“What? Nothing. I’m in a hurry, that’s all. There’s a flight coming in. I don’t want to miss it. Through here… Wait. Hold my coat. That’s better. Now, don’t say anything, and stay by my side.”

He bundled the old tweed overcoat into her arms. Without the overcoat, she realized, he looked quite different, nothing like a traveler at all. He must have showered and changed earlier, she realized, and—how odd that she hadn’t noticed, but she always looked at his face, not his clothes—he now looked different, like a student perhaps, one of the Sorbonne students, in a black sweatshirt, a black jacket, and clean black jeans.

“Your scarf,” she said. “Star, you’re not wearing your red scarf…”

“Shut up,” he said. “I told you. Don’t talk. Through here.”

He led her across to a door at the side of the concourse, and then into a corridor. Mina ran along beside him, clutching his coat. Suddenly her mind was filled with questions. What had happened to the lovely silver car? She remembered his parking it in a side street somewhere—but where was it now? Where had Star been all that time she’d been sleeping—she must have slept, she realized, for at least sixteen hours. And where was his little dog, who had sat in Mina’s lap all the way on that long trip? Dancer, who had been hidden under a blanket with Mina when they passed through customs, and who had been there—Mina was sure she had been there—when Mina fell asleep in that attic room.

“Where’s Dancer?” she burst out, still running to keep up with him. “Star, what’s happened to Dancer? You said she went everywhere with you.”

“She’s not with me now.” He stopped so suddenly that Mina cannoned against him. There was now no doubting the anger; his face was black with it, and Mina recoiled.

“She’s at a friend’s. You ask one more question, and—”

She saw him fight to regain self-control.

“And I’ll leave you here,” he finished. “I’ll just walk away and leave you. I hate questions. I hate women who ask questions. I thought you understood that.”

“I do. Star…”

“Then do what I tell you. When I tell you. There’s a reason. You understand? Now. Stand there.”

Mina did as she was bid. The corridor they were in now was quieter, at the side of the main terminal, she thought. Star moved away from her and waited. After a few minutes a man appeared, an airport employee, a janitor perhaps, wearing a uniform. He seemed to know Star, and Star seemed to know him. They spoke briefly in lowered voices. The man looked over his shoulder. Star made one of his conjuring movements. Mina wasn’t certain, but she thought some money changed hands.

The man produced a key and opened a door, an unmarked door. Star beckoned to her, and the man ushered them through. The man himself did not follow them. He closed the door behind them. Mina looked around her. They were standing in a quiet airport lounge, carefully furnished in muted shades. There were groups of armchairs, a thick carpet, tables stacked with the latest magazines.