Elaine got up to greet somebody, leaving Stone alone. He ordered dinner, then took out the phone number again. Impulsively, he dialed it.

She answered immediately. “Yes?”

“Ms. du Bois, this is Stone Barrington. Don’t hang up,” he said quickly, “I just want to talk to you.”

There was a brief silence. “All right,” she said. “What do you want to talk about?” Her accent was perfectly American.

“First of all, I want to explain why I had you photographed.”

“I would be interested to hear this,” she said.

“It was a domestic matter: Lawrence Fortescue was married to a woman, my client, who believed he was having an affair. They had a prenuptial agreement that precluded his getting any of her money in a divorce if he was shown to be adulterous. I had no idea who you were.”

“Do you now?” she asked.

“I have a better idea,” he said, “and I’d just as soon not be on your list of enemies.”

She laughed aloud. “Well, Mr. Barrington, you have a well-developed sense of self-preservation, I’ll give you that.”

“I think it would be a good idea if you and I met,” Stone said.

“Come now, you don’t really expect that, do you?”

“Are you acquainted with the American principle of the inviolability of the attorney-client relationship?”

“I believe so.”

“Then you must understand that if you and I meet for the purposeof your seeking legal advice from me, both the meeting and the conversation would be privileged, and I could not tell the police about either.”

“I understand that. Would the attorney-client relationship prevent you from, shall we say, inviting others to this meeting?”

“Yes. I could not ethically inform any authority of our meeting or our conversation unless I had direct knowledge of your intent to commit a crime.”

“And what do I know of your ethics, Mr. Barrington?”

“Nothing, except that all American lawyers live by the same code. American attorneys do not turn in their clients, except under the circumstances I have already described.”

“I take it you are curious about me.”

“Of course, but that’s not the principal reason for wanting to meet you.”

“And what would the principal reason be?”

“I want to save your life, if I can.”

“You wish to persuade me to turn myself in? I was in police custody only yesterday, and they didn’t seem to want me.”

“I don’t represent the police . . . or the British intelligence services.”

There was a silence. “You are very interesting, Mr. Barrington, because of who you do not represent. I’m sure you have a cell phone. Give me the number.”

Stone gave it to her.

“Tomorrow at six p.m., be at the skating rink in Rockefeller Center. Perhaps I’ll buy you a drink. But please don’t be so foolish as to ask anyone to join us.” She hung up.