After eating, he opened his revolver to check that it was fully loaded before spinning the barrel and snapping it shut with a flick of the wrist. Potente was fond of this sound and couldn’t resist repeating the action several times.

He checked his map and guessed that Father Doran’s cottage would be a quarter-hour’s drive, but the petrol gauge was close to empty so he took a can and a funnel from the trunk and refuelled before setting off.

The Dorans’ cottage wasn’t dissimilar to the one Herr Potente had lived in as a boy. He felt a twinge of rural nostalgia as he pulled on a frayed cord to ring the bell above the front door. Yvette Doran wandered up the driveway from behind him, carrying a shovel and wearing boots covered in mud.

‘Mr Henderson?’ Yvette said uncertainly, before cracking a warm smile. ‘I didn’t expect you so early.’

Potente spoke in perfect French. ‘I made good time. The roads are surprisingly quiet.’

Yvette nodded. ‘I think everyone has been moving around France for so long that they’ve finally given up. Do step inside. The door isn’t locked and I expect my brother is dealing with the children’s breakfast.’

The door creaked as it opened directly into a living room. The way through to the kitchen was clear and Potente noted the three children sitting at the dining table. He correctly assumed that Paul and Rosie were the two older ones.

‘Welcome, Mr Henderson,’ Father Doran said, as he stood up to move towards the stove. ‘You’ve had a long journey. Would you like some fresh coffee?’

‘Wonderful,’ Potente said, smelling the bread baking in the oven as he rubbed his hands and looked at the children. ‘I’m afraid we can’t stay for long. I got a Morse-code signal through to London and I’ve secured us a place on a ship from Bordeaux, but it’s leaving at thirteen-hundred, which is cutting things a little fine.’

‘We’ve heard so much about you, Mr Henderson,’ Rosie said brightly. ‘Our father often spoke about you.’

‘Really?’ Potente said warily.

Father Doran placed a mug of coffee on the dining table. ‘Do sit down, Mr Henderson.’

Paul looked up as Potente took a chair. ‘You and my father were on the same ship for a while, weren’t you?’ he asked.

‘HMS Manchester,’ Rosie added.

Potente nodded. ‘It was a long time ago, but I’ll tell you some stories once we get going. Your father was a great man.’

Hugo chose this moment to push his chair back and get down from the table. The six year old was stunned by the sight of Yvette leaning into the doorway and aiming the barrels of a shotgun at Potente’s head. The youngster’s expression was enough to make Potente swivel around just as Yvette pulled the trigger.