Even as she said the words she wished them unsaid, for she knew that pheasants would remind Robert once again of Hathaway. Quickly she went on,

‘Seven is always my lucky number anyway, and I shall back it to the limit. Are you feeling rich?’

‘Rich enough for that,’ Robert answered again in that considerate, polite voice which she hated.

‘I will go and get ready,’ Violet said. ‘I shall not be long. We might find someone amusing at the Casino and ask them to dine with us tonight. Have you seen Arthur today?’

Robert shook his head.

‘No, I have seen no one,’ he said, ‘except little Mademoiselle Fântóme. I saw her walking by the shore with her maid. A stray dog had followed her and she was throwing sticks for him.’

Violet realised that Robert was making an effort, as she had done, to speak of other things than Cheveron.

‘She is very lovely – the little ghost,’ Violet said. ‘Was she wearing grey?’

‘Of course! Does she ever wear anything else?’

‘I wonder if she is in mourning or if it is just a clever stunt to attract attention.’

‘If she was in mourning, surely her aunt would be in black.’ Sir Robert said quickly, as if he had considered the matter before and knew the answer.

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Violet said. ‘I don’t trust that woman.’

‘Whom? The aunt?’

‘Yes, there is something sinister and unpleasant about her. Besides, she bullies her niece.’

‘How do you know?’ Violet asked in surprise.

‘I – I guessed,’ Sir Robert replied, but not convincingly, and Violet looked at him curiously.

‘Have you ever spoken to the girl?’ she asked.

She did not know why she asked the question. There was just something strange in the way Robert was speaking of her. There was a little pause before he replied, then he said quietly,

‘No, I haven’t spoken to her.’

Surprisingly Violet felt relieved. It was so ridiculous that she could not for a moment acknowledge the feeling even to herself.

‘If we are going to the Casino, we had better go,’ she said. ‘I won’t he more than five minutes, I promise you.’

She went from the room, shutting the door behind her. When she had gone, Sir Robert walked again to the window and stood looking out. He wondered why he had lied about Mistral, then knew that it was his instinctive desire to protect their acquaintance from chattering tongues, even Violet’s. He had only to say that they had met for Violet to ask him a dozen questions, for everyone in Monte Carlo was avid with curiosity about Mistral and her aunt.

What was the mystery? He wondered. There were all sorts of explanations, but none of them particularly plausible. But one thing was obvious, that if Madame Secret, whoever she might be, had desired to arouse public curiosity and attention, she had more than succeeded.