Lafite waved these suggestions aside. “I will decide whom to investigate. And at this moment the cards are all stacked against you, Lady Georgiana of Rannoch. It all comes back to the fact that a reliable man did not see a ghost when he noticed you in Sir Toby’s front garden. But trust me, Lafite will leave no pebble not-turned-over to get at the truth.”

Mummy put a protective arm around my shoulders. “Then it may interest you to know that Madame Chanel has just telephoned to her friend at the Sûreté in Paris, and what’s more we have a top man from Scotland Yard arriving any moment. So you had better pray, Monsieur Lafite, that you get it right, because the eyes of the world are on you.”

“You may bring who you like, Madame. I have already told you that the Yard of Scotland has no power here. I, Lafite, have the power to send this young woman to trial or not.”

I don’t know how long this impasse would have continued or whether Mummy would have eventually worn him down, but once more there were voices in the tiled hallway—men’s voices this time—and Jean-Paul stalked into the room, followed by a distinguished-looking man with gray hair.

“I said I would return to put matters right, and I have,” Jean-Paul announced, as dramatically as my mother had done. “Inspector, may I present Monsieur Balzac, the eminent criminal defense lawyer. Together we have been to the home of Monsieur le Juge and I have placed with him a considerable sum of money to guarantee that Lady Georgiana does not flee from Nice so she may be free to return to her villa.”

I wanted to rush over to him and hug him, but Mummy got there first. “You are a wonderful, wonderful man,” she said, flinging her arms around his neck. “I don’t know how we’ll be able to repay you.” Her actions indicated that she had a jolly good idea of one way to repay him.

Lafite shot a glance at the young policeman. “Very well,” he said. “You may take her home tonight. But I send my men to guard the house. Do not even think of leaving Nice, any of you.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Mummy said. “Where else would one want to be in the winter?” She took my hand. “Come, darling. We’re going home.”

And she dragged me triumphantly past the little inspector.

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

January 26–27, 1933
At the Villa Marguerite. Still shaken and stirred.

We stood together on the pavement in a little group: Mummy and Jean-Paul and the lawyer and Coco had joined us as well.

“So where to now?” Jean-Paul said cheerfully. “The casino or the Negresco for a late drink?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather go home,” I said. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be a very gay and witty companion tonight.”