‘The very same.’

Molyneux reached and, with a twitch of his fingers, pulled the hat brim away from Olympe’s face.

‘How curious.’ Robespierre leaned closer, green eyes studying her. ‘She looks exactly like a human girl.’

‘She is a human girl,’ said Camille. ‘In all the ways that matter.’

Robespierre ignored her. ‘Docteur, I want to see those reports again. Tangible results are long overdue.’

The docteur gave a perfunctory bow. ‘Yes, Citoyen le Président, of course.’

‘Now the girl is ours, I predict we shall see results within weeks – days—’ continued Molyneux, but Robespierre cut him off with a raised hand.

‘As you promised before. Excuse me. I have a speech to give.’

He left Molyneux flapping and descended to a balcony several levels below. The docteur had turned his attention to Olympe, who was shaking so badly Camille could feel the tremors.

Quiet settled across the Champs de Mars, the whole of Paris holding its breath as Robespierre took his position and began to speak.

‘It has finally arrived, the forever fortunate day that the French people consecrate to the Supreme Being. The world that he created has never offered a spectacle so worthy of his regard. He has seen tyranny, crime and imposture reign on earth: at this moment he sees an entire nation that is combatting all the oppressors of humankind…’

‘You see, Camille,’ Molyneux said. ‘You may not understand what is going on here, and believe me I had no desire to threaten Ada, but the return of the girl is of utmost importance to the Revolutionary effort—’

‘If I let you take her, do you promise you won’t hurt her?’ Camille’s mouth was suddenly dry. ‘Those experiments, the mask, that will all stop?’

Olympe quivered with tension. Camille could feel the faintest hum building, the shiver of static in her hair. She focused on the biting wind against her cheeks instead, the smell of paint and moss coming from the mountain. She could do this. She could hold herself together. The image of her mother’s head being dropped into a basket, red with blood, kept looping in her mind.

The world might see far worse if anyone got hold of Olympe.

Comtois and Molyneux exchanged glances.

‘I cannot make any promises,’ said the docteur. ‘The Royalist threat still hangs over every facet of this Republic. I know you understand that.’

‘Olympe won’t help you,’ she said. ‘She won’t work for you. I know what you and the duc did to her. It’s sick. Experimenting on people. You should be ashamed.’

Comtois coloured. It was the first time she’d ever seen him respond to a barb. ‘I am ashamed. But I would do it again, if it meant finding a way to protect the Republic.’

‘You’re the people the Republic needs protecting from.’

Comtois took a step closer to her.

Camille’s hand went automatically to her pistol.