Rupert had an early breakfast and then walked to the market, where he found Annette.
‘Is Jeannot still with Hélène?’ he asked.
‘He said he’d wait till you came for her,’ Annette replied.
‘I’m going there now,’ Rupert told her. ‘And you must come with me. We have to maintain the proprieties.’
That made Annette laugh. ‘Isn’t it a bit late for that?’
‘No, it’s most important. I’ve arranged for her to stay with a friend of mine and his wife, and when we get to their home, Hélène must be seen to be accompanied by her maid. And it isn’t as if you haven’t been living with her in the apartment, is it?’
‘Have you told Jeannot what you’ve got planned?’ asked Annette.
‘I outlined it to him yesterday, but gave no details. I didn’t know then if my idea would work. Now I’ve got everything arranged, we need to put it into action as soon as we can. We need to get you both to a safe and respectable place while I make arrangements for our wedding.’
‘Hélène told me you were going to be married,’ Annette said. ‘I hope you mean it this time.’
‘I meant it last time,’ Rupert said ruefully.
‘But you got talked out of it.’
‘Annette, you know what happened and you know the trouble it’s caused, but now I’m going to put it right.’ He took her by the shoulders, turning her to look at him. ‘You did everything I asked you to before I left. I’m incredibly grateful to both you and Pierre. If you hadn’t helped her, she’d be married to that monster now. I’m for ever in your debt, and I shall see that you lose nothing for doing what you did.
‘Now I’m asking you to do this one more thing, to stay with Hélène until we can be married and return to Belair as husband and wife.’
Annette looked up at him scornfully. ‘And where else would I be?’ she demanded, and turning away, she marched ahead of him as they returned towards Batignolles.
When they reached the apartment they found Hélène waiting with Jeannot.
‘All set?’ asked Jeannot.
‘Yes, Hélène and Annette are going to stay in the home of some friends of mine, Monsieur and Madame Bertram. They will stay there until we can be married. I’m hoping that will be in a few days’ time, at the British Embassy. Madame Bertram will act as chaperone, and Annette will be with her so that all possible proprieties can be maintained.’ He turned back to Jeannot. ‘Did you find a fiacre?’
‘Yeah, a mate of mine, Joubert, drives one. He’ll be here in a while. Very convenient memory he’s got. Once he drops you off, he won’t have any recollection of where he picked you up or where he’s been.’
‘Are you coming with us, Jeannot?’ Hélène asked.
‘Nope!’ replied Jeannot. ‘You got someone else to look after you now, ain’t you? Three’s a crowd.’
‘But I’ll see you again, won’t I?’
‘Never know your luck,’ grinned Jeannot. ‘When you’re back in the Avenue Ste Anne. I look in on Pierre from time to time.’ He added, ‘That’s if he’s allowed callers at the door once he’s married?’ And he gave her a broad wink as he saw Annette’s cheeks flush pink.
Ignoring this interchange, Rupert was watching from the window for the arrival of Joubert in his fiacre. As he stared along the street he suddenly saw a movement in the mouth of an alley a little further along. A young man he’d seen in the Hotel Montreux stable yard, a young man with a halo of red hair. Redhead! No doubt about it. Rupert drew back from the window and murmured to Jeannot, ‘Come and have a look.’
Jeannot peered down into the street.
‘There, in that alleyway, there’s… somebody. I think he was at the Montreux the other day. A bloke with red hair.’
‘I see him,’ said Jeannot, ‘and I know him, too. Caught him following Hélène when she was fool enough to try an’ go visiting her ma. Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him. Look, here comes Joubert. Once you’re downstairs, quick as you like into the cab. If Redhead makes any trouble he’ll wish he hadn’t.’
‘Come on,’ Rupert said to the two girls as he picked up the two valises. ‘Straight out and into the cab. I’m right behind you.’
‘I told him to drive on soon as you’re all inside,’ Jeannot told Rupert. ‘Once you’re out of sight you can tell him where you want to go.’
‘What do I pay him?’ asked Rupert.
‘Nuthink!’ answered Jeannot. ‘He owes me!’
‘So do I, now,’ said Rupert.
‘’S’all right.’ Jeannot grinned. ‘I’ll remember.’
*
André had known he was in trouble when he woke up that morning with a raging thirst and a sledgehammer pounding his brain. When he opened his eyes, he found himself naked in his own bed, but with little recollection of how he had come to be there. He’d had a drink in a bar, he remembered that, and there’d been a girl. He’d bought her a drink too, but as they passed the evening together, working their way through his wages, things became rather hazy. He was alone now, but he was pretty sure the girl had come back to his room with him. He hauled himself out of bed and crossed to the jug of water standing on the table, and took a long swallow. His head continued to pound, and he sat back down on the bed. His clothes were in a heap on the floor and as he dragged on his trousers, he put his hand into his pocket, feeling for the last of his cash, and found it empty.
Shit! he thought. The bitch has cleaned me out!
As he struggled with his shirt, he heard the church clock at the end of the street strike nine and his heart sank. He should have been back outside the Montreux hours ago, watching for the Englishman to go out again. He’d have missed him by now for sure. Not daring to return to Monsieur Barnier and admit that he’d overslept and awoken with a hangover, he drank another long draught of water. With his money gone, he’d have to go back to the street in Batignolles. He could always tell Barnier that he’d followed the Englishman there again this morning and hope he was believed.
André had hurried as fast as his hangover would let him and had only just arrived and taken his position in the alley when a fiacre turned the corner into the lane. He wondered what a four-wheeled cab was doing in such a shabby little street, and then to his surprise it pulled up outside the butcher’s shop, blocking his line of sight to the apartment house door. He scurried out from his hiding place in time to catch sight of two people already settling into the cab before the blinds were drawn and they were hidden from view. They were followed by a man with a valise in each hand, getting in and slamming the door behind him. At once the driver whipped up the horse and the cab moved away, causing André to jump back into the alley. At first the street was so narrow that the fiacre made slow progress and André, setting off after it, managed to keep up, but as it reached a junction, the road widened and the cab picked up speed, leaving him choking in the cloud of dust it left behind. He stood gasping as he watched it round a corner and disappear, with no idea of where it was going, or indeed who was in it. What was he going to tell Barnier? It wasn’t his fault that they’d driven away in a fiacre. He had tried to follow, but it was, of course, impossible on foot. Still, he was pretty sure that the man he’d seen climb in was the Englishman he’d been following much of yesterday; but who were the other two? He wasn’t even certain that they were women. Was one of them the girl Monsieur Barnier was looking for? If so, she was gone.
He turned back the way he had come, considering what to do next. Should he continue to keep watch on the apartment, just in case there was something further to see, or should he go straight back to Barnier and tell him what he’d seen? He needed something to report or there’d be no more cash.
He was just deciding to go to the Pension Marguerite when a figure emerged from the alley and André suddenly found himself being dragged back out of sight, his arm twisted so high up his back that he screeched in pain.
‘Shut it!’ said a voice in his left ear. ‘And listen to me. I got a few questions for you. Answer them straight and I’ll let you go. Right?’ There was another sharp jerk on André’s arm and he screamed again. ‘Right?’ repeated the voice.
‘Right!’ croaked André. ‘Right!’
‘Who’re you working for?’ demanded the voice. ‘Barnier?’
‘Barnier!’ agree André.
‘And where will I find Monsieur Barnier?’
‘Pension Marguerite,’ squeaked André. ‘Rue des Loups.’
‘There we go then.’ The pressure went from his arm and he was given a hefty push that sent him staggering into the midden that ran down the middle of the alley. When he’d struggled to his feet, covered in the effluent of the street drain, and looked about him, he was alone. The alley was empty.