I stroked the unblemished sleeve of the new suit. Where had they come from, those bloodstains upstairs? Langham wasn’t injured, I was sure of that. And if it was simply an accident, why hadn’t he ordered the suit cleaned?

Lifting the clothes aside, I saw something else in the bottom of the box. It was individually wrapped, with a note pinned to the paper.

I have listed this on your bill under ‘sundries’. I am no expert in these matters, but my daughter advises me that it should suffice. Issac Souissa.

Inside was a garment made from heavy cotton. From the front it looked like a simple vest, apart from a wide elastic panel, and flat laces on either side to pull it in tight. I struggled out of my jacket, smiling at the memory of old Souissa’s horrified expression when I had told him my secret, why I was paying for his silence. He hadn’t been happy, but as soon as I had suggested I would take my business elsewhere, his face had changed. He’d swallowed and adjusted his glasses and said, I’m sure I can accommodate you, monsieur.

My hands were trembling as I drew on the new clothes: the clean underthings, the brassiere that laced in tight to flatten my chest – no awkward bandages threatening to slip or unravel – the crisp shirt, the beautiful trousers.

It all fit better than a dream, and when I looked into the mirror, I could scarcely believe what I saw. I was exactly what The Gentleman’s Guide said I should be: neat and elegant without fuss. The pale brown of the suit contrasted with my black hair, the deep red of the tie was a splash of colour, just a hint of excitement. There was a straw hat to go with the suit, trimmed with a brown band. When I put it on, I had to blink hard to stop tears from falling on that perfect cloth. No one would have recognized me as the person I was before, the scruffy, frightened kitchen girl of the Hostería del Potro. Here was my new face. Here was freedom.

I’m afraid I grew rather vain, and forgot all about Langham, and about lunch as I tried to style my hair exactly the way he did, swept back, using a few drops of olive oil in place of pomade. I posed before the mirror, hands in my pockets, leaning as any young, handsome troublemaker might. I was so preoccupied, I didn’t even realize anyone had returned, until Bouzid came looking for me.

When I opened the door, my face flushed, he paused before speaking, his eyes taking in the fine, new suit.