“You mean Mr. Bryce? He’s the only one I know of who lived in the best part of the city. And he’s dead, poor man. That doesn’t seem fair either, does it?”

“I suppose not.” She twisted a strand of hair around a finger, staring at the open door of the Bateau-Lavoir hanging crookedly. “Look, why don’t we go back to the city. I know a heavenly little tearoom on the Rue de Rivoli. They make cakes to die for. Won’t you come with me?”

“I can’t,” I said. “I have to find my friend’s cousin and see what he can tell me. But you don’t have to come with me. I understand.”

“If you’re really sure.” She stared at me, then at that half-open door. “I have to go now,” she said. “You’ll be all right on your own, won’t you?”

“I’m sure I will.”

I watched her go down the hill with her dainty little steps. There was something I didn’t quite understand about Ellie—and I realized I didn’t even know her last name.

The front door opened with a creak and groan. I went in and looked around, not knowing which door to knock on. Then I heard the sound of male voices and laughter from down below. I descended a narrow staircase with care, as there were broken boards and little light. The building didn’t smell too savory, as if there were no drains and someone had burned their cooking. And in the background that ever-present odor of oil paints, linseed oil, and dark cigarettes.

Down one flight I went, then a next. Then on the very bottom floor a door was open and I heard voices coming from inside.

“What do you think?” a voice asked. “Is it good?”

“Not bad, Guillaume. Not your best.”

“It needs more work, doesn’t it?”

I approached the door and tapped on it. “Pardon me,” I said.

They looked up at me, startled as if they were naughty schoolboys who had been caught out doing something wrong.

“Madame? You look for someone?”

“I do,” I said. “I am looking for the painter Maxim Noah? Do you know where I might find him?”

“Maxim? Is he awake? Go and bang on his door. Tell him a foreign lady is here.”

“He lives here?” This was a stroke of luck.

One of them got up and I heard the stairs creak as he went up one flight. The fat one nodded to me with recognition. “I remember you. You came to the Nouvelle Athènes the other day. Did you find your friends?”

“I’m still looking. Maxim Noah is a cousin of one of them so I thought that maybe…”