Jeannot peered down into the street.

‘There, in that alleyway, there’s… somebody. I think he was at the Montreux the other day. A bloke with red hair.’

‘I see him,’ said Jeannot, ‘and I know him, too. Caught him following Hélène when she was fool enough to try an’ go visiting her ma. Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him. Look, here comes Joubert. Once you’re downstairs, quick as you like into the cab. If Redhead makes any trouble he’ll wish he hadn’t.’

‘Come on,’ Rupert said to the two girls as he picked up the two valises. ‘Straight out and into the cab. I’m right behind you.’

‘I told him to drive on soon as you’re all inside,’ Jeannot told Rupert. ‘Once you’re out of sight you can tell him where you want to go.’

‘What do I pay him?’ asked Rupert.

‘Nuthink!’ answered Jeannot. ‘He owes me!’

‘So do I, now,’ said Rupert.

‘’S’all right.’ Jeannot grinned. ‘I’ll remember.’

*

André had known he was in trouble when he woke up that morning with a raging thirst and a sledgehammer pounding his brain. When he opened his eyes, he found himself naked in his own bed, but with little recollection of how he had come to be there. He’d had a drink in a bar, he remembered that, and there’d been a girl. He’d bought her a drink too, but as they passed the evening together, working their way through his wages, things became rather hazy. He was alone now, but he was pretty sure the girl had come back to his room with him. He hauled himself out of bed and crossed to the jug of water standing on the table, and took a long swallow. His head continued to pound, and he sat back down on the bed. His clothes were in a heap on the floor and as he dragged on his trousers, he put his hand into his pocket, feeling for the last of his cash, and found it empty.

Shit! he thought. The bitch has cleaned me out!

As he struggled with his shirt, he heard the church clock at the end of the street strike nine and his heart sank. He should have been back outside the Montreux hours ago, watching for the Englishman to go out again. He’d have missed him by now for sure. Not daring to return to Monsieur Barnier and admit that he’d overslept and awoken with a hangover, he drank another long draught of water. With his money gone, he’d have to go back to the street in Batignolles. He could always tell Barnier that he’d followed the Englishman there again this morning and hope he was believed.