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‘Have you been primed?’
    ‘I know a certain amount, Monsieur ,’ said Monsieur Pamplemousse cautiously. ‘I am not sure how much that is, compared with the whole, or even how much it is when viewed as being a part of the whole. I only know about those things that affect me personally. You must forgive me. I was wearing the English explorer Henry Morton Stanley’s hat for a moment. The one he was wearing on the banks of the Ujiji.’
    ‘The banks of the Ujiji?’ repeated Monsieur Leclercq. ‘Matters are worse than I feared. Do I know this Stanley person? Why was I not told about him? Who is he working for?’
    Monsieur Pamplemousse considered his response with care. ‘Perhaps I should wait until Véronique returns to her office,’ he began. ‘In the circumstances, I thought …’
    ‘Alas!’ The Director calmed down. ‘Véronique is no longer with us,’ he said sombrely.
    Monsieur Pamplemousse felt his blood run cold. ‘She isn’t …’
    ‘Dead?’ For a brief moment Monsieur Leclercq looked a broken man. ‘No, Aristide, it is worse than that I fear. Far, far worse.
    ‘At a time when I need a secretary more than ever, I have been left totally bereft! Véronique has walked out on me!’

CHAPTER THREE
    Monsieur Pamplemousse could hardly believe his ears. ‘Véronique has walked out on you, Monsieur ?’ he repeated. It didn’t seem possible. ‘Has she gone for good?’
    ‘I sincerely hope not,’ said Monsieur Leclercq. ‘I don’t know what I would do without her. My hope is that her absence is merely the result of a temporary aberration. I put it down to the hot weather, of course, but she swept out without even so much as an au revoir ora quel dommage .
    ‘The simple truth is she objected to having her handbag searched when she came in to work this morning. When I insisted, she announced she was leaving before I inflicted on her the final indignity of carrying out a strip search. Something, I can assure you, Aristide, I had no intention of doing.’
    ‘With respect, Monsieur , perhaps you should have. Most women look on their sac à main as being private territory. In my experience it is a “no go” area. Many ladies I know would regard removing their clothes as being the lesser of two evils.’
    ‘That may be true in the kind of circles you frequent, Pamplemousse,’ said the Director, heading across the room towards his desk, ‘but it is certainly not the case in mine.’
    While his back was turned Monsieur Pamplemousse couldn’t help but notice all the slatted blinds were drawn. He had never known such a thing to happen before. Monsieur Leclercq gained a great deal of pleasure from the panoramic view of Paris afforded by the enormous picture windows occupying three sides of his rooftop office. He was apt to spend much of his time gazing out at the world, or that part of it bounded by the périphérique ; pinpointing the many restaurants whose names graced the pages of Le Guide , planning which ones might need a confirmatory visit. There was even a brass plate let into the stonework of the balcony wall indicating which establishments had been honoured with Stock Pot status.
    Monsieur Pamplemousse also couldn’t help being aware of the fact that the single lamp on the Director’s desk had been turned to face the visitor’s chair. Surely he wasn’t about to be grilled?
    Pommes Frites, who had been occupying theintervening time searching in vain for the water bowl which was invariably ready and waiting for him whenever he visited the Director’s office, noticed it too, and having been caught in its beam, hurriedly sought refuge behind his master.
    Monsieur Pamplemousse gave him a consoling pat. ‘There, there,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t count on these things.’
    ‘Few things are certain in this life, Pamplemousse,’ said Monsieur Leclercq, overhearing the remark as he arrived at his desk. ‘In the present state of the world, nothing should be taken for granted. I trust he