‘Something must have gone wrong. Something must have happened to her,’ Alexandra said in a low voice.

‘Nope,’ said Lucien, passing round wine glasses. ‘We went to some lengths. We even looked under the tree.’

‘You cretin,’ Marc hissed.

‘Under the tree?’ said Alexandra. ‘You looked under a tree?’

‘It’s nothing,’ said Marc. ‘He’s just talking nonsense.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Alexandra. ‘What did he mean? She’s my aunt, I’ve a right to know.’

Trying to keep his exasperation with Lucien out of his voice, Marc told her in clipped tones about the episode with the tree.

‘And you all decided that Aunt Sophia had gone swanning off somewhere with Stelios?’ said Alexandra.

‘Yes. Well, pretty much,’ said Marc. ‘I believe the godfather, that is my uncle, doesn’t really think so. And I’m still a bit bothered about the tree. But Sophia must have gone off somewhere, that’s for sure.’

‘But I tell you that’s impossible,’ said Alexandra, banging her fist on the table. ‘Even if she was on Delos, my aunt would have called me to tell me what was going on. You could count on her. And anyway, she loved Pierre. Something must have happened to her. I’m sure of it! Don’t you believe me? The police will believe me. I must go to the police.’

‘Look, do that tomorrow,’ said Marc, who was at his wits’ end. ‘Vandoosler will get Inspecteur Leguennec to come round and you can give him a statement, if you like. He will even start up the search again, if the godfather asks him to. I think my godfather can get Leguennec to do anything he wants. They’re old friends who used to play cards on board ship in the Irish Sea. But you need to know that Pierre Relivaux was not all that attached to Sophia. When she disappeared, he didn’t report it, and he still doesn’t intend to. It’s his right of course, to let his wife do what she wants. The police can’t interfere.’

‘Can’t we call them now? I’ll report her missing.’

‘You’re not her husband. And it’s almost two o’clock in the morning,’ said Marc. ‘We’ll have to wait.’

They heard Mathias, who had disappeared, slowly coming downstairs.

‘Excuse me, Lucien,’ he said, opening the door. ‘I had to borrow your window to look out of, because mine isn’t high enough.’

‘If you will choose lowlife ages of history,’ said Lucien, ‘you can’t complain about not being high up.’

‘Relivaux is home,’ said Mathias without paying any attention to Lucien. ‘He switched the lights on, went into the kitchen and now he’s gone to bed.’

‘I’m going round there, then,’ said Alexandra, jumping up. Carefully she lifted the little boy, resting his dark- haired head on her shoulder, and with one hand picked up her scarf and jacket.

‘No,’ said Mathias, barring her way to the door.

Alexandra was not exactly frightened. But she looked as if she were. She didn’t understand.

‘I’m grateful to all three of you,’ she said firmly. ‘You were very kind, but since he’s come home, I must go to my uncle’s.’

‘No,’ said Mathias. ‘I won’t try to keep you here. If you prefer to go and spend the night somewhere else, I’ll take you to a hotel. But you’re not going to your uncle’s house.’

He was blocking the door with his large frame. He looked at Marc and Lucien over Alexandra’s shoulder, more to impose his will than to ask for their approval.

Obstinately, Alexandra turned to face Mathias.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Mathias. ‘but Sophia has disappeared. I don’t want to let you go in there.’

‘Why?’ said Alexandra. ‘What are you hiding? Is Aunt Sophia in there? You don’t want me to see her, is that it? You were lying?’

Mathias shook his head.

‘No,’ he said, deliberately. ‘It’s the truth. She is missing. Maybe she has gone away with Stelios. Or maybe, as you thought, something has happened to her. Personally, I think she’s been murdered. And until we know who did it, I won’t let you go next door to him. Not you and not the little boy either.’

Mathias remained standing in front of the door. He kept his eyes fixed on the young woman.

‘He’d be more comfortable here than in a hotel, I think,’ he said. ‘Give him to me.’

Mathias held out his big arms and without a word, Alexandra passed the child over to him. Marc and Lucien said nothing, digesting the masterful way in which Mathias was taking control of the situation. He came away from the door, laid the child on the bed, and put the duvet back over him.

‘He sleeps very soundly,’ he said, smiling. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Kyril,’ said Alexandra.

She sounded defeated. Sophia murdered? What did this big guy know about it? And why was she letting all this happen?

‘Are you sure, what you said just now? About Aunt Sophia?’

‘No,’ said Mathias. ‘But I would rather be on the safe side.’

Lucien suddenly heaved a sigh. ‘I think we should all bow to Mathias’ age-old wisdom. His instincts go back to the Ice Age. He knows all about wild beasts and dangerous open spaces. Yes, I think you should listen to this man, and accept his protection. He may be primitive and have rather basic reactions, but I think he’s right.’

‘Yes, I agree,’ said Marc, who was still feeling the shock of the suspicions Mathias had voiced. ‘Would you like to stay until things get a bit clearer? There’s a spare room here on the ground floor, where you could sleep. It won’t be all that warm, and it’s a bit… well, austere, as you said. It’s funny, your Aunt Sophia calls this room the monks’ refectory. We won’t disturb you, we each have a floor upstairs. We only come down here to talk, shout, eat or make a fire to keep away wild beasts. You could tell your uncle that in the circumstances you didn’t want to bother him. Here, whatever is going on, there’s always somebody home. What do you think?’

Alexandra had learned enough in one evening to wear her out. She looked round at the faces of the three men, thought for a while, looked at Kyril fast asleep, and shivered.

‘Alright,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Lucien, go and fetch her case from outside,’ said Marc. ‘And Mathias, help me take the little one’s, bed into the other room.’

They shifted the divan and went up to the second floor to find another bed which Marc had kept from happier days, as well as a lamp and a rug which Lucien consented to lend.

‘It’s only because she looks so sad,’ said Lucien, rolling up the rug.

Once the bedroom was more or less ready, Marc put the key on the inside of the door, so that Alexandra Haufman could lock herself in if she so wished. He did this tactfully and without a word. The discreet elegance of the impoverished aristocrat, thought Lucien. We should get him a ring with a seal, so that he can seal his letters with wax. He would like that, for sure.

XVII

INSPECTEUR LEGUENNEC ARRIVED FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER VANDOOSLER S call the next morning. He had a short council of war with his former senior officer before asking to speak with the young woman. Marc left the main room and dragged his godfather out forcibly, so as to leave Alexandra in a tete-a-tete with the little inspecteur en chef.

Vandoosler strolled about in the garden with his godson.

‘If she hadn’t turned up, I think I might have let the whole thing drop. What do you think about that girl?’

‘Not so loud,’ said Marc. ‘Little Kyril is playing in the garden. Well, she’s not stupid and she’s as beautiful as an angel. You noticed that, I dare say.’

‘Naturally,’ Vandoosler replied, rather irritated. ‘That’s pretty obvious. But what else?’

‘Hard to tell in such a short time,’ said Marc.

‘You used to say five minutes was enough for you to make up your mind.’

‘Well, not quite. When people have a sad story, it makes it harder. But if you want my opinion, in her case something dramatic must have happened. You can’t see straight, it’s as if you’re going over a waterfall, you

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