There was no time to waste. She needed to act—now. Her first instinct was to warn Philippe, but she stopped in her tracks even as she turned for the stairs. The last place on Earth she needed to be was in Philippe’s bedroom. Even to go upstairs would be sheer folly.

She could leave, she told herself—just walk out. But how would that look?

How could she explain it?

The phone. She could call the palace, order some of the servants back. But would they come? How soon? What if one or more of them were in on it? They wouldn’t even have to be in on it—the truth would be damaging enough. She pictured little Hanan testifying before a qadi in a Sharia court: “I offered to stay, Excellency, but she ordered me to go.”

Think, Amira.

She went to the telephone and dialed her father’s number, praying that someone other than Omar would answer.

“The peace of God.” It was the ancient manservant, Habib.

“The peace of God, Habib. It’s Amira. Please don’t disturb my father. I need to speak with Bahia.”

“Yes, miss—I mean Your Highness.”

Hours seemed to pass before Bahia came on the line.

“Bahia, don’t ask questions. Just get your daughter and any other woman servant you can find and come here now, immediately—don’t waste a minute. If anyone asks what you’re doing, say that Karim and I are ill, and all of our servants are on holiday.”

“I’m coming,” Bahia said simply and hung up.

Amira paced in the kitchen. If Philippe came downstairs, she would send him out of the house instantly. Someone—one of Ali’s relatives, for instance— might walk in at any time. Someone might be on the way at this very moment, for the exact purpose of finding her alone with the foreign male guest.

She returned to the phone and tried Farid. He wasn’t in. Several more calls failed to locate him. There was nothing further to do but wait. Why didn’t Philippe come down? Or was it better if he didn’t?

There was a rattle at the servant’s gate. Amira let in Bahia and her daughter. “I couldn’t find anyone else on such short notice,” Bahia apologized.

“Don’t worry. You’re both angels from Paradise. Come in, come in. What I need right now is for you to look busy. Make coffee, start putting breakfast together, do whatever else needs doing. I want it to look as if you’ve been here all morning.”

As they set to work, she explained about the illustrious house guest, Dr. Rochon, the mysterious decampment of the servants, and her natural concern under the circumstances. She left out only her fear that Ali was behind it all.