“And what if we get killed?” I asked.

“My department will pay for the funeral, too.”

I sank back in my chair. There was nothing I could say. Not in French. Not in English. It really wasn’t fair.

*  *  *

And that was how we found ourselves, a few hours later, back in our room at Le Chat Gris. As I’d walked back into the hotel, I’d known how those French aristocrats must have felt as they took their last steps toward the guillotine. The receptionist had almost fallen off his chair when he saw us and he’d been on the telephone before we’d reached the elevator. The Mad American would have presumed we were dead. Now he’d know he was wrong. How long would it take him to correct his mistake?

Tim sat down on the bed. He was actually looking quite cheerful, which made me feel even worse. “Maybe this isn’t so bad, Nick,” he said.

“Tim!” I cried. “How bad can it get?”

“We’re working for the French police now,” he said. “This could be good for business! Tim Diamond Inc. . . . London and Paris. That’ll look good on the door.”

“It’ll look even better on your gravestone,” I said. “Don’t you understand, Tim?” We’re not working for anyone! Christien Moire was lying through his teeth!”

“You mean . . . he isn’t a policeman?”

“Of course he’s a policeman. But he doesn’t want us to work for him. He’s using us!” I’d taken a guidebook of Paris out of my suitcase. Now I sat down next to Tim. “Moire wants to find out the identity of the Mad American,” I explained. “What’s the best way to do that?”

“Just ask for Tim Diamond . . .”

“Just use Tim Diamond. He’s sent us back here because he knows that our turning up again will panic the Mad American. He’s already tried to kill us twice. He’s certain to try again—and this time Moire will be watching. He’s using us as bait in a trap, Tim. The Mad American kills us. Moire gets the Mad American. It’s as simple as that.”

I opened the guidebook. “I’m not sitting here, waiting to be shot,” I said.

“Where do you want to be shot?” Tim asked.

“I don’t want to be shot anywhere! That’s why I’m going to find the Mad American before he finds us.” I started to thumb through the pages. I still didn’t know what I was looking for, but I had a good idea. “After we were knocked out, we were taken to the Mad American’s headquarters,” I said.

“But we were knocked out!” Tim said. “We didn’t see anything.”