I must have sunk onto a tombstone. From a vast distance I could hear Degas’s voice booming out, “Help! Murder! Police!” Then a whistle blowing, then strong arms lifting me. The next moments were a haze. I was being carried, seated. Given cognac to sip. Then hands were examining me.

“You are fortunate, madame,” a voice said. “It is merely a flesh wound.”

A woman hovered over me. Warm water sponged my side. Then a policeman arrived, asked questions. I tried to answer when all I wanted was to be safe at home. Finally I said, “Find Inspector Henri. Maxim Noah must not escape to England. And I want to go home now.”

The policeman ran off to find a telephone.

The woman stood beside me, looking worried. “You do not think you should be taken to the hospital, madame?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Just call a cab for me.”

A cab was summoned. The initial wound had not hurt at all, but now the bumping along the street made every breath painful. I was still bleeding and held whatever I had been given as a pad pressed to my side. It seemed like an eternity until we pulled up outside Miss Cassatt’s house. Celeste appeared at the door, took one look at me, and started wailing as she helped me upstairs. “Mademoiselle, come immediately. Madame Sullivan is dying!” she called. They were in the salon together, Sid and Gus on the floor with my son, building him a tower of blocks. Mary had been watching from the sofa. Now they all jumped up. My one thought was that I shouldn’t frighten Liam.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just get me up to my room and help me out of this dress.”

I could see their expressions as they looked at the blood-soaked pad on my side.

“Celeste, summon a doctor immediately,” Mary said. She came over and took my arm, helping me up the stairs.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I met Reynold Bryce’s killer. He tried to stab me.”

“It looks as if he succeeded,” she said. “Now no more talking. Let’s get this dress off you and we’ll see how bad it is.”