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nothing would go through unless she spoke to him first on that Tuesday. My hands were tied.’
    â€˜Did you travel together?’
    Wehrle was frantic. ‘How could we have? We didn’t even see each other except briefly at the station. She went into his flat at about 2 p.m., I didn’t meet with him until seven that evening. As it was, I had to stay over.’
    â€˜And keep everything in your hotel room, not in the safe?’
    â€˜Yes! Now are you satisfied?’
    â€˜Generalmajor, forgive a poor detective. One questions everything but is never satisfied. Always there are so many things to remember.’
    â€˜Such as?’
    â€˜That this deal was not only a big one, n’est-ce pas ? but also apparently quite different.’
    St-Cyr took a moment. Longing for another cigarette, he borrowed two. ‘That safe was full but how full, please, in terms of your usual collections?’
    Ah Gott im Himmel , the bastard! ‘ Very . It … it was a superb shipment. One of the best, if not the best so far.’
    The truth again. ‘And eagerly anticipated in Berlin?’
    â€˜That is correct.’
    â€˜And you had paid Jacqmain how much, please?’
    Would this infernal idiot from the Sûreté look for dirt under everything? ‘850,000 francs. About a tenth of their value. Usually I offer a little more but one always starts low.’
    â€˜Yet Jacqmain accepted this?’
    It was not a question. A faint smile would therefore be best. ‘Could he really have argued, since his name was known to me? He was afraid for his life, Inspector. The diamonds had become a liability.’
    Soon after the Defeat of 1940, all items of personal property in excess of a value of 100,000 francs had had to be declared and lists submitted to the authorities. Failure to report such valuables carried an automatic penalty of confiscation and, if serious enough, a lengthy jail sentence or forced labour in the Reich.
    No doubt Nana Thélème had reminded Jacqmain of this but, still, for him to have been afraid for his life could well imply something more serious.
    â€˜Louis …?’
    Hermann was looking like death. ‘Well, what is it?’
    â€˜The son of a bitch knocked off Cartier’s in the rue de la Paix.’
    * dried fish and rye bread.
    * all those other than gypsies.

2
    Shadows fell on bejewelled finches in locked little cages of gilded wire. When torchlight found them, their encrusted emeralds, topazes and other precious and semiprecious stones suddenly lit up as if, now awakened, the birds would begin to sing. It was curious.
    The cages were a window-dressing, their padlocks of gold perhaps a statement to the Occupier that some things would not be sold. And to be fair, the shop would have been lost had it not been kept open. Yet business had been extremely good, the temple of haute joaillerie booming, as were all the exclusive shops of the rue de la Paix.
    â€˜The Reichsmarschall Goering purchased an 8,000,000 franc necklace here,’ said St-Cyr, letting the black-out curtain fall back in place. ‘Diamonds and thumb-sized sapphires perhaps, and for his wife, his Emmy.’
    The conquering hero. Head of the Luftwaffe. ‘Louis …’
    â€˜Hermann, I am merely trying to get a fix on things. Unlike our Generalmajor’s suite, this place has locks upon locks and the best of burglar alarms.’
    An iron grille guarded the door during off-hours; steel shutters the display windows. ‘Every two hours, and at random, a patrol goes along the street and, as is his custom, the Feldwebel in charge checks every door to see that it is locked just in case the flics should miss such a thing.’
    â€˜Impregnable,’ offered Kohler lamely.
    Black, velvet-lined boxes littered the floor. At the far end of the shop, every one of the floor-to-counter individual safes had been opened and their trays pulled out for perusal. The little dressing-tables