Star of Light by Patricia M. St. John Page A

in and out, searching frantically, with her pale, tear-stained cheeks and big, frightened eyes.
    At last she stood still, completely out of breath, and because there was nowhere else to look, and because she did not like people staring at her, she went back to the garden and stood alone by the archway, trying to decide what to do next.
    She simply could not go back. Aunt Rosemary had trusted her alone with Kinza, and she had failed completely in her trust. What would her aunt say? And worse still, where was Kinza? Had something terrible happened to her? Was she frightened or hurt and crying out, wondering why Jenny did not come to her? Jenny did not know. She burst into tears and ran sobbing to the hotel, up the stairs to her mother’s room, and into her arms.
    When Mrs. Swift finally managed to understand what had happened, she went rather white too. She dried Jenny’s eyes and took her by the hand.
    “We must go and tell Auntie Rosemary at once,” she said quietly. “We’ll have one more look in the marketplace on the way.”
    Jenny stood quite still. “I
can’t
go to Aunt Rosemary,” she said tragically, “I just
can’t
, Mummy.You’ll have to go and tell her.”
    “No,” said Mrs. Swift, still quietly but very firmly, “you must come and tell her yourself. You see, Jenny, this has happened because you were disobedient and untrustworthy, and you must be brave and take the blame you deserve. And we must go now, at once, because if anyone has taken Kinza, every moment may matter. Daddy will come with us.”
    It was a silent little party that set out from the hotel. Mr. Swift suggested that he should do one more quick search of the marketplace while Jenny and her mother searched the gardens again. Ten minutes later they met again, solemn and worried.
    “Well,” said Mr. Swift, “the sooner we get Rosemary onto this the better. She can speak the language and question people.”
    They met Rosemary coming across the market to look for Kinza at the hotel, as it was dinnertime. Mr. Swift told her what had happened, and while he spoke, Jenny stood a little apart, her eyes fixed on the ground, not daring to look at her aunt’s face. She wondered what her aunt would say, and whether she would be angry with her right there in the middle of the market. But nothing was said about her carelessness just then. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about it. All they were thinking about was Kinza.
    They went back to the walled garden to see the exact place so that Rosemary could question the shopkeepers nearest the spot, but no one could give her any news. Whatever had happened had happened just on the other side of the archway, and the archway was hidden from the road by a high wall.There were three exits from that part of the garden, and one led straight out onto a lonely country road that branched off in the next couple of miles into a dozen wild mountain tracks.
    “There are two possibilities,” said Rosemary at last, when all questioning had proved useless. “One is that she has been kidnapped for the sake of her clothes, and in that case the police might help us. The other is that her own people have decided they want her back and have stolen her away. In that case I’m afraid she has gone for good. After all, I have no claim against her own people. I don’t even know where she came from; I only know she was not a local child.” She stopped short as a new idea came into her head. “I wonder where Hamid is,” she went on eagerly. “I’ve often thought he had something to do with her—he might be able to give us some clue.”
    But not one of the boys who had collected to see what was going on knew where Hamid was. He had been at his job that morning, and was last seen heading for the mountains. Everyone volunteered to go look for him, and they scattered in all directions, for the Englishman would no doubt reward the finder handsomely. But no one succeeded in finding Hamid, for he was far up the ravine between