‘Perhaps you are delivering something for your mistress?’

‘Senhor, I thought this was the entrance to the pharmacy. I . . . have got the wrong address. Forgive me . . .’

‘Really? You have a prescription to collect for my wife?’

‘Yes.’ There was a sudden look of relief in her eyes that he’d managed to find an explanation for her. ‘It must be further along the street.’

‘As a matter of fact, I know exactly where it is. So, why don’t you hand it over to me and I will deliver it to the pharmacist myself?’

‘Senhor, Senhora Bel made me swear I would deliver this . . . prescription to the pharmacy with my own hands.’

‘And as I’m her husband, I’m sure she would feel it was safe in mine, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ The maid lowered her eyes in resignation. ‘Of course.’

Gustavo put out his palm and Loen pulled the envelope out of her pocket, her eyes agonised and pleading as he took it from her.

‘Thank you,’ he said, tucking it into the top pocket of his jacket. ‘I promise you I will deliver it safely to the correct recipient. Now, run along back to your mistress, who is surely wondering where you have got to.’

‘Senhor, please . . .’

Gustavo’s palm halted any further remonstrations. ‘Senhorita, unless you want to be thrown out onto the street without a reference the moment I arrive home, I suggest you do not discuss this meeting with my wife. No matter how loyal you are to her, it is I who decides who we employ to serve our household. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes, senhor, I do,’ the maid answered, her voice quavering and her eyes full of tears.

‘Now, I suggest you run along back to Madame Duchaine’s and collect the necessary medicine from the pharmacy, which I believe is only a few doors down from the salon, to sustain your alibi.’

‘Yes, senhor.’

Loen dropped a shaky curtsey, and turned away from him to walk back the way she had come.

Immediately, Gustavo hailed a passing cab. Knowing that whatever this envelope contained he would need a strong whisky to enable him to open it, he directed the driver towards his club.

Loen had hidden herself round the corner, due to the fact her legs would carry her no further as they were shaking like saplings in a hurricane. She was slumped in a doorway when she saw Gustavo pass right by her in the back of a cab.

Burying her head between her legs and taking some deep breaths, Loen tried to clear her mind of the shock at what had just taken place. Even though she couldn’t know for sure what the envelope contained, she could imagine only too well. She had no idea what she should do and only wished Bruno was with her to advise her now.

She too had her own problems presently – which she’d felt unable to speak of to her mistress, who had been so grief-stricken by her mother’s death, and then the realisation that she was with child.