In the sitting-room. She stopped beside the writing desk. -Her Bible

lay where she had left it. She opened the front cover, dipped the pen

and wrote. She closed the book and went to the door. There she

hesitated once more and looked back at Dirk's bedroom. She could not

trust herself to see him again. She lifted an end of the shawl to cover

her mouth, then she went out into the passage and closed the door softly

behind her.

Sean was surprised to find himself fully dressed and lying on top of his

bed when he woke next morning. It was still half dark outside the hotel

windows and the room was cold. He propped himself up on one elbow and

rubbed at his eyes with the back of a clenched fist. Then he remembered

and he swung his legs off the bed and looked at Katrina's bed. The

blankets were thrown back and it was empty. Sean's first feeling was

relief, she had recovered enough to get up on her own. He went through

to the bathroom, stumbling a little from the stiffness of uneasy sleep.

He tapped on the closed door.

Katrina? he questioned and then again louder. Katrina, are you in

there? The handle turned when he tried it and the door swung open

without resistance. He blinked at the empty room, white tiles

reflecting the uncertain light, a towel thrown across a chair where he

had left it. He felt the first twinge of alarm. Dirk's room, the door

was still locked, the key on the outside. He flung it open. Dirk sat

up in bed, his face flushed, his curls standing up like the leaves of a

sisal bush. Sean ran out into the passage, along it and looked down

Into the lobby. There was a light burning behind the reception desk.

The clerk slept with his head on his arms, sitting forward on his chair

snoring Sean went down the stairs three at a time. He shook the clerk.

Has anybody been out through here during the night?

Sean demanded. I . . . I don't know. Is that door locked? Sean

pointed at the front door. No, sir, there's a night latch on it. You

can get out but not in. Sean ran out onto the pavement. Which way,

which way to search for her? Which way had she gone? Back to Pretoria

to the wagons? Sean thought not. She would need transport and she had

no money to hire it. Why should she leave without waking him, leave

Dirk, leave her clothing and disappear into the night. She must have

been unbalanced by the drugs the doctor had given her. Perhaps there

was something in his theory that she had suffered a shock, perhaps she

was wandering in her nightdress through the streets with no memory,

perhaps, Sean stood in the cold grey Transvaal morning, the city

starting to murmur into wakefulness around him, the questions crowding

Into his head and finding there no answers with which to mate.

He turned and ran back through the hotel, out of the rear door into the

stable yard. Mbejane, he shouted, Mbejane, where the hell are you?

Mbejane appeared quickly from the stall where he was currying one of the

hired horses. Nkosi? Have you seen the Nkosikazi?

Mbejane's face creased into a puzzled frown. Yesterday, - No, man,

shouted Sean. Today, last night . . . have you seen her?

Mbejane's expression was sufficient reply.

Sean brushed impatiently past him and ran into the stable. He snatched

a saddle off the rack and threw it onto the back of the nearest horse.

While he clinched the girth and forced a bit between its teeth he spoke

to Mbejane. The Nkosikazi is sick. She has left during the night. It