Sarah was lost in her own thoughts again—Mr Cope’s voice just flowed pleasantly in her ears like the agreeable murmur of a remote stream, but Dr Gerard said:
‘Indeed? What was it?’
‘My informant was a lady I came across in the hotel at Tiberias. It concerned a servant girl who had been in Mrs Boynton’s employ. The girl, I gather, was—had—’
Mr Cope paused, glanced delicately at Sarah and lowered his voice. ‘She was going to have a child. The old lady, it seemed, discovered this, but was apparently quite kind to the girl. Then a few weeks before the child was born she turned her out of the house.’
Dr Gerard’s eyebrows went up.
‘Ah,’ he said reflectively.
‘My informant seemed very positive of her facts. I don’t know whether you agree with me, but that seems to me a very cruel and heartless thing to do. I cannot understand—’
Dr Gerard interrupted him.
‘You should try to. That incident, I have no doubt, gave Mrs Boynton a good deal of quiet enjoyment.’
Mr Cope turned a shocked face on him.
‘No, sir,’ he said with emphasis. ‘That I cannot believe. Such an idea is quite inconceivable.’
Softly Dr Gerard quoted:
‘So I returned and did consider all the oppressions done beneath the sun. And there was weeping and wailing from those that were oppressed and had no comfort; for with their oppressors there was power, so that no one came to comfort them. Then I did praise the dead which are already dead, yea, more than the living which linger still in life; yea, he that is not is better than dead or living; for he doth not know of the evil that is wrought for ever on earth…’
He broke off and said:
‘My dear sir, I have made a life’s study of the strange things that go on in the human mind. It is no good turning one’s face only to the fairer side of life. Below the decencies and conventions of everyday life, there lies a vast reservoir of strange things. There is such a thing, for instance, as delight in cruelty for its own sake. But when you have found that, there is something deeper still. The desire, profound and pitiful, to be appreciated. If that is thwarted, if through an unpleasing personality a human being is unable to get the response it needs, it turns to other methods—it must be felt—it must count—and so to innumerable strange perversions. The habit of cruelty, like any other habit, can be cultivated, can take hold of one—’
Mr Cope coughed. ‘I think, Dr Gerard, that you are slightly exaggerating. Really, the air up here is too wonderful…’
He edged away. Gerard smiled a little. He looked again at Sarah. She was frowning—her face was set in a youthful sternness. She looked, he thought, like a young judge delivering sentence…
He turned as Miss Pierce tripped unsteadily towards him.
‘We are going down now,’ she fluttered. ‘Oh dear! I am sure I shall never manage it, but the guide says the way down is quite a different route and much easier. I do hope so, because from a child I never have been able to look down from heights…’
The descent was down the course of a waterfall. Although there were loose stones which were a possible source of danger to ankles, it presented no dizzy vistas.
The party arrived back at the camp weary but in good spirits and with an excellent appetite for a late lunch. It was past two o’clock.
The Boynton family was sitting round the big table in the marquee. They were just finishing their meal.
Lady Westholme addressed a gracious sentence to them in her most condescending manner.
‘Really a most interesting morning,’ she said. ‘Petra is a wonderful spot.’
Carol, to whom the words seemed addressed, shot a quick look at her mother and murmured:
‘Oh, yes—yes, it is,’ and relapsed into silence.
Lady Westholme, feeling she had done her duty, addressed herself to her food.
As they ate, the four discussed plans for the afternoon.
‘I think I shall rest most of the afternoon,’ said Miss Pierce. ‘It is important, I think, not to do too much.’
‘I shall go for a walk and explore,’ said Sarah. ‘What about you, Dr Gerard?’