"Tybalt would rather see us all dead as long as he could go on looking for his tomb."

"That's an unfair, absurd, and ridiculous thing to say."

"Is it? He drives everyone hard. He hates all the festivals and holidays. He just wants to go on and on ... he's like a man who's sold his soul to the devil."

"What nonsense are you talking!"

"Everybody is saying that there is nothing here. It's wasting money to stay. But Tybalt won't accept that. He's got to go on. Sir Edward died, didn't he? And before he died he knew that he had failed to find what he was looking for. Tybalt has failed too. But he won't admit it."

"I don't know where you get your information."

"If you weren't so besotted about him you would see it too."

"Listen! They're following a clue inside the tomb. There's a possibility that they are going to make the greatest discovery of all time."

"Oh, I want to go home." She turned her pale face towards me and so touched with pity for her was I, that I ceased to be angry because of her attack on Tybalt.

"It won't be long now," I said soothingly. "Then you and Evan can go back to the university. You will have a dear little baby and live in peace forever after. Try not to complain too much, Theodosia. It worries Evan. And you know you could go back to Keverall Court. Your mother would be pleased to have you."

She shivered. "It's the last thing I want. Imagine what it would be like! She would order everything. No, I escaped from Mamma when I married. I don't want to go back to that."

"Well, bear up. Stop brooding and seeing evil in everything. Enjoy the strangeness here; you must admit it's very exciting."

"I hated that river ceremony. I couldn't get it out of my mind that it was Yasmin they were throwing into the river."

"How could it have been? It was a doll."

"A life-size doll!"

"Of course. Why not? They wanted it to look as human as possible. We'll go and see her now and you can tell her how the doll reminded you of her."

We had reached the narrow streets, and wended our way through the crowds and there was the shop with the leather goods laid out on show. A man was seated in the chair usually occupied by Yasmin. We paused and he rose from his chair, seeing us as prospective customers.

I guessed that he was Yasmin's father.

"Allah be with you," he said.

"And with you," I replied. "We were looking for Yasmin."

I can only describe the look which passed across his face as terror.

"Please?" he said.

"Yasmin. She is your daughter?"

"No understand."

"We used to talk to her almost every day. We have not seen her lately."

He shook his head. He was trying to look puzzled but I felt sure that he understood every word we said.

"Where is she? Why is she not here any more?"

But he would only shake his head.

I took Theodosia's arm and we walked away. I was unaware of crowds, the chattering voices, the tray of unleavened bread, the sizzling meat, the colorful lemonade seller. I could only think of the doll which had been flung into the seething waters of the Nile and which had reminded us of Yasmin. And she had now disappeared.

When we returned to the palace it was to find that letters had come for us. This was always a great occasion. I took mine to the bedchamber so that I could be quite alone to read them.

First from Dorcas and Alison. How I loved their letters! They usually took weeks to write them and there was a little added each day so that it read like a diary. I could imagine the "letter to Judith" lying on the desk in the sitting room and whenever anything worth recording happened either Dorcas or Alison would take up her pen.

Such weather. There's going to be a good harvest this year. We're all hoping the rain keeps off. Jack Polgrey is hiring men from as far afield as Devon for he anticipates a bumper crop.

The apples are going well and so are the pears. It's to be hoped the wasps don't get at the plums. You know full well what they are!

Sabina looks very well. She's in and out a good deal and Dorcas is helping her make the layette—though it's months off yet. My word, I never saw such a cobble. And her knitting. Dorcas unravels what she does every day and then sets it right and I say why not let Dorcas do the whole thing except that Sabina likes to feel she's preparing for the baby.

Dorcas wrote:

It seems so long since we saw you. Do you know this is the first time in our lives that we've been separated like this. We're wondering when you're coming home. We do miss you.

Old Mr. Pegger died last week. A happy release for Mrs. Pegger, I think. He has been a hard husband and father although we mustn't speak ill of the dead. They had a fine funeral and Matthew's the new sexton. He dug his own father's grave and some think that's not right. They should have got someone else to do it.

Oliver is thinking of getting a curate. There's so much work, and of course in Father's day he had Oliver. He never seems to stop and it's a pleasure to see him holding the parish together.

And so on; the harvest had come in and was up to expectation. Jack Polgrey, who was an extravagant man compared with his cheeseparing father, had given a harvest dance afterwards and there had been fiddlers in the big barn. They had made corn dollies to hang in the kitchen and keep till next year to ensure as good a harvest.

The letter brought it all back clearly to me and I felt the desire to be there sweeping over me. After all it was home, and I felt so far away.

There was a letter from Sabina—one of her inconsequential scrawls, mostly about the help the aunts were giving her and how she was looking forward to the baby and wasn't it odd that Theodosia should be in the same condition . . . not odd really but natural and what about me? Surely I wasn't going to be left out. I was to tell her as soon as I was sure because the aunts were very wistful and wished I would come home and be pregnant and give them a chance of having a new baby in the family for although they were angels and treated her as though she was their niece there would never be anyone who could take the place of their Judith.

I was reading this when there was a knock on the door. Tabitha came in. She was holding a letter in her hand.

She looked at me as though she were scarcely aware of me.

"Tybalt . . ." she began.

"He's at the dig, of course."

"I thought perhaps . . ."

"Is anything wrong, Tabitha?"

She did not answer.

I jumped up and went to her. I noticed that her hands were trembling.

"Is it bad news?"

"Bad ... I don't know whether one would call it that. Good perhaps."

"Do you want to talk?"

"I was hoping Tybalt . . ."

"You could go down to the site if it's all that important."

She looked at me. "Judith," she said, "it has happened ... at last."

"What has happened?"

"He's dead."

"Who? . . . Oh, is it your husband? Come and sit down. You've had a shock."

I led her to a chair.

She said: "This is a letter from the home where they kept him. He was very ill before we came here. You remember I went to see him. Now . . . he's dead."

"I suppose," I said, "it's what they call 'a happy release.'"

"He could never have recovered. Oh, Judith, you don't know what this means. At last . . . I'm free."

I said gently: "I can understand it. Let me get you something. Perhaps a little brandy?"

"No, thank you."

"Then I'll send for some mint tea."

She did not answer and I rang the bell.

Mustapha appeared. I asked him to bring the tea, and in a very short time it came. We sat there sipping the refreshing beverage and she told me of the long and weary years when she had been a wife and no wife. "It is more than ten years ago that he had to be put away, Judith," she said. "And now . . ." Her beautiful eyes were luminous. "Now," she added, "I'm free."

She was longing to talk to Tybalt. He was the one whom she wanted to tell. There was no opportunity for that when they came in, for Tybalt and the others had stayed late at the site and dinner was ready when they arrived, and immediately the meal was over Tybalt wanted to go back to the site. I watched Tabitha. She wanted to break the news to him when they were alone.

She was waiting for him when he came home that night.

It was past midnight. I watched him come in but he did not come up to our room at once. I guessed Tabitha had waylaid him.

I waited. An hour passed and still he did not come.

I asked myself why it should take so long for her to tell him what had happened. Insidious little thoughts like niggling worms—and as obnoxious—crept in and out of my mind. I kept thinking of Nanny Tester's ominous words. She had been rambling in her mind but they had come back together on that occasion. I remembered seeing them at the piano. They had looked like lovers then, I had thought. No, that was my imagination. If Tybalt had been in love with Tabitha why had he married me? Because Tabitha was not free?

And now she was free.

The letter from the aunts had brought them back vividly to my mind. I seemed to see Alison standing there: "You speak without thinking, Judith. That way a lot of harm can be done. When you're going to burst out with something, it's a good idea to stop and count ten."

I could count ten now but that would not help. I had to watch my tongue. I must not say anything I would regret. I wondered how Tybalt would react to a jealous wife.

Why should he be with her so long? Were they celebrating her freedom?

A wild rage rose within me. He had married me because he had known that I was Sir Ralph's daughter. Had he? How could he have known? He had married me because he knew that I would inherit money. Had he known? He had married me because Tabitha was not free. That he knew.

I had proved nothing, yet why were these thoughts in my mind? Because his proposal had been so sudden? Because I had always known that there was some special relationship between him and Tabitha? Because he was dedicated to his profession and this expedition in particular, and he had needed money to finance it?

I loved Tybalt absolutely. My life had no meaning without him. I was unsure of him; I suspected he loved another woman who until now had been tied by a cruel marriage. And now she was free.

There was a step outside the door. Tybalt was coming in. I closed my eyes because I could not trust myself to speak. I was afraid that I might give voice to all the suspicions which crowded into my mind. I was afraid that if I confronted him with my doubts and fears I might find them confirmed.

I lay still, feigning sleep.

He sat down in a chair and remained deep in thought. I knew he was thinking: Tabitha is free.

It must have been an hour that he sat there. And I still pretended to be asleep.

Why does everything seem different with the rising of the sun? Here it was a white blazing light in the sky which one could not look at. At home it was benign and if it could not be relied on to show itself every day it was all the more appreciated when it did. But it only had to appear, and fears which had seemed overpowering by night began to evaporate.

How foolish I was! Tybalt loved me. He had made that clear. But at the same time it was possible for him to have affection for others and this he undoubtedly had for Tabitha. She had been a member of his household before I had, a friend of the family, so naturally her affairs would be of deep concern to him. Nanny Tester was feebleminded. That was obvious. She had taken an unreasoning dislike to Tabitha, and I had built up these suspicions on that.

I could see it all clearly in daylight.

I laughed at myself. I was as bad as Theodosia.

I began to realize that I had felt uneasy ever since the Feast of the Nile. If I could see Yasmin and talk to her as we used to I would feel differently. I did not like mystery.

Theodosia was not feeling well and Tabitha offered to walk with me into the souk.

Naturally we talked about her news.

"It seems wrong to feel this relief, but I can't help it," she said. "It was no life for him in any case, Judith. He was unaware of who he was for the greater part of the time."

"I don't think you should blame yourself for being relieved," I assured her.