Mr Parker Pyne’s eyebrows rose. He tapped his teeth thoughtfully with his fountain pen. He wanted to see Abydos, but a hundred pounds was a hundred pounds. And Egypt had been even more wickedly expensive than he had imagined.

Dear Lady Grayle (he wrote),—I shall not visit the Temple of Abydos.

Yours faithfully,

J. Parker Pyne

Mr Parker Pyne’s refusal to leave the boat was a source of great grief to Mohammed.

‘Very nice temple. All my gentlemans like see that temple. I get you carriage. I get you chair and sailors carry you.’

Mr Parker Pyne refused all these tempting offers.

The others set off.

Mr Parker Pyne waited on deck. Presently the door of Lady Grayle’s cabin opened and the lady herself trailed out on deck.

‘Such a hot afternoon,’ she observed graciously. ‘I see you have stayed behind, Mr Pyne. Very wise of you. Shall we have some tea together in the lounge?’

Mr Parker Pyne rose promptly and followed her. It cannot be denied that he was curious.

It seemed as though Lady Grayle felt some difficulty in coming to the point. She fluttered from this subject to that. But finally she spoke in an altered voice.

‘Mr Pyne, what I am about to tell you is in the strictest confidence! You do understand that, don’t you?’

‘Naturally.’

She paused, took a deep breath. Mr Parker Pyne waited.

‘I want to know whether or not my husband is poisoning me.’

Whatever Mr Parker Pyne had expected, it was not this. He showed his astonishment plainly. ‘That is a very serious accusation to make, Lady Grayle.’

‘Well, I’m not a fool and I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve had my suspicions for some time. Whenever George goes away I get better. My food doesn’t disagree with me and I feel a different woman. There must be some reason for that.’

‘What you say is very serious, Lady Grayle. You must remember I am not a detective. I am, if you like to put it that way, a heart specialist—’

She interrupted him. ‘Eh—and don’t you think it worries me, all this? It’s not a policeman I want—I can look after myself, thank you—it’s certainty I want. I’ve got to know. I’m not a wicked woman, Mr Pyne. I act fairly by those who act fairly by me. A bargain’s a bargain. I’ve kept my side of it. I’ve paid my husband’s debts and I’ve not stinted him in money.’

Mr Parker Pyne had a fleeting pang of pity for Sir George. ‘And as for the girl she’s had clothes and parties and this, that and the other. Common gratitude is all I ask.’

‘Gratitude is not a thing that can be produced to order, Lady Grayle.’