"Well, don't you think it's interesting that she was always talking about how men mistreated her? I mean, let's assume for the moment that subconsciously she resents men. Let's further assume that this resentment comes from a deepseated fear of them, a fear of their power over her, their sheer physical dominance. Now of course it's only speculation, but don't you think it's possible that I'm right, that in fact she's always despised men? Especially the ones she could manipulate, and betray . . .?"

"Christ," Gray said, "no wonder she left you."

The rain had stopped, drawing them into the garden again—Dunbar in a classic greatcoat, Gray in a borrowed mackintosh. The wind had also subsided, leaving the rainwater ditches like mirrors. They followed the same path Gray had taken the day before, but only as far as the summerhouse. There were birds, mostly sparrows and titmice all along the hedgerows.

"I'm not going to try to convince you of her guilt," Dunbar said. "But I think you should at least entertain the notion for a moment."

Gray took a deep breath. "What are you talking about?"

"Let's assume for the moment that you're a soldier back from the front. You've come to Margaretha's suite for an entertaining evening. Now what do you suppose she's wearing? Something oriental perhaps?"

"Sod off."

"She pours you a drink, probably champagne. You chat for a while. She tells you that she's been terribly worried about your safety. Indeed, maybe she's even had a disturbing dream. In an effort to console her, you start telling her about the conditions out there. At first it's all rather meaningless. You talk about the food, your mates. But after a few more drinks you find yourself talking about the terrain, the unit strength, the battalion—"

"Oh for Christsakes, piss off. "

Dunbar shrugged and picked up a rusting teaspoon, another sign that this place had been abandoned very suddenly.

"Very well, Nicky, let's try another route. Let's just say that we're extremely interested in her current associations."

"Like her association with Merrick?"

"Merrick, as you've been told, was a temporary solution. We needed someone in Paris to keep an eye on her while I coordinated the larger effort."

"And who represents the larger effort? Me?"

"Nicky, you've got to realize that Margaretha is only a step on the ladder. We're not so much interested in her as the people around her, people she may not even be aware of."

"People like Spangler?"

"Actually we believe this is much bigger than Spangler. This is an entire German network aimed right at our heart." He didn't smile when he said it.

Gray sank down to the chair. "Look, cut all this. Where and when am I supposed to meet her?"

Dunbar had also found a place to sit. "I'm afraid it's not that simple. There are other factors to consider—"

"Like the Frogs?"

"The French have been assisting us, yes."