Den of Thieves (23 page)

‘But you mustn't.' Johnny grasped my shoulders, then gathered me into his arms and gave me a hug. ‘You've certainly had your confidence knocked out of you by that Tweadle fellow, haven't you, Catkin?'

I clung to him, like a castaway holding on to the last bit of flotsam that stood between me and drowning.

‘You mustn't let rogues like that tell you what you're worth. In fact, you shouldn't even listen to me or your other friends.'

‘Who should I listen to then?' I felt so lonely – I knew that at any moment he would let me go. I wished I could continue standing in his arms forever.

‘In the end, Cat, all of us have to listen to our inner self. The voice that tells you you're worthless isn't the real you – it's from outside. Think – what does Cat really think of herself?'

‘I don't think you'll be pleased.'

‘No? Try me.'

‘I think that I can't be worth much because my parents abandoned me.'

‘Ah.'

‘I'm nine parts stupidity to one part wit.'

‘That's not bad – most of the population cannot claim even that much.'

‘And I suppose I'm loyal, a good friend and have my moments of bravery,' I conceded.

‘Hear, hear.'

I pushed him gently away, thinking it better that I broke willingly from his hug while I still could. ‘Sorry, Johnny.'

‘Sorry for what?'

‘For shouting at you. It's just that when I think about the future, I keep panicking. It's like falling from the top of the stairs in the dark, not knowing where I'll end up.'

He put his arm around my shoulders. ‘I understand. Life is precarious for most of us, but more so for you. What you forget is what most of your friends see in you.'

‘What's that?'

‘The ability to beat the odds . . .'

‘And fall on my feet?'

He nodded.

‘I just hope that lasts.'

‘It will, Catkin, it will. It wouldn't dare fail you.'

But for all Johnny's optimism, my luck had just run out. We arrived at Madame Beaufort's to find two members of the National Guard at the door. It was too late to make a run for it even if we had known which of us they were after. They leapt to their feet.

‘Mademoiselle Royal?'

‘
Oui
, monsieur?' Johnny's grip tightened on my arm.

‘Will you come with us, please. The mayor would like to ask you a few questions.'

‘What about?' I asked, my heart thumping.

The guard shrugged. ‘No idea, mademoiselle. I am merely doing my job.'

I looked up at Johnny, my expression asking, what should I do?

‘Don't worry, Cat,' he said in a low voice. ‘This isn't an arrest – it's just to help with their enquiry. They're bound to release you after the interrogation.'

‘What do you think they want with me?'

‘I guess it's about our friends. Be discreet and you've nothing to fear.' He turned to the guard. ‘Monsieur, my companion is only young. May I come with her?'

The guard raised his eyebrows. ‘And who are you, monsieur?'

‘Jonathan Fitzroy – an American citizen.'

‘So you are no relation?'

‘No, monsieur. A friend.'

‘Then I'm afraid not. We will take good care of her. If she is released, you can come and fetch her from the Town Hall later.'

If!

‘Come along, mademoiselle. Quickly now: we mustn't keep the mayor waiting.'

For all his encouraging words, Johnny looked alarmed to see me frogmarched off by two tall members of the guard.

‘I'll be fine!' I called to him, knowing he had enough on his hands worrying about Lizzie. ‘Just tell the concierge where I am.' And there was no harm letting the king of thieves know I
had been taken. Who knew what connections he would have that might prove useful?

It was a long walk from the Opera quarter to the Town Hall – a humiliation I had to go through before the eyes of all the people on the streets celebrating Corpus Christi. My escort said nothing to me, leaving me free to hear the suspicious whispers that followed our passage through the crowds. I was relieved when we arrived at our destination: a palatial building level with Notre Dame on the right bank of the Seine.

‘Voilà, mademoiselle,' said my guard. ‘We are here.'

‘A moment please.' I sat down on a stone bench outside and took off my shoe, ostensibly to remove a pebble, but really to see if anyone was watching. I would've been surprised if the thieves had not taken action by now. Sure enough, a familiar sharp face was watching us from a doorway across the square. J-F nodded when he saw that I had spotted
him. Restoring my shoe after much shaking, I thanked the guard for waiting and let them lead me inside.

It was reassuring that they had taken me into the public area of the building, an ornate space of polished floors and grand staircases. If I had been in worse trouble, surely I would have been put in a cell? I had enough experience of falling foul of the law to know that they didn't waste carpet on suspects.

I followed the guards upstairs, having to run to keep up with their strides. The place was buzzing with activity and few spared us a glance as they went about their business keeping the City of Paris ticking over during the crisis.

My guard opened the door to an antechamber furnished with white and gilt chairs that stood against the walls like ladies in a ballroom waiting to be asked to dance.

‘Remain in here. The mayor will be with you as soon as possible.'

This was to be expected. Questioning one English girl was doubtless at the bottom of the mayor's ‘To Do' list. I remembered Johnny had
told me he hadn't even been able to get an interview with Mayor Bailly. Perhaps I should look on this unwelcome interruption as an opportunity to learn more? The questions he asked me were bound to give a clue as to what connections the authorities thought the Avons had with the whole business of the king's flight.

Time passed. It was getting dark outside now and a servant came in to light the candles, giving me a friendly nod as he left. I kicked my heels and hummed the tune we had danced in the kitchen the night before. Still no one came. I took off my shoes and rubbed my tired toes. Perhaps they had forgotten me? Getting bored of sitting on the same chair, I stood up in my stockinged feet and began to go through the steps I had learned, turning and hopping as J-F had taught me.

A door banged open just as I finished a pirouette. I sprang to attention to find myself under the gaze of five gentlemen. Thinking I might as well make the best of it, I swept them a low curtsey as instructed by Madame Beaufort – hand curved elegantly to my breast.

‘Who's this?' barked a harassed-looking man standing at the front.

‘The English girl. The ballerina, Monsieur le Maire,' said a young man clutching a sheaf of papers.

Mayor Bailly directed a thin smile at his companions. ‘I can see the latter part for myself, Donville. Remind me why she's here.'

‘The Duke of Avon, monsieur.'

Mayor Bailly clicked his fingers. ‘But of course. It's been a long day. Follow us, mademoiselle.' He began striding down the corridor.

Hopping into my shoes, I cursed all men who forgot that short girls do not possess the same long legs as them.

Bailly marched into his office and threw himself into a chair behind a desk piled high with papers. I took my first good look at the man in charge of Paris, wondering what he would do with me. Johnny had said that Bailly was a distinguished astronomer before the revolution swept him to his current position and I thought that he still had the earnest look of a scholar: high cheekbones, a strong, slightly hooked nose and heavy lidded eyes
that had probably spent far more time than was healthy staring through a telescope. Indeed, his gaze did seem as though his thoughts were fixed on something beyond the room rather than on those present. Was he merely thinking of the king coming back under escort from Varennes or the craters on the moon that he had been the first to spot?

‘Well, mademoiselle, what can you tell us about the whereabouts of the Duke of Avon's son?' he asked, his eyes losing their dreamy look and focusing on me as he dragged himself back to business.

‘Me, monsieur?' I said with wide eyes, wondering how far injured innocence would take me.

‘Perhaps it would save us all a lot of time if I told you that we know that you arrived in Paris in the company of this young gentleman on the very night that the king and queen made their escape. A coincidence, perhaps, but I for one do not like coincidences.'

So he knew rather too much for comfort. I would
have to think up a plausible story – and quickly.

‘We went our separate ways shortly after arriving, monsieur. I believe the gentleman in question was intending to travel for his education, taking a year away from studies before he went to university. I think he may be heading for Italy.'

‘Really?' I could tell Bailly did not believe me. ‘We have no record of a young Englishman leaving by any of the city gates. My impression is that he is still in Paris – gone to ground because he knows we have his parents and sister in custody. What I want to know is where is he and what did he have to do with the king's flight?'

‘Nothing, I'm sure, monsieur,' I said answering the second part of his question.

Bailly's eyes narrowed. ‘How can you be so certain?'

‘We got lost on arrival and spent most of that night trying to find my lodgings.'

‘So what was your coach doing by the palace? You were seen by General Lafayette's attendants when they were doing their inspection. We've questioned the driver and he has only a
suspiciously hazy recollection of events, but he told us enough to know that you were nowhere near the Opera quarter.'

‘Precisely, monsieur.' My hands were fluttering so I clasped them behind my back. ‘We were lost.' My most vacuous smile wreathed my lips.

‘Hmm.' The mayor tapped a pen on a piece of parchment thoughtfully as he looked at me. I could tell he was trying to work me out.

Please think I'm just an empty-headed ballerina, I urged him silently.

‘I have here a warrant for the young man's arrest.' The mayor dipped his quill in the inkpot and signed it. ‘I am giving you the benefit of the doubt, mademoiselle. Whatever your companion was up to that night, I judge that you were ignorant of it.' He handed the paper to his secretary. ‘However, you should think of yourself as under suspicion. Your behaviour must be exemplary or you will be expelled from France. And if I find you have been hiding anything from me – protecting the young lord for whatever reason – you will be prosecuted. Do you understand?'

‘
Oui
, monsieur.'

‘That's all. You may go.'

I turned, half expecting to be escorted off the premises, but not one of them bothered to follow me. Thinking this odd, I made my own way downstairs. I paused in the foyer, hoping my friends had come to fetch me, but there was no one there. I wasn't sure what to do; it was foolhardy to walk the streets of a city at night, especially a foreign one. Before I had made up my mind, someone collided with me from behind, making me stumble.

‘I'm very sorry, mademoiselle.' It was Pedro, acting as if he didn't know me. ‘Are you hurt?'

‘No harm done, sir,' I said stiffly, trying for disdainful but not sure I carried it off.

‘I believe you dropped this.' He handed me a piece of folded paper, bowed and walked on out of the building.

Taking a seat in a secluded corner to give the impression I was waiting for someone, I carefully opened the note.

Catkin,

Your remarkable friend J-F says there is a reward out for Frank. He thinks that they called you in with the hope that you'll lead them to him as you rush to alert him to the danger. It is therefore highly likely that you will be followed – as will anyone you are seen with. We decided it was best that my connection with you was not too publicly demonstrated so I'm sorry that I have not come to fetch you as I said I would. J-F will see you home safely – but from afar, as he says he has a natural antipathy for officialdom and does not want to be brought to their notice. Leave the building and look for him. Keep your distance and he'll make sure that anyone on your tail soon loses you.

Send me a note with Pedro to say you have got home safely. He'll wait with Renard for your return.

Johnny.

I folded the note again and tucked it into my bodice. So that was why no one had escorted me to the door: they had wanted me to believe I was free to go and of no further interest. Well, if they wished to follow me that was their lookout. They didn't stand a chance. J-F and I were
about to lead them on a merry dance.

Giving a histrionic sigh, as if giving up waiting on my friends, I walked to the door. Once back on the square, I looked about me, not finding it difficult to play the confused tourist seeking her bearings. My survey revealed J-F waiting in the same doorway. As soon as he saw me, he set off, heading north. Hesitating slightly, trying to seem as if I was having difficulty deciding my route, I followed him. If my pursuers had any decency they would prevent a lone stranger heading off in completely the wrong direction, but it seemed that decency was in short supply in Paris at the moment. And if I was being tailed, I could not tell it. They were good at their job, whoever they were.