死亡约会 Part I Chapter 12（3）（在线收听）

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 theguide says the way down is quite a different route and much easier. I do hope so, because from achild 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 apossible 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 alate lunch. It was past two o’clock.

The Boynton family was sitting round the big table in the marquee. They were just finishingtheir 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 dotoo 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 anhour with a book, then I shall lie down and take an hour’s rest at least. After that, perhaps, a shortstroll.’

Slowly, with the help of Lennox, old Mrs Boynton struggled to her feet. She stood for amoment 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 liedown 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 andsleep. I know what’s best for you.’

‘I—I—’

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 colour—the mother.

Quite purple. Heart, I should imagine. The heat must be very trying to her.’

Sarah thought: ‘She’s letting them go free this afternoon. She knows Raymond wants to be withme. Why? Is it a trap?’

After lunch, when she had gone to her tent and had changed into a fresh linen dress, the thoughtstill worried her. Since last night her feeling towards Raymond had swelled into a passion ofprotective 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 theDragon 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’ssuspicious mind, definitely sinister.