hand fishing desperately in his pocket for a handkerchief. In an instant, Black Fish had reached him and had snatched the dirty white wig from his head in a cloud of dust and ancient powder.
'Fauche-Borel! I might have guessed!'
With a wail of terror the false footman sprang backwards, sending a waxwork crashing to the ground, and took to his heels, Black Fish in hot pursuit. The quarry was a small, spare man, well-designed for slipping through the growing crowd of visitors like the hunted creature that he was. Before any of the visitors could grasp what was happening, they were borne down by the charging bulk of Black Fish. Arcadius laughed outright and seizing Marianne by the hand tried to hurry her towards the door.
'Come and see! This should be fun.'
'But why? Who is this Fauche —?'
'Fauche-Borel? A Swiss bookseller from Neufchatel who thinks himself the king of spies and devotes himself to the service of his mythical majesty Louis XVIII. He has always had a weakness for waxworks. In fact he's hopelessly incompetent. Come on, I long to see what your picturesque friend will make of him.'
But Marianne had no desire to dash off in pursuit of the disguised grenadier and a waxwork footman. The taste left by her encounter was too bitter and for all her trust in Black Fish she could not recall without a shudder that last look the Englishman had cast at her above the handkerchief stopping his mouth. She had never met a glance of such pure, implacable hatred and when she compared it with what Black Fish had told her she felt herself go cold with horror. It was as if Francis had suddenly thrown off his splendid human shape and appeared before her as the monster he really was. Until then she had thought Lord Cranmere wicked, unscrupulous and cold-hearted, but Black Fish's words had opened up an abyss of sheer, sadistic cruelty before her eyes, the murky depths of a brilliantly cunning mind joined to the unpredictable violence of a dangerous madman. No, she wanted no distractions. All she wanted was to go home to her own quiet house and think these things out.
'You go, Arcadius,' she said in a tired voice. 'I will go back to the carriage and wait for you.'
'Marianne, Marianne! Wake up! That man frightened you, did he not? And the horror of what you heard was too much for you?'
She gave him a wan smile. 'You understand me so well, my friend.'
'Marianne, you have nothing more to fear. He will not escape, he is in the safest prison in all France.'
'Have you forgotten what you yourself told me? He has Fouche's ear. Black Fish knows nothing of the Minister's secret plans for peace with England. He may be in for an unpleasant surprise.'
Arcadius nodded and, taking Marianne by the arm, led her soberly towards the door, saying as they went: 'I have not forgotten. Fouche is certainly unaware of what his guest from across the channel has been up to. He cannot ignore the fact that he has been responsible for the hideous deaths of French prisoners. In my view, to release that monster now would be to sign his own death warrant. Napoleon's care for his troops is real and he would never forgive him. Some crimes cannot be passed over and Fouche is more likely to deal with Lord Cranmere so quietly that he may well vanish without trace. Money is not the only way to silence a dangerous man. So stop worrying and let us go home.'
She thanked him with a smile and leaned more heavily on his arm. Outside, darkness had fallen but the boulevard was bright as day with a profusion of lights of every description, from candles to lanterns. Every building, from the Circus down to the humblest stall, was illuminated. Only the Epi-Scie remained dark and silent with one faint light glimmering from its grimy window-panes. However, next door, in front of the Pygmy Theatre, the crowd seemed to be surging to and fro in unusual excitement. The two actors on the boards had stopped their performance and were standing with arms akimbo watching the extraordinary scene that was being enacted on the ground below them.
'Here – there's a fight going on!' Jolival exclaimed. 'I'll lay you it's your friend and Fauche-Borel! Bobeche and Galimafre seem to be enjoying it at any rate.'
'Who?'
'The pair of clowns you see slapping their thighs up there.' Arcadius pointed with his stick. 'The pretty fellow in the red waistcoat, yellow trousers and blue stockings with the red wig and the big butterfly on the length of wire is Bobeche. The other one, the tall, gangling creature with the long face and vacant grin, is Galimafre. They are newcomers to the boulevard but already they have had a great success.'
The two buffoons were shouting robust encouragement to the combatants, accompanying their words with much witty downing, but Marianne only shook her head.
'Please come away. Black Fish knows where to find us, he will come and tell us the end of the story.'
'Oh, as to that, there can be no doubt. Fauche-Borel is not up to his weight – but you are tired, aren't you?'
'Yes, a little.'
Slowly, avoiding the crowds, they made their way back to the Jardin Turc where they had left the carriage. Jolival helped Marianne inside, flung the direction at the driver and then climbed in himself, taking care to stow the wallet safely between them.
'What do we do with this?' he asked. 'It is unwise to keep such a sum in the house. We have the Emperor's twenty thousand livres as it is.'
'Take it back to Lafitte tomorrow, but place it in our name. It may be we shall still need it. If not, then I will simply return it.'
Arcadius nodded agreement, then pulled his hat down over his eyes and settled back in his corner as if he meant to sleep. However, after a moment or two, he said softly: 'I should like to know what has become of Mademoiselle Adelaide.'
'So should I,' Marianne said, feeling slightly ashamed that the dramatic scene with Francis had temporarily driven her elderly cousin from her thoughts. 'But surely the main thing is that she is no longer in the hands of Fanchon Fleur-de-Lis?'
'We should perhaps have made sure. But something tells me we would be wrong to worry too much about her.'
There was silence again, unbroken on either side until they reached the rue de Lille.
It was about eleven o'clock that night and Marianne was in the hands of her chambermaid, Agathe, who was brushing her long, black hair, when Arcadius tapped on the door of her room and asked to speak to her urgently, alone. She sent her woman to bed at once.
'What is it?' she asked quickly, alarmed by his mysterious behaviour.
'Adelaide has come back.'
'She is here? But I heard nothing, no carriage —'
'I let her in. I was on the point of going out myself, just to walk down to the Seine and back, and saw her coming as I opened the gate. I must confess, I hardly recognized her at first.'
'Why?' Marianne cried in quick alarm. 'She is not hurt —?'
Jolival chuckled. 'No, no, nothing of the kind. But you shall see for yourself. She is waiting downstairs. I should add that she is not alone.'
Marianne paused in the act of darting through the door, clutching the broad pink ribbons that fastened her lace dressing-gown. 'Not alone? Who is with her?'
'One she refers to as her saviour. I may as well tell you at once — this guardian angel is none other than Bobeche, one of the two clowns I pointed out to you earlier in the boulevard du Temple.'
'What? Are you joking?'
'Far from it. Although his appearance tonight is perfectly respectable, I assure you. Would you like to see him?'
'This is absurd! Why has Adelaide brought him here?'
'She will tell you herself. I think she is anxious for you to meet him.'
Marianne had had more than enough excitement for one day, but quite apart from her joy at having her cousin restored to her, she was possessed by a curiosity far stronger than her fatigue. Hastily twisting her hair into a knot and tying it as best she could with a ribbon, she hurried to her wardrobe, pulled out a dress at random and slipped it on in place of her dressing-gown. Returning to the bedroom, she found Arcadius waiting for her with a smile on his lips that instantly infuriated her.
'You seem to find all this amusing?'
'I do, I confess. And what is more, I think you will also when you take a look at your cousin. And a great
