"How do I explain the fact that I'm off the front?"

"Tell her you swallowed a bit of gas or something."

"And if she smells a rat?"

Southerland hesitated, examining a twig he had snapped off at random. "Well, that's the point really. I mean she does believe in you, doesn't she? You above all people have always been a friend."

"Yes, and now I'm—"

"Turn her around, Nicky, convince her to work for our side and I'll make sure she slips out the back door. Fair enough?"

They began to walk again, skirting a reflecting pond and beds of untended roses. Ahead lay a shadowy glade filled with shepherd's weatherglass and pimpernel. In another life—that's what it seemed now—Gray might have spent hours sketching these slow-withering flowers to capture the timelessness.

"When would I go?"

Southerland shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure. You see, she believes she's on her way to Holland on behalf of the French, and we still have to pull her off the ship."

"What are you talking about, Martin?"

"We simply felt that your placement would be easier if she were under stress and on unfamiliar ground. I mean, she'd have no one else to turn to."

"So you had the French send her on some sort of trumped-up errand, is that it?"

"She thinks she's en route to Holland, but we'll take her off the vessel in Falmouth. The difficulties of placing you next to her in Paris were unacceptable. You know how she is there . . . besieged by old friends. This way it will be just the two of you."

"Not to mention the fact that now you've got additional proof she's a German spy, correct? I mean, obviously she wouldn't have agreed to help France in the first place if she wasn't some sort of double agent, right?"

"I don't believe that, no."

"But Dunbar does, doesn't he?"

"I suppose. Yes."

There were lawn chairs at the edge of the glade; a collapsed table, and the remains of an umbrella. Gray sat down and put a cigarette between his lips, didn't bother to light it.

"What else haven't you told me, Martin?"

Southerland had also found a chair, sagging into it as if exhausted.

"That you're not the first one we've tried to place."

"What are you talking about?"

"One of Dunbar's people. Someone named Merrick. He was used to watch her in Paris."

"Christ."

"It was a temporary solution. She arrived in Paris suddenly from Holland. We needed someone next to her and Merrick happened to be in the area."

Gray got up from the chair, walked a few steps, then suddenly stopped and turned. "Did he sleep with her?"

"Nicky, you've got to realize that—"

"Did he sleep with her?"

"Yes."

Gray tossed the unlit cigarette away. "When does Dunbar get here?"

"Tomorrow."

"I'll want to talk to him alone."

"Of course."

"I won't work with him but I want to talk to him."

"I understand."