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‘But it’s marvelous, too,’ admitted Sarah.

The party began to climb. Two Bedouin guides accompanied them. Tall men, with an easy carriage, they swung upward unconcernedly in their hobnailed boots completely foot-sure on the slippery slope. Difficulties soon began. Sarah had a good head for heights and so had Dr Gerard. But both Mr Cope and Lady Westholme were far from happy, and the unfortunate Miss Pierce had to be almost carried over the precipitous places, her eyes shut, her face green, while her voice rose ceaselessly in a perpetual wail.

‘I never could look down places. Never—from a child!’

Once she declared her intention of going back, but on turning to face the descent, her skin assumed an even greener tinge, and she reluctantly decided that to go on was the only thing to be done.

Dr Gerard was kind and reassuring. He went up behind her, holding a stick between her and the sheer drop like a balustrade and she confessed that the illusion of a rail did much to conquer the feeling of vertigo.

Sarah, panting a little, asked the dragoman, Mahmoud, who, in spite of his ample proportions, showed no signs of distress:

‘Don’t you ever have trouble getting people up here? Elderly ones, I mean.’

‘Always—always we have trouble,’ agreed Mahmoud serenely.

‘Do you always try and take them?’

Mahmoud shrugged his thick shoulders.

‘They like to come. They have paid money to see these things. They wish to see them. The Bedouin guides are very clever

—very sure-footed—always they manage.’

They arrived at last at the summit. Sarah drew a deep breath.

All around and below stretched the blood-red rocks—a strange and unbelievable country unparalleled anywhere. Here in the exquisite pure morning air they stood like gods, surveying a baser world—a world of flaring violence.

Here was, as the guide told them, the ‘Place of Sacrifice’—the ‘High Place’. He showed them the trough cut in the flat rock at their feet.

Sarah strayed away from the rest, from the glib phrases that flowed so readily from the dragoman’s tongue. She sat on a rock, pushed her hands through her thick black hair, and gazed down on the world at her feet. Presently she was aware of someone standing by her side. Dr Gerard’s voice said:

‘You appreciate the appositeness of the devil’s temptation in the New Testament. Satan took Our Lord up to the summit of a mountain and showed Him the world. “All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.” How much greater the temptation up on high to be a God of Material Power.’

Sarah assented, but her thoughts were so clearly elsewhere that Gerard observed her in some surprise.

‘You are pondering something very deeply,’ he said.

‘Yes, I am.’ She turned a perplexed face to him.

‘It’s a wonderful idea—to have a place of sacrifice up here. I think sometimes, don’t you, that a sacrifice is necessary…I mean, one can have too much regard for life. Death isn’t really so important as we make out.’

‘If you feel that, Miss King, you should not have adopted our profession. To us, Death is and must always be—the Enemy.’

Sarah shivered.

‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. And yet, so often death might solve a problem. It might mean, even, fuller life…’

‘It is expedient for us that one man should die for the people!’ quoted Gerard gravely.

Sarah turned a startled face on him.

‘I didn’t mean—’ She broke off. Jefferson Cope was approaching them.

‘Now this is really a most remarkable spot,’ he declared. ‘Most remarkable, and I’m only too pleased not to have missed it. I don’t mind confessing that though Mrs Boynton is certainly a most remarkable woman—I greatly admire her pluck in being determined to come here—it does certainly complicate matters travelling with her. Her health is poor, and I suppose it naturally makes her a little inconsiderate of other people’s feelings, but it does not seem to occur to her that her family might like occasionally to go on excursions without her. She’s just so used to them clustering round her that I suppose she doesn’t think—’

Mr Cope broke off. His nice kindly face looked a little disturbed and uncomfortable.

‘You know,’ he said, ‘I heard a piece of information about Mrs Boynton that disturbed me greatly.’


Tags: Agatha Christie Hercule Poirot Mystery