somewhere I might hide, until he’s gone?”
“Upstairs,” I said. “Bihan will come back eventually, but there’s no reason for him to go up there, and even if he does, he won’t give you away. You know the way, I believe.”
She ignored the hint of sarcasm. “Thank you,” she said, apparently sincerely. I didn’t bother to point out, knowing that she could hardly miss the observation, that because the stairway had a one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn halfway up, she would be able to hear what Saint-Germain and I were saying if she were prepared to take the risk of sitting on the lowest step of the second half of the flight, out of sight behind the banisters.
I had no idea why I had abruptly entered into a tacit conspiracy with her, but I think it had far more to do with her mention of the word “rape” in connection with Saint-Germain than any shared experience in confrontation with the Dweller with the Eyes of Fire. In any case, had I not already taken her side, by warning her at the Comique that Saint-Germain was present?
I answered the door.
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