Now of course the answer was no. We were on vacation. Tim hadn’t had any business for several weeks and even then he had only been hired to find a missing dog. In fact he had spent three days at Battersea Dogs’ Home, where he had been bitten three times—twice by dogs. The trouble was, though, he was never going to admit this. He liked to think of himself as a man of mystery. So now he winked and leaned forward. “Just between you and me,” he drawled, “I’m on a case.” Yes. A nutcase, I thought. But he went on. “I’ve been hired by Interplop.”

“You mean Interpol,” the Texan said.

“The International Police,” Tim agreed. “It’s a top-secret case. It’s so secret, they don’t even know about it at the top. In other words—” he gestured with his almond slice, spraying Jed with crumbs— “. . . a case for Tim Diamond.”

The steward had obviously heard all this. As he put down the first cup of coffee, his hands were shaking so much that the liquid spilled over the table. His face had been pale to begin with. Now it had no color at all. Even his mustache seemed to have faded.

“Where are you staying in Paris?” the old lady asked.

“It’s a hotel called The Fat Greek,” Tim said.

“Le Chat Gris,” I corrected him. It was French for “gray cat” and this was the name of the hotel where Bestlé Yogurts had booked us for three nights.

The name seemed to have an electric effect on the steward. I’d been watching him out of the corner of my eye and actually saw him step backward, colliding with the trolley. The bottles and cans shook. Two packages of ginger-bread cookies rocketed onto the floor. The man was terrified. But why?

“Paris is so beautiful in the spring,” the old lady said. She’d obviously seen the effect that Tim was having on the steward and perhaps she was trying to change the subject before the poor man had a heart attack. “You must make sure you take a stroll on the Champs-Élysées . . . if you have the time.”

“How much do I owe you for the coffee?” the American asked.

“Six euros, monsieur . . .” The steward reached down and picked up the cookies. The way he took the money and moved off, he could have been trying to get to Paris ahead of the train. I guessed he wanted to get away from us as fast as he could. And I was right. He didn’t even stop to offer anyone else in the carriage a coffee. He simply disappeared. Later, when I went to the men’s room, I saw the trolley standing on its own in the passageway.