On the way back from the theatre, Camille had explained what Léon had told them about the duc’s likely hiding place. It was agreed they would go there at dawn next morning, once they’d had time to prepare.

‘I’m not walking into another trap,’ Camille had said darkly.

In the parlour Guil was repairing the soldier’s uniform that had been damaged in their escape from the Conciergerie. James watched him.

‘Gosh, aren’t you all handy? I can sew up skin but set me to work on a button and it would be a disaster.’

Guil didn’t look up. ‘You learn to shift for yourself in the army. It’s a terrible shock for some of the little lords going from their grand apartments to the officers’ camp.’

Olympe was restlessly pacing the room, winding and unwinding a ball of yarn to keep the static from crackling between her fingers. She still wore thick make-up, hands flitting nervously to her ear or jaw, testing to see if the powder had held. An anxious arc of blue sparks coiled around her throat, making her hair frizz and halo.

Ada saw James give Olympe a curious look and quickly cleared her throat to get his attention. ‘I’m going to look for a map of the abbey. Be useful and come with me, James.’

He glanced at Camille. ‘I can, if you like, but I thought I was supposed to be lying low?’

‘You are,’ agreed Camille. Ada gave a pointed nod in Olympe’s direction and understanding crossed Camille’s face. ‘But I don’t want anyone travelling alone right now. Go with Ada.’

He stood, reaching for his jacket. ‘If you insist.’

Ada ignored his hopeful smile and swept down the stairs out to the street, James following.