“Who said so? No one is here. You’ve brought disaster upon us now by coming here.”

“I don’t care. I must see for myself.”

He pushed her roughly out of his way and opened the first door he saw. An old woman was fast asleep. Another door, another bedroom. Hers, most probably. He searched every room. No trace. “You’ve driven me crazy,” he cried, returning to the hall. “You must avoid him during the investigation.”

“Saber, I think someone is behind all this. Some cunning devil,” she said, trying to calm him down.

“Weren’t you married to your cousin?”

“I was.”

“And didn’t he sell you to the man you plotted to murder?”

“They’ll arrest us, you fool. Today.”

“Answer me.”

“You’re an idiot. I risked my life because I love you.”

“He came to sleep with you in this…whorehouse!”

“Can’t you see the truth? Have you forgotten what was between us?”

“Every woman is an accomplished actress in bed.”

“Please, please believe me. These are all lies!” She was almost hysterical.

“Do you think I’m afraid of hanging? I’ll never leave you to another man.”

“There is no other man. Believe me. If you don’t, they’ll get us before sunrise.”

“Whore! Liar! You destroyed my life with a lie.”

“Believe me, I beg you. I love you. All I’ve done is for your sake!”

“You destroyed me to enjoy the fruits of my crime with your lover.”

“You are my lover! Believe me before it’s too late. This man stepped out of my life years ago!”

“You divided things like only the devil can. I get the murder and you, the money.”

“Oh, what’s the use? We’re finished. Once more, won’t you believe me?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want?”

“To kill you.”

“And hang?” she screamed.

“I don’t give a damn anymore!”

Several footsteps, followed by thunderous banging on the door. Karima screamed loudly, “The police! It’s too late!”

He pounced on her savagely, blindly, his hands closing around her neck. Screams, the door banging, more screams, the door crashing open.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

And where now, Saber? In jail, alone. No one visits you. You have no one. Elham is now a distant dream, a vision. She must have gotten over her love. She must be cursing it!

The newspapers carry the full story, Karima, Mr. Khalil, Mohamed Ragab, her first husband. Your photograph. The wedding photograph, even Elham, and of course, Basima Omran. The papers leave no stone unturned.