... all her fears. She always wanted to go home. He is reproaching himself. He's on the verge of a breakdown. If you could have seen his face when they brought her out of the pit ... and then at her bedside when she was dying . . ."

My voice broke; and he patted my shoulder. I looked at him and thought angrily: He is calculating who can be put in Evan's place if Evan is too distraught to continue.

I went on: "This is not a matter of archaeology. This is a matter of human decency, human kindness. I have to look after Evan ... if others won't."

"Well, naturally we want to do what is best . . ."

"Yes, I know, the work must go on. No matter what happens, that is important. I know that. But Evan is of no use to you in his present state. I am going to write to my aunts and tell them what has happened. I shall ask them if Evan can go to Rainbow Cottage and there they will nurse him and make him want to live again."

Tybalt did not answer and I turned from him and said: "I shall now go and write to my aunts. No matter what you say I shall ask them to take in Evan."

Tybalt looked at me in astonishment but he said nothing.

I sat down and wrote:

Dear Aunts, I want you to take Evan and look after him. You will have heard about this fearful accident. Poor Evan is distracted. You know how much he loved Theodosia. I can't believe it. We grew close, particularly out here. She was my sister and we were as sisters. And Evan loved her . . .

I had not been able to cry until that moment. Now the tears started to fall down my cheeks onto the paper, smudging the ink. My aunts would weep when they saw it. It was something to weep about.

Poor sad little Theodosia who was frightened of life! All the time she had feared death; and yet when she faced it her last words had been: "I am not afraid."

If only she had never set foot on that bridge. But then it would have been someone else. Tybalt! My heart missed a beat. What if it had been Tybalt. Since we had come to Egypt my idyllic dreams had become tinged with doubt, fears, even suspicions. I was remembering too frequently how people had reacted to the announcement of our intended marriage. Some—including Dorcas and Alison—had suspected Tybalt's motives. It was true that I had become an heiress.

I had always felt that Tybalt withheld some part of himself. I had revealed myself entirely to him, I was sure. He knew of my sudden impulses, my enthusiasms, my faults, my virtues. I had never been able to conceal my feelings for him; but although we were now husband and wife in some respects he was a stranger to me. Did he lack human warmth, and that need for others which makes us all so vulnerable and perhaps lovable? How much did he depend on me? How much did he need me?

Why was I tormented by these doubts—I, who had always believed wholeheartedly in my ability to mold the pattern of my life? Why was I failing now when I had everything I had always longed for? The answer was: Because I did not altogether know this man to whom I had given myself completely. I suspected his feelings towards me and the motives which had led him to marry me. I believed that his work came before anything in his estimation, before me. Before Tabitha?

I had said it. I was jealous. I was unsure of his relationship with Tabitha and his reasons for marrying me. I had built up a nightmare and it was shaping into reality.

I picked up my pen and went on writing resolutely:

I think he needs special care and you could give him that. Will you take him in and care for him and teach him to live again? Sabina and Oliver will help you. Somehow I think that the calm peacefulness of Rainbow Cottage and you two with your philosophy of life can help him. Dearest Alison and dearest Dorcas, will you try?

I knew them too well not to expect an immediate response.

It came.

Evan did not protest; he expressed no surprise. He seemed like a man in a dream ... or a nightmare.

And so he left us and went to Rainbow Cottage.

Ever since the death of Theodosia, Leopold Harding seemed to have attached himself to our party. He was often seen at the site; he would talk to workers and Hadrian invited him to dine with us. He would ask all sorts of questions and expressed his enormous fascination in the work.

He asked Tybalt if he might look round now and then, and Tybalt gave permission. He asked intelligent questions. He had evidently read up on the subject or cross-examined Hadrian. He and Hadrian were constantly together and we all saw him quite often.

Tybalt's depression had vanished. He felt now that he was on a new trail, success was imminent. He was sure that beyond the wall of the old tomb was the way into another. It had been cunningly concealed but he would find it.

The aunts wrote to me often.

We did hope you would be home before this. It seems that you have been away a very long time. Evan talks a little about it now. He is certainly better than he was on his arrival.

Sabina is very happy. Her baby will be born in a very short time. We are all very excited about it. We never mention it to Evan though. It might make him brood and be sad.

Lady Bodrean is having a memorial set up to Theodosia in the church. There was a service for her. People are talking as they did when Sir Edward died. Oh dear, I do wish you would come home.

Lady Bodrean asked us up to Keverall Court for tea. She mentioned you. She said it was odd how you, her companion, had now become a woman of considerable wealth. She was referring to the fact that you have all now that Theodosia is dead.

My heart began to beat fast. It was amazing but I had not thought of that clause in Sir Ralph's will until now. I had twice as much money as I had before and Keverall Court would be mine on the death of Lady Bodrean.