Ramage started counting the seconds, and had reached three and a half minutes before the man said: 'Are you ready to confess?'

Ramage was so startled that, without thinking, he said: 'Why, is there a priest here?'

The gendarme shook his head impatiently. 'Don't be ridiculous,' he said sternly, 'I mean, are you ready to confess what you and your foreman have been doing?'

'Doing!' Ramage said angrily. 'Well, all the time we have been in Amiens we have been sick - thanks to the bad food we were served. We shall be glad to say goodbye to Amiens, I can tell you.'

'The lieutenant-de-vaisseau - do you know what his orders are?'

'Of course I don't. Hardly to sail a ship, though; he seems to be a horseman rather than a seaman.'

'He is Admiral Bruix's personal courier,' the officer said, emphasizing each word.

'Indeed?' Ramage raised his eyebrows. 'What does he do, ride to Paris once a week and bring back the Admiral's truffles?'

The officer ignored the gibe. 'He carries the Admiral's dispatches to Paris, and brings back the orders from the Minister.'

'And ...?' Ramage prompted.

'And nothing!' he snapped. 'It is a very important task; surely you realize that, don't you? Admiral Bruix commands the Channel coast'

'He must be kept busy; all I heard in Boulogne were complaints about the British frigates capturing ships, so that supplies never arrived.'

'Your words sound very much like treason,' the officer said coldly.

Ramage stood up with a suddenness that made the gendarme with the pistol swing the muzzle up towards him. 'Treason!' Ramage yelled angrily, deciding that the moment had come for outraged indignation. 'You dare accuse me of talking treason! Mama mia! I, an Italian, come all the way from Genoa to Boulogne - right across the Alps and the Juras, no less, and all at my own expense, because your own shipbuilders can't launch vessels for the Invasion Flotilla fast enough! You are so behind with construction that unless something is done quickly, you will not be able to invade England for another two years.

'Your Admiral Bruix knows that - though,' he dropped his voice confidentially, 'he may not tell the First Consul, that is something only those two know, but I do know the Admiral found it necessary to send a thousand kilometres for a particular man. And who was that man?' He let his voice rise indignantly. 'Come on, name him! Who was this Italian shipbuilder that Admiral Bruix decided could help speed up the building of his Invasion Flotilla? You don't know perhaps, but I’ll tell you - it was me. Gianfranco di Stefano, shipbuilder and master shipwright - master shipwright at my age, that surprises you, doesn't it - and loyal subject of the Ligurian Republic. That is the man you accuse of treason!'

The officer was now looking worried. Ramage saw that his outburst had impressed him, but he feared that the fellow was plodding and tenacious, a man who would carry out an investigation like a keen chess player analysing all the possible moves.

‘I did not accuse you of treason, M'sieur; I merely said your words sounded very much like treason, which -'

'That is just as insulting as a direct accusation,' Ramage said huffily.

'I assure you that it isn't, M'sieur. If I accused you directly, you would be charged with treason. Now tell me, where is your foreman?'

Ramage sighed and sat down. 'You might just as well accuse me of witchcraft to ask me where that thrice-damned foreman is! How can I possibly know? You have kept me locked up all night, so how can I look for him? In some bordello, if I know him, and better a bordello than a cell, I assure you, since I now have experience of both.'

'The Frenchman,' the officer persisted, 'this Louis Peyrachon: where is he?'

'In his room at the Hotel de la Poste, I imagine,' Ramage said, playing for time as he absorbed the good news that the police officer had just revealed. 'Or with my foreman in the bordello. How else to spend a Saturday night in a town like Amiens? You French do not know how to live! Everyone seems to go to bed as soon as the sun goes down!'

'What did you arrange with him?'

'Arrange? What do you mean by that? After we had supper he went downstairs to play cards with your precious lieutenant, and I did not see him again until he came upstairs with the lieutenant after that silly girl started screaming.'

The police officer nodded, as though what Ramage had just said fitted in with information received from other sources. 'Where did you meet this man?'

'I told you that last night. I didn't "meet" him; he was ordered to travel with me. Which ministry he works for I do not know - he did not tell me, and I did not ask. I resented - and still resent - having someone escorting me everywhere, as though I was a dog on a leash.'

'Is it not strange, M'sieur, that the moment a young woman screams because she finds a man in the room of a naval courier, two men in your suite suddenly vanish?'

'Two men vanish?' Ramage exclaimed, his surprise unfeigned. 'Are you referring to the Frenchman? How can you say he vanished when I saw him - the lieutenant and the landlord can confirm that - in the corridor afterwards? I did not see my foreman from the time I went to bed, but the Frenchman, Louis, I did see. And don't refer to him as being in my "suite"; he was a thoroughly unwelcome addition, I assure you; as unwelcome as the grippe my foreman and I caught here in Amiens.'

'The Frenchman was not in his room this morning . . .’

'So?'

The room was completely empty,' the officers said.

'You mean he left with all the furniture?' Ramage asked sarcastically, still trying to gauge whether the policeman was setting some sort of trap.

'Of course not!' He was getting impatient at last, Ramage noted, with eye winking and shoulder twitching. 'I mean he packed his bag and vanished.'

‘I hope he has gone to Paris to report to his masters that you have locked Signor Gianfranco di Stefano in your stinking prison.'

'We shall know in good time,' the officer said, obviously unperturbed at the prospect. 'In the meantime one of my men is riding to Boulogne. He has instructions to see if you are known at Admiral Bruix's headquarters, and to inquire into your passport and travel documents. What answers will he get, M'sieur?'

'You make a habit of asking questions that no one could possibly answer!'

'I'll ask you one that you can answer, then. In Paris, at the Ministry of Marine, what was the name of the official who arranged your visit to Boulogne?'

'Official? I saw at least a dozen. I asked to see the Minister, but I was passed from one man to another. I told one of them that the way they were treating me, anyone would think I was going to try to steal the Invasion Flotilla, instead of help to build it!'

'Surely you can remember at least one name?' 'Well, I can't; why should I remember the names of petty officials?' he said arrogantly. 'Imbeciles, most of them -' he suddenly had an inspiration, 'and so obsessed with secrecy they must regard their names as State secrets, judging from the way they behave. They all talk out of the sides of their mouths, like this.' Ramage pulled a face. 'Who do they suspect - their colleagues in the ministries? Who do they suspect of being spies - those same colleagues?'

'I neither know nor care what goes on in Paris,' the officer said obstinately. 'I am only concerned with what goes on here in Amiens.'

'But why are you keeping me in prison?'

'Because I have inquiries to make in Boulogne.'

'Why cannot I stay at the Hotel? No one can travel in France without documents.'

'The two men travelling with you have just vanished,' the policeman said coldly. ‘If I release you, what is to stop you vanishing as well?'

‘I don't know what has been going on,' Ramage said angrily, 'but if I had anything to do with it, surely I would have vanished too, instead of going to bed!'