Here they had waited in concealment, here they had peered round the corner, here one of them had run ahead and the rest had fallen back. Now, between them they began to play with a ball, now they feared they had been spotted. They were denied admission to the cathedral but had lain in wait at the doors. The story was as plain as print and plainer than speech. Laughing, Charlie seemed to congratulate them and, feeling in his pockets, he produced handfuls of annas and handed these out. He took a mild part in the haggling that ensued, added a few small coins and, still laughing, climbed back up on to the balcony. His irregular forces waved a cheerful and, judging by the indignation of the police havildar, a disrespectful farewell and ran together out of the compound to disappear in the busy Mall.

‘Well?’ said Joe and Simpson together.

‘Well, indeed!’ said Carter. ‘I could give you three guesses as to the destination of our mysterious packet and I think you would not need as many as three! It goes without saying – the package made its way, much to the amusement of the irregular forces, into the local brothel by a back door. Into Madame Flora’s! It now, presumably, lodges in the predatory hands of Flora herself.’

‘What do we do now?’ asked Simpson.

‘We go and have a chat with the seductive Flora, of course,’ said Carter.

‘Would I be totally out of place?’ asked Simpson. ‘Indulge my curiosity! You owe me a turn for the trauma you put me through last night. And don’t forget – I can identify Mademoiselle Florence.’

‘Give me a moment then,’ said Carter, ‘and we’ll go together.’

Once more he descended to the compound and was seen giving orders and they set off all three together. ‘I thought it might be prudent to arrange a little armed support,’ said Carter and, as they walked down through the town, Joe was aware of the discreet presence of policemen in plain clothes. For a moment he contrasted the laborious process that would have ensued had he, in London, tried to arrange a surveillance squad of six or an armed escort in plain clothes. His respect for Charlie Carter was much enhanced.

As they arrived at the flower shop the door opened and Edgar Troop came out, stopping dead with surprise and some hostility at the sight of them.

‘Afternoon, Edgar,’ said Charlie. ‘We haven’t come to see you, we’ve come to see madame but, as you’re here, why don’t you join us?’

Troop seemed for a moment inclined to bar their way. Charlie Carter pushed his way firmly past him. ‘We’ll announce ourselves,’ he said, but Troop was just ahead of him.

‘Flora!’ he called. ‘I’m back – at the head of a posse of policemen.’

They heard Flora’s voice: ‘Admit them. Always so happy to see the police.’

She came to the door. She looked welcoming and confident. Joe’s eyes widened as he took in the almost theatrical elegance of her dress. A shawl of rich Persian colours, deep red and blue and indigo, was draped over her shoulders, glowing against the background of a black velvet gown. Even Charlie Carter seemed impressed.

‘Hello, Flora. Good to see you again so soon: Entertaining again?’

‘Charlie! Always pleased to see you and – as you see – always entertaining! But I never know quite whom I may have the honour of welcoming. Today it is yourself and Mr… Sandilands, I think I’ve got that right? But you?’ She looked Simpson up and down.

Simpson bowed. ‘We have not been formally introduced,’ he said, ‘but we have met. Once. A long time ago. No reason why you should remember me but I remember you very well.’

‘This is very intriguing!’ Flora smiled and waved a hand. ‘Won’t you come in? If we have business to discuss perhaps we should discuss it in the privacy of my room.’ And to Claudio appearing at that moment, ‘Tea. Tea for the gentlemen.’

‘Now,’ she said when they were settled, looking carefully at Simpson, ‘tell me, where was this so mysterious encounter and when? In our youth?’

‘When?’ said Simpson. ‘Well, it seems another lifetime but – three years ago. Where? At the Gare de Lyon in Paris. I was en route for the Beaune railway crash,’ he pointed to his dark glasses, ‘from which I emerged with a good deal more luck than all but two others.’

‘Flora,’ said Charlie, ‘I want to ask you a few questions about that day’

Edgar Troop, watchful and menacing, intervened. ‘By what right?’ he asked indignantly. ‘It was a long time ago and in another continent. Of what possible interest can it be to you?’

‘Oh, don’t be so silly, Edgar!’ said Flora. ‘Edgar and I are very old friends,’ she explained. ‘He tries to protect me, don’t you? He always has. Like a guard dog. But I don’t think I need protection in the present company. The police can have no official motive for speaking to me.’ There was the slightest emphasis on the word ‘official’. She smiled and added, ‘Though they might gain much, I think, from a friendly and unofficial interview. They need some information about the rail crash, apparently. And as you say, Edgar, far away and long ago and no one to remember what happened. I am surprised that you are aware of it, Charlie. But your questions are easily answered — I have no information! For the good and substantial reason that I was not on the train. I might have been on the train – I was planning to be on the train – but, by God’s mercy, I didn’t get on. All I know about the crash I learned from the newspapers like everyone else, yourself included perhaps. Now what can I tell you?’

‘You were travelling — ’ said Charlie.

‘No! I have told you I was not travelling.’

‘All right,’ said Charlie, ‘I’ll phrase that differently, you were at the time of the crash in the employment of Isabelle de Neuville, am I right? And were planning to travel with her.’

‘You are right. That was the name of my employer. I left her on the station platform. She owed me money which she would not pay. She insulted me. I have not forgotten.’ And she added in a murmur, ‘Or forgiven either.’

‘Tell me,’ said Joe, ‘just as a matter of interest – you parted from Madame de Neuville at the Gare de Lyon. Have you seen her since?’

‘Of course she bloody well hasn’t!’ Edgar Troop shouted. ‘She’s just told you – bloody woman was killed!’

‘Edgar! Edgar, I think you could leave us now. This is old news, old information. There is nothing you can add, nothing you can help me with. I am in safe hands and feel quite secure with Charlie and his friends. You may go about your business in town – you are already late for your appointment. Please do not feel that you have to stay on my account.’

With warning looks from one to the other, the guard dog turned, looking meaningfully at his watch, and left the room.

Flora continued. ‘I did see Isabelle de Neuville afterwards, yes. Once more. I identified her body, Commander. I read about the crash in the papers and went to Beaune to offer my services. The police were desperate for any witnesses who could help them with the enormous task of identifying the dead. I borrowed money from… from an old friend of Madame de Neuville’s. He was pleased to give me the cost of the rail fare – second class,’ she added with a secret smile and a glance at Simpson, ‘to travel down to identify her.’

‘Were there any problems with the identification?’ asked Joe.

‘It was a chaotic scene! Distressed families and friends picking over the piles of bodies. Distraught and terrified poor souls – but for me, no problems at all. She was wearing a very recognizable red travelling dress with sable trimming and her bag and all her documents including her passport were still with the body.’

She gave Carter a level look and went on, ‘But there is something you ought to know – perhaps already do know concerning Isabelle de Neuville… According to her passport, which was English, her real name was Isobel Newton. She took a French name as her, what shall we say… as her working name.’