He had liked the dry note of humour in her voice.

By a stroke of extraordinary good fortune I can offer you employment,’ he said, ‘for I myself am looking for a housekeeper.’

Afterwards Emilie had realised that it said much for Léon’s personality and the confidence that he invariably evoked in his victims that she had no qualms at all about leaving the station with him and driving to his house.

It was a fortnight before she discovered that her duties as housekeeper involved a more personal relationship with her employer, and it was a long time after that before she discovered how exceptional indeed was the interest Léon took in her.

Frenchmen seldom mix business and pleasure, and as Léon’s business concerned only women and the possibilities of their attractions, he was to all intents and purposes inoculated against the wiles of feminine charm. But, as Emilie was to learn slowly and painfully in the years ahead, a man’s physical temperament is often a tortuous thing with unexpected twists and turns where one least expects them.

Léon Bleuet, whose sole interest was in catering for the amusement and pleasure of other men, was seldom pleased or amused himself. He had a strong feminine streak in him, in strange contrast to his appearance of bluff geniality which was accentuated by his being stout.

He enjoyed being bullied and ordered about by a woman, the sharp edge of her tongue was more enticing to him than honeyed words.

To him a woman was most captivating when her eyes were dark and flashing with anger, her voice raised, her whole body tense with antagonism.

Emilie could hardly believe the truth when she first discovered that Léon was attracted to her by her very brusqueness and by the aloof disdain with which she treated him almost from the moment she first entered his employment.

Her gratitude towards him at having offered her both shelter and employment on the night she arrived in Paris lasted for but a very short period – indeed only until she discovered how inefficiently his house had been kept and how uncomfortable a succession of ill-chosen servants had made him.

The place was dirty to begin with, and if there was one thing that Marie Riguad had taught her daughter almost from the moment she could toddle, it was to keep a house clean. Emilie scrubbed and polished, washed and brushed until the place shone and the atmosphere was impregnated with the fresh fragrance of soap and beeswax.