‘How fond you are of that word “dare”,’ the Rajah smiled. ‘I shall dare many things before the night is out, dear little Mademoiselle Fântóme. But first of all you must tell me what is your real name? There is no need now for such rigid formality. We are alone! May I offer you some champagne?

He walked across the room to a table set in the window. On it were many bottles and several glasses. There was something in his calm assurance, in the smile on his face, which made Mistral more afraid than anything he had said or done until this moment. She put up her hand to her neck and touched her pearls. Her fingers were very cold and she could feel them tremble…

‘If it is my pearls you want,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I will give them to you – if you will let me go now, and – at once.’

The Rajah turned, a glass of champagne in his hand, and his eyes were amused.

‘I am no longer interested in your pearls. You shall keep them with the other presents that I will give you. It is you I am interested in.’

Mistral felt as if her knees gave way beneath her. In an uncontrollable panic she ran to the door and turned the handle once again. The Rajah watched her.

‘It is locked,’ he said softly, ‘and the only way out of this room leads into my own apartment. You can go there if you wish, but I think you will find yourself more comfortable here.’

He made a gesture as he spoke towards the end of the room and Mistral’s eyes followed his. There, a little out of the golden light shed by the lanterns, she could see the outline of a great circular divan covered with silk cushions and curtained with transparent net.

For a moment she stood very still. Then she felt as if she were paralysed with terror such as she had never known before. She longed to scream, but she knew no one would come to her rescue. The servants in the house would have had their instructions.

Desperately she clutched at her pride, feeling that only by keeping control of herself could she hold the bestial desires of the Rajah at bay.

He was watching the expressions on her face as if he could read her thoughts and realised the effort she was making not to scream.

‘I knew that you would be sensible once you realised you were defeated,’ he said at length. ‘I know, too, that your most clever and experienced aunt will not have left you ignorant, for you had thought to catch Prince Nikolai. I commend you both for an extremely clever idea, but I am the Rajah of Jehangar and far more wealthy than the Prince. You have lost one fish but caught another.’