Now the words were a jumble in her mind as the rain poured down before her vision. Wolfram. Agent Thirty. Anthrax. Cartagena. Erri Barro. Codebooks. Agent Eighteen. Bacilli. Madrid. Sugar. Bilbao. Agent Four.

Margot checked her watch again. Was it possible that Maman was waiting at home for her, so she could use the good brolly? It didn’t seem the most plausible course of action, but Maman was not always the most logical creature in the world. Most of the time she was utterly rational. But on rare occasions, frustration or joy or some other incomprehensible feeling would trump better reason and make her do the strangest things. Like sit on the couch with a huff after fighting with an umbrella for ten minutes and declaring to the otherwise empty flat that she wouldn’t move until a working example arrived.

“Everything all right, Margot?”

Margot looked over her shoulder with a muted smile for Dot. She’d obviously only come back downstairs on some sort of errand, as she had a clutch of papers in hand. She had arrived ten minutes ago. Margot lifted a shoulder. “Maman is not here yet.”

Dot’s brows drew together. “Has she come down with that flu that’s been going around, perhaps? She looked a bit pale yesterday.”

Margot shifted her weight to her other foot. She hadn’t considered that very likely possibility—which proved how tired she was. “Possibly. She did seem run-down. But she would have telephoned Lady Hambro to tell her, if so.”

“And I daresay she will. If so, I mean. But she may have overslept, or been waiting to be sure her ladyship was in.”

True, all. Margot let that possibility slip into the row of them in her mind. Stay or go? Wait or check on her mother?

The numbers were muted, sluggish, as tired as the rest of her. But she thought they agreed with the idea of marching out into the cold rain and going home. The powers of three were singing through her mind. No, of four. No . . .

“Are you feeling all right?” Dot had come closer and reached now to touch a hand to Margot’s forehead. Her own was creased into a frown. Symmetrical lines, equidistant apart. “You feel warm.”

She wouldn’t let just anybody touch her head like that. But it hadn’t taken long for Dot to feel like a sister. And she was too tired to jerk away. “I’m well enough. Just tired.” Though now that she mentioned it, her throat was the tiniest bit sore too.

Nothing a cup of tea and a morning of sleep wouldn’t fix. With what was meant to be a marshalling exhale but came out as a resigned sigh, Margot lifted the brolly. “All right, enough dillydallying. I’ll either find her on the way or see her at home. Good night, Dot. See you tomorrow.”