Jane forced herself to be calm. Any urgency to find Vincent and speak with him would surely be remarked upon, and though much could be attributed to her situation, she did not think it wise to use that as an excuse more than necessary. She must also acknowledge that her revelation about Anne-Marie could wait. It needed to be communicated soon, but the few hours it would take Vincent to arrive home would mean no great delay.

Jane had abandoned books and music to instead pace in a wide circle around their apartment awaiting Vincent. Had he gone to seek the traitorous glamourist and her compatriots, or was he merely enjoying a pint of ale at an inn with M. Chastain and the students? The first provoked worry, the second, annoyance, and Jane wavered between the two states.

Finally the knob on their apartment door twisted slowly, and Vincent eased it open. He held his boots in one hand and jumped visibly when he saw her. ‘Muse! I thought you would be asleep.’

Her concern vanished and left her with annoyance. ‘I have been so worried about you!’

‘Worried?’

‘I was at the celebration tonight.’

‘Ah.’ He set his boots by the fire. ‘Yes, that was less surprising than I wish it had been. Unfortunately, all the culprits slipped away, and as a British glamourist, there was only so much I could do to insist that they be found and apprehended. There was a notable lack of concern, though the shoe throwing did hearten me somewhat that not all residents of Binché support Napoleon.’

‘They might well. I threw the first shoe, and I suspect that most of the crowd did it simply out of over-excitement.’ She tapped her thumbs together in thought. ‘I believe that Yves Chastain is not a Bonapartist. He rallied his friends to try to hit the woman, and unless he is a surpassingly shrewd actor, then I believe that he truly wanted to stop her.’

‘Muse, you are a wonder. Did you recognise the woman?’

‘I am afraid I was not situated to see her clearly. Did you?’

Grim, he shook his head and settled into the chair with his writing desk. ‘I will need to write to Mr. Gilman to let him know that the unrest here is more serious than we thought.’

‘Before you do, I have something to tell you.’

Vincent waited with the complete stillness that marked his deep attention as Jane recited her fears about Anne-Marie. When she had done, he worked his jaw, thinking. ‘You are likely right. I doubt that she was placed here to spy on us, but rather that Lieutenant Segal recruited her when he learned whom she served.’ Rubbing the back of his neck he scowled. ‘The one good thing is that all my papers on the Bonapartists are in code. Unless she has an interest in my more tedious observations on glamour, there is little in the writing desk to attract her notice.’