She wrenched open the drawer of the dressing table. The jewellery was there as Stella had said it would be. There was the diamond necklace in its velvet lined case and the other articles of jewellery, each shining and glittering as Chrissie opened their boxes to look at them. For a moment she only stared at the gems, then suddenly she hugged them against her narrow breast. They were hers – hers to convert into money, to hoard or to spend as she wished.

She chuckled to herself and the sound was eerie in the empty silence of the room.

*

As Chrissie had anticipated, the Rajah was at that moment reading Stella’s note in the Villa Shalimar. He had come in late, having been delayed by a man who wished to sell him some polo ponies. He had done a big deal and driven a shrewd bargain, and he was feeling exceedingly pleased with himself.

As he drove up to the Villa, he had pictured himself telling Stella how clever he had been. The Rajah invariably wished to spread his tail like a peacock and it was not often that he had such a clever stroke of business to boast about.

As he thought that Stella would appreciate how intelligent he had been, he decided that she should also have the chance to appreciate yet another example of his generosity. He would give her the sapphire ring. After the way Mademoiselle Fântóme had behaved to him last night he might have some difficulty in obtaining the pearls, despite his assertion to Stella that nothing could prevent him from getting them. The ring would keep things sweet between them and give him breathing space in which to make his plans.

Perhaps it would be wiser to tackle the old lady next. She might be more amenable. But the girl had been pretty, very pretty. He had always admired fair-haired women. Unlike Stella’s colour her hair was natural, he was sure of that. Her beauty was delicate and exquisite where Stella’s was flamboyant. But that was how he liked his women, the Rajah decided almost defiantly. There was little fun to be got out of them when they looked at you with cool disdain. That was how the girl with the pearls had looked at him last night, and there was something about her which made him feel small and insignificant.

It was ridiculous, of course, besides being insulting. Was he not rich and powerful? Was he not absolute ruler over a State fifty thousand times as big as this tiny Principality? Yet he, the Rajah of Jehangar, could be rebuffed by a girl and made to feel inferior by the look in her eyes, by the way some magic, which he had not expected her to possess, had defeated his own dark powers.