amusing, spellbound as they were by the range on offer. Much to the chagrin of the bookseller, who was always afraid that some work of value might be stolen, they would spend hours looking through the books and searching in the crates, often without buying anything in the end.
Absorbed in the account of a journey to the West Indies, Nicolas suddenly felt a hand tugging at one of his coat buttons. Turning, he recognised the humble, contrite face of one of the officers who worked for the Lieutenant General of Police in Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin. The man was not alone: a second henchman, whom Nicolas did not recall having seen before, stood watching.
‘Commissioner,’ said the first man, ‘you must follow us.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We have orders to take you to Monsieur Lenoir immediately.’
Nicolas made an effort to conceal his astonishment. ‘Let me at least pay for my purchases.’
Once that was done, Nicolas found himself in a cab with the two officers. With the windows raised and the curtains drawn, the unpleasant smell of unwashed bodies was overwhelming in such a confined space. He lowered the corner of his hat, withdrawing into himself to reflect on what appeared, for all the world, like an arrest. He was only too familiar with the procedures and customs of a system of which he had long been an agent. He had taken part in so many investigations and shared so many secrets that he could not help but wonder. Everything was possible, he knew. Would he be exiled to the provinces? Surely he was too small a figure for such a great honour. It was more likely that a lettre de cachet had been issued, and that he would be thrown into prison. But they would still have to find a reason to justify such treatment. Although … He laughed, making his two companions look at him in surprise. So many people had been arrested without knowing the reason. He wouldn’t be the first and he wouldn’t be the last! He might as well keep his composure: he would learn his fate soon enough.
Still watched by his two guards, he was left waiting in the antechamber, before the door opened and the friendly face of an elderly valet appeared. He motioned Nicolas to enter, then leaned over and whispered in his ear, ‘He doesn’t know anything himself!’
The old man was clearly talking about Lenoir. What was it he didn’t know? Nicolas approached the desk. His chief was still writing, and had not even looked up.
‘I am grateful to you, Commissioner,’ he said at last, ‘for responding so promptly to my summons.’
‘How could I not, Monseigneur, when I was brought here by two officers? Quite an honour!’
‘I think,’ said Lenoir impassively, ‘that they exceeded my instructions.’
‘They found me, that’s the main thing. As always, our police force has shown itself to be extremely efficient.’
Lenoir folded his hands. ‘I am instructed to …’ for a moment, he searched for the correct word, ‘… invite you to present yourself immediately at the Saint-Florentin mansion. The Duc de La Vrillière, Minister of the King’s Household, has asked to see you.’ He seemed surprised by his own words. ‘I hope,’ he resumed, ‘that you’ve done nothing to offend him. You have not been assigned to any investigation for three months now. You wouldn’t by any chance have become involved in some other case? I’ve already had occasion to deplore your independent behaviour during our first encounter.’
‘Not at all, Monseigneur,’ replied Nicolas. ‘I have obeyed your orders completely and scrupulously. I have done nothing, I have enjoyed my leisure, and I have hunted. With His Majesty.’
His tone was so ironic that Lenoir sighed irritably. ‘Go, and make sure you report back to me on anything that might be of interest to the King’s service.’
‘I shall not fail to do so,’ said Nicolas. ‘I shall take the cab which brought me here and go directly to the minister’s mansion.’
With these words, Nicolas bowed and left the room. He descended the great staircase four steps at a time, watched with astonishment by the two officers, and jumped into the cab. We’re back in business, he thought. His intuition told him that the Duc de La Vrillière needed him.
Notes – CHAPTER I
1. See The Nicolas Le Floch Affair.
2. The author would like to thank Professor Daniel Teyssère of the University of Caen for these details about La Borde.
3. A kind of tunic worn over armour in the Middle Ages.
4. See The Phantom of Rue Royale.
5. Saint Greluchon was prayed to in cases of infertility.
6. Boileau, Art Poétique, chant III.
7. The hospice of the Grand-Cour des Quinze-Vingts was founded by Saint Louis in aid of a brotherhood of crusaders blinded by the Saracens. It stretched from the present-day Place du Théâtre-Français to a third of the way down the Cour du Carrousel. In 1779 it was transferred to Rue de Charenton.
It was neither tumult nor calm, but a silence like that
of a great fear and a great anger.
TACITUS
Like a rider facing a hurdle, Nicolas liked to give himself a lull before launching into the thick of the action. He considered this pause necessary to keep a clear head. He asked to be dropped at Place Louis XV and, anxious to contemplate the Saint-Florentin mansion, where he might well have a date with destiny, he sat down on a bollard. Having kept him waiting for three months, they could certainly wait a few more minutes. He admired the classical trappings of the building, which extended the splendour of the Garde-Meuble. For a moment, the past paraded before him: images of that terrible night in 1770, the cries, the smoke, the crushed bodies, and the statue of the King looking down on the disaster of that failed firework display.1 The facade overlooked a small square with a fountain from which it was possible to reach the Tuileries gardens. It had two large noble floors and a roof crowned by a balustrade and decorated with carved panoplies and two monumental urns. On Rue Saint-Florentin was a splendid gate adorned with a stone coat of arms held aloft by two deities. The coat of arms was divided into four quarters, combining the blue of the Phélypeaux family, strewn with gold cinquefoils and ermines, and the three red mallets of the Mailly family.
Nicolas had known Monsieur de Saint-Florentin, who was now the Duc de La Vrillière, since he had joined the police force. He pondered that remarkable career which had begun fifty years earlier in the King’s councils and which had been built on a stubborn loyalty to the
