“In my book, I was forced to write that while the paintings might exist, they could also be hearsay; stories people told. This could be the final, missing chapter of Giroux’s life and work. His life—and my scholarship, frankly—is not complete without The Ladies of the Secret Circus. Jacques Mourier, the writer at Le Figaro, was the only journalist to attempt to investigate the existence of Le Cirque Secret. He received a ticket to one performance and wrote the only existing article about the circus for the paper.”

Lara recalled the article in Cecile’s journal. Sylvie had read the article to her while they were at the market at Rue Mouffetard. Taking the notes from Barrow’s side of the table, she shuffled them to find the entry. “Here.” She pushed the notes at him. “They reference his article in the journal.”

He read the pages, rubbing his neck in disbelief. “Poor Mourier drove himself crazy trying to get another ticket just so he could see it again. The performance had left him with more questions. Who ran it? How did it work? The police didn’t know. The city of Paris didn’t know. Mourier said that he saw the ladies of the circus out in Montparnasse frequently, but they would never discuss the circus with him or anyone else. And then, of course, there were the disappearances.”

“Disappearances?” Lara’s throat caught and she drank some water. At the gala, Louie Favre had mentioned the disappearances. Peter Beaumont and then Todd had gone missing. Was there a connection?

“Each time the circus showed up somewhere, dozens of men went missing. Mourier thought that is why it kept moving, avoiding authorities. He even considered that a serial killer was working at the circus—either that or a ritual killing—but without proof of the circus, they couldn’t connect the disappearances to it. In the end, Mourier might have been onto something, because the disappearances stopped when the circus did.” Barrow lifted his glass and looked out at the street. “I have to tell you. Part of me is apprehensive about getting my hopes up again. The pursuit of this circus can drive you mad.”

The wine arrived quickly, followed by their entrées.

“Do you remember what Zelda Fitzgerald said about the Secret Circus?” Gaston sipped his wine. “That after the performance she left through the mouth of the Devil. She turned around to take one last look and there was nothing but the cold night air.” He raised his eyebrow. “I read that somewhere?”