The barman stuck his head behind a swinging door for a moment and then attended to another customer. I settled down to drinking my calvados and watching the band. The waiters, dressed in Cossack uniforms, buzzed from table to table, under the watchful eye of the Russian maître d’hôtel.

“J’attendrai,

car l’oiseau qui s’enfuit

vient chercher l’oubli

dans son nid…”

While I waited, I sifted through the events of the day. After leaving the Palais de Justice, I’d walked down to the Quai de la Tournelle in search of Vennet’s stall. All the bouquinistes on this stretch of the river were closed. Having found Vennet’s stall, I inspected it from every angle. Like all the others, it was made of crate-wood and painted with forest green oil. It did not appear to have been forced open. I fondled the brass lock. I would need a hacksaw or, better still, a boltcutter, only where would I find one? By now, most shops and banks were closed. I made my way to the Métro with my suitcase. The carriages were emptier than ever. The effect was ghostly. I alighted at Pigalle, where the cafés and bars along the Boulevard de Clichy were shuttered. There were no tourists. I had little idea of where to find the nightclub, so I had to overcome my resistance to speaking with strangers. I approached two policemen who were plastering bills on a Morris column that usually advertised cabaret shows.

PARIS HAS BEEN DECLARED AN OPEN CITY

The military governor requests the population to abstain from all acts of hostility and expects it to maintain the calm and dignity necessitated by the circumstances.

By order, General H. Dentz, military governor