Eloïse had unfurled it and spread it across his desk to examine, but he had snatched it off. He would not tolerate it there. The violently red rectangle with its gold hammer and sickle and its star carried too much blood woven into its fibres for him to want to touch it.

Eloïse had folded the flag away and tucked it out of sight in the case, snapping the lid shut with a sharp click.

‘Better?’ she said, and perched on the chair in front of his desk.

He nodded. She was good at spotting his weaknesses, as well as making them seem perfectly reasonable. What she wasn’t so good at was lying to him. Major Joel Dirke had come in with her at first, but had left after he’d given his statement and Eloïse had assured him that she was in no need of an escort back home as she had driven from the farm in her own car. Léon had noticed the American’s reluctance to leave her, his hand on her shoulder. His look of concern.

‘Thank you for your help, Major,’ Léon had said briskly, then opened his office door and almost pushed him out. You can have too much of American boots, even cowboy ones. The team of investigators from the USAF, who were getting precisely nowhere in digging into Mickey Ashton’s murder, had been a thorn in his side all afternoon and anyway he needed to speak to Eloïse alone.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked. She didn’t look all right.

‘Of course. I’m fine.’

Her eyes were wide, too wide, the silky skin of one cheekbone smudged with dirt. An acrid smell rose from her clothes and hair, where the fire had left its mark on her again. But that wasn’t it. There was something more. Léon leaned forward, elbows on his desk, so that he could attempt to see what was making her give a quick toss of her head as if trying to shake something out of it.

‘Eloïse, I’ve been receiving reports this week of unaccustomed activity out on the marshes. More vehicles passing through than normal. I took a look around, but found nothing except tyre tracks on the dirt trails. Far more numerous than I would expect.’

Her dark eyes studied him intently. Her tongue flashed across dry lips but she made no comment. Waited for more.

‘What you found and brought in today is crucial evidence.’

‘Evidence of what?’

‘It backs up what I suspect is happening. It seems we have a group of people meeting somewhere where they won’t be disturbed. To plan something. I believe those people could well be Communists preparing action of some sort, the way they planned their protest march in Serriac. The flag in the suitcase would indicate that Communists are involved.’