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…