“Seek and ye shall find,” said Marguerite.

“Pardon?” The man’s French had a heavy British accent.

“Yes,” clarified Max, “it is.”

“Magnificent news.” The man put his bag on the rack overhead and folded himself into the seat. He fished into his pocket, and held up two halves of a pair of glasses, smiling ruefully. “Snapped them in London this morning. Absolute disaster. I waited ages on platform eight, only to find I was actually waiting on platform three. Piece of luck the train’s delayed!”

“We had a police search. You missed all the fun,” said Marguerite – raising her eyebrows at Max, as if to say, conveniently.

The man didn’t notice, and kept smiling at a spot just to Marguerite’s left. “Goodness, really?” he said, resting a casual arm on the table and accidentally knocking over the houseplant. Which, to be fair, Max thought, he could hardly have expected to be there. “Oh,” he said, a bit confused, “sorry. Er – what was that?”

Sister Marguerite delved into her habit, produced a banana, tried again, and produced a small bottle of superglue. “Give those spectacles here,” she said. “Let’s get them fixed before you hurt yourself.” And she waved the glue in his face, where he could see it.

“Heavens,” the man exclaimed. “You are a star and a saint. Goodness! Piece of luck meeting you two! Now, what did I do with them?”

While he groped around in his pockets, the train gave a cough, and began to pull slowly out of the Gare de l’Est. As the changing view of Paris began to pick up speed, a knot in Max’s stomach tightened violently, and she thought very hard about diamond thieves and mysteries to loosen it. Why wasn’t the man out of breath like all the other latecomers? she thought to herself loudly. Had it really taken him half an hour to realize his mistake?

Outside the window, Parisian town houses began to give way to modern apartments, and the train was moving faster and faster. Max twizzled her plaits together and breathed deeply. But she felt worse than ever, as if without Paris to hold her together, she might just unravel completely.

So she imagined as hard as she could. She imagined that she had a long black coat like Le Goff’s, and a stern face, and that she was on the trail of diamond thieves, and would never dream of feeling homesick. She imagined that she was secretly investigating this man, who had dodged the police inspection so neatly. Watching him carefully, she put on her best innocent face, and asked: “Sister, do you think the Phantoms are really on the train?”

“Phantoms have struck again, have they?” said the man. He looked casual. It was hard to tell when he couldn’t meet your eyes properly.