Sister Marguerite nodded a satisfied nod, her wimple wobbling. “The first rule of travelling,” she reminded her, “is that you have always left something behind.”

Early that evening they had to meet Le Goff, to discuss their reward for finding the diamond. They said goodbye to Rupert and Klaus, and strolled back to the great white house on the Bosphorus Strait. When they arrived, police officers swarmed about the house like ants, and a knot of especially worried police officers at the front barked into radios.

They found Le Goff in the gardens, tucked up under a pile of blankets in a deckchair by the rosemary, his breath misting in the air. As they approached, he looked up from his crossword. “Hello!” he said. “I thought we’d talk out here. You can’t get a moment’s peace inside. They’re tearing the place apart. Everywhere you turn somebody wants you to do something.”

Le Goff had apologized at length yesterday, but things were still a bit stiff and awkward. There was a “well then” sort of silence. Another of the worried police officers with the radios hurried past, his radio crackling out panicked Turkish.

“Is something wrong?” Max asked, her gaze following the officer.

“Your great-aunt,” said Le Goff, lying back and shutting his eyes, “has disappeared. Left Suzanne Leroy behind and phantomed off somehow by herself. But your great-aunt has been a Turkish citizen for years –” he smiled at this “– so she’s their problem. Not mine.”

“Le Goff,” said Marguerite sternly, “do you have any interest in solving crimes beyond what is strictly required of you?”

Le Goff sipped his coffee and considered this. “No,” he said. “Not really.”

Max just stood, breathing in the scent of rosemary and taking in the news. She found that she was not at all surprised. Somewhere inside, she had always known that her great-aunt would flutter out of trouble. The way her eyes had darted about as they led her away, Max had known that she was already twitching together the threads of a plan.

Poor Suzanne, left behind. She was ruthless with her enemies, but Great-Aunt Elodie was ruthless with her friends.

Le Goff interrupted her thoughts. “By the way, Max,” he said. “The house keeps getting calls from a Mr Marek. He says that he was sent a parcel from Elodie Morel, and even though it was a very odd parcel, he is very keen to know why she was trying to contact them, and whether he can be of assistance.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Apparently, the parcel was delivered by a small girl, and contained a letter to someone called Maximilienne.”