The Prince’s Villa was very different from that of the Rajah. There was nothing pompous or ornate about the small, perfectly proportioned hall which they crossed into a big sitting room.

Here there were comfortable chairs and sofas covered in brown velvet, and the furniture, while being both attractive and valuable, contrived also to appear exclusively masculine.

There were sporting prints on the walls and the tables and mantelpiece were decorated with silver trophies which the Prince had won himself at various sports or which had been gained for him by his yachts and race horses.

But Mistral had little time to take in the details of her surroundings. She only knew that the atmosphere was peaceful and unfrightening and she could relax in the arm chair to which the Prince escorted her. At his command a servant knelt to set light to the fire already laid in the fireplace.

‘You will feel cold,’ the Prince said. ‘One always does when one has lost blood. And before we do anything else, we must wash that hand. If there is dirt in it, it may go septic.’

Mistral managed to smile at the seriousness of his voice.

‘How do you know all these things?’ she asked.

‘Mostly because I have hurt myself so often,’ the Prince replied. ‘I have had at least a dozen accidents while skiing and I would hate to count how many times I have come to grief out hunting. But before we talk I would like you to drink a glass of wine.’

Mistral shook her head.

‘I would much rather not,’ she said. ‘I have no liking for it and at the moment I feel that, if I ate or drank anything, it would choke me.’

‘It shall be as you wish, of course,’ the Prince replied, ‘but it would do you good.

‘I want nothing,’ Mistral said in a low voice. ‘I want only to be assured that I need never see the Rajah again.’

‘You need not be afraid of that,’ the Prince said. ‘I shall tell my father tomorrow exactly what happened and he will speak to the Police. He has a great influence in the Principality, having always lived here, and I assure you that the authorities will not stand for behaviour of that sort.’

‘He was so extraordinary,’ Mistral said. ‘He seemed to think that I had been – trying to deceive him – or that my aunt had. I think he must be mad. He was unpleasant the other night when he spoke to me at the Casino – but tonight it was worse – far worse. He was different in some way I cannot explain…’

‘Don’t think about him,’ the Prince said firmly. ‘Here is Potoc with some warm water and cotton wool and bandages.’

The Russian servant with the strange face whom the Prince had called his keeper came into the room carrying a silver basin which contained warm water scented with the fresh fragrance of lemons.