‘No, he went off in a police car that was sent for him.’

‘I feel restless,’ said Rose, pacing up and down. ‘Let us go for a walk.’

Daisy and Becket exchanged glances. ‘Do you mind if I stay here?’ asked Daisy. ‘I am very tired.’

‘Do not worry. I shall go myself, only a little way.’

‘Becket,’ said Daisy, ‘go to Her Grace and ask that one of the footmen accompany Lady Rose.’

While he was gone, Rose changed into a blouse, skirt and long coat. Becket seemed to be away a long time and when he returned his normally pale face was flushed. ‘Her Grace is in a taking,’ he said. ‘She said her servants are no longer to be of use to us. It is my opinion she is sulking.’

‘Oh, I’ll go myself,’ said Rose. ‘The streets are full of ladies walking on their own.’

Rose walked out of the hotel and stood looking at the cars and carriages circling around the Place de la Concorde. She had a sudden impulse to see Notre Dame. She went back into the hotel and asked for directions and then she set out again on foot after refusing the concierge’s offer of a carriage.

The concierge picked up the telephone after she had left and dialled police headquarters. He had been told to report on the movements of the duchess’s party.

Rose made her way down to the Seine, along the quays of the right bank and then crossed to the left at the Pont Neuf. She walked steadily, enjoying the rare feeling of freedom.

At last she reached Notre Dame and went inside. She sat down in the gloom, dimly lit by all the flickering candles in front of the various saints, and felt at peace.

After half an hour, she left. She felt hungry and had no francs with her to buy food, but was reluctant to return to the hotel.

Rose walked a little way away from the front of the great cathedral and looked down at the river. She walked along to a flight of steps that led to the lower quay. The black water was hypnotic, swirling past. A barge sailed past. She could see the bargeman’s family at dinner in a cosy cabin.

She felt a sudden frisson of fear. There was a murderer on the loose in Paris. She should never have gone out for a walk without protection.

She was aware of a movement behind her and half turned round. A man leaped towards her and pushed her violently and Rose hurtled down into the waters of the Seine.

* * *

Harry had gone over and over the little he knew about the case with Lemonier. While he was talking, a policeman came in and handed Lemonier a note.

‘Lady Rose has gone out walking to Notre Dame,’ said Lemonier. ‘I’m sorry, you were saying . . .?’

‘When? When did she go out?’ asked Harry sharply.

‘The concierge telephoned about an hour ago.’