Camilla, too, looked toward the Pyramid. She caught a glimpse of shining gold, half-seen, as through gauze. There was a rasp of shoes on sand and a girl's laughter, half-heard, as through a door. It was Time, leaving its ghosts and passing on.

Camilla did not faint, but she lost strength and balance. People cried, “Are you all right?” and said to one another, “It's the heat. Put her in the shade. Put a wet cloth on her forehead.”

Hiram Stratton, Sr., having lost his son's attention, grabbed Strat's arm. When Strat jerked free, all the men jumped forward to prevent a fight. Or perhaps to encourage one.

Miss Matthews was walked into her tent by Dr. Lightner, for only he was tall enough to take her arm. Dr. Lightner ducked beneath the tent flap and set her gently on the edge of her cot. Anxiously, he fanned her face with the brim of his canvas hat. Through the tent opening, she could see the broken nose of the Sphinx.

To every tourist the Sphinx was a mystery that must be plumbed. All paused before it to cry, Who are you? From whence do you spring?

Who am I? thought Camilla Matthews. I who rejected my gender, my family, my honor and my faith.

Egyptians had worshiped the Nile and the sun, their kings and their mummified cats. How strange and marvelous were all religions: the eternal need to find greater substance.

Camilla had shrugged over greater things. Immersing herself in low and ugly deeds, she had created a low and ugly situation. “Oh, Dr. Lightner,” she said desperately. “I must confess that I have done a terrible thing.”

“Nonsense,” he said roundly. “Here. A damp cloth will cool your thoughts.”

Pressing the comforting cotton against her burning eyes, Camilla made her confession. “I set young Mr. Stratton up for this crime. I took that gold sandal. Yes, it was I. I placed it in the young man's trunk so you would blame him. He is innocent.”

Relief washed over Camilla. At last, she had done a good thing. She might be flung out of camp or thrown onto the next ship. She even might be the one sent to prison. But at least Strat would not suffer at her hands. She risked a humiliated glance at Dr. Lightner.

But he was regarding her with great esteem. A soft smile crossed his face. “Nothing,” said Dr. Lightner, “is so beautiful as a woman who sacrifices for a man. Miss Matthews, how kind and generous is your feminine heart. You wish to save the boy from punishment. How I respect you. But no one will believe that trumped-up story. Your truthfulness and honor are visible to all who have met you.”

It had not occurred to Camilla that she would not be believed. “Truly, sir, it was my doing. I committed the act.”