arah was lost in her own thoughts again. Mr. Cope's voice just flowed pleasantly in her ears like the agreeable murmur of a remote stream, but Dr. Gerard said: "Indeed? What was it?"

"My informant was a lady I came across in the hotel at Tiberias. It concerned a servant girl who had been in Mrs. Boynton's employ. This girl, I gather, was-had-" Mr. Cope paused, glanced delicately at Sarah and lowered his voice. "She was going to have a child. The old lady, it seemed, discovered this but was apparently quite kind to the girl. Then a few weeks before the child was born she turned her out of the house."

Dr. Gerard's eyebrows went up. "Ah," he said reflectively.

"My informant seemed very positive of her facts. I don't know whether you agree with me, but that seems to me a very cruel and heartless thing to do. I cannot understand-"

Dr. Gerard interrupted him. "You should try to. That incident, I have no doubt, gave Mrs. Boynton a good deal of quiet enjoyment."

Mr. Cope turned a shocked face on him. "No, sir," he said with emphasis. "That I cannot believe. Such an idea is quite inconceivable."

Softly Dr. Gerard quoted: "'So I returned and did consider all the oppressions done beneath the sun. And there was weeping and whining from those that were oppressed and had no comfort; for with their oppressors there was power, so that no one came to comfort them. Then I did praise the dead which are already dead, yea, more than the living which linger still in life; yea, he that is not is better than dead or living; for he doth not know of the evil that is wrought forever on earth…'" He broke off and said: "My dear sir, I have made a life's study of the strange things that go on in the human mind. It is no good turning one's face only to the fairer side of life. Below the decencies and conventions of everyday life, there lies a vast reservoir of strange things. There is such a thing, for instance, as delight in cruelty for its own sake. But when you have found that, there is something deeper still. The desire, profound and pitiful, to be appreciated. If that is thwarted, if through an unpleasing personality a human being is unable to get the response it needs, it turns to other methods-it must be felt-it must count-and so to innumerable strange perversions. The habit of cruelty, like any other habit, can be cultivated, can take hold of one-"

Mr. Cope coughed. "I think, Dr. Gerard, that you are slightly exaggerating. Really, the air up here is too wonderful…" He edged away. Gerard smiled a little. He looked again at Sarah. She was frowning-her face was set in a youthful sternness. She looked, he thought, like a young judge delivering sentence…

He turned as Miss Pierce tripped unsteadily towards him.

"We are going down now," she fluttered. "Oh, dear! I am sure I shall never manage it, but the guide says the way down is quite a different route and much easier. I do hope so, because from a child I never have been able to look down from heights…"

The descent was down the course of a waterfall. Although there were loose stones which were a possible source of danger to ankles, it presented no dizzy vistas.

The party arrived back at the camp weary but in good spirits and with an excellent appetite for a late lunch. It was past two o'clock. The Boynton family was sitting around the big table in the marquee. They were just finishing their meal.

Lady Westholme addressed a gracious sentence to them in her most condescending manner. "Really a most interesting morning," she said. "Petra is a wonderful spot."

Carol, to whom the words seemed addressed, shot a quick look at her mother, and murmured: "Oh, yes-yes, it is," and relapsed into silence.

Lady Westholme, feeling she had done her duty, addressed herself to her food. As they ate, the four discussed plans for the afternoon.

"I think I shall rest most of the afternoon," said Miss Pierce. "It is important, I think, not to do too much."

"I shall go for a walk and explore," said Sarah. "What about you Dr. Gerard?"

"I will go with you."

Mrs. Boynton dropped a spoon with a ringing clatter and everyone jumped.

"I think," said Lady Westholme, "that I shall follow your example Miss Pierce. Perhaps half an hour with a book, then I shall lie down and take an hour's rest at least. After that, perhaps, a short stroll."

Slowly, with the help of Lennox, old Mrs. Boynton struggled to her feet. She stood for a moment and then spoke. "You'd better all go for a walk this afternoon," she said with unexpected amiability.

It was, perhaps, slightly ludicrous to see the startled faces of her family.

"But, Mother, what about you?"

"I don't need any of you. I like sitting alone with my book. Jinny had better not go. She'll lie down and have a sleep."

"Mother, I'm not tired. I want to go with the others."

"You are tired. You've got a headache! You must be careful of yourself. Go and lie down and sleep. I know what's best for you."

Her head thrown back, the girl stared rebelliously. Then her eyes dropped-faltered…

"Silly child," said Mrs. Boynton. "Go to your tent."

She stumped out of the marquee-the others followed.

"Dear me," said Miss Pierce. "What very peculiar people. Such a very odd color, the mother. Quite purple. Heart, I should imagine. This heat must be very trying for her."

Sarah thought: "She's letting them go free this afternoon. She knows Raymond wants to be with me. Why? Is it a trap?"

After lunch, when she had gone to her tent and had changed into a fresh linen dress, the thought still worried her. Since last night, her feeling towards Raymond had swelled into a passion of protective tenderness. This, then, was love, this agony on another's behalf, this desire to avert, at all costs, pain from the beloved… Yes, she loved Raymond Boynton. It was St. George and the Dragon reversed. It was she who was the rescuer and Raymond who was the chained victim.

And Mrs. Boynton was the Dragon. A dragon whose sudden amiability was, to Sarah's suspicious mind, definitely sinister.

It was about a quarter past three when Sarah strolled down to the marquee.

Lady Westholrne was sitting on a chair. Despite the heat of the day she was still wearing her serviceable Harris tweed skirt. On her lap was the report of a Royal Commission. Dr. Gerard was talking to Miss Pierce who was standing by her tent holding a book entitled The Love Quest and described on its wrapper as a thrilling tale of passion and misunderstanding.

"I don't think it's wise to lie down too soon after lunch," explained Miss Pierce. "One's digestion, you know. Quite cool and pleasant in the shadow of the marquee. Oh, dear, do you think that old lady is wise to sit in the sun up there?"

They all looked at the ridge in front of them. Mrs. Boynton was sitting as she had sat last night, a motionless Buddha in the door of her cave. There was no other human creature in sight. All the camp personnel were asleep. A short distance away, following the line of the valley, a little group of people walked together.

"For once," said Dr. Gerard, "the good Mamma permits them to enjoy themselves without her. A new devilment on her part, perhaps?"

"Do you know," said Sarah, "that's just what I thought."

"What suspicious minds we have. Come, let us join the truants."

Leaving Miss Pierce to her exciting reading, they set off. Once around the bend of the valley, they caught up the other party who were walking slowly. For once, the Boyntons looked happy and carefree.

Lennox and Nadine, Carol and Raymond, Mr. Cope with a broad smile on his face and the last arrivals, Gerard and Sarah, were soon all laughing and talking together.

A sudden wild hilarity was born. In everyone's mind was the feeling that this was a snatched pleasure-a stolen treat to enjoy to the full. Sarah and Raymond did not draw apart. Instead, Sarah walked with Carol and Lennox. Dr. Gerard chatted to Raymond close behind them. Nadine and Jefferson Cope walked a little apart.

It was the Frenchman who broke up the party. His words had been coming spasmodically for some time. Suddenly he stopped.

"A thousand excuses. I fear I must go back."

Sarah looked at him. "Anything the matter?"

He nodded. "Yes, fever. It's been coming on ever since lunch."

Sarah scrutinized him. "Malaria?"

"Yes. I'll go back and take quinine. Hope this won't be a bad attack. It is a legacy from a visit to the Congo."

"Shall I come with you?" asked Sarah.

"No, no. I have my case of drugs with me. A confounded nuisance. Go on, all of you."

He walked quickly back in the direction of the camp. Sarah looked undecidedly after him for a minute, then she met Raymond's eyes, smiled at him, and the Frenchman was forgotten.

For a time the six of them, Carol, herself, Lennox, Cope, Nadine and Raymond, kept together. Then, somehow or other, she and Raymond had drifted apart. They walked on, climbing up rocks, turning ledges and rested at last in a shady spot. There was a silence. Then Raymond said: "What's your name? It's King, I know. But your other name."

"Sarah."

"Sarah. May I call you that?"

"Of course."

"Sarah, will you tell me something about yourself?"

Leaning back against the rocks she talked, telling him of her life at home in Yorkshire, of her dogs and the aunt who had brought her up.

Then, in his turn, Raymond told her a little, disjointedly, of his own life. After that, there was a long silence. Their hands strayed together. They sat, like children, hand in hand, strangely content.

Then, as the sun grew lower, Raymond stirred. "I'm going back now," he said. "No, not with you. I want to go back by myself. There's something I have to say and do. Once that's done, once I've proved to myself that I'm not a coward-then-then-I shan't be ashamed to come to you and ask you to help me. I shall need help, you know. I shall probably have to borrow money from you."

Sarah smiled. "I'm glad you're a realist. You can count on me."

"But first I've got to do this alone."

"Do what?"

The young boyish face grew suddenly stern. Raymond Boynton said: "I've got to prove my courage. It's now or never." Then, abruptly, he turned and strode away.

Sarah leaned back against the rock and watched his receding figure. Something in his words had vaguely alarmed her. He had seemed so intense-so terribly in earnest and strung up. For a moment she wished she had gone with him… But she rebuked herself sternly for that wish. Raymond had desired to stand alone, to test his newfound courage. That was his right.

But she prayed with all her heart that that courage would not fail…

The sun was setting when Sarah came once more in sight of the camp. As she came nearer in the dim light, she could make out the grim figure of Mrs. Boynton still sitting in the mouth of the cave. Sarah shivered a little at the sight of that grim motionless figure…

She hurried past on the path below and came into the lighted marquee.

Lady Westholme was sitting knitting a navy blue jumper, a skein of wool hung around her neck. Miss Pierce was embroidering a table mat with anemic blue forget-me-nots, and being instructed on the proper reform of the Divorce Laws.

The servants came in and out preparing for the evening meal. The Boyntons were at the far end of the marquee in deck chairs reading. Mahmoud appeared, fat and dignified, and was plaintively reproachful. Very nice after tea ramble had been arranged to take place but everyone absent from camp… The programme was now entirely thrown out. Very instructive visit to Nabatean architecture.

Sarah said hastily that they had all enjoyed themselves very much. She went off to her tent to wash for supper. On the way back she paused by Dr. Gerard's tent, calling in a low voice: "Dr. Gerard!"

There was no answer. She lifted the flap and looked in. The doctor was lying motionless on his bed. Sarah withdrew noiselessly, hoping he was asleep. A servant came to her and pointed to the marquee. Evidently supper was ready. She strolled down again.

Everyone was assembled there around the table with the exception of Dr. Gerard and Mrs. Boynton. A servant was dispatched to tell the old lady dinner was ready. Then there was a sudden commotion outside. Two frightened servants came in and spoke excitedly to the dragoman in Arabic.

Mahmoud looked around him in a flustered manner and went outside. On an impulse Sarah joined him.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

Mahmoud replied: "The old lady. Abdul says she is ill-cannot move."

"I'll come and see."

Sarah quickened her step. Following Mahmoud, she climbed the rocks and walked along until she came to the squat lounging chair, touched the puffy hand, felt for the pulse, bent over her…

When she straightened herself she was paler. She re-trod her steps back to the marquee. In the doorway she paused a minute, looking at the group at the far end of the table.

Her voice when she spoke sounded to herself brusque and unnatural. "I'm so sorry," she said. She forced herself to address the head of the family, Lennox. "Your mother is dead, Mr. Boynton."

And curiously, as though from a great distance, she watched the faces of five people to whom that announcement meant freedom…

Book Two

1

Colonel Carbury smiled across the table at his guest and lifted his glass. "Well, to crime!"

Hercule Poirot's eyes twinkled in acknowledgment of the toast.

He had come to Amman with a letter of introduction to Colonel Carbury from Colonel Race.

Carbury seemed interested to see this world-famous investigator person [a few unreadable pages here] Yet in Transjordania he was a power.

"There s Jerash," he said. "Care about that sort of thing?"

"I am interested in everything!"

"Yes" said Carbury. "That's the only way to react to life."

"Tell me, d'you ever find your own special job has a way of following you around?"

"Pardon?"

"Well-to put it plainly-do you come to places expecting a holiday from crime-and find instead bodies cropping up?"