‘Look out! Be careful' he said, and because he was taken by surprise and his thoughts were far away at Cheveron, instinctively he spoke in English. The woman gave a little gasp.

‘Pardon, Monsieur,’ she said, and then, after he had spoken, she added in English, ‘Oh, but you are English.’

‘Yes, I am English,’ Sir Robert replied. ‘Is anything the matter?’

It was difficult to see her clearly for they were in the shadow of an aloe tree, but he was aware that her breath was coming quickly as if she had been running, and also that she was frightened.

No, no, it is all right now that you are here,’ the woman answered. ‘It was just that – that a man spoke to me. I think, perhaps, he had taken too much – to drink. For a moment I did not understand what he said – and stupidly I stopped to listen. Then when I realised what – what he was saying, I – I ran away.’

‘I will go and deal with him,’ Sir Robert said grimly, but even as he said the words, it occurred to him that this might be a trap of some sort. Nice women who minded being accosted by strange men did not walk alone in the gardens of Monte Carlo at dawn. He hesitated, and as if instinctively she sensed both the change in his attitude and what he was thinking, the woman drew away from him.

‘It is all right now – thank you,’ she said. ‘It – it was my fault, of course, for coming out – alone. It was wrong of me, I know – but I was awake and I did so want to see the sunrise over the sea.’

There was something so childlike both in her explanation and in her voice, that instantly Sir Robert’s suspicions vanished. This was not a trap, and the woman – or girl, for he guessed her to be very young – was genuine, he was certain of that.

‘You will not have long to wait,’ he said. ‘I think you will see best from here.’

He pointed a little to the left where the path widened to the edge of a deep defile and was bounded only by an iron railing.

‘Oh, thank you.’

The woman walked away from him out of the shadow of the trees, and now at last Sir Robert could see that she was really no more than a girl. She was wearing a grey cloak of some soft material which fell from her shoulders to the ground, the hood shadowed her hair, and in the pale light he could just see the outline of her face – delicate features, wide eyes, dark lashes, and beautifully moulded lips which were parted excitedly as she looked out to sea.

‘It was here that St. Dévote landed,’ she said softly.

Hardly conscious that he had done so, Sir Robert had followed her and now he asked,

‘What did you say?’ She looked up at him.