whom, your sister was going. Instead,' he shrugged with charming shame, allowed pique to claim me because a cool little English miss showed herself completely proof against me. So this way I can make amends, if only you will permit me.'
'Well, if you are sure ...' she said doubtfully, 'but I could hire a car and try myself if . .
`No, you must not,' he said with an expression of horror. 'Supposing that you also vanished! Mon Dieu! No, I insist. But it is a long drive. We must start off very early, so that we have plenty of time to search. And now,' he smiled, 'that is agreed? Then shall we dance . . .?'
It had been a delightful evening, even more delightful for being unexpected, and Philippe the most charming and attentive escort a girl could wish for, thought Melissa very early the following morning as she lay in bed and sipped her morning tea. How different he was from the autocratic stranger she had encountered the previous afternoon. And yet . Melissa frowned into space. His arrogant hawklike features had an annoying way of leaping back into her mind's eye, as though that compelling power could still reach round her from time and space. But why, goodness only knew. He certainly hadn't endeared himself to her. He was neither charming, gentle nor sympathetic, on the contrary, he . . .
Melissa pushed the thought away and contemplated the day ahead, aware of a lightening of her spirits as she thought of Philippe St Clair. What a difference it made when there was someone with understanding to share problems.
Philippe arrived promptly in a sleek, powerful
Mercedes convertible. Following his advice she had donned a filmy white headscarf and enormous amberframed sunglasses, and once they were clear of the city she realised the reason for his advice. Philippe believed in speed, and soon the wind was whipping the flying ends of her scarf and trying to tease out every unguarded tendril of hair.
He had chosen to take the coast road and in a very short time they passed Mohammedia and the road was winding along near the sea. Melissa said wistfully : 'How tempting it looks. Do you know, I haven't been in the water yet.'
'I'm afraid you are going to be unlucky today,' Philippe told her. `If we once set foot on one of those beaches I can assure you we will not discover our mysterious house today.' However, he did stop long enough for them to partake of tiny cups of sweet black coffee and sugary almond croissants which left their telltale feathery flakes round Melissa's mouth and evoked a great deal of teasing amusement from Philippe. She was laughing when they got into the car and resumed the journey, and the warm lights were glowing in Philippe's dark eyes. But they had sobered by the time they neared the capital and Melissa began to wonder dazedly where they were to begin their search for a house they knew neither the name of nor where it was situated. However, Philippe looked a great deal more confident than she felt, and over lunch he propounded his theory.
'The way I see it,' he said thoughtfully, `we won't have to go too far from the city. When Americans take a villa they want every civilised amenity, their ice and comfort. They like their water sports and sophisti
cated amusements, so we will try the most popular plages first, and we will enquire among the locals about a house such as your sister described. But again,' he pursed his mouth wryly, 'you must not hope too much. You must remember that Moorish decoration frequently included symbols which your sister might have described as amulets. It is the aviary of birds on which I am pinning my hopes.'
All during that long, sunbaked afternoon Melissa tried to maintain an air of confidence, but as the hours and miles passed she could not ward off bemusement. Palmfringed boulevards, dazzling beaches, white villas, Spanish villas, plain and stark, elaborate and landscaped, sunbleached stone and pinkwashed brick, cars, tourists, donkeys, sunvarnished bodies and boats and beach umbrellas, and another turning on a road that went on forever, and another vista of more white villas and ...
`Oh, Philippe, you must be exhausted,' she said when they flopped back into the car and stared at the deepening haze in the west. 'Please turn back. There's that long drive back and you must be tired.'
'Driving does not bother me,' he smiled, 'not when I have so charming a companion.'
'You're very kind, but you mustn't worry any more. I'll have to ...'
'You have to do nothing. I do not like being defeated and this was my suggestion. But I do know one thing,' he said with a sigh, cannot face one more cafe table and mint tea! Now, I wonder .. .' He reached again for the map and spread it across his knees, tracing their routes with the tip of a slim silver pencil.
She sat silent, not for the first time secretly cursing the thoughtless Avril, and then rebuking herself. If anything had happened to her sister she would never forgive herself for the impatient condemnation. Philippe gave a murmur, raised his brows at her enquiring glance, and briskly folded the map. He switched on the engine again and said briefly : 'One last detour. Maybe this will prove our goal. Put your faith in Kismet, mon ami
He took a minor turning a little farther on and drove more slowly, scanning the open countryside and frowning slightly. Presently the road dipped through a shady grove of palms and opened out as the trees thinned and the beginning of a village straggled into view. The sea came into sight as the road topped a rise and there was an untidy rash of partly built chalets strewing the long shallow incline down to a wide deserted bay.
'They are opening out—developing a new tourist centre here,' Philippe explained, 'and I believe there are a few villas farther on which were built solely for letting to wealthy visitors.'
'They're spoiling all the beautiful places now with this endless tearing up and building hotels and flats that haven't a scrap of character about them,' she said sadly. 'It seems a shame '
'The march of progress,' he responded flatly. 'And it does bring a measure of prosperity that is often sorely needed. Ah, we will ask this old lady and pray that she understands my patois.'
He slowed to a halt as they overtook an elderly woman wending her way home and carrying an enormous basket of provisions on one arm as she hauled a
sleepy-eyed child along in her wake.
The child promptly forgot its sleepiness and came to stare at the car and Melissa. She smiled at it and shook her head at the question she couldn't understand, then recalled that she should still have a few fruit drops in a packet in her bag and sorted them out. The language of sweets was universal, she thought, watching the small cheek bulge and the owner turn its attention to the colourful array of badges adorning the front of the Mercedes. But Philippe didn't seem to be having much more success this time than on all the foregoing times Melissa had now lost count of. He seemed to be having difficulty in making the old woman understand, and Melissa experienced a fresh sense of futility. Even if they did trace either the villa where the American Sonia stayed or the house with the amulets there was little hope of it leading to Avril. The American woman had probably left ages ago, after all, several weeks had elapsed, and it was unlikely that she would stay for a great length of time, unless she had friends or business interests to keep her there, and as for the mysterious house and its owner; well, Avril had admitted to trespassing. What proof did they have that she'd ever gone back . . .? Then she saw Philippe turning back towards the car with an expression of triumph lighting his face. Melissa took a deep breath and found she was holding it as he jumped lithely into the driving seat.
'Have you . . .?'
think we have—at last!' he grinned. 'There was a party of Americans staying here in one of the new villas—but they left only a couple of weeks ago, unfortunately, and our amulet house is a couple of kilo
metres farther down this road.'
'I don't believe it,' breathed Melissa.
'You will very soon—though the party of Americans may not have been Sonia's crowd.'
'Did the old lady know anything about the owner of the amulet house?'
Philippe frowned. 'I am still trying to sort that out. Her French was very limited and my Arabic is anything but fluent, but I gathered that this house was
owned by the old Amghar of Kadir—Kadi el Kebir—wherever that is—and now belongs to the young Amghar of Kadir, but he is rarely seen there, and the tigemmi has received the young lalla from across the aguedal, whom the new Kadi el Kebir is expected to
,
take as his bride because the old Arnghar
'Start again,' said Melissa. 'Slowly.'
'This house seems to be part of an estate belonging to an old French–Moroccan family, but don't ask me where the rest of it is, and whoever he is he seems to be held in some esteem, apparently known as the great lord or judge, past tense, because a new Amghar means the old boy has passed on. Anyway, it's a start, so let's go, mademoiselle!'
`Did you ask about the aviary of singing birds?' Melissa asked.
'I did. This was what brought the first sign of recognition, then the family history began,' Philippe grinned. 'There was a great deal more, if I'd been able to follow it more clearly.'
'Yes,' said Melissa, her mind already miming along another line of thought. 'If nobody is living there who is looking after those poor little birds?'
`Oh, mon ami!' Philippe slowed to take a sharp
bend in the track. 'Let us worry about your sister first.'
'Yes, I know, but surely no one would leave all those birds caged without food and water. Not in this heat. They'd die.'
'What a tender-hearted little creature you are.' Philippe braked and turned to look at her, his expression amused. `Do you save all that tenderness for
birds?'
She smiled ruefully. 'Maybe it seems silly to you, but I can't help feeling this way for creatures who suffer because human beings don't care.' She hesitated, colouring a little under a dark stare that had become rather intent. 'Are we there?' she asked, looking at the wild spiky scrub bordering the track.
`Not quite.' Philippe's dark gaze did not waver. was reflecting on how totally different you are from your sister. Forgive me, it is I who digress from our purpose.'
The car rolled forward again and a few minutes later passed into the inky shadows of a high wall that was flush with the edge of the road. Outside a narrow grilled gate Philippe drew to a halt and gestured.
think this is our destination. Shall I investigate first?'
`No—I'm coming with you. Look !' She pointed at the curved shape let into the grille. 'Is that the amulet?' She sprang out of the car and went to examine it more closely, shading her eyes against the brilliant lattice of sunlight pouring through the gate.
It was more of a wishbone shape than a horseshoe. An inverted half moon crossed the lower point of the curve, two little star shaped pieces tipped the points of the crescent and two curved bars crossed the arc of the
shoe itself. Melissa's eyes narrowed. She was certain that she'd never seen this particular talisman before, yet somehow it seemed familiar. She thrust at the gate, then turned to Philippe. 'It's locked.'
'There will be another one,' he said calmly. 'Come, we will find it.'
Sure enough, farther along, round the angle of the wall, they came to another more imposing entrance. This was wider, wide enough to permit the passage of a car, and it swung open to the touch. Wonderingly, after a glance at the amulet, she passed through and looked at the long, beautifully tended garden within.
There were the almond trees, the pools with their tiled surrounds and lotus blossoms glistening under the soft spray of the fountains, and somewhere unseen singing birds trilled and chirruped. The path wound under a series of pergolas and opened on to a paved courtyard fronting the house. Above the Moorish colonnade was a long balcony of intricately wrought iron and below was a massive door of studded bronze. On the door hung the amulet, and over the house and garden there brooded a silence that made Melissa draw nearer to Philippe without realising that she did so.
She stared up at the amulet, and the heavy ring beneath it, and listened to the dull sonorous echoes as Philippe plied the ring against its base.
She did not really believe that there would be any response, until a soft clicking noise drew her attention to the small grille at eye level and the panel that had slid away behind it. Light gleamed on the eye that stared into her own, and with a small exclamation she drew back. Philippe's hand steadied on her arm, and
the door swung slowly open.
An impassive faced manservant stood there. His eyes dark and suspicious in his swarthy, heavy jowled features, he made no sign of enquiry or greeting, merely waited for them to speak.
After a glance at Melissa the young Frenchman said courteously : 'May we speak with your master? We wish his aid.'
'My master is not at home, monsieur,' the man said in a thick, heavily accented voice. 'What is your business with El Amghar?'
Philippe hesitated. We have come a long way. We had hoped ...'
'Perhaps I may be able to assist Monsieur. You are tourists, in difficulties, perhaps?'
'No.' Melissa took a deep breath. We are looking for someone. My sister. I believe she came here some little while ago. She told us she
'A young English lady?'
'Oh yes!' Melissa's face lit up hopefully. 'She described this house and the Amghar—at least I think it must have been the Amghar—and we wondered if ... You see, we've lost touch with her and it's terribly important that we find her. Have you any idea where she went? If she went with the American lady called Sonia. You see
Philippe's grasp tightened on her arm and silenced her. He said, `We know Miss Avril Blair came here. And we feel sure your master will remember her and be able to help us to find out what happened to her.'
am sorry, monsieur,' the man was stepping back,
know no one of that name.'
'Yes, but ... are you sure?' Philippe said urgently.
'She did come here several weeks ago.'
The door was beginning to close. 'There has been no young English lady of that name here, monsieur.'
'But maybe you did not see her,' said Melissa desperately.
have been here all the time. I assure you, mademoiselle, there has been no English lady here, ever. You must be mistaken. I am sorry, I cannot help you, and neither can my master. Bonjour, mademoiselle . . . monsieur.'
The door closed, leaving Philippe staring at it, and Melissa with all the colour drained from her face.
think perhaps I did make a mistake. That
cannot have been the house of which Avril spoke.'
'I'm positive it was,' said Melissa. just have an instinct that we were on the right track, and what's more I didn't believe that manservant when he said he'd never seen Avril. There was something about his expression .. .' She sighed. `Oh, I don't know .
They had finished a very late dinner after their long drive back from Rabat and were sitting in a secluded corner of the lounge in Melissa's hotel. Philippe nursed a drink, and his dark brows were drawn into a
worried frown. am almost inclined to agree with
you,' he said slowly, 'except . it is quite possible
that he did not see Avril, even if she was there that day.'
Melissa could see the truth of this, yet some instinct persisted that Avril had returned to that house of the singing birds and the strange amulets. She said in a troubled voice : 'What are we going to do next? She
must be somewhere. But where?'
'Morocco is a large country in which to search,' Philippe said gently. think now you should rest. You must be weary, mon ami, you are not yet used to all this sun.'
She smiled faintly. She did feel utterly weary, almost lightheaded. can never thank you enough for your help, Philippe,' she said impulsively.
'It is nothing.' He shook his head. 'If I may, I will call you tomorrow. Perhaps a new day may bring new hope.' He rose with her and walked with her towards the lift. 'Bonne nuit—try to forget to worry for a little while.'
He took her hand and raised it to his lips, then stood back, giving a small inclination of his head as the lift doors opened and she stepped inside.
She felt strangely alon
e and bereft as she was borne up to her floor. Back in her room the first thing she saw was the letter she had left unfinished the previous evening. Her heart felt leaden again; how was she going to break the news to her mother that all her efforts to trace Avril had ended at blank walls? If it hadn't been for Philippe ...
She began to make preparations to retire and she was on the point of switching off the bedside lamp when a thought occurred; she had not enquired at the desk when she returned with Philippe. There might have been a message for her from one of the many sources where she had made enquiries. She hesitated. It was a slender hope, but she might as well ring down and have it quenched ...
The day clerk had gone off and the voice that responded sounded vague, with its 'One moment, made
moiselle There was a long wait that seemed interminable, and she was on the point of giving up when the voice came, more sure now. 'Yes, there was a message earlier this evening ... Mademoiselle did not receive it ...?'
'No.' She was breathless.
'The name was Blair, mademoiselle. A gentleman on behalf of Miss Avril Blair. She wishes you to go to her immediately, and a car will be sent for you tomorrow at eight o hours. That was the message, mademoiselle. Do you wish a copy?'
No, thank you—thank you very much.' She put the receiver down and experienced a wave of relief that made her feel weak. Avril was safe ! Thank heaven; Avril was all right.
She stared at the telephone, tempted to ring down again and ask for the written copy, if only to convince herself that she hadn't imagined it. Of course she hadn't imagined it; tomorrow she would see Avril, and wouldn't she give that young lady a piece of her mind for all the worry she had caused, to say nothing of an enforced—and expensive—holiday Melissa had not intended to take.
It was not until she was lying in the darkness that the questions began to loom. Why hadn't Avril phoned in person? Why hadn't she come herself if she ...? How had she known Melissa was here?
The house of the Amulet Page 3
