‘Hello, Citoyenne du Bugue. Or – what is it you’re calling yourself now? Laroche?’ He smiled indulgently. The crinkles of his laughter lines were horribly familiar. ‘After your mother, I assume. Touching, but ill-advised to make such a clear association with a convicted counter-revolutionary.’

And in that many words her mood changed. How dare he speak about her mother like that?

She lunged towards him, but was stilled by the muzzle of a gun that had come to rest against her temple. It guided her back into her chair.

‘Now, now. You’re far too grown up for such childish spite.’ He took a plate from the table and offered it to her. ‘Bonbon?’

‘Childish?’ she spat, voice shaking. ‘I’m not the one playing at spies. Bags over the head at night? Really?’

Camille felt almost giddy with anger. She’d fantasised about coming face to face with Molyneux again, back when her parents’ blood was still fresh on the ground. He looked nothing like he had done at the Tribunal, red-faced, his finger pointing across the crowds at her father in the dock. How dare he look so normal, reminding her that the world she’d grown up in – that he had been an integral part of – had shattered into pieces.

Molyneux put the plate back on the table. ‘I’m afraid as much as we have history together, I’m not prepared to share all our secrets with you.’

‘Fine. Tell me what it is you do want to share. I’ve had a bloody tiring day and you’re keeping me from my bed.’

‘As it happens we’ve had quite a taxing few days ourselves.’

‘Fascinating. Where’s Ada?’

‘Your companion is nearby. She’s safe.’

Camille sagged infinitesimally. She’d curled her hands around the edges of her chair to dig her nails into the wood. She couldn’t look Molyneux in the eye, so she looked at the point between his eyebrows.

‘And will be as long as you cooperate,’ he added.

The relief she’d felt evaporated in a breath.

‘Cooperate with what?’

‘Giving an honest response to the questions I’m about to ask you.’

Molyneux held his hand out and Comtois passed over a sheet of paper. From the corner of her eye, she tracked him as he rifled through his papers. Did he recognise her?

‘Do you get off on being all mysterious, or is it just an unfortunate side effect of being a total bastard?’

Comtois paused in the middle of making a note. ‘I thought you said she was a reliable source?’