Margery Hilton - The House of The Amulet

Printed in Great Britain

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the Author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names.

They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the Author, and all the incidents are pure invention. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or, by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

First published 1970

This edition 1978

This edition Margery Hilton 1978

For copyright reasons, this book may not be issued on loan or otherwise except in its original soft cover.

ISBN o 263 7284t 2

The house of the Amulet by Margery Hilton

When Melissa's sister Avril disappeared into thin air, somewhere in Morocco, Melissa lost no time in setting off in search for her. 'Fear not the desert, nor the destiny you deny,' a sand diviner had told her but Melissa did fear the desert, and she feared the dark, arrogant Raoul Germont even more. Why was Avril carrying out such a fantastic masquerade on his behalf? And was Melissa too going to fall under his spell...

`I AM sorry, mademoiselle, I wish with all my heart that I could be of more assistance, but ...'

Philippe St Clair's smile was rueful and his gesture eloquent as he looked at the young English girl who gazed at him so anxiously across the wide desk.

Melissa managed a smile, even though disappointment was heavy in her heart, and stood up, offering her hand to the courteous young Frenchman. 'You've been very kind, monsieur, and I've taken up far too much of your time, already.'

'But no!' Hastily he reassured her otherwise, a hint of regret mingling with admiration in a glance that at any other time would have assured Melissa that her fresh young charm lacked nothing to his Gallic eye. But at the moment her cornflower blue eyes were shadowed with worry, the same worry that caused her soft curved mouth to droop in a way that was infinitely appealing, had she but known it.

Philippe frowned and checked his movement towards the door of the cool airy office that was situated in a quiet cul-de-sac in the business sector of Casablanca. He said, 'One momentyou have enquired at your Consulate, mademoiselle?'

'YesterdayI've asked everywhere,' she said despairingly. don't know where to start looking. My sister seems to have disappeared into thin air. I just can't understand it. She seemed to love her job here,

and Casablanca, andand everything. Why should she just throw it all over so suddenly andand disappear? Without telling a soul where she was going? My mother's dreadfully worried. That's why I decided to come out and try to find her, before I start my new job and get tied up until I'm due for holidays again.'

She sighed. 'But you are busy, I mustn't interrupt any longer. Thank you for being so understanding, especially as my sister hasn't been very considerate in leaving you at such short notice.'

'It is of no consequence. You are not your sister. It is a pleasure ...' He held open the door and bowed. 'But, please, if I can be of any assistance in any way while you are here, do not hesitate to contact me. Promise?'

She nodded, smiling her thanks again, and a moment or so later she emerged into the waves of heat laden air that seemed more acutely marked after the coolness of the air-conditioning in the young Directeur's spacious office.

Impervious to the alien colour and bustle of the city, Melissa wandered along in the vague direction of her hotel. What now? And where? Oh, where was Avril? she wondered despairingly. Why hadn't she told them she was leaving her job, a job she'd pulled strings to land, playing blatantly on the indulgence of an old business colleague of their late father? The shadows veiled Melissa's eyes again. If only her father had been with them still; he would have known what to do, how to find Avril. He had been the only one who could ever make the wilful Avril see reason, who could command Avril's obedience. Certainly their

mother couldn't, she was as ineffectual regarding her spoilt daughter as Melissa felt at that moment.

She opened her bag and took out the last two letters Avril had written home. The first one told her nothing, merely a little about the apartment Avril 'adored' and'which Melissa had already located, only to find a stranger in residence who knew nothing of the former tenant, not even her name. There was a guarded reference to Philippe St Clair, whose charming features were still fresh in Melissa's memory, and a casual reference to someone called Sonia, who had a 'divine villa' at Rabat, and that was all. The rest of the scrappy letter consisted of a description of an Arabian silver snake bracelet she had bought in the souk.

It was the second letter which was so disturbing, and which had caused their mother to write two anxious letters, neither of which had succeeded in eliciting any reply, and finally Melissa's decision to fly out to Morocco.

Avril had written :

'Just a line to tell you not to write me at this address after the fifteenth as I'm moving. I've got the chance of a super new job, temporary, but it is still worth packing in my present one because for one thing the financial end is terrific and I'll be living lush with practically nothing to do, also I'll be travelling, and you know my wanderlust. Honestly, darlings, I'd be an idiot to turn it down. However, I can't give you an address to write to as I don't know myself where I'll be and when, so I thought I'd better let you know, and if you do want to be bothered writing it'll have to be c/o American Ex

press for a week or two. Think of me lotus eating love, Avril.'

Lotus eating ! thought Melissa despairingly. Not a hint of what the wonderful job t o night be, where it might be, and, more important, with whom! Mrs Blair had been frantic, despite Melissa's own conviction that Avril was quite capable of taking care of her worldly self and was well aware of all the pitfalls poor Mrs Blair's fertile imagination could conjure forth. Really, Avril was the limit ! Why all the secrecy?

But why were her letters still lying uncollected in their pigeonhole at the American Express? It wasn't only exasperating; it was frightening.

Melissa returned to the name in the first letter. Sonia. A villa in Rabat. It was so little to go on. If only she knew the surname she might be able to trace the unknown Sonia, perhaps find some indication of Avril's plans, perhaps even some information which would help her to trace Avril. But with only the first name...

Melissa sighed, still not aware that her steps had led in a totally different direction to that which she had intended taking. The pensive veil cleared from her gaze and a small exclamation escaped her as she took in the narrow, sun baked alley into which she had wandered. A woman shrouded in a black hooded djellaba, only her eyes visible above a thin dark veil, watched her silently from a doorway, a white robed man in a red fez brushed past, giving her a curious glance, and two emaciated dogs snarled over a scrap of decaying refuse in the centre gutter.

Melissa quickened her step along the alley, con

scious of the inky shadows lengthening and that she had no idea how far she had wandered. She reached the end of the alley, only to emerge into a street that was little wider than the one she'd just traversed, and looked uncertainly to left and right. She seemed to have landed in the native quarter. In the moments while she pondered turning back and trying to retrace her steps she heard the voices and saw the rush of urchins.