Temple Of The Moon. Sara Craven

He strode across the yard and up the steps to a pair of imposing louvred doors set in the middle of the verandah facing them. Gabrielle followed him, aware of a sudden pounding in her chest, and damp palms which owed nothing to the prevailing humidity.

      She found herself in a large entrance hall, looking across the exquisitely blocked parquet floor to where a graceful staircase with a wrought iron balustrade swept up in a leisurely curve to the floor above. There were several doors in the hall, all forbiddingly shut, but from behind one of them came the sound of typewriters. Dr Lennox walked to this door and threw it open with an impatient twist of the elaborate handle.

      It was a large room, giving an impression of space in spite of the efficient desks, filing cabinets and small switchboard it contained.

      Two girls were busy typing while a third seemed occupied with a mass of official-looking forms, but she looked up with a smile at the newcomers, her gaze lingering questioningly on Gabrielle.

      ‘Esta es la señorita Christow,’ Dr Lennox remarked, apparently to the room at large. He indicated the camera case he was carrying. ‘Isabella, could you find a safe place for this, por favor?’

      ‘Si.’ The girl rose, quietly composed in her dark dress, her black hair neatly confined at the nape of her neck. ‘Perhaps I should put it in the strong-room.’

      Her voice rose questioningly and Dr Lennox turned to Gabrielle. ‘Does that satisfy?’ His voice was chilly.

      ‘Thank you.’ Gabrielle moistened her lips and smiled over-brightly at Isabella. ‘Gracias. That will be fine. You’re very kind.’

      ‘No hay de que. De nada.’ Isabella lifted her shoulders in a graceful shrug. She paused. ‘You—are going to work here, señorita?’

      ‘I hope so,’ Gabrielle said awkwardly, acutely aware of the tall man who lounged beside her in the doorway, listening.

      ‘Don’t they say “Hope springs eternal in the human breast"?’ he interjected drily before Isabella could begin the polite reply which was already forming on her lips. ‘My advice to you, Miss Christow, is to book your return flight and save yourself and everyone else a lot of needless argument and trouble.’

      ‘That might be more convenient from your point of view, Dr Lennox, but I am here to work, not to creep home with my tail between my legs because of some whim of yours. I prefer to wait for Professor Morgan’s decision!’

      ‘As you wish.’ He shrugged negligently. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Isabella will arrange for Carlos to drive you back to your hotel. Unless common sense prevails with you in the meantime, I expect we shall be in touch. Hasta luego, Miss Christow.’

      Gabrielle felt curiously solitary as the tall figure vanished. She turned back to Isabella, but the girl was already busy at the switchboard, presumably summoning the unknown Carlos. She was to be summarily hustled off the premises, it seemed.

      She gave the other girl a perfunctory smile and wandered back into the hall. The building was very quiet suddenly. Even the distant traffic sounded no louder than the drowsy hum of bees. It was a surprisingly tranquil place, she thought. Too tranquil for someone as abrasive as Dr Lennox. She stared round restlessly at the quiet elegance of the hall, and her attention sharpened as she realised that some of the tall carved doors bore neat name-plates. Could they be the private offices of some of the Institute employees? If so, one of them could be James’. He might be working in there now, totally unaware of her presence. Her fingers clenched a little as she registered the bareness of her left hand. While things remained as they were between them, she had decided not to wear her wedding ring. It was in her small jewellery box at the bottom of her suitcase and it would stay there until matters were resolved.

      ‘You want something, señorita?’ Isabella was standing in the office doorway watching her. She was smiling no longer, and her piquant face held a faintly suspicious look.

      ‘It’s all right,’ Gabrielle said quickly. ‘I’m just—absorbing the atmosphere. It’s such a lovely building, isn’t it?’

      Isabella shrugged, a little dismissively. ‘Es muy viejo—very old,’ she enlarged unwillingly, but she did not offer to show Gabrielle around any of it as she had half hoped she might. In fact, her earlier friendliness had evaporated—with the departure of Dr Lennox, Gabrielle realised ironically.

      She badly wanted to read the names on some of those doors—but not while she was being watched. She glanced around, improvising rapidly. ‘It’s very hot, isn’t it? Muy caliente. I wonder if I could have a drink?’

      Isabella frowned slightly. ‘There will be fruit juice. You want that I fetch?’

      ‘If you would be so kind.’ Gabrielle made herself smile winningly at her.

      Isabella muttered something unintelligible in Spanish, then with an ungracious, ‘Be good enough to wait here, señorita,’ she disappeared down the hall. Gabrielle waited until the click of her heels had died into silence, then whipped across and began examining the nameplates. She had worked down one side of the hall and was just beginning on the other, her ears straining to catch the sound of Isabella’s return, when she found what she was looking for. ‘Dr. J. A. Warner’, the card stated. For a moment she hesitated, then lifted her hand determinedly and knocked. When there was no reply, she knocked again more loudly, then turned the carved handle and went in.

      The anti-climax was complete. The room was quite empty. But it was not merely James’ physical presence that was lacking, Gabrielle realised as she glanced round. Both desk and filing cabinet seemed oddly bare—no comfortable clutter of papers or maps—no pen thrown down as if the room’s occupant would soon be back to resume his interrupted work. The waste basket was empty, and the bookshelves looked as if their contents had been severely pruned. There were a few standard works which Gabrielle recognised as also occupying a place in James’ study at home and a sprinkling of rather dog-eared pamphlets. Gabrielle felt oddly disturbed. At home, James had stamped his personality on the flat—obsessively so. Here, he seemed to have made no impression at all. There was no trace of him—not even an empty pipe.

      Engrossed in her thoughts, her first consciousness that she was no longer alone came with Isabella’s shrill ‘Que hace usted aqui? What are you doing here, señorita?’ from behind her.

      Gabrielle turned hastily and saw the other girl standing in the doorway, holding a glass of fruit juice.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised quickly. ‘I—I wanted somewhere to sit down and there were no seats in the hall.’

      ‘Es privado. Entrance is not permitted to these rooms—there are items of value. If you wish to sit, there is a bench in the courtyard.’

      Gabrielle stiffened. Was Isabella insinuating that she looked like a thief? But she controlled her temper with an effort. After all, her conduct was questionable and Isabella was justified at least in judging her a snooper. It would have been far better to have introduced herself properly and asked for James quite openly, she thought unhappily, but having embarked on this course, she would have to continue with it. She had no intention of explaining herself to Isabella.

      She made her voice equable. ‘I didn’t know these rooms were private or I wouldn’t have intruded. But I don’t see any valuable items—in fact the place looks deserted. Does—does anyone use it?’

      ‘Si, Dr Warner uses it.’

      ‘Do you know where he is?’ Gabrielle found she was holding her breath.

      Isabella stared at her. ‘Why should I know? It is not my concern. There is much work now because soon an expedition starts to the Chiapas. Maybe Dr Warner is in Villahermosa making arrangements. Who knows?’

      ‘In Villahermosa? Are you sure?’

      Isabella gave her a look of baffled hostility. ‘I am sure of nothing, señorita, but it is certain that he was there—with Dr Lennox. Maybe he stays there.’