Agathe found Annette looking after Benny’s stall and the two women greeted each other in delight.

‘I’ve come with a message,’ Agathe told her. ‘Rupert’s had your letter and is coming to Paris. He should arrive any time, but if he’s not here yet, you’re to leave a message for him at the Hotel Montreux.’ She gripped Annette’s hands. ‘Whatever happens, don’t let him go to St Etienne.’

‘I don’t suppose he’ll want to,’ Annette said. ‘He’ll want to see Hélène and she’s here.’

‘Still, we need to leave him a message as soon as possible. When will you go?’

‘As soon as Benny gets back,’ replied Annette. ‘I can’t leave his stall unattended.’

While Annette and Agathe were talking in the marketplace Rupert Chalfont was renewing some of his acquaintances in Paris. It was nearly nine months since he had been there, on his way to Lucas Barrineau’s wedding. His hope that there would be a message from Annette or Pierre when he arrived had been disappointed, and rather than wait around in the hotel, he sent Parker with a note to David Bertram, with whom he’d been at school and who was now an attaché in the British Embassy. Parker soon returned with a reply, saying David was delighted to hear Rupert was back in Paris, had immediately suggested that they lunch together and had suggested Le Chien Dansant, a restaurant in a side street close by the embassy and a favourite with them both. It was a bright spring day, the sort of day that clothed the city in sunshine and lifted the spirits with the promise of summer, and Rupert decided that the walk would do him good. He was in no particular hurry as he made his way towards the restaurant in the street off the Rue du Faubourg St Honoré. His thoughts were filled with Hélène. How long before he learned where she was? Before he saw her with his own eyes? As he turned into the side street he was unaware of a well-dressed gentleman coming towards him. He reached the restaurant, seeing the familiar dancing dog sign above the window, and pushed open the door to enter.

Simon Barnier had slowed to a standstill, hardly able to believe his eyes as he saw Rupert Chalfont enter the restaurant a little way ahead.

Surely he must be mistaken. Why would Rupert Chalfont be here in Paris? He should be home in England looking after his new wife, not dining in restaurants in Paris. Perhaps it was not him. Slowly he walked past the window and glanced in. A man was just getting to his feet to shake hands with his guest, and that guest, Simon was quite certain now, was Rupert Chalfont.

‘Eugène,’ he said, turning to the young man, who was still with him. ‘Did you see the tall man who went into Le Chien Dansant?’

Eugène nodded. ‘Who is he, monsieur?’ he asked.

‘Never mind who,’ snapped Simon, ‘but I need to know where he is staying. Get André straight away. I want him followed. Tell André to find out where the man is staying and then come and report back to me at the hotel. Go, now.’