‘John Tregarth isn’t wanted, no. But Sir John Smythe and a couple of dozen other aliases are, and not only by the police. Max assured us he held no grudge, but John obviously didn’t believe him, and how many others like Max are there crawling around in the woodwork? That’s what has him worried, Schmidt. Not just worried – terrified. I thought he was feeling guilty about her until the night before we left Egypt, and then . . . It was me he was having nightmares about. He was reliving that awful hour with Max and the others, and dreading what would happen – not to him, to me – if he didn’t pull it off. He kept repeating, “It was too close,” and he didn’t mean coming too close to murder, he meant . . . Oh, hell. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

‘Yes, I understand,’ Schmidt said, frowning. ‘It is very – ’

‘If you say romantic I’ll slug you.’

‘“Touching” was the word I had in mind. More than touching. Beautiful! Yes, yes, it is what I would expect from such a man. He fears to endanger you, and so he will stay away. Is that what you want?’

I had resigned myself to a long poetic tirade. The direct question startled me into the truth. ‘No.’

‘But he may be in the right,’ Schmidt said. ‘He knows more than you of the possible dangers.’

‘He has no right to make that decision for me. God damn it, Schmidt, it’s the same old macho crap you guys always try to pull and it’s not based on chivalry but on pure selfishness – tuck the little woman away in some safe place so you won’t have to worry about her. What about us worrying about you? If you follow me.’

‘Oh, I do,’ said Schmidt. ‘I follow you very well.’

My eyes fell. ‘Touché, Schmidt. I know; I’ve done the same thing to you. But in this case – in both cases – the damage is already done. Once you care about someone you’re wide open, and the worst part of it is not knowing. Something awful could happen to him anytime, it could be happening at this very moment, and I might not even know about it for days or weeks or . . . You know what I did yesterday? I bought a goddamn London newspaper and read the goddamn obituaries! I can’t live that way, Schmidt, and he has no right to expect me to, and no, I’m not going to call him because this is his problem and he’s got to come to grips with it and if he can’t admit the obvious, basic fact – ’

I broke off. I had run out of breath. Schmidt was nodding and smiling, and there was a calculating look in those beady little eyes of his.