“Exactly.” She rose and stood in front of him, every graceful line of her arrogant with pride. “You said just now that none of us had anything on the chief. You were wrong. I have. I, a woman, have had the wit and, yes, the courage⁠—for it needs courage⁠—to double-cross him. You remember the De Beer diamonds?”

“Yes, I remember. At Kimberley, just before the war broke out? I had nothing to do with it, and I never heard the details, the case was hushed up for some reason, was it not? A fine haul too.”

“A hundred thousand pounds worth of stones. Two of us worked it⁠—under the Colonel’s orders, of course. And it was then that I saw my chance. You see, the plan was to substitute some of the De Beer diamonds for some sample diamonds brought from South America by two young prospectors who happened to be in Kimberley at the time. Suspicion was then bound to fall on them.”

“Very clever,” interpolated the count approvingly.

“The Colonel is always clever. Well, I did my part⁠—but I also did one thing which the Colonel had not foreseen. I kept back some of the South American stones⁠—one or two are unique and could easily be proved never to have passed through De Beer’s hands. With these diamonds in my possession, I have the whip hand of my esteemed chief. Once the two young men are cleared, his part in the matter is bound to be suspected. I have said nothing all these years, I have been content to know that I had this weapon in reserve, but now matters are different. I want my price⁠—and it will be a big, I might almost say, a staggering price.”

“Extraordinary,” said the count. “And doubtless you carry these diamonds about with you everywhere?”

His eyes roamed gently round the disordered room.

Nadina laughed softly. “You need suppose nothing of the sort. I am not a fool. The diamonds are in a safe place where no one will dream of looking for them.”

“I never thought you a fool, my dear lady, but may I venture to suggest that you are somewhat foolhardy? The Colonel is not the type of man to take kindly to being blackmailed, you know.”

“I am not afraid of him,” she laughed. “There is only one man I have ever feared⁠—and he is dead.”

The man looked at her curiously. “Let us hope that he will not come to life again, then,” he remarked lightly.

“What do you mean?” cried the dancer sharply.

The count looked slightly surprised. “I only meant that a resurrection would be awkward for you,” he explained. “A foolish joke.”

She gave a sigh of relief. “Oh, no, he is dead all right. Killed in the war. He was a man who once⁠—loved me.”

“In South Africa?” asked the count negligently.

“Yes, since you ask it, in South Africa.”