‘No, the Germans were always suspicious, but I was never actually caught out. In a horrible way the information was self-fulfilling. Wherever they went, the Germans would always find somebody to arrest.’ She moistened her lips. ‘There was another reason, too, for them to trust what I said. It was always given under duress: that validated it for him.’ Theo noted the unconscious change in the pronoun.

‘The other thing I asked Nikola about,’ he said, ‘was the death of the German officer. I assumed it was a Resistance revenge killing and I thought someone like him might not have had too many scruples about the rules of war. So I asked him if he had done it.’

‘And what did he say?’ She turned back to face him now, leaning against the windowsill, her arms folded in front of her.

‘With evident regret, he said he didn’t do it. He would obviously have loved to have come back to avenge his fallen comrade. But he knew nothing of what had happened to Henri and the others, nor of what was happening in Lepech that evening. He just made off with five of his men, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and Bonnemort.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘There were a lot of people who would have liked to kill him, and might have done it, if they had thought there would have been no reprisals.’

‘Like Vernhes?’

‘Possibly.’

‘I asked him, too, the same question.’

‘If he had killed him? And what did he say? Do you really think a direct question is the best way to reach the truth?’

‘Not necessarily. It’s not the only tactic I employ, but it has the merit of surprise, which is always an advantage, militarily speaking. You have to choose at once whether or not to lie.’

‘And you think you can tell which it is, lie or truth?’

He looked at her without answering for several seconds, and she held his gaze.

‘Verhnes said he didn’t do it. I don’t think he was lying.’

He had never asked her the direct question, so she had never yet had to lie to him. He wondered if she would take the opportunity to tell him what she knew. They were both aware that the time would come when he would ask her. He was giving her notice, denying himself the advantage that he had taken with the other two. She dropped her eyes; It was clear that this was not the time.

‘Theo, I don’t see how any of this helps us with Sabine. You must concentrate on that now.’ She was moving towards the door, refusing his challenge.

Leaving the library she made for the tower. Her old room, that had been the communal sitting room during the summer, used by the aunts and the children, was now abandoned. No fire had been lit and the frost pattern on the windows had barely begun to melt. She sat down at her desk, letting the cold creep into her, as if it could turn her to stone and petrify all emotion.