The man in the garden of the house opposite eased his way out from the bush that had concealed him. His mark was heading back into the city. All he had to do was follow her, discover where she was living and report back. It would be easy to stay far enough behind her that should she happen to look over her shoulder, he would be just another person among the press of people on the street.

Hélène walked quickly, anxious to get as far away as possible from the Avenue Ste Anne, until she suddenly realised that she had strayed into unfamiliar streets and she didn’t know where she was. The street she was in didn’t look familiar at all. Had she taken a wrong turning? Going towards the Avenue Ste Anne she had recognised landmarks and had found her way easily enough, but now, coming back, she was lost. Where should she turn off? Which of the smaller, meaner streets led back to Batignolles? Had she passed that church? Was that where she must turn left? She paused on a corner and looked about her. Suddenly there was a voice beside her, making her start in fright.

‘All right, darlin’? Lost, are you?’

‘No,’ Hélène snapped. ‘Of course not. Go away!’

‘Just thought I might be goin’ the same way as you, darlin’. We could walk together!’ He reached for her arm and she shook him off, shouting, ‘Let me go!’

‘No need for that,’ grinned the man, gripping her arm more firmly. ‘Why don’t you let me look after you? Pretty girl like you needs looking after!’ He pulled her towards the entrance of a narrow alleyway that ran between two shops, but before they reached it and as if in an echo from her childhood, she heard Jeannot’s voice. ‘Bite, Hélène!’ She lowered her head and sank her teeth into the man’s hand. He gave a bellow of pain and let go, cradling his injured hand against himself. The moment she was free, Hélène took to her heels and ran. With no idea of where she was going she ran, pushing people out of the way, pulling loose from the hands that tried to stop her until she turned the corner into a narrow street with a bakery on the corner. Here she allowed herself to stop and catch her breath. She looked back over her shoulder, but could see no one trying to follow her. She was certainly lost now and needed directions. She knew if she got to St Eustache market she could find her way back to the apartment. But which way was it? She went into the bakery, and keeping an eye on the street outside for any sign of pursuit, she bought a loaf. It was still warm from the second batch of baking and the smell made her mouth water. As she paid for the bread she spoke to the woman behind the counter.

‘Please can you tell me the way to St Eustache?’