"Perhaps to kill a member of the party?"

"It certainly might have been any one of us."

"Exactly. So it seems as though it didn't matter which one ... as long as it was someone."

"You mean that someone just wanted one of us to die as a sort of warning?"

"It could, of course, have been an accident merely—if it had been anyone else. Mrs. Callum's condition helped to make it a fatal one perhaps. You would be far more aware of these things than I. I consider it a great privilege to be allowed these little peeps at what is going on. I shall never forget this visit to Egypt."

"I don't think anyone who is here will ever forget this expedition. It was the same with the previous one when Sir Edward died. That finished it because he was the leader and they could scarcely have gone on without him."

"What did he discover?"

"Precisely nothing. But Tybalt believes that he would have, had he gone on. Tybalt was going on where he left off."

"Well, it's been a great privilege. I have to get back to the hotel so I must leave you. I've enjoyed our talk."

I watched him walk away and then I went into the palace, for the sun was beginning to get hot. I remembered then that I had left Dorcas's pot of ointment in the little room which led off from the courtyard. As I came into it, I heard voices and paused.

Tabitha was speaking. "Oh yes, it's a great relief to be free. If only it happened before. And now, Tybalt, it's too late ... too late . . ."

I stood absolutely still. There was a singing in my ears; the courtyard seemed to recede and I felt faint.

Too late! I knew too well what that meant.

I had suspected for some time. Perhaps I had always suspected; but now I knew.

I turned and ran to my room.

I lay on the bed. Tybalt had gone back to the site. I was glad. I did not want to see him—not yet—not until I had decided what I must do.

I remembered so many incidents. The manner in which he had looked at her when she sat at the piano; the warning words of Nanny Tester; the time when she had gone up to see her husband and Tybalt had discovered that he must be away at the same time. And she was beautiful and poised and experienced. Compared with her I was plain and clumsy; and I was not patient as she was. I was angry and passionate because he cared more for his work than for me.

She understood perfectly. She was the one he loved, the one whom he would have married had he been free.

But even so, why should he marry me? Why should he not wait for her?

His proposal had been sudden. I had been completely taken by surprise. He had asked me because he knew that I had inherited money from Sir Ralph. It was all becoming very clear, too clear for comfort.

And here she was close to him. I wondered how often when I believed him to be working on the site he was with Tabitha. I pictured them together; I seemed to delight in torturing myself. I couldn't bear these imaginings and yet I could not stop myself from creating them.

I felt young and inexperienced. I did not know what I could do.

Of whom could I ask advice? I could not confide in Theodosia now. As if I ever could have! What would she have known of my problem—she with her innocence and her inexperience of life and her doting Evan who had loved her faithfully and would have done so to the end of her days. Dorcas and Alison knew nothing of relationships like this; and they would nod their heads and say "I told you so. We never liked him. We felt something was wrong." That would not do. Sabina? I could hear her voice coming to me over space. "Of course Tybalt is wonderful. There is no one like him. You ought to be glad he married you. But of course you don't know enough and Tabitha does and she is beautiful. And she was always in the house, really like his wife, only she had that husband and he couldn't marry her because of him. At least you are Tybalt's wife and Lady Travers, aren't you? So I suppose that ought to be enough. After all he's not like other people, is he ... ?"

How foolish to let my mind run on with these imaginary conversations. But I could not stop myself. In whom could I confide?

I wanted to talk to someone. I wanted to say: What can I do?

I thought of Hadrian. We were fond of each other in a cousinly way, although he had hinted at stronger feelings. We had protected each other when we were children—I protecting him more than he did me, because I seemed to be able to do it better than he could, and he, being the boy, was more often blamed. Dear, uncomplicated Hadrian!

Yet I could not tell even him of my fears, because I could not bear to discuss Tybalt. It was bad enough that I, in my private thoughts, could build up such a monstrous fabrication. He had asked me to marry him suddenly; I was an heiress and now Theodosia's death had made me a very rich woman. Theodosia's death! Oh no, I would not accept such absurdly wicked thoughts. Anyone might have stepped onto the bridge. Yet it had been Theodosia and her death had made Tybalt's wife a very rich woman. Tybalt needed money for his work. Was this why he had married a rich wife? If Tabitha had been free . . . But her release had come too late. "Too late ..." I could hear her voice with that note of sadness in it, that deep and bitter regret.

I stood between them. If I were not here Tybalt and Tabitha could marry, and who would inherit a rich wife's fortune but her widower!

My imaginings were becoming fantastic.

IX

Premonition

I don't know whether I imagined it but from that time I began to feel that I was often followed. I was nervous. I was afraid to be by myself in a lonely part of the palace; footsteps began to sound stealthy, and in the silence I would find myself looking over my shoulder furtively. This was unlike me. I had been the one to laugh at the stories of the big black bat. I had teased Theodosia but now it seemed that I had inherited her fears as well as her money.

Yet I had an irresistible urge to come face to face with my fears. I wanted to know because at the back of my mind was the thought: It is Tybalt. He wants to be rid of me. And on the heels of that thought was another: That's a lie. He cares more for his profession than for you, which is natural since he loves another woman. But he would never harm you. You know that.

But I was not sure which side of the question was the true one and because it was imperative to my peace of mind, to my future happiness to find out, I could not resist the temptation to frighten myself.

It was in this mood that alone I took an arabiya to the Temple. I left my driver and told him to wait for me.

As I entered the Temple I was aware of the stillness all about me. I was the only person, it seemed, who had come here today. I stood among the tall pillars and remembered the day when Theodosia and I had come here together.

I tried to give my entire attention to the carvings which depicted the history of Egypt. I was not really concentrating though; I kept listening for the sound of footsteps, for the sudden swish of robes. I don't know what it was but I had a strange sensation that I was not here alone and that something evil was close to me.

I studied the elaborate carving on the pillar. There was King Seti with his son who was to become Ramses the Great. And on another carving was Queen Hatshepsut.

I was sure someone was close to me, watching me. I fancied I heard the sound of deep breathing. He had only to stretch out a hand and catch me.

I felt my heart thundering. I must get out of this maze of pillars; I would get right out into the open. With all speed I must make my way to my arabiya and tell my driver to take me back to the palace.

Thank God the arabiya and the driver would be waiting. If I did not return they would know that I was missing. But would they?

The pillars of the ancient ruined Temple were close together like trees in a forest. Someone could be standing behind one of them, close to me, yet I would not see him if he were using one as a shield. At any moment murderous hands could seize me. I could be buried here in the sand. And the driver of my arabiya? A little money exchanging hands. Not a word to be said about the lady he had brought out to the Temple. It would be very simple. If a girl could disappear from a shop in the souk and be thrown into the Nile in place of a doll, surely I could be disposed of. But I was the wife of the leader of the expedition. There would have to be some explanation of my disappearance. But if that leader was content to accept some explanation which could be fabricated . . . He had been ready enough to accept the fact that Yasmin had been murdered and regard it as of little importance. But this would be his wife. A wife of whom he wished to rid himself?

That was the thought which had been in my mind, and here in this sinister and ancient Temple I could come face to face with my real fears. Perhaps I could also come face to face with a murderer.

Yes. Someone was close. A shadow had fallen across my vision, a tall shadow. Someone was stalking me. The pillars protected him from my view, but suddenly he would catch me; his hands would be about my throat and I would look up into his face. Tybalt's face? No. That was going too far, that was being absurdly wild. It was someone who was trying to stage another accident. Someone who wanted us to go from here. Someone who had tampered with the bridge, who had killed Theodosia and now it would be so much more effective to kill the wife of the leader.