The mist had reached the front of the stalls and a lady in a tiara rose and hurried away, a handkerchief across her mouth. There were exclamations, titters.

‘Just keep your head, Doctor,’ said Leo. ‘She’ll be coming off this way if she’s the one you said. No need to panic.’

‘I’m not panicking,’ said Edward as he peered with watering eyes into the gloom.

Masha Repin came off after her solo, letting off a volley of oaths in Polish. This was Simonova’s doing, all of it — a plot to ruin her triumph — but she would not be beaten, the curtain was to stay up — and hearing her cue, she shot on stage again in search of Maximov.

Two stage-hands came and dragged away Fernando, who was laughing like a maniac, but it was too late, for he had tipped out another bucket full of water and the mist rolled on unimpeded. The act was drawing to a close; soon now the clocks would chime for daybreak and the Wilis melt away into the forest…

‘Now!’ Leo whispered. ‘The Captain says they’ll do it now, while she’s on her own. That is her over there by that rock?’

‘Oh, yes, that’s definitely her.’ Edward spoke with authority, for the pose was one he knew well — the dark head bent, one foot resting against the opposite leg.

‘Hell!’ Sergeant Barra swore under his breath. One minute the girl had been there, standing by the jutting plywood rock. The next minute she had vanished.

‘We’ve lost her,’ said Leo. ‘She must be with that bunch just coming this way. Look out for her as they come through those trees.’

Edward searched frantically among the milling girls just dancing off. Perspiring, confused, rubbing their eyes, they halted in the wings. One was bending over an injured comrade, another was groping for her lost wreath… That wasn’t Harriet… nor that one…

Then someone opened a door, there came a gust of air dispersing the clouds of mist… and with an upsurge of relief, Edward found himself looking straight at Harriet.

‘There!’ he hissed. ‘Over there, quickly! Standing with her foot on the chair.’ Harriet’s familiar face, narrow and grave, her contemplative pose as she tied her shoe, nearly unnerved him. ‘Don’t hurt her,’ he begged — and turned away as Judas himself had done while Sergeant Barra, his cloak at the ready, moved purposefully forward.

And after all it was over very quickly. She struggled, but her cries were lost in the noise and confusion and no one saw her bundled out by the two ruthless men. Hurrying after them, Edward caught only a glimpse of a pinioned white figure being pushed into the cab — and then the driver whipped up his horses and the deed was done.

‘Where are you taking me?’ asked Harriet. She sat leaning back against the seat of the car, still in her white tutu, the wreath of myrtle leaves tumbled in her lap. The terror and agitation one might have expected from a girl snatched off the stage by an attacker who had put a hand over her mouth and pulled her backwards into the shadows was absent. Though her expression in the darkness was not clearly visible, she appeared rather to emanate a kind of dreamy peace.

‘To Follina, of course,’ said Rom, frowning at yet another patch of water through which it was necessary to nurse the great black car. ‘I must say that you seem to have behaved rather strangely. Why no struggles? Why no screams?’

‘I knew it was you. As soon as you put your hand over my mouth, I knew.’

‘In the dark, from the back, you knew?’

‘Yes,’ said Harriet.

He had negotiated the swamp. The road to Follina, impassable in the wet season, was not the best of roads even now, but he had wanted to get Harriet away as quickly as possible. Heaven knew what Edward would do once he discovered his mistake.

‘I don’t mind being kidnapped,’ said Harriet. ‘Don’t think that. Only I wondered why? I mean, I would have come anyway.’

‘I was… constrained by circumstances. Edward had arranged a rather less agreeable form of kidnapping. You were supposed to have been snatched by a most unattractive policeman and bundled on to the boat. In fact you should even now be a captive on the Gregory, preparing to steam out into the river.’

‘Oh!’ The news should have terrified her, but it was difficult to be frightened of anything when she was sitting close to Rom. ‘I thought we had convinced him that I was leading a blameless life?’

‘We had, till you burst out of that damnable cake. He was at the banquet and you can imagine the kind of conclusions he would come to.’

‘I didn’t see him.’ She looked sideways at Rom’s shadowy profile. ‘I’m sorry about the cake. I did have a reason, only I—’

‘I know the reason; Marie-Claude told me. It’s because of her that I was able to get you away. She met Edward in the park and guessed what he was up to. I meant to go to the police first and call them off, but then I decided it would be cruel to keep Edward here any longer: the climate really doesn’t suit him!’

‘Yes, but when he finds out that the police haven’t got hold of anyone—’

‘Ah, but they have! I don’t exactly know who, but I can guess. Edward finds it a little difficult, you see, to tell one dancer from another — and of course the mist didn’t help. It was inevitable that once I had grabbed you from behind the rock he would think some other girl was you. But don’t worry — it’s only a week to Belem — whoever she is, she can be brought back and compensated before the Atlantic crossing starts. I have an office there and I shall see to that. Don’t worry, Harriet.’

‘I’m worrying a bit about that,’ admitted Harriet. ‘And about poor Monsieur Dubrov being two Wilis short. But mostly I was worrying about your hand. If someone hurt it on purpose, I could kill him perhaps?’

He briefly turned his head. ‘It’s already done, my dear. And it’s only a scratch.’

Oh, God, thought Rom, this is going to be hell. I will not touch her until I can cut the legal tangle and ask her to marry me. She shall have sanctuary at Follina and nothing else — but she should not say such things to me.

‘Marie-Claude told me about Madame Simonova’s injury,’ he said, determined not to be personal. ‘It’s serious, I understand?’

‘Very serious. The doctors don’t seem to know what it is. They’re trying everything — electrical pads, injections of bee venom… one old doctor even suggested leeches — but nothing seems to help.’

‘The Metropole must be an awful place in which to be ill. I’ll offer Dubrov the Casa Branca until they leave — if she is strong enough to be moved. Carmen and Pedro will look after her.’

There was still one other thing, which Rom told her as they drove down the hazardous jungle track. That he had decided to return to Stavely — and in doing so would make himself responsible for Henry as she had asked.

‘I think I would have done so anyway, once my brother was dead. The place meant everything to my father. He was one of the best men who ever lived and I don’t think I could bear to think of it going to rack and ruin. God knows I love Follina, but the Amazon is no place to bring up children.’

‘No. I don’t think Henry is exactly delicate, but—’

Rom smiled, for it was not Henry that he had had in mind. But he would say no more to Harriet now. When MacPherson confirmed that the purchase of Stavely was completed he would speak to her of the future, but not now — not to a tired child just plucked from danger.

So he is going back to Stavely now that Isobel is free, thought Harriet. It was what I expected and I am glad. I must be glad. It was because of Henry that I came here and was allowed to know Rom and I must not — I must not — make a fuss when it happens, because it’s what I want. It has to be what I want. Only, let me not waste one minute of the time that I am allowed with him. That’s all I ask, God — that you give me the courage not to waste one minute, not one second of that time…

An hour later they drove up the sweep of gravel to Follina. Late as they were, light streamed from a window; Lorenzo came running down the steps and other servants, their dark eyes bright with relief at their master’s safe return, clustered round them.

I have only been here once before in my life, Harriet told herself. It is not my home. But the sense of homecoming, the lovely familiarity of everything she saw was overwhelming. The coati coming to rub itself against her legs, Lorenzo’s gold-toothed smile… Maliki and Rauni, her bath attendants, who had tumbled out of their hammocks at the sound of her voice and now bobbed their welcome, fingering admiringly the skirts of her white tarlatan — so much prettier than the brown dress they remembered.

Though Rom had been absent for a week his rooms were filled with flowers, the furniture gleamed with beeswax, the chandeliers blazed…

‘You must be starving. I’ve asked Lorenzo to serve supper in half an hour — I must clean myself up; I’m not fit to join you like this. Only listen to me carefully, Harriet.’ Rom was very tired and his frown as he groped for the right words was formidable. ‘The only way you can be safe now, for a while at least, is here at Follina. My estate is guarded and no harm can befall you here. If Edward gives up and goes back to England, then it will be different — and once de Silva returns from Ombidos there will be no nonsense from the police. The laws on extradition and repatriation are far more complex than poor Carlos realises. But for the moment, it would be disastrous for you to leave here.’

‘Yes. I see that.’

‘However, in view of what happened the last time you were here… I want to assure you that what I offer you is sanctuary pure and simple. You are very young and—’ He broke off, too weary to make a speech about her youth. People, in any case, were apt to know how old they were. ‘I expect nothing from you, Harriet. I’m arranging for you to have the guest-rooms on the other side of the house — they are completely self-contained and private. The last person to sleep there’ — his mouth twisted in a wry grin — ‘was the Bishop of St Oswald. So you see!’