‘Fond enough to protect your identity if it were known to her?’

‘Yes, I don’t doubt that for a moment. But she would never blackmail me. If she wanted money she would only have to ask me. She knows that. But she does not ask. She is doing very well on her own account and has turned out to be a natural businesswoman. Marie-Jeanne is very… upright, very religious. Though not religious enough to please her parents, I’m afraid. Landed gentry, petty-minded, rigid people who didn’t understand her at all. She was plain and large and the only girl among five brothers. No concessions were made for her sex – she was brought up as a boy, hunting, shooting and fighting and praying for forgiveness for all these activities on Sundays. One day they noticed that she had matured, was by no means attractive enough to be a good marriage prospect, and suggested the only thing that came into their hidebound minds – that she should become a nun. Very respectable way of getting rid of an unwanted daughter in France even in these days. She refused but placated them by offering her services in another cause dear to their hearts – the army. She became a nurse. And some years later she met me in hospital in Beaune.’

‘And everything changed for her,’ said Joe thoughtfully. ‘She’s leading a life which quite obviously suits her, a life which would come to an end perhaps if her patron, her protector, her friend, were disgraced. If the money that had launched her in business were proved to be fraudulently obtained?’

‘What depths of suspicion your mind is capable of plumbing!’

‘It helps to keep me alive.’

‘Well, you’re going to need to suspect everyone in Simla if you’re to get out of this town without a bullet in your hide, Commander. I mean that! Trust no one! Well, perhaps you may turn your back on the excellent Mrs Carter but no one else.’ She was silent for a moment and then added, ‘And Captain Simpson – surely his life would be at risk too if my watcher, my enemy were to realize the significance of his visit to Simla?’

‘We’ve kept his appearance very quiet. No one other than ourselves knows who he is, and be assured that Carter has him under constant watch.’

‘Are you going to tell me how on earth you managed to find him? Where did he spring from? Was he always aware…?’

‘Oh yes, he knew but the truth was so extraordinary, so unpalatable he assumed his brain was playing tricks on him. We found his name listed as a survivor in a newspaper Korsovsky carried in his luggage.’

‘A newspaper? What newspaper? Why did Feodor have a copy?’ Alice’s voice was suddenly sharp with suspicion. Joe explained that her swift departure to India had preceded the publication of the finalized list of the dead and the survivors and that Feodor had been sent a copy by his agent largely in evidence of Isobel’s reported death.

‘He must have been more fond of me than I had allowed,’ was her sad comment. ‘But tell me, Joe, this newspaper… where is it now? May I see a copy? Would that be possible? I should be very interested to read an account of my death.’

‘Carter has it,’ Joe said, ‘at the station. I can’t see any reason why he wouldn’t let you see it if you really wanted to.’ He replied cheerfully enough but something about her tone and the barely hidden anxiety underlying it was ringing warning bells. There was more to her eagerness to read the account than mere curiosity, he thought.

‘Look, Alice, if you do go to see Carter be discreet. I think for everyone’s security it would be best if we all went on as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened tonight…’

‘You’re joking! The scene at the seance will be doing the rounds of the coffee houses and drawing rooms tomorrow!’

‘You said yourself when I chased you up here – anyone would have fled. Miss Trollope even fainted and disappeared under the table. Some of the others looked completely horror-stricken, I recall. If Carter and I refrain from hauling you off up the Mall in manacles and continue to treat you with sycophantic deference and call you Mrs Conyers-Sharpe in public places, I think you’ll find there’s been no harm done and no suspicions raised. We can leave Minerva Freemantle to come up with a convincing story to cover the apparition – that’s right up her street. She’ll probably find her client list has doubled once the sensation-seekers get hold of this!’

Isobel nodded her agreement.

‘But don’t get excited,’ he began, and then continued awkwardly, ‘I’m making no promises. You’ll be aware, of course, that I have no authority here in Simla and the decision as to whether to reveal your fraud and to whom rests with others who will, doubtless, take the appropriate action.’ Joe paused, aware that the pompous and semi-official phrases contrasted absurdly with his situation. The girl in his arms was aware of it too. Hard little fingers nipped him sharply in the side.

‘So – confide in me, Joe! I think you’ll agree I have an interest. What are you going to do?’ She sighed and rubbed her head against his shoulder.

‘Find out who’s blackmailing you, track him down and we’ll have found our murderer.’

‘Do you think you can do in three days what I’ve been unable to do in three years? I have made my own enquiries, you know. Discreetly of course. Rheza Khan is in my confidence, has always been in my confidence, and our combined efforts have been fruitless.’

‘Well, at least we’ll have the full resources of the law at our disposal – Scotland Yard’s finest, Simla’s specials and the incomparable Sir George Jardine – that’s quite a line-up of talent, you know!’ Joe spoke lightly and reassuringly. ‘But – I have to know, Alice – to what extent is Rheza Khan in your confidence?’

‘I told him why I was being blackmailed when the first demand note arrived. That I had assumed Alice’s identity, that is. It was a risk but I had to trust someone. And I’ve never regretted it for a moment. He asks no questions – he never has. He’s a Pathan, you know: natural conspirators, perhaps the best in the world. Over and over again he’s shown me that I can trust him. He knows I’m not who I claim to be but he is content with that.’ She stirred uncomfortably. ‘Joe, I haven’t told him all that I have told you about my past. He doesn’t know about my… my career in France. He doesn’t know about Korsovsky and all that.’

‘Well, he won’t hear about it from me. None of my business.’

‘I wouldn’t like him to find out. I would prefer to keep his respect. And I’m sure that at the moment I have that. He gives me discreet and unstinting help. He arranged to cover the outgoing sums of money. He covered it easily. The regularity and consistency of the leakage made it easy apparently. He runs the finances of the firm and I think he just invented other phantom employees with credible salaries. He’s not concerned about who I am. I arrived in India with complete authority and I used it. To good effect. He accepts me and would do much, I believe, to ensure that…’ Her voice trailed away and she looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, ‘He has my complete trust.’

The moonlight filtering through the moving branches lit up and concealed her features by turns, reflecting her uncertainty. Joe looked with pity at the lovely, defenceless face. Who was she able truly to trust? he wondered. Who had she ever been able to trust? Used, deceived, passed from man to man and ending up literally in the arms of the law. In the sheltering arms of a man who was far from being her protector, a man who threatened her liberty and perhaps her life. And yet he recognized that he was feeling a deep urge to protect her, to keep her safe from her enemy. Time to move on.

He rose and pulled her to her feet, tucking her revolver into his pocket. ‘It’s getting late. I’ll escort you back to the Mall and you can pick up your rickshaw. If we stay away together any longer there’ll be much worse rumours circulating in Simla tomorrow.’ He steered her towards the staircase. ‘And as we go, I’ll tell you how you can help us with this next bit.’