I’ll go up to my room. But I shall not sleep. The detective will. At dawn, he crept slowly downstairs. A servant was sleeping in the lobby in front of the door, the locked door. He dared not wake the man up. He might be the detective. Slowly, he went back up the stairs. Suddenly an idea occurred to him. He raced up the stairs, all the way to the roof. A shiver ran through him as he passed the closed apartment. He crossed the roof to the wall of the adjoining building, and without hesitating for a second, jumped over to the building. Breathing heavily, he went down the stairs to the entrance. The doorman’s room was closed. The front door was closed. Damn! Nothing but obstacles. He tried the key that was in the lock. It didn’t work. Why? He tried the door handle. It worked. The door wasn’t locked. Why? He opened the door slowly, quietly. Suddenly a man blocked the now open doorway. “Who’s there?” a voice cried.

Without hesitation, he drove his fist violently into the man’s face and kicked him in the stomach as he doubled up. The man fell, silent, motionless. He rushed out into the cold empty dawn. Crossing the street quickly and racing toward the square. Without warning, he collided with something.

“Oh! Help! Please, please, I’m blind.”

“I’m sorry, it’s very dark,” he said as he hurried on. He shuddered. That cursed beggar. Ubiquitous.

The taxi drove toward Zeitoun. The detective is going to have a long wait. He got out of the cab at the beginning of Sahil Street. He walked toward the small bungalow. Daybreak was slowly filtering through the dark.

He knocked on the front door, not caring what lay ahead. Karima! There she was, just as she appeared on her first nocturnal visit. He pushed past her.

“Are you mad?”

They faced each other under a bare, glaring lamp.

“You must be insane.”

“Maybe.” He looked at her with his bloodshot eyes.

“Don’t you realize the consequences of your action?”

“It’s better than waiting without hope,” he hissed.

“You must wait. Don’t you see that my situation is far more critical than yours?”

“And how long must I wait? Till death? Why didn’t you phone?”

“Sawi would have recognized my voice.”

“Anyone could have spoken instead of you.”

“They asked me so many questions. I panicked.”

“You panicked? You who plot murders in bed while making love?”

“Don’t raise your voice. My mother’s asleep.”

“Isn’t she your accomplice?”

“You’re mad. You look so strange.”

“I must see your bedroom.”

“It’s just like any other room.”

“Don’t be funny, I must see who shares it with you.”

“Have you gone out of your mind?”

“Your cousin. Your previous husband. Isn’t he here?” he shouted.