‘What I wish to tell you, Sir Robert, concerns a certain lady and is, in fact, an expression of my goodwill towards you.’

‘If you have anything to tell me, say it,’ Robert said abruptly, ‘and then go before I make you.’

The Rajah’s lips curled.

‘St. George himself,’ he sneered, ‘eager for the defence of an innocent damsel. My dear Sir Robert, don’t be deceived as I so nearly was. Young women don’t remain innocent for long when they are in the company of the notorious Madame Bleuet.’

What are you talking about?’ Robert asked angrily.

‘I am speaking of Madame Bleuet, or if you prefer it, Madame Secret,’ the Rajah replied. ‘You have heard of her of course. Her establishment in the Rue de Roi is quite the smartest and best known Maison de passe in the whole of France. I feel sure you must have been there, my dear Sir Robert, but if your memory is at fault and you are not entirely convinced, I can give you proof any time you wish for it. Do not hesitate to call on me. I am always at your service.’

The Rajah bowed and trotted away. Robert stood as if he were turned to stone. For a moment he could not quite believe what he had heard, what the Rajah had said. Then slowly and insidiously a face came before his eyes, a woman with brightly dyed hair and painted lips. She was smiling ingratiatingly. He had hardly noticed her and yet is was an unusual face, a face one did not forget easily. Madame Secret was older, her hair was grey, undyed, and yet – and yet –

But it was impossible! He must be imagining things or going mad. He had only been to 5 Rue de Roi once after a party for men given at the Travellers’ Club. They had gone round Paris in search of amusement and ended up in the Rue de Roi.

He had stayed only a few moments, for he was too fastidious to seek his pleasures in establishments of that sort. And yet he could remember that woman’s face.

Slowly Robert walked up the steps to where Mistral was waiting. The lace had fallen back from her head and the sunshine was shining on her hair, making it seem almost like a halo.

Of course the whole thing was impossible! It was a vile lie of the Rajah’s to revenge himself.

‘What did he want?’ Mistral asked. ‘Please have nothing to do with him, for he is evil. I know it.’

‘He is trying to make trouble,’ Robert answered, ‘but I am sure that he was really talking nonsense. He spoke of a Madame Bleuet and – ’

He stopped abruptly. He had seen the sudden widening of Mistral’s eyes, a flicker of recognition at the word.

‘You have heard of her?’ he asked incredulously.