‘What now?’ Rosie asked, as her father dragged Madame Mujard into the apartment and shut the door.

‘We’ve got to leave,’ Clarke said. ‘If someone heard that shot they’ll fetch the police. Run into your rooms and grab your stuff. We’re leaving in two minutes.’

‘But I’m covered in blood,’ Rosie protested. ‘I need a wash.’

Mr Clarke groaned with frustration as he tucked the German’s gun inside his jacket and walked towards the bureau. ‘Rosie, I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy being locked in a police cell when the German artillery starts blasting the city. So give yourself a quick wipe down if you have to, but that’s it. Once you’ve got your things, there’s a paper bag with some food for the journey on the kitchen table – make sure you grab that before we leave. I’ve got my travelling bag in the car already, but I want you to go in my room and fetch my gold cufflinks and your mother’s jewellery box.’

‘Right.’ Rosie nodded loyally. But she sounded a touch put out as she rubbed her wet eyes. ‘Aren’t you going to help?

Clarke shook his head as his hand hovered over the telephone. ‘I’ve got to call a colleague. He has connections inside the Paris police and with luck he’ll be able to smooth this mess over.’

As the children rushed off to change and pack, Mr Clarke got an operator to connect him with the British Embassy.

‘Embassy main switchboard,’ said the woman on the other end.

‘I need to speak with Charles Henderson in section E,’ Mr Clarke said.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but Mr Henderson is no longer at the Embassy and I don’t believe he’ll be coming back. The only staff who haven’t been evacuated are myself, the Ambassador and two military attachés.’

‘Damn and blast,’ Mr Clarke growled. ‘What about Henderson’s secretary, Miss McAfferty? Can you get me her new number in London?’

‘I might be able to find it, but I don’t think there would be much point. All phone lines between France and Britain have been down since yesterday afternoon. We’re communicating by radio only.’

Mr Clarke was exasperated. ‘OK,’ he gasped. ‘If you do see Henderson, tell him that there’s been a spot of bother at my apartment, but that I’m going to head south as planned.’

‘I think it unlikely I’ll see him, but I’ll certainly try,’ the receptionist said. ‘Good day, sir.’

‘Keep safe,’ Mr Clarke said, as he put down the receiver and stood up. ‘Come on, kids,’ he shouted. ‘Action stations.’