Almost without thinking where she went she climbed the stone stairs, walked along the terrace and entered through the door that El Diablo held open for her, but while he lit the candles, she went to the window and stood looking out into the night and listening still to the throb of the music.

“I am glad to have seen that,” she said at length in a low voice, forgetting for a moment to whom she spoke, conscious only of the pounding of her pulses and the strange sensation that she had never felt before vibrating through her.

“A glass of wine?” El Diablo suggested, holding one towards her.

She took it from him, her earrings glittering in the candlelight as she moved, her eyes still preoccupied with the darkness beyond the grille.

“We must close the curtains,” he said, “or the insects will come flying in towards the light.”

He drew them as he spoke. And then it seemed to Skye as if she woke for the first time from the trance which had held her spellbound.

She was alone again with El Diablo.

She drank a few sips of her wine and set down the glass. She did not look at him and she knew that he was watching her. She moved across the room, the silk petticoats beneath the lace rustling as she did so.

“It is late,” she said at length in a voice that strove to be natural

“Are you afraid?”

The voice of El Diablo mocked her and instinctively her chin rose.

“No!” The monosyllable was sharp.

“I think you enjoyed yourself tonight,” he said quietly. “It is perhaps the first time that I have seen you look warm and animated, a woman instead of a human icicle.”

Skye tried to freeze at his words, but the spell of the dance was still upon her.

Instead she sat down on the couch and pulled the earrings from her ears. The diamonds twinkled beside the soft blue of the aquamarines that were like an English sky in spring.

“Shall I light the candles in your room?”

She heard in his voice the deep note that had frightened her before and she knew, if she looked up, that she would see the fire behind his eyes.

Was tonight to be different from all those other nights when he had kissed her and then left her alone?

She felt her heart beat agonisingly against her breast.

He had not waited for her answer, but was feeling in his trouser pockets.

“Where did I put those matches?” he asked.

He glanced round and could not see them. There was a jingle of coins and then he drew a small revolver from one pocket and set it on the table with a bunch of keys and a silk handkerchief.

“Not there,” he said, still speaking as if to himself. “Ah, there they are!”