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money and tickets. "Thank you."

"You sail from Southampton on the evening tide tomorrow," Narraway added.

Pitt turned to leave. He would have to be on the first train in the morning, and he had to pack. It had not yet even occurred to him to think what clothes he owned would be even remotely suitable.

"Pitt!" Narraway's voice recalled him sharply.

He turned. "Yes?"

"Be careful. This is probably exactly what it looks like-a man with more passion than sense. But just in case it is political, something to do with cotton or... or God knows what... listen more than you talk. Learn to watch without asking questions. You're not police in Alexandria." His face looked suddenly weary, as if he was already anticipating griefs that had not yet happened, or perhaps remembering those that had. "There'll be no one to protect you. Your white skin will be as much against you as for. For God's sake, man, take a little care!" He said it angrily, as if Pitt was in the habit of running wild risks, and it was that which touched Pitt with a coldness of fear, because he had seldom if ever really jeopardized his own life, except perhaps in Whitechapel, on his first assignment for Narraway. He was used to the safety of office, which was not a uniform but as good as one.

He found his mouth dry when he answered. "Yes, sir," he said stiffly, and went out before Narraway could say anything further, or Pitt could betray his feelings.

CHAPTER SIX

"EGYPT!" Charlotte said incredulously when Pitt told her. He had arrived home late and dinner was already served.

"I know where Egypt is," Daniel offered. "It's in the top of Africa." He said it with his mouth full, but Charlotte was too stunned to correct him. "You'll have to sail in a boat," Daniel added helpfully.

"But it will be..." Charlotte began, then she caught sight of Jemima's troubled face, "interesting," she finished awkwardly. "And hot... won't it? What will you wear?"

"I'll have to get some clothes when I get there," he replied. There were scores of things he wished to say to her, but he knew her anxiety, especially after the danger she and Gracie and the children had survived so recently, when they had had to leave Dartmoor in the middle of the night. Tellman had rescued them, arriving in the dark and packing everything they owned into a pony cart and driving them to the nearest station. They had been accosted on the way, and Tellman had actually fought the man and left him near senseless on the ground. Jemima still remembered it rather too clearly. Pitt smiled at her. "I'll bring you back something nice," he promised. "All of you," he added as Daniel was about to speak.

Charlotte was less easy to distract later when they were alone.

"What can you do in Egypt?" she demanded. "It's a British Protectorate, or something like that. Haven't we got police there? They could send a letter, and if they don't trust the postal service, a courier."

"The local police won't know what to look for, or recognize it if they find it," he answered. He had thought, as he walked quickly along Keppel Street on the way home, the wind blowing the rain in his face, the wet pavement gleaming in the lamplight and passing traffic spraying water up in sheets, that he was looking forward to the adventure of going to an ancient, sunlit city on the edge of Africa. The fact that he did not understand the language, was unfamiliar with the food, the money, and the customs, was unimportant. He could learn enough. He would do his best to find out something about Ayesha Zakhari, probably things he would rather not have known, but at least he would be as sure as he could that it was the truth. It might explain what had happened.

Now he was in the multilayered comfort of home. There was certainty of the heart here, as well as of the simple pleasures like his own chair, his own bed, knowing where everything was, homemade bread toasted crisp, with sharp, bitter marmalade and hot tea for breakfast. Above all there were the people. He would miss them, even in a few days, let alone weeks.

He told her so, over and over, in words, in touch and in silence.

PITT STOOD ON THE DECK of the ship and stared across the blue water towards a horizon which was a glittering margin between sea and sky,