Sweet Enchantress Read online

  She combed up her hair in the way that Madame Bertin had showed her, put a touch of colour on either of her cheeks, touched her eyelashes with mascara and, feeling strangely unlike herself, hurried out of the cabin.

  She looked round the deck and saw, up in the prow, Edie Morgan and Victor talking with some important-looking officials covered in gold braid.

  She hurried towards them.

  “There you are, Zaria,” Edie said. “Try and make these men understand that Madame Bertin has already registered as a shopkeeper. They seem intent on believing that we are merely tourists.”

  “Have you told them about Mr. Virdon?” Zaria asked.

  Edie Morgan’s eyebrows went up.

  “About Virdon!” he said. “What about him?”

  “That he is here as an archaeologist,” Zaria replied.

  “No, I hadn’t thought of it,” Edie answered.

  Zaria turned to the two officials and, speaking rather slowly because her Arabic was rusty, explained at some length who Mr. Virdon was and that it was his intention to start his explorations almost immediately.

  As she had expected, the fact that he was both a genuine archaeologist and an American millionaire impressed them considerably. The officials were instantly all smiles and ready to help in every way they could.

  “Mr. Virdon has brought Madame Bertin here as an act of friendship,” Zaria went on. “She is a couturière of great consequence in Paris and her creations will obviously be of great benefit to the shopping facilities of the town.”

  Again there were smiles and promises of help.

  Zaria explained to Edie in English that everything would be all right.

  “The clothes, of course, must go through the Customs,” she said. “But these kind gentlemen will see that there is as little delay as possible. They would now like to make a small tour of the ship.”

  “A mere formality,” one of the officials said and Zaria translated this as well.

  “Perhaps it would be best for the Captain to take them round,” she suggested. “In the meantime, I am sure that they would appreciate a cup of coffee or a drink.”

  Edie and Victor took the hint and hurried off to fetch the Captain and to order Jim to bring coffee and a bottle of cognac to the Saloon immediately. Zaria explained what was happening to the officials.

  “That is most gracious,” they replied. “Is this Mademoiselle’s first visit to Algiers?”

  Zaria shook her head.

  “I was here some years ago,” she answered. “But I have not forgotten how beautiful it is.”

  “You are to work with Mr. Virdon on the excavations?” the other official enquired.

  Zaria nodded.

  “If you will give me the passports, I will see that they are all checked and returned to you immediately,” the official said. “It will save time, mademoiselle, and Mr. Virdon can be assured that every possible facility will be put at his disposal.”

  “That will be very kind,” Zaria smiled.

  She saw the Captain approaching, introduced him to the officials and then went in search of Edie. He was in the Saloon having a drink himself.

  “The Officer would like the passports and he will have them all stamped immediately,” she said. “Shall I collect them?”

  “I’ll do it, miss,” Jim said.

  He had been hovering near the door, obviously interested in what she had to say.

  “Thank you, Jim,” Zaria replied.

  To her surprise she found that Edie was scowling.

  “Is that usual?” he said. “This passport racket?”

  “But, of course,” Zaria answered. “You cannot enter any country without going through the Customs and the passport controls. What about getting Madame Bertin’s luggage ashore?”

  “No hurry for that,” Edie snapped. “Take it easy, can’t you?”

  Zaria subsided into silence, feeling that there was no reason for him to shout at her and at that moment Jim came back into the Saloon with a pile of passports in his hand.

  “I’ve got hold of everyone’s, including yours, miss, with the exception of Mr. Tanner’s,” he said. “He will have taken his ashore with him.”

  “Ashore!” Zaria said quickly. “Has he gone ashore?”

  “Yes, miss. Went off as soon as we’d docked.”

  “Here, what’s that?” Edie Morgan asked. “Who said anyone could go ashore? I thought nobody was allowed off?”

  “Anyone can go ashore, sir, as long as they go through the Customs Office.”

  “Where’s the damned fellow gone?” Edie asked. “He should have told me. No right to go rushing off like that. I don’t like it. Where did he say he was going?”

  “He didn’t say, sir.”

  “Did he tell you?” Edie enquired, glaring at Zaria.

  She shook her head.

  “No, I had no idea that he would take the opportunity of going ashore. If you remember last night you told Madame Bertin that we would not be in Port until eleven o’clock.”

  “Did I?”

  Edie asked the question unconvincingly and she had the feeling that he had known all the while that they would be in earlier.

  She could not help feeling anxious and worried.

  Supposing Chuck had left her? Supposing, having reached Algiers, he had achieved exactly what he wanted and gone hurrying off to his mother without troubling any more about her?

  She somehow could not believe that he would do such a thing and yet he had gone without leaving a note or even a message for her.

  The officials, having made a perfunctory tour of the ship, went from the yacht, taking a pile of passports with them.

  “Well, let’s hope that’s all O.K.,” Edie said doubtfully, turning to Victor.

  “They certainly didn’t seem to pick on any snag,” Victor answered.

  “Is that the last of these goddam snoopers?” Edie asked.

  He had hardly said the words when he seemed to realise that Zaria was there and turned upon her quickly.

  “Run down and tell Madame Bertin to come up if she’s dressed,” he commanded.

  “Very well,” Zaria replied.

  She went from the Saloon, but as she closed the door she heard Victor say,

  “You preach to us, Edie. Getting to be a bit indiscreet yourself, aren’t you?”

  What was all the mystery about, Zaria wondered, as she went below to summon Madame Bertin.

  Then, as it seemed that no one required her services, she went up on deck.

  It was the first time that she had been able to have a look at their surroundings. There were ships of every size and description in the beautiful semi-circular harbour and behind it the white flat-topped buildings rose tier upon tier towards the great fortress where the old bronze cannons still watched over the harbour.

  It was then, almost as if he was part of a dream, she saw Chuck coming up the gangway.

  For a moment she could only stare at him and then with a little cry of joy she sprang forward to run towards him.

  “Oh, Chuck, where have you been? I was so worried, I was so afraid you would not come back!”

  “Did you really think I would do such a thing?” he asked.

  “I – wasn’t sure. Why did you not tell me you were going?”

  “I guessed you were asleep,” he answered. “And, besides, I didn’t particularly want to advertise my intentions. I had to go ashore.”

  “Edie’s angry,” she said. “He found out that you had gone when the Officers asked for our passports.”

  “Is there any trouble about them?” Chuck enquired.

  Zaria shook her head.

  “Not that I know of. They have not come back yet.”

  “Well, mine has been passed at any rate,” Chuck said. “So that needn’t worry anyone. And now let’s face the Headmaster.”

  He walked across the deck and opened the door of the Saloon.

  Edie looked up and said angrily,

  “Ah, here you are, Tanner. Where
the heck have you been?”

  “Ashore,” Chuck answered. “Any objections?”

  “A great many. Why didn’t you tell us you were going?”

  “I really didn’t think of it,” Chuck answered. “As a matter of fact there was somebody I particularly wanted to see.”

  “Who?”

  The question rang across the Saloon like a pistol shot.

  “Just a friend,” Chuck answered. “As a matter of fact it is rather a personal matter. The friend I wanted to see was – well – a lady.”

  It seemed to Zaria as if Edie relaxed. There was even a hint of amusement in his eyes as he said,

  “So that’s why you were so mysterious?”

  “Exactly! You must see that you are making it rather embarrassing for me,” Chuck replied.

  “If you had been open with me, I shouldn’t have been curious,” Edie said. “But let me make this quite clear. No one on this ship is to go off or move about without asking my permission. You and Zaria are employed to work for us and now we are at Algiers there’s a lot to do.”

  “Would you like us to engage transport and workmen to help with the excavation?” Zaria asked. “It’s best to book them as far in advance as possible, otherwise the best are always snapped up by someone else.”

  “Well, I think that’s quite an idea,” Edie said. “You and your young man get busy on that at once. Or, rather, on second thoughts, let Tanner do that. I think I shall want you, Zaria, to do a little interpreting for me.”

  “Yes, of course,” Zaria said trying not to sound disappointed that she could not go with Chuck.

  “You get busy then, Tanner, and engage the diggers – or whatever they are called – and leave the rest to Mr. Virdon. By the way, where are these people found?”

  “I’m told there is a bureau that deals with them near the Sidi M’Hamed Mosque,” Chuck answered. “I will go there and see what I can do.”

  “Wait a few moments and I’ll come with you,” Victor said.

  “That will be fine,” Chuck answered.

  Zaria saw a look pass between Victor and Edie. She did not understand what it meant or what they were trying to convey to each other. She had the strange feeling that they were waiting for something, just sitting around playing for time.

  Yet there did not seem any sense in such an idea because they had wanted to come to Algiers and here they were.

  “What about a drink?” Edie said.

  Madame Bertin, who had been sitting in a chair staring at her fingernails, replied,

  “I want some coffee, black coffee and – ma foi – see that it’s hot.”

  Edie rang the bell and when Jim appeared gave the order. And then, as the Steward left, Zaria heard the low voice of a sailor speaking to him outside. He came back into the Saloon.

  “There’s a man here, sir, who says he has a message for Mr. Morgan.”

  “Show him in. Show him in at once,” Edie said, springing out of his chair and seeming galvanised into life.

  There was a pause and a silence in which no one spoke and then into the Saloon came a small thin little man with a fez on his head and a peculiar, half-Eastern, half-European get-up that ended with his feet being encased in brown boots.

  “A message for Mr. Morgan,” he said in a sing-song voice, smiling at the assembled company.

  “Give it to me,” Edie commanded.

  He took a piece of paper out of the man’s hand, read it and then said abruptly,

  “There’s no answer.”

  The little man with the fez still stood waiting expectantly.

  “I think,” Chuck said in an amused voice, “the messenger is expecting to be rewarded for his services.”

  “What’s that?” Edie enquired. “Oh, give him a dollar, if anyone’s got one.”

  “I have some French money,” Chuck said and threw the man a coin, which he caught in the air and, with a salaam, vanished through the cabin door.

  Zaria could see that both Madame Bertin and Victor were watching Edie. And then, while they waited for him to speak, she felt Chuck’s hand on her arm.

  “Come with me,” he said quietly.

  The other people in the Saloon made no attempt to stop them as they went. Chuck led her across the deck until they were out of earshot.

  “What’s it all about?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “And I don’t want you to be mixed up in it either. I am wondering if it would be better for you to come away with me now, at this moment.”

  “Come away with you? Leave the ship?” Zaria asked. “But, why? I cannot do that.”

  “But I am worried about you,” he said.

  “What are you afraid of?” Zaria asked. “Chuck, please tell me, tell me the truth. What do you think these people are doing?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” Chuck answered. “Just trust me to try and do the right thing.”

  “What about your mother?” she asked.

  “My mother is much better,” he answered quickly. “I telephoned her when I left the ship this morning.”

  “So that’s what you went to do,” Zaria said.

  “Of course,” he answered, “but I couldn’t tell them so, could I? I have a feeling they wouldn’t like me to have relations in Algiers.”

  “They are mysterious, aren’t they?” Zaria said. “I wish I knew what was behind it all and why Mr. Virdon is so peculiar.”

  “Don’t worry,” Chuck said. “I have told you before, leave the worrying to me. And now I am going off to find some porters, as soon as Victor condescends to be ready.”

  Almost as if his thoughts had communicated themselves to the people inside the Saloon, as he spoke the last words the door opened and Victor put his head round.

  “Tanner!” he shouted. “Tanner! Where are you?”

  Chuck walked back towards the Saloon followed by Zaria. They had left three people silent and inactive. Now all three seemed to be filled with impatience and a desire to get going.

  “Tanner, you and Victor go off at once and sort out these porters,” Edie ordered. “And on the way drop Madame Bertin at the shop. Zaria, you are to come with me.”

  Edie seemed almost like a general deploying his troops and there was no question of the fact that they were ready to obey him.

  Chuck, Victor and Madame Bertin set off at once, while Edie went round to the other side of the yacht to look for Mr. Virdon.

  Zaria ran below to fetch her coat in case it was cold and, as she came on deck again, she heard Edie saying,

  “For Pete’s sake look interested even if you’re not. There’s a hell of a lot to do and we can’t afford to slip up having got as far as this.”

  “I can’t see why you want me to come along,” she heard Mr. Virdon say. “There’s nothing I can do.”

  “For crying out loud!” Edie sounded angry. “You can look the part, can’t you – ”

  He stopped suddenly as he saw Zaria.

  “Hurry up,” he said as if she had kept him waiting. “We haven’t got all day to waste.”

  They went ashore, hailed a taxi and drove away from the harbour. They travelled through broad streets crowded with traffic until they came to the entrance to the Kasbah, where they dismissed the taxi.

  Here the narrow winding streets, shaped like defiles, dark and frequently vaulted over, climbed aimlessly uphill. There were sinister windowless houses, mysterious doorways and an incongruous medley of stalls.

  The people were moving so closely together that it was hard to get through the crowds. There were shouts, smells and noise. Moorish cafés with men sitting outside playing chess, craftsmen embroidering leather, cobblers, women pounding coffee with heavy lead pestles in stone mortars and weavers working on low-warp looms.

  It all seemed to Zaria like a picture from The Arabian Nights as they walked down first one alley and then another, seemingly to lose their way in the labyrinths of a human-filled maze.

  She thought at first that Edie, who strode ahead,
was walking at random and then she realised that he had a piece of paper in his hand, which he consulted every now and then.

  On one occasion when he stopped, she drew near enough to look round his shoulder.

  When she did so she realised that the piece of paper he had was the same one that the messenger had brought him. It was not a message but a map. Made by hand, it was in fact little more than a rough drawing.

  Still they went on, another twist, another turn, and now they stopped in front of a low booth that displayed innumerable slippers of tooled leather.

  There were also bags and belts and anything that could be ornamented with the elaborate designs of the native craftsmen.

  The merchant, an Arab, wearing elaborate native dress, bowed low.

  Edie gave him a glimpse of the piece of paper that he held in his hand. The man glanced quickly up and down the street behind them and then beckoned them into the booth.

  It was nothing more than a tiny room made of curtains. The shopkeeper pulled aside a hanging of ornamental leather and Zaria saw that behind it was a door studded with nails.

  There was a moment’s pause and then the door swung inwards.

  “Quickly! Do not delay,” the merchant entreated.

  Bending his head, Edie went through the door followed by Mr. Virdon.

  Just for a moment Zaria hesitated. Then she looked up at the Arab. There was a smile on his lips but his expression made her suddenly afraid.

  Greed and avarice were written vividly and unmistakably on his face as he watched the backs of the two Americans passing through the small dark door.

  The room in which they now found themselves was small and low and hung with silk rugs. There were several fat cushions arranged round a big brass tray.

  “Do you think he is here?”

  It was Mr. Virdon who broke the silence.

  “He’d darned well better be,” Edie answered. “After all the trouble we’ve had to get here.”

  “One never knows with natives,” Mr. Virdon replied.

  As it the waiting was too much for him, Edie turned almost savagely to Zaria.

  “Ask the man if the Sheik is here,” he said.

  “What is his name?” Zaria enquired.

  “What’s that got to do with you?” Edie retorted.

  “I, personally, am not in the least interested,” Zaria answered coldly, “but it is impolite to ask someone in Arabic without mentioning his name. They expect it and you must remember the language is very flowery.”