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may assume his approach to be subsequent to – and perhaps dependent on – the official representation? I’m wondering why they should be bothering
you with this affair at all.’
    Redmayne was happy with Joe’s perception and his increasingly obvious involvement with the puzzle. ‘ Rem acu tetigisti , Commander. Spot on the problem!’ He leaned back,
confident that his investigation was launched. ‘This director of the asylum, you had correctly identified as a good egg. Scientist by training, medical man, student of Charcot and Freud, I
understand, not a civilian placeholder. You’re to liaise with him. He’s the target of much sniping from various French government departments for reasons you can probably guess but he
has an interesting tale to tell. He got his voice heard largely because the new information he had to offer rather suited them, I’m thinking. But then, I have a very suspicious
mind.’
    Joe remained silent waiting for the final twist and jerk that would land him firmly in Redmayne’s net.
    ‘This medic has lavished care and attention on our mystery man, whose case seems to have caught his imagination. He has made copious notes on his condition and tried, by experiment, not
electrical shocks – the doc is a humane man, it would seem – to find out the nature and cause of his illness. One night, a week or so ago, he was called by a nurse to the man’s
room. The patient was reported to be having a particularly alarming nightmare and crying out in his sleep. Fascinating, of course. Normally completely dumb, perhaps, under the influence of the
nightmare, he might well reveal some information? A useful name or two . . . “ Odile, mon amour, tu me manques! Maman, ton fils, Robert, te cherche! ” Something of that
nature.’
    ‘Yes? And did he make out any words?’
    ‘He did. Most surprising. And how lucky for us that this director is an educated man. He recognized the language at once. The patient was screaming out a stream of words.
    And this is where we find ourselves involved, Sandilands. The words he was screaming were English .’
    As Joe paused in the doorway to readjust the bulky file under his arm, Redmayne called out: ‘By the way, Joe . . . a last word of advice. The name “Houdart”
    . . . know what it means?’
    ‘No idea, sir. I’ve never heard it before.’
    ‘No. Most unusual. Charles tells me it’s a very ancient one from two Germanic roots.’ He frowned in an effort to remember. ‘ Hild , meaning combat and hard meaning . . . well . . . hard. Hard in combat. Tough fighter. And although Aline wasn’t herself born with that surname – I believe she started out as a de Sailly – she’s
certainly grown into it. Oh, and Aline Houdart, you’ll find, is a damned attractive woman.’
    The glance he directed at Joe was avuncular, amused. ‘Have a care, my boy!’

Chapter Four
    As Joe ran downstairs towards the open door of the breakfast room he glanced at his luggage, set in the hall the evening before ready for an early start. His two suitcases had
been joined by one Gladstone bag and a pile of books done up with string.
    Cheerful voices and a clatter of dishes warned him that breakfast was well under way and he checked his watch, annoyed to note he had overslept by half an hour. He paused by the door to collect
himself and prepare for the good-natured teasing that would greet his late appearance. As he listened he took a furtive step back, startled by what he was hearing.
    ‘Well, my money’s on this Houdart woman,’ Lydia was saying firmly. ‘Sounds to me like someone who knows what she wants and gets it. She’ll do a deal with the
authorities, pull strings . . . pull Joe’s strings too, I shouldn’t wonder! And she’ll have this poor man for her nefarious purposes.’
    ‘Can’t say I’d mind being had for nefarious purposes by a glamorous champagne widow,’ said Joe’s brother-in-law. ‘She can have her wicked way with me
any day. Oh, I