“Not all of them,” Jim admitted, looking a little flustered as Sir Christopher turned to regard him with a humorous smile. “But there has to be a connection between the eruption and the story of the Exodus; it’s just too circumstantial to be a coincidence. We know, from the Krakatoa eruption, that volcanic action of that magnitude is accompanied by earthquakes, rain, hail, lightning-side effects that could explain all the plagues mentioned in the Bible. Areas a hundred and fifty miles from Krakatoa experienced total darkness; and as you said, the Thera eruption was considerably greater than that of Krakatoa. As for the parting of the waters, it’s generally agreed that the Hebrews didn’t cross the Red Sea, but rather a Sea of Reeds in the northern part of the Egyptian Delta, along a well-known ancient route into Sinai and Palestine. The receding of the sea along the coast, followed by a tremendous tsunami wave, has been observed many times as a result of seismic action. Even the death of the first-born could have resulted from crop failure and disease after-”

“‘Could,’” Sir Christopher repeated. His smile, which I had found so pleasant, was beginning to get on my nerves. “We will never know, will we? Speculation of that sort is entertaining, but not very profitable, my boy.’’

“Let’s talk about something else besides earthquakes,’’ I said.

“Certainly.’’ Sir Christopher continued to smile. “How is my old friend Frederick?’’

“Fine,’’ I said. “Just fine.’’

“I’m happy to hear it. I saw him recently, and I didn’t think he looked well. He never took proper care of himself. Is he still eating out of tins?’’

“Yes,’’ I said. “I mean, no, not all the time. I buy fish and things for supper sometimes.’’

“I’m glad he has someone to look after him.”

“I thought you didn’t like him,” I said.

Sir Christopher raised one eyebrow. He must have practiced, it moved so smoothly.

“Now where did you get that impression? I feel sorry for the poor chap, actually. There was a time when I considered him the most fortunate of men. He had success in his field, good health, good looks, a pretty, devoted young wife, and a child…” The pause was, I thought, quite deliberate. Then he went on. “ Frederick destroyed himself. Or rather, his one failing destroyed his success. It was a tragedy in the classic Greek sense, one flaw in an otherwise noble character-”

Jim had been increasingly uncomfortable as this speech unrolled. Now he interrupted, “Not quite the classic Greek tragedy, Chris. The Greek heroes failed because they incurred the displeasure of some fickle god or other.”

“If Frederick were a religious man, he might consider himself cursed,” Sir Christopher said gently. “I’m sure that to this day he doesn’t understand why he failed. He is incapable of understanding emotion. That constitutes both his flaw and his inability to recognize it as such.”

“Where did you know him?” I asked.

Sir Christopher glanced at Jim. It was one of those meaningful glances.

“It is a rather painful story,” he said softly.

I felt like some poor savage who goes to a fancy party and commits an unwitting faux pas.

Jim got red. “I’ve told you, Chris, that it doesn’t pain me one damn bit. I wish you wouldn’t-”

“I’m sorry, my boy. I was being overly sensitive. It is painful to me, even after all these years.”

Jim was now the color of a nice ripe tomato.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean-”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I said. “Either tell me or change the subject. And if you think I’m going to join in the chorus of apologies, forget it.”

I wasn’t embarrassed any longer, I was mad. I can’t stand that kind of hassling, the gentle, prickly kind. Especially when it was directed at Jim.

“There is no need for you to apologize,” said Sir Christopher, with a forgiving smile. “You had no idea that the subject might be… You see, mydear, your…employer and I were at Oxford together before the war. Frederick was a Rhodes scholar. We became friends-we two and another young student named Durkheim. They called us the Three Musketeers, of course. We were drawn together because of our interest in pre-classical Greek culture. Durkheim was the oldest; I think perhaps he was also the most brilliant. He had been studying the Linear B script, and if he had lived… But I anticipate.

“When World War Two broke out, Durkheim was assigned to Crete -a rare example of the military’s actually using a man where he could be most useful. I went with him. We hadn’t been there long when who should appear but your-but Frederick. We couldn’t imagine how he had managed it. This was in the early months of 1941, before America entered the war, and your government was not precisely encouraging its citizens to travel abroad. Yet there he was, imperturbable as ever, and in a frightful state about his precious antiquities. You would have thought the ruins of Knossos were the only things threatened by a possible German invasion.

“As you know-or perhaps you don’t, all this is ancient history to you young creatures-the invasion came. It was airborne, and quite overwhelming. Our troops fought on for a short time, but eventually we were forced to withdraw, and the Germans occupied the island. Because Durkheim knew the language and the terrain, he stayed on as liaison officer with the underground; and I stayed as well. So did Frederick. In his peculiar fashion he was more effective than any of us. He had spent only one short season in Crete before the war, yet he knew the country as well as Durkheim did.

“It was a frightful existence. We were constantly on the move, eating scraps, sleeping where and when we could, constantly anticipating discovery and death. But we were young and healthy and fired up with patriotism. I remember the night when we got the news of America ’s entry into the war. We were staying in a remote village in the eastern mountains, and we got roaring drunk on retsina. Even Frederick got drunk. It was the only time I ever saw him display a human weakness.

“That was the high point. From then on, everything went wrong. Crete is a splendid place for guerrilla warfare-mountainous, rugged, primitive; and the men were superb. But the Germans were inhumanly efficient. They rounded up the resistance fighters group by group. Durkheim was the prize catch, of course, they wanted him badly. I don’t know precisely how it happened. Everyone who was with him that night is dead. Frederick and I were not in his group, we were off on errands of our own.

“I met Frederick next day, at the rendezvous we had arranged, and it was he who informed me of Durkheim’s capture. We were making futile plans for freeing him when one of the men from the village found us and told us he had been executed.”

I paid Sir Christopher the tribute of a moment of silence before I turned to Jim.

“Who was he, your father?”

“Your arithmetic is terrible,” Jim said. “He was my uncle. My mother’s older brother. Look, let’s not pull out all the stops, shall we? I never even saw him. I wasn’t born till after he died.”

I had never heard him sound like that-like a sulky little boy saying something deliberately naughty and waiting to be scolded. Sir Christopher said nothing, and after a moment Jim went on.

“It’s different for you, Chris. You knew him. He was your friend. I mean-”

“Quite all right, my boy. Don’t give it another thought. I understand your point of view thoroughly.”

Oh, he was an expert, that man; he had both of us speechless and feeling obscurely guilty. I knew what he was doing, but I couldn’t seem to prevent it. He looked from me to Jim, as if waiting for us to speak, and then offered a change of subject.

“Did you enjoy your dip? You are a splendid swimmer, young lady. I was almost moved to join you.”

“Oh,” I said. “You saw us. Where were you?”

“I was taking a stroll on the bluff above the beach. You ought to consider marine archaeology, my dear. It’s a new and expanding field. One day I hope to investigate some of the sunken harbor sites in Crete. Perhaps I can induce you to join me.”