The Rajah took a last glance in the mirror. Tonight he was wearing an enormous ruby in the front of his turban. It was surrounded by diamonds and the jewels shone and glittered and were in strange contrast to the immaculate severity of his evening clothes cut by an English tailor.

The big leather jewel case in which all his jewels were contained lay open on the dressing table, and standing in the corner of the room, were the two ‘Keepers of the Jewels’, men who guarded them day and night and who were ready to die in defence of what they guarded.

The Rajah glanced down at the velvet lined cases. He took out a ruby ring and slipped it on to the little finger of his left hand. Beside it was a sapphire of great beauty, not particularly dark in colour, but as it caught the light of the candelabra on the dressing table, it reminded the Rajah for the moment of Stella’s eyes.

He took it out of its velvet case, turned it over in his fingers, stared at it and seemed about to put it in his pocket, then changed his mind. He set it back in its case. It should be the pearls or nothing, he decided.

It was a challenge he could not resist.

They would be expensive, but that did not concern him one way or another. It was a question of pride, of being able to obtain what might prove almost unobtainable. After another glance in the mirror he was ready and, ignoring the low obeisance of his servants, he went from his bedroom and down the broad staircase which led to the hall.

Outside the carriage was waiting.

Servants in red and white uniform flung open the door and assisted the Rajah into the cushioned comfort within the vehicle. Then the footman sprang up on to the box and with the brake hard on the wheels the horses started off down the steep drive and along the few hundred yards of road which led to the entrance of the Villa Mimosa.

Stella was waiting for him. She was looking particularly attractive tonight in another Paris gown of green crépe trimmed with lace and draperies of pale rose satin. Her hair fell from the back of her head in a dozen long curls and was garlanded with a wreath of roses sprinkled with tiny gems.

The perfume the Rajah had bought for her late that afternoon was pungent and intoxicating as she entered the coach beside him, and as the door closed, he lifted her hand to his mouth, his lips seeking out each finger.

‘Where are we going for dinner?’ Stella asked. I’m very hungry.’

The Rajah’s teeth were for a moment hard against the ball of her thumb.

‘I, too, am hungry for you!’ he replied, then added in answer to her question, ‘I ordered a table at the Hôtel de Paris.’