Lady Penelope Winton removed the elegant box, carefully unrolled the jewellers flannel and touched the glowing necklace. It looked almost alive, she thought, her excitement rising. 'I shall be the belle of the ball - one last time.' She took the necklace and placed it around her neck such that she could still close the catch. She centred the White Star of Africa into the cleft of her beasts, adjusting the three strands until they lay perfectly, marvelling at the increased effect. She sat quietly at her dressing table, almost as though in a trance. Her eyes stared unseeingly into the ornate, gold-framed mirror. A shadow appeared to dull the reflection, moving slowly until it encompassed her completely. A tiny smile parted her lips. The fabulous necklace again sparkled under the flickering lights of the chandelier in the centre of her room and the two shaded lamps, one each side of the marble top. Thousands of dancing fires in every hue and tone blazed from the uncounted facets of the six hundred diamonds. The ring of stones surrounding and the centrepiece diamond flashed around her, alive with the colours and refracted lights of the rainbow. Her maid knocked softly. When there was no reply she entered quietly. Mesmerised, she hesitated before asking, 'Do you require any assistance with the necklace, m'lady?' With no answer, she touched her employer lightly on the shoulder. The shadow seemingly encasing her, disappeared. The maid screamed. Lady Winton was dead. The Curse of the Diamonds