死亡约会 Part I Chapter 12（5）（在线收听）

‘I’m going back now,’ he said. ‘No, not with you. I want to go back by myself. There’ssomething I have to say and do. Once that’s done, once I’ve proved to myself that I’m not acoward—then—then—I shan’t be ashamed to come to you and ask you to help me. I shall needhelp, 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 mycourage. It’s now or never.’

Then, abruptly, he turned and strode away.

Sarah leant back against the rock and watched his receding figure. Something in his words hadvaguely alarmed her. He had seemed so intense—so terribly in earnest and strung up. For amoment she wished she had gone with him…

But she rebuked herself sternly for that wish. Raymond had desired to stand alone, to test hisnew-found 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 inthe dim light she could make out the grim figure of Mrs Boynton still sitting in the mouth of thecave. 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 round her neck.

Miss Pierce was embroidering a table-mat with anaemic blue forget-me-nots, and being instructedon the proper reform of the Divorce Laws.

The servants came in and out preparing for the evening meal. The Boyntons were at the far endof the marquee in deck-chairs reading. Mahmoud appeared, fat and dignified, and was plaintivelyreproachful. Very nice after-tea ramble had been arranged to take place, but everyone absent fromcamp… The programme was now entirely thrown out… Very instructive visit to Nabataenarchitecture.

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 hisbed. Sarah withdrew noiselessly, hoping he was asleep.

A servant came to her and pointed to the marquee. Evidently supper was ready. She strolleddown again. Everyone else was assembled there round the table with the exception of Dr Gerardand Mrs Boynton. A servant was dispatched to tell the old lady dinner was ready. Then there was asudden commotion outside. Two frightened servants rushed in and spoke excitedly to thedragoman in Arabic.

Mahmoud looked round him in a flustered manner and went outside. On an impulse Sarahjoined 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 rock and walked along untilshe came to the squat figure in the chair, touched the puffy hand, felt for the pulse, bent over her…When she straightened herself she was paler.

She retraced her steps back to the marquee. In the doorway she paused a minute looking at thegroup at the far end of the table. Her voice when she spoke sounded to herself brusque andunnatural.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. She forced herself to address the head of the family, Lennox. ‘Yourmother is dead, Mr Boynton.’

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