She pressed her finger to her lips before pushing upon a door near rotted to its hinges. We emerged through this into a dwelling entirely different in appearance. She edged me forward, up a final pair of rickety stairs and into a room. It was a simple place with clay tiles upon the floor and poorly whitewashed panels. But for a table, a chair and the stub of a candle, long snuffed out, it was almost bare.

‘He is there,’ said she, gesturing to a door, before promptly disappearing below once more.

I looked about me uneasily and then approached the door.

‘Citizen Labroux . . .?’ I called out softly.

I heard someone stir and waited for the door to open, but it did not. I called again and then rapped lightly upon it. Still uncertain, I stood for a moment before deciding I must try the handle. I pressed carefully against it. Sure enough, it creaked open to reveal a small room furnished with a simple bed and chairs, a table and a set of drawers. The shutters, however, were pulled. I spied not a soul. I took one step inside and then another, until all at once I felt a pair of hands about me.

Allenham kissed me fervently, and I him.

‘I could not be certain you had arrived unaccompanied,’ he said between breaths. ‘Do forgive me, my angel, my beloved . . .’ His words were smothered by the joining of our lips and then forgotten amid joyous laughter and tears of gratitude. He stroked my cheeks and hair, as if he could not believe I was real.

‘That you live and are here is a miracle,’ he said as he rubbed the wetness from his eyes.

‘It is no miracle, my love, but your doing entirely,’ I replied. ‘I shall remain grateful until the last.’