‘Padmini? Have I got that right? Now, look here, Padmini, I’m most frightfully sorry but . . .’

The gazelle eyes flashed with comprehension then narrowed in disdain. Angrily, she leaned forward into the fountain and smacked the surface of the water hard, directing a spray of water straight at Joe’s face. With a peal of laughter to see his gasping astonishment, she turned and ran off leaving him dripping and cursing by the pool.

Bloody girl! But at least she’d taken the hint pretty quickly. With relief and disappointment in equal measure, he set off again, certain that he could find his own way back to his room from this spot. After a few paces he stopped and listened. Pattering feet were going ahead of him in the same direction.

He caught up with her at his door and rounded on her. Cool arms went up and locked with surprising strength behind his neck. He felt his shirt damp on his skin as she pressed herself to him and, standing on her toes, lifted her lips to kiss him. As their breath mingled he was enveloped by the sweet scent of the girl, attar of roses a seductive top-note to a surge of female warmth. His arms slipped of their own will around her waist. She was warm and scented and more than willing. She had attracted his attention, won the game for him and he would have said was claiming him as her prize. God! He needed this! And he’d earned it! ‘Another country, other customs,’ wasn’t that what Claude had said? Surrendering himself to the moment, Joe groaned and lowered his face to hers.

‘Aw, for God’s sake, Joe! They really stitched you up good, didn’t they!’

The door of his room had opened and lamplight from inside revealed the figure of Madeleine standing there, wearing a long white robe, a glass in her hand.

Joe couldn’t speak but anything he said would have been unheard as the two women faced each other. Padmini hissed something unintelligible in Hindi and Madeleine replied with matching scorn. ‘Same to you, sister! Now do us all a favour and beat it back to your lord and master!’ She grinned nastily. ‘And you can tell him you were outplayed. Victim of a discovered attack by the white queen!’

Padmini whirled around and moved away, a darker retreating shadow amongst the shadows of the courtyard.

‘Hell’s bells, Madeleine!’ Joe gasped. ‘What are you doing here?’

She pulled him inside, closed the door firmly and shot the bolt across.

‘Doing a bit of lonely drinking . . . Waiting for you to show up . . . Being your guardian angel . . .’

‘What do you mean? You’re not looking exactly angelic from where I’m standing!’

She eyed him critically. ‘You should get a look at yourself, mister! Now, you were billed as a clever feller. War hero . . . survivor. Didn’t they tell me you worked for Military Intelligence? Those are smart guys. And you fell for it! Feet – well, perhaps some other part of your anatomy – first! She’s a plant! She’s the Dewan’s trained pillow talker. Didn’t you guess?’

Joe could only stare in surprise and disgust.

‘This whole place,’ Madeleine waved her arms around, champagne slopping on to the carpet, ‘is an anthill. It’s all murmurings and gossip and plotting and all the information that’s going gets channelled right back to the Dewan. If you take a leak in the ghulskhana he’ll hear about it before you’ve flushed! He’s not sure why you’re here but he doesn’t trust the British. He knows you’re close to Sir George and that means you’re at the heart of the government so he wants to keep you under close surveillance. And you couldn’t have closer surveillance than the watch his pet trollop was about to keep on you! She’d have stuck closer than gum on your shoe!’

Joe’s feeling of foolish inadequacy was giving way to anger. ‘I don’t talk in my sleep, they tell me . . . I can’t see that there’s a problem. And,’ he added defiantly, ‘had it occurred to you that this particular surveillance might not have been unwelcome?’

Madeleine swept a knowing and cynical glance over Joe. ‘So I see. Well, you can always go take a cold shower. Another cold shower. That’s what you British do, isn’t it? Go ahead – I’ll look the other way.’

Joe swallowed and tried to keep his tone polite as he spoke. ‘Would you like me to ring for Govind and have you escorted back to your own rooms?’ He went to the bell pull and took hold of it.

To his dismay, the glass fell from her fingers and she put both hands over her face, silently sobbing.

‘Oh, Lord, Madeleine! Now what?’

‘Can’t you see it yet, you great lummox? I can’t go back there. I wouldn’t be safe. They hate me much more than they hated Prithvi. They blame me for everything! They probably think I killed him! They want me dead! And not just because I’m a white woman. Did you know all widows are unclean? If they can’t get rid of them on a funeral pyre they shut them up in a little room and never let them out. How long do you suppose I’d last out there? Without Prithvi to look out for me I’m just a target! This is the only place I feel safe. You have got a gun, haven’t you?’

Joe nodded. First Bahadur, now Madeleine, both seeing themselves as potential victims. And both were seeking help from an outsider who was himself insecure and exposed in alien territory.

‘You can’t stay here! Imagine the gossip! What about your reputation? What about my reputation . . . I mean – how do I explain this to your father-in-law?’ he heard himself spluttering like a maiden aunt. ‘Look, Madeleine, can’t you go to your brother for help until you can both get out of here?’

Madeleine gave him another of her long incredulous stares. ‘Stuart is . . . shall we say . . . otherwise engaged and would be very upset to receive a sisterly visit. He doesn’t even need to play chess to get the girls! And I notice you are admitting that this is a pretty hostile environment. Did you hear yourself say “get out of here” as in the sense of “escape from”? Well, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m getting out, Joe. If I have to fly one of Prithvi’s planes to Delhi to do it! But I’m not going empty-handed. I gave him two years of my life and someone’s going to pay for those two years. I need to stay alive long enough to talk to Udai Singh . . . come to some agreement . . . and I can tell you – I’ve got my ticket out of here! And if you’ve any sense, you’ll be in the passenger seat when I take off, Joe.’

‘You’d oblige me, Madeleine, if you and your brother would remain in Ranipur for a while. You yourself, if you remember, asked my opinion on the plane crash that killed your husband and the Resident also has asked me to investigate. You and your brother are vital to the investigation and you can’t leave until I’ve been able to gather evidence and statements.’

Madeleine gave a derisive laugh. ‘Oh, yeah? Didn’t they tell you in Simla that the British have no legal or criminal jurisdiction in the princely states? You can detect all you like, Joe, and, sure, it would be good to know who’s killing the heirs but there’s nowhere you can go with the information. There’s nothing you can do but report back when you get out . . . If they let you get out!’

Joe allowed himself a wry smile. ‘That’s an over-simple but – I have to say – incisive summary of my brief. Don’t tell me you’re on Sir George’s payroll too?’

‘Never met the guy.’

‘Anything left in that bottle?

Joe’s mood was becoming less buoyant by the minute. Excitement and anger were ebbing away leaving a wistful sympathy for the hopelessness of Madeleine’s situation. He watched her with pity as she found two glasses and filled them clumsily with champagne. With sinking heart he guessed that she needed to talk through her grief with someone and resentfully wondered why she couldn’t have taken up Lizzie Macarthur’s offer of a safe haven and a sympathetic ear. But of course, he had an obvious attraction that Lizzie didn’t possess: in a desperate corner, a revolver and a steady hand will always win out over a parasol and a sharp tongue.