TWELVE

LA ROCHELLE—JANUARY

“Yes!” said Hélène. “I spoke to a mechanic. Bouchin was out.”

“What did you say?”

“Was Pierre likely to be in Marans on Friday. No? Oh, what a pity! I’m a friend … an old friend of his. Perhaps in the evening? No? Oh, he’ll be in England, will he? Quelle dommage! He leaves on Thursday, does he? I see. No, I’m afraid I can’t reach Marans by Thursday. My name? Now that would be telling! Just surprise dear old Pierre. Tell him the Black Cat telephoned!”

Duncan laughed. “You’ve done marvellously. That’s the missing link.”

“And now, I must dash. Don’t lose my address, will you?”

“Never. Au revoir, chèrie.”