Star of Light by Patricia M. St. John

Hamid wondered if he was going to snatch her. But he did not touch her. He merely moved behind them, unnoticed in the jostling crowd, and Hamid saw that his black eyes burned with anger and his mouth was closed as tightly as a steel trap.
    Hamid, recovering from his first shock, was not afraid. His stepfather had come to the market on business and would probably leave the town that evening. He had not seen Hamid, nor would he see him, for at the earliest possible moment Hamidwould run off into the mountains and keep company with the monkeys until after dark. He did not worry about Kinza at all—she was in the safekeeping of the English nurse, who loved her and would never let her go. Her home was a fortress that Si Mohamed could never enter.
    Hamid’s master arrived quite soon and was surprised and annoyed to find his assistant under the counter instead of behind it. He boxed his ears, which Hamid did not mind in the least, and took some money off his pay, which he minded quite a lot. Once released, his nimble brown feet crisscrossed the danger zone of the marketplace, where his stepfather lurked, and he made for the cobbled path that ran along the outskirts of the town.
    Kinza, Jenny, and Rosemary made their way home and never noticed the sinister figure of the man who followed them as far as the entrance of the street and stood watching until the door of the house closed behind them. It was almost time for the clinic to open. Usually, while Aunt Rosemary worked there, Kinza sat on the front step in the sunshine and talked to her kitten, and the patients stepped over or around her. But during the past two weeks she had often gone to play with Jenny, who loved looking after her. So now, with her new storybook that she had brought to show her aunt in one hand, and Kinza holding on to the other, Jenny set off to find her mother and father at the hotel.
    The little girls threaded their way through the market crowds and entered the Tower Gardens, which lay between them and the hotel. There was no one inthe gardens, for everyone was busy in the market, and the sleepy silence made Jenny want to linger. She thought of her new book; she had just reached an exciting part, and this would be a lovely, quiet place to sit and read just for five minutes. Her mother had told her she was never to stop between her aunt’s house and the hotel, but after all, her mother did not know what time she set out. She sat down in a pleasant little stone corner near the old archway, with Kinza beside her, and began to read her book.
    It was a story about a child just like Jenny, who had a pony of her own and rode in horse contests, just as she was going to do when she got home. She hardly noticed that Kinza had gotten up and started to wander along the path toward the archway. Kinza often went for little walks, her arms held out in front of her to avoid danger. When she felt she had gone far enough, she would stand still and squeak till someone fetched her back.
    Jenny read on eagerly, for she wanted to reach the end of the chapter and discover whether Annabel’s pony was going to win the cup for jumping or not. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kinza standing in the archway. She must fetch her back in a minute.
    She skimmed to the end and got up quickly with a sigh of relief, because Annabel had won easily. But she felt guilty for having let Kinza stray through the archway alone. “Kinza!” she called eagerly, running into the other part of the gardens, and then she stopped short and her eyes grew big with fright.
    For the green grass in front of her was empty anddeserted—there was no sign of Kinza anywhere.
    With her heart beating wildly, she ran from bush to bush, searching behind every one; up and down the steps she flew, back into the walled garden, but it was no good. Kinza had completely disappeared.
    Jenny rushed out into the market, half-blind with panic, bumping into people who turned to look at her anxiously, pushing her way