He strode to the entrance. She barely caught a glimpse of his face, but she saw enough of that severe countenance to know for sure who it was.

“Denounce me and I will kill you.”

The sharp whisper pulled Diane out of her thoughts. She spun around and faced its source.

Madame Oiseau, the music teacher, glared at her from the door, which she blocked with her body. Short and slight in stature, she still made an effective barrier. Her eyes glowed like two tiny coals in her flushed, fine-boned face. Her dark hair, usually dressed with great care, appeared mussed, as if she had rushed through her morning toilet.

“Do not doubt that I will do it, Diane. Take the punishment, keep your silence, and I will be your friend. Otherwise …” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

A chill slid through Diane, as if evil breathed on her nape.

“No one will believe you,” Madame said. “And when it is over, we will both still be here. You are smart enough to make the right choice.” She opened the door. “Come down when you are called. I will bring you in.”

Stunned with fear, Diane watched her leave.

She glanced around her spartan chamber, seeking reassurance from the familiar objects. She had an odd fondness for the hard bed and old coverlet, and the wood chair and simple desk. The wardrobe needed painting, and the pink washbowl had gotten very chipped over the years. The physical comforts were few, but time had made the narrow room the center of her life. It was the only home she could remember.

She pictured herself living in this chamber for a few years more. Not happy, but content. Not such a bad future, even with what she faced today, even with Madame Oiseau neaby. The alternative stretched in front of her like an endless void, dark and unfathomable.

The old questions began intruding, robbing the chamber of its meager comfort. Questions from her childhood, eternally unasked and unanswered. Who am I? Why did I come here? Where is my family? For a few years, she had stopped wondering, but recently they had returned, louder and more insistently, until they ran in a silent chant, echoing in a hollow part of her heart.

The answers were not here. Learning the truth meant abandoning this little world.

She only needed to grab the opportunity that fate had conspired to create.

Should she do it? Should she throw herself at the mercy of the Devil Man?

“… if she goes unpunished, I must insist that she leave. I cannot have the virtue of my girls corrupted …”

Madame Leblanc rambled on in severe tones. Distracted by thoughts of the unfinished business he had left back in Paris, Daniel St. John only half listened.

Something about a book. Of course the girl would have books. It was a school.