‘Insofar as your investigations may have official repercussions,’ Vernhes said, ‘I suggest you concentrate on the Vichy fascists and other notorious collaborators. These people persecuted patriots of the Party for four years and are still lying low, a fifth column waiting for its moment to regain power. All the hounding of the Resistance for the rough and tumble of the liberation, as you call it, shows that the fascists still have power in the organs of the administration. If, on the other hand, you’re following a purely personal trail, I have some information for you which you may not care to hear, but you should certainly put into the total balance of your discoveries.’

Theo’s head, which for a while under the influence of Micheline’s receipt, had cleared, was aching again. He considered whether wine would help, and decided that it would not. ‘And that information is?’ he said politely, his tone suggesting that he would listen, but would not guarantee to believe what he heard.

‘Last time we spoke, I told you of what happened to your wife after the liberation. It was a factual account. I made no comment about the justice of what was done; indeed, I believed it to be unjust, but unpreventable …’

‘Such actions are unlawful, whether the victims are guilty or not of their supposed crimes,’ Theo interrupted sharply.

‘Ah, there I can’t agree. The people’s anger sometimes has to be expressed in revolutionary justice. However, that was my opinion at the time. I have since had cause to change it.’

‘And what does that mean?’ Theo stood up. The contents of his skull rose with him, but more slowly, belatedly catching up and colliding with the roof of his head.

Vernhes also rose. ‘It means that I’ve since learned that the suspicions of the people were correct, that your wife was guilty of a specific sort of collaboration. To put it bluntly, the commander of the SS unit here at Bonnemort was her lover.’

To hear what he had feared, known and rejected, now put into words hit Theo like a blow, winding him, leaving him without words. Before he could speak, to contradict, to vindicate Ariane’s Resistance record, pre-dating that of this self-righteous prick, Vernhes spoke again.

‘If you think very carefully about this information I’ve just given you, you may reach some conclusion about the death of Henri Menesplier and where responsibility for it lies.’

Only with difficulty did Theo control the upsurge of rage, the physical impulse to strike. He said, very drily, ‘This is a very neat trap. She was ordered to act as a double agent, and now you denounce her for it. It’s the perfect crime, and she’s the perfect victim.’

Vernhes was as cold as Theo, colder, for he saw himself in the winning position. ‘That’s not how things were, whatever she may have told you. Let me reassure you, however, that I’ve no intention of destroying her reputation. I don’t wish to make any of this public. I pass the information on to you for your researches. The accommodation that you make between you is none of my business. I just want you to bear this in mind in any plans you may have to take your enquiries to the authorities, as one of the elements of the situation.’ He stopped short, as if he could say more but had decided against doing so.