Trust me. It was the second time in two minutes that she had said these words. So why did it ring so accursedly hollow?

*

Wilde wasn’t sure whether he slept or not, but he sank onto the pillow and the next thing he knew was the sound of a car pulling up outside and voices. He switched on the bedside lamp, looked at his watch and saw it was two in the morning. He turned off the light and pulled the curtain back a fraction.

A dark car stood on the roadway, its engine running and its headlights blazing. A man sat at the wheel. Two other men in uniform were dragging someone – hands bound and struggling – towards the vehicle.

One of the rear doors was open and they pushed him inside. At the last moment, Wilde caught sight of his face in the moonlight, mouth open. Half a shout emerged before the butt of a pistol smashed into the man’s face. He fell backwards onto the rear seat.

It was Guillaume.

One of the uniformed men slid in beside him and the door was slammed shut. The last man went around to the other side and got into the rear seat, trapping the Frenchman in the middle. The driver put the car in gear and the car growled away into the night.

Trust me, she had said.

Wilde was still fully dressed, except for his shoes and chauffeur’s cap. He padded to the door of his room and looked out along the carpeted corridor, which was lit by a single wall sconce further along, close to the grand staircase. The head and broad antlers of a deer, attached to the wall, cast strange shadows along the narrow runner. All seemed clear. He crept along the corridor and down the stairs, thinking himself insane even as he did so. What was he looking for? What could he possibly gain from this? But curiosity and frustration at his sense of powerlessness drove him on. As he approached the door a hand grasped his arm and the muzzle of a pistol caressed his cheek.

‘Monsieur Sable, what exactly are you doing?’

It was the Luftwaffe major. He was speaking German.

‘I . . . I needed some air.’

‘And do you think it wise to go prowling at night?’

‘Forgive me. I didn’t think.’

‘Indeed not. It is not safe outside at night, monsieur. Wolves hunt in these woods. People get hurt.’

‘I’m sorry, Herr Major. Please forgive me.’

The major gave him a searching look.

‘Go back to bed.’

*

Sunny’s door was on the other side of the corridor from Wilde’s, ten yards to the right, next to the children’s room. He had to talk to her.