“But that’s plain silly,” Sid said. “The man is a simpleton. If you don’t solve it soon, Molly, we’ll just have to go home. We can’t stay cooped up like this.”

I felt a lurch of fear. If they went home, I’d have nowhere to stay. I couldn’t impose upon Miss Cassatt’s hospitality after Sid and Gus were gone. And Daniel wouldn’t want me to return home yet. I wished I had had a letter from him. Maybe there was one at this moment at the Montmartre address.

“Do you have any ideas at all?” Sid touched my arm, making me start. I’d obviously been staring out, lost in worry. She leaned closer. “You don’t really think that Gus’s cousin might be responsible?”

“It’s possible,” I said. “Although he came to see Reynold Bryce the day before he was killed. I’ve heard nothing to indicate he returned on the actual day.”

“Gus would be devastated,” Sid said. “They were close as children. She’s fond of him.”

Then I felt guilty that I had handed over Willie’s fingerprints and suggested to the inspector that he might have a motive.

“I did worm out of the inspector that they’ve questioned likely Jewish organizations and come up empty-handed,” I said.

“So is there anything more you can do?”

“There is one thing,” I began. “Reynold Bryce was painting a young immigrant girl. I believe she lied to the police about what happened that morning. I thought I’d go up to Montmartre and see if I can find her.”

“Do you think she’d tell you the truth if she lied to the police?” Sid asked.

“I don’t know. She’d have no objection to chatting with me if she wasn’t involved in his murder, would she?”

“Do you really think you should speak to her? Would the police approve?”

“I’m afraid not,” I said.

“Then, Molly, please don’t go.” Sid touched my arm. “I don’t want you to risk getting into trouble. Really I don’t.”

“The inspector never need know,” I said. “I can pose as Mr. Bryce’s relative from America again. Ask innocent questions.”

“But don’t you think you might be putting yourself in danger?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “If she shares a house with a lot of refugee girls I wouldn’t be out of earshot of help. It’s broad daylight, Sid. And Montmartre is a busy place. And if she invites me alone to the cellar I won’t go.”

Sid laughed. I got up. “I’d better go and feed that child. I’ve been neglecting him horribly lately.”