“Mmm.” The sergeant addressed Estelle in French. “I’ll ask you again, Mademoiselle, and I’d like you to consider your answer carefully. Where is Madame Beaufort?”

“You think I’m hiding her?” Estelle exclaimed. “Look around. As you can see, she’s not here.” She turned on her heel and flounced into one of the bedrooms. Away from the dining room. Away from the agent. “And she’s certainly not here either,” she announced. “Look for yourselves.”

The sergeant and aide followed her into the room. Estelle almost wept with relief. Sophie had minutes now in which she could slip from that damn closet and escape the suite and no one would see her go. Not from here, anyway.

“Tell me, how is it that you are acquainted with Madame Beaufort?” Schwarz asked.

“I met her while I was shopping the other day,” Estelle told him readily. “Her family owns a cosmetics company, you know. A stroke of luck indeed because to find a good lipstick these days is almost impossible. Such an inconvenience.”

The aide was sneering at her again, and Estelle kept right on going, hoping with all her might that Sophie had found everything she needed and was on her way out of this suite and out of this damn hotel.

“Anyway, she had a painting that she wanted to gift to the Reichsmarschall while she was in Paris, and I was only too happy to offer my help. Her father is from Berlin, you know. Or maybe it’s her mother. I can’t remember. She seems very German, and I thought she might appreciate the hotel. You know, being amongst her people here.”

“Her people?” The sergeant had a look of disgust across his face. “I am quite sure that we are not her people.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think, Mademoiselle, that you are not telling me everything.” Schwarz’s eyes had narrowed. “I think you know more about this woman than you are telling me.”

The aide beside him suddenly laughed. “You can’t be serious,” he said to the sergeant. “This…this woman here has the intelligence of a post. I’ve known her for years. She brings baubles to the Reichsmarschall like a pretty little lapdog hoping for a pat on her head. Though I suspect she gets that from him too.”

“Even lapdogs bite,” Schwarz said. “Perhaps I should have her arrested to be sure.”

The ground tilted beneath Estelle’s feet, and the edges of her vision dimmed.

“Mademoiselle Allard!” The feminine voice came from the salon. “Where have you gone? I’ve found a toolbox.”

Estelle tried to get her lungs working again to clear the spots from around the edge of her vision.

Run, she wanted to scream. Run as far and as fast as you can.

Schwarz spun. The aide’s mouth snapped shut.

“Mademoiselle?” Sophie’s voice floated from beyond. “Are you still here?”