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waiter to hold off on the last course for ten or fifteen minutes. Then, he turned to Lara and asked, “Do you want to talk about this?”
    “Thank you, but it’s fine,” she said. “I’m getting help. It’s silly.”
    “It certainly isn’t silly,” said the Professor. “I had a research fellow once with the most awful anxiety disorder. It was a long time ago. She was afraid and embarrassed and… Well, never mind ‘and.’”
    Lara took another deep breath and sipped some more water. She was pleased to be over the attack so quickly. It was hardly an attack at all.
    “I’m very grateful. You helped enormously,” she said. “I have a problem with anxiety. I’ve been diagnosed. I have coping strategies. It was the noise.”
    “I can see that,” said Cahalane. “But you will be all right. It will take a little time, but I’m sure that you’ll be all right.”
    “So am I,” said Lara.
    She spoke firmly, brightly. He had done what an English gentleman does. He had taken control while he needed to, and now he would back off. Lara knew she could rely on Professor Cahalane not to ask a lot of personal questions, not to pry. If he could see that she was recovered, if he was reassured that she was being looked after, nothing more need be said.
    Professor Cahalane did exactly what Lara hoped and expected he would do. He changed the subject.
    “Perhaps Professor Babbington might succeed where I’ve failed,” said Cahalane.
    “What do you mean?” asked Lara.
    “I don’t want you going off on a wild goose chase,” said the professor. “Stories, legends live on in the memories of men long after artifacts are lost. They act as lessons or as examples of greatness, but they aren’t real. You’re a romantic, Lara, just like your father. I admire it in a way, but it does no good. You might as well chase rainbows.”
    “Then, what should I do?” asked Lara.
    “You should trust the medical men and women,” said Cahalane. “You should trust science. The best archaeologists are scientists. At his best, your father was a scientist, and so are you. So am I, and so is Professor Babbington. That’s how we build our reputations and add to the world of knowledge.”
    “You don’t believe there’s anything in the legend of the Golden Fleece?” asked Lara.
    “On the contrary,” said Cahalane, “I believe there’s a very great deal in it. It tells us much about man and his beliefs, his imagination, his aspirations, his capacity for romance, his needs. It tells us a great deal about the era the story came from and the culture. As for the artifact? If such a thing exists at all, I have no doubt that it is utterly inert. Magic is in the mind of the beholder.”
    “You’re right,” said Lara. “Of course you’re right.”
    “Good then,” said the professor. He smiled slightly. “I suppose you’ll be off to Oxford anyway?”
    “I think I will,” said Lara, “just to put my mind at rest.”
    “But you’ll finish your dinner first,” said Cahalane. “Anxiety is an exhausting business. You must eat well and sleep well, Lara. Make sure of it.”
    “I will,” said Lara.
    “Now, where’s that damned waiter with my cheese?”
    Lara laughed.
    “Really, Professor,” she said. “You’re so very English. If you remember, you did ask him to wait before serving dessert.”
    “So I did,” said Cahalane. “Then, I suppose we must wait.”
    Chapter 6
    T wo days later, Samantha was transferred to a psychiatric ward. Her physical health was good, but, as Lara anticipated, there were big questions hanging over her mental health. Samantha’s assessment was expected to take a minimum of seven days. Lara had been advised that her friend was in safe hands and would be supervised at all times. Lara decided to take the opportunity to go to Oxford.
    She took an aisle seat on the 10:22 from Paddington Station. The train started from the station, and Lara was one of the first passengers to get on. There were only a