It was time to turn in. If necessary, he could always bring other forces to bear on her. She had a son somewhere, he knew. Any threat to a child will break most parents. But it irked him professionally to have to resort to those means. He would persuade her. It would be a challenge to break her.

Early that morning, Max Le Sourd stopped in the rue de Montmorency and gazed toward L’Invitation au Voyage. There was a van and a Gestapo car in front of it.

He didn’t go any closer, but stopped at a nearby café to ask what had happened.

“They came at midnight last night and arrested Madame Louise,” he was told. “The place is closed. No one knows anything else.”

It was nearly ten in the morning when Schmid returned. But when he did, he received a shock.

“Dead? How? You did not leave a blanket or sheet in the cell?”

“No, Lieutenant.”

“A sharp object?”

The fellow looked embarrassed.

“A knife. When the guard brought her breakfast.”

They showed him. She had slit her wrists, in the correct manner. She had bled to death in minutes.

Schmid cursed and cursed, in fury. Then he ordered a car to take him to her house. That must be closed and sealed. At least he’d have her pictures.

As Thomas sat in his usual place by the bar, he supposed that he should be grateful. Luc hadn’t much wanted to have Charlie’s body in the cave at all, but as Thomas pointed out, it was less likely to be found there than anywhere else they could think of.

After that, he’d made his way home, where Édith had been more than relieved to see him. In the middle of the morning, Michel Dalou had come by to let him know that everyone had gotten back safely from the operation.

“Do you think anyone was identified?” Thomas asked.

“No. We all had face covering of some sort, and before the police recovered from the racket we made, we’d all run off.”

“That’s good.” Thomas didn’t tell him about Charlie. He’d have wanted to know what they’d done with the body.

“I heard we were set up,” said Michel Dalou.

“Maybe. Leave that to Max. He’ll work it out.”

“Are we safe?”

“Yes. Nobody got captured, and you say no one was seen—so the police and the Gestapo have nothing.”

“That’s good,” said Michel Dalou, and left.

But Thomas Gascon was thoughtful. The events of last night were forming a pattern in his mind. And it wasn’t a pattern he liked at all.

Corinne was Louise. He knew Louise: the girl that Luc had set up, long ago. She’d paid his brother too, for years, before they’d had a falling-out.

He remembered also how his brother had been so anxious that he should not go on the mission last night.

And what about the cave? He’d said he’d been preparing it as a hiding place for him. Yet he’d never mentioned the fact until last night. Did that make sense?