Inside the railcar, Lara noticed it was a museum of some sort. Lining the walls were black-and-white photos, all of vintage circuses. She spun, realizing the entire car was a shrine to the Paris circus, featuring vintage photos of Cirque Medrano’s famous Boum Boum the clown, the curious wig shaped into two points on his head making him resemble a rabbit. Another showed Jumbo, the famous elephant whom Lara knew eventually ended his career in the United States. In a case near the door hung a gold-and-red vertical-striped leotard. The inscription read: LEOTARD OF MISS LA LA. It was the costume from the famous Edgar Degas painting. She studied each photo—together this had to be the largest collection of circus memorabilia in the world.

“Vous êtes un fan?” asked the man, who had come in through the door. Now Lara could see he was older—perhaps in his seventies. He was tan and wiped sweat from his brow with a hankie that he kept in his back pocket. His glasses were so thick, she wondered how he could see anything.

“Oui,” said Lara. “What is this place?” She motioned around the room.

“Ah, the Musée de Cirque Parisian.” He pointed to the sign behind him. “You are American, oui?”

“Oui.”

“My English is not so good.” He sat down rather heavily in one of the wooden seats that was part of a booth. “This is the rear entrance of Le Cirque de Fragonard.”

Lara looked out the window to see the famous hexagonal building of Le Cirque de Fragonard’s Paris location. She was so busy running that she hadn’t noticed it earlier.

“The woman?” He pointed outside.

Lara shook her head. “Je ne la connais pas. Elle m’a suivi de Père Lachaise. Merci.”

“A pickpocket, perhaps?” the man asked in better English than Lara expected.

“Oui,” said Lara, not believing that the woman’s intentions were that innocent. She turned to the photo. “Is this from the 1920s?”

“Earlier.” The man stood up and walked toward the photo. “This was the famous clown Boum Boum. Le musée has photos and paintings from all the circuses in Paris, not just Fragonard. The circuses were very competitive, but le musée is for all.” His hands gestured around the room. There was a pride in his expression, like this was a personal collection.

Lara studied some of the photos, looking for anything that might resemble a secret circus. “My great-grandmother performed here in Paris in the 1920s. They called it Le Cirque Secret. Have you ever heard of it?”