He must have seen her take the package. If he knew she had the package, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight until he could get it from her. She had to get away from him and get out of the city without delay.
Evelyn crossed the last street before the hotel. Her pounding heart was settling down into a steady rhythm now, and she was growing calmer with each step closer to the hotel. She had a plan. The man didn’t realize she’d seen him, and that was all to her advantage. Glancing at her watch, she tightened her grasp on her purse strap. She just had time to make it to her room to get her bag, and then slip out of the hotel without him seeing.
Then she just had to hope and pray that the train schedule was on her side.
Chapter Seven
The manager who had checked her in earlier was still behind the desk when Evelyn crossed the lobby floor. He smiled pleasantly as she approached.
“Good evening, Mademoiselle Fournier. I trust your room is satisfactory?”
“Yes, thank you. It’s lovely.”
“I’m delighted to hear it. How can I help you this evening?”
“Do you know if there is another train to Brussels tonight?” Evelyn asked.
“There is, but it leaves in an hour. I hope everything is all right?”
“Oh yes,” she said breezily with a bright smile. “Everything is quite all right. I had an idea that I might try to make it there tonight, but I’ll wait until tomorrow. I don’t relish the thought of rushing to catch a train before I’ve even had my dinner.”
He smiled. “Of course not. If you don’t mind waiting a moment, I’ll look to see the times of the morning trains.”
“Thank you very much.”
Evelyn watched him move away to consult the train schedule, then glanced over her shoulder. The man in the brown coat hadn’t entered the hotel, but she knew he was outside in the street. There was no sign of the SS agent who had been sitting in the chair earlier, and the only occupants of the lobby at this hour were a middle-aged couple in evening dress moving across the lobby towards the front doors, and two porters. For now, she was perfectly safe.
“The first train to Brussels leaves at quarter past eight.” The manager was back, a smile on his face. “There is another at ten.”
“I think the eight-fifteen would be ideal,” Evelyn said, turning her attention back to him. “Would you be kind enough to book a first class compartment in my name?”
“Of course, Mademoiselle.”
“Thank you.” She picked up her purse from where she had set it on the wooden counter and smiled. “I’ll settle my bill now, to save time in the morning.”
“Yes, of course.” He turned to pull her registration card. “I’m sorry your stay will be so short. I hope you’ll return to visit us.”
“I’m sure I will.”
A few minutes later Evelyn was walking towards the elevator. As she waited for the attendant to open the gate, she looked behind her once more. There was still no sign of the man in the brown suit.
“The fourth floor, please,” Evelyn told the attendant, stepping into the elevator. “Thank you.”
As the cage rose slowly, she looked at her watch. She had less than an hour to get to the station and get onto the train without her new friend outside seeing. Thankfully, she had never unpacked her case, and the only thing she had removed was her hairbrush. She would be able to change and get out of the hotel quickly, and without fuss.
The elevator rumbled to a stop and the attendant opened the doors, and then the gate. Evelyn smiled and stepped out, turning to make her way to her room. She would take the stairs down, she decided, pulling her room key out of her purse. And she would time it when the elevator was already down, so as to avoid any possibility of the attendant seeing her go. Her lips trembled as she unlocked her door. The old man would have a seizure if he caught a glimpse of her, for Evelyn had no intention of leaving her room again as herself. The only way she was getting out of the hotel and to the station without any problems was to be someone else.
And that was exactly what she was going to do.
The man stepped out of the hotel and settled his hat on his head, pulling the brim low over his forehead once again. The woman’s name was Marie Fournier, and she’d just checked in that afternoon. The porter he’d spoken to first hadn’t been able to tell him much, but when a bill had found its way into the young man’s hand, he’d suddenly remembered quite a bit. She was staying on the fourth floor and had carried her own bag up to the room when she arrived. After a few more questions, the man had also learned that the manager had just arranged for a first class compartment for Mademoiselle Fournier on the first train to Brussels in the morning. It was amazing what porters knew, really. No one paid them any attention, yet they were absolute gold mines of information if one were willing to offer the right incentive.
He turned to walk slowly along the pavement. After waiting across the street for fifteen minutes, he’d finally decided that the woman wasn’t leaving the hotel again and went in to question the porter. The wait had also ensured that there was no possibility of running into her in the lobby. He was convinced that she hadn’t seen him while he followed her from the train station. There was certainly no reason
