Matteo shifted his weight. So great was his unease about entering the home that he began to turn around on his heels and head back down the front stoop, but the sight of a familiar cloak hanging on the hook near the door stopped him. Potier’s hat hung above it.

Warmth filled Matteo. How he missed his dear friend. Surely all would be well, the man reading upstairs in his bed. Soon he and his family would be safely tucked in Matteo’s hired carriage and then on their way to England. With those thoughts to encourage him, he entered the home, making his way around furniture in the darkness.

Upstairs, one glowing, flickering light spilled into the hallway. Uneasy enough not to call out, he made as little noise as possible approaching the door. The room appeared empty, light coming from somewhere on the other side of the door. His feet moved forward while his heart and mind questioned the action. Two additional steps into the room, and the door slammed shut behind him, the lock clicking. He spun, grabbing for his pistol, but a solid thump hit his head and the world began to blacken around him. As he slumped to the ground, he tried to draw his sword but fumbled and hit the floor before he could manage it. A blurry form of the French tricolor cockade came into focus and then faded to complete darkness.

***

Scarlet’s visit with Marie had been bittersweet. It was lovely to see her old friend and fashion consultant but painful to see her reduced in such an obvious manner. Her small frame had turned wiry, lacking all of her former buxom curves. Her thinning hair under the wigs, unnaturally gray, showed an age that should still be a few years in coming. But Marie’s gratitude and relief in behalf of her daughter motivated Scarlet to keep working, even now, sitting with detestable Pauline and Claire as they planned who would deliver the denouncements to the guards.

“Robespierre’s note said our personal delivery to the guardhouse is not secure enough. He wants to see the list himself.” Pauline’s eyes slanted. “I feel like he is spying on us.”

Claire added, “I hear he’s getting suspicious. Guards say they never find the people on our lists.”

Pauline scoffed. “I say the guards are being lazy. There is nothing wrong with our lists.”

“Well, it’s a problem when the neighbors claim the person never lived there, ever.” Claire crossed her arms.

Both ladies turned to Renée.

She placed another sheaf of paper into the fire, watching the flames devour it. Her brow wrinkled and her voice wavered as she said, “I don’t know, ladies. I don’t know.” Her lips curved downward and she dropped her face into her hands. “What can I do if the people aren’t where they’re supposed to be?”