The bedroom was in darkness. He stubbed his toe on the side of the bed. His own bedroom, and he did not know it yet. Amanda lay like a stone, pretending to sleep. But he knew she was awake, for always she snored when she slept.

CHAPTER 4

SHE WOKE AT SEVEN, AND IN THE chintzy window was a thick summer mist. When she stood there, she could just see to the edge of the pub wall, and over to the road beyond. And as she watched, two lighted eyes, strange as a dragon's, stared through the mist, and a dark shape glided out of it. Then another. Two black Rolls-Royces slid down the road and melted to a stop below the wall.

Twenty minutes later, Cheta came with breakfast from the bar kitchen.

The Scarabae were moving on.

At half-past eight, Cheta and Michael got into the second Rolls. Eric, Sasha, Miranda, and Rachaela entered the first car. The windows were polarized.

The nice young man came rushing to the car door. He had brought them a hamper, and more champagne, unsuitable for a journey. He fawned on them so desperately, Rachaela wished she might throw a stick for him to run and retrieve.

The Scarabae were not very interested. They were polite, and absent.

He gave up, and closed them in their polarized cabin.

The driver of the car was a shadow behind a dark partition, who did not disturb them with communication.

The Rolls was like a luxurious hearse.

Rachaela wondered if they would speak to each other, Eric and Sasha, Miranda and herself. But then she fell asleep.

It was a long journey. They stopped in the middle of the day, and once in the afternoon. On each occasion a different gray-suited man came decorously and ushered them into a different small, clean room of some hotel or public house, and here they were offered lunch, and later tea.

The Scarabae picked at these meals. The healthy gusto of appetite Rachaela had always associated with them was not there. Perhaps this was due to sorrow, or only the discomposure of travel.

Rachaela also picked at the food.

She too was Scarabae.

At the second halt, she said generally, "Where are we going?"

"Everything is taken care of," said Eric.

"To a hotel," said Sasha, "for a while."

"It will be all right," said Miranda.

They had all been talkative, too. But now they had lost their entity. They were soul fragments flung out into space.

No one said anything else.

After the tea, as after the lunch, they got back into the car. The champagne had not been touched, nor the hamper.