There is nothing more say. So sorry, let her rest. Her fortieth day after her death day, her kami day when a person is reborn or becomes a kami has passed now. Let her kami, her spirit, rest. So sorry, not speak of her again.

Now, what other thing can I do for you?"' Angelique was sitting straight in her chair as she had been taught from childhood, disquieted, watching him, one hand in her lap, the other fanned against the flies. Twice she had said, "What do you mean, yes and no?"' but he had not heard her, seemingly in a trance. Just before she had left Paris, her uncle had been the same and her aunt had said, "leave him be, who knows what devils inhabit a man's mind when troubled."

"What trouble is he in, Aunt-mama?"' "Ah, cherie, all life is a trouble when what you earn won't pay for what is needed.

Taxes crush us, Paris is a cess pit of greed and without morals, France is rumbling again, the franc buys less every month, bread has doubled in half a year. Leave him be, poor man, he does his best."

Angelique sighed. Yes, poor man. Tomorrow I will do my best and talk to Malcolm, he will arrange to pay his debts. Such a good man should not be in Debtor's Prison. What can his debts amount to? A few louis...

She saw Andr`e come back into himself and look at her. "Yes and no, Andr`e? What does that mean?"

"Yes they have such a medicine, but no you cannot have it yet because y--"

"But why, why ha--"

"Mon Dieu, be patient, then I can tell you what the mama-san told me. You can not have it yet because it cannot be taken until the thirtieth day, then again on the thirty-fifth day, and also because the drink--an infusion of herbs--must be prepared freshly each time."

His words had ripped the simplicity of her plan apart: Andr`e was to have given her now the drink or powder that he had obtained last night, she would take it at once and go to bed saying she had the vapors. Voila! A small stomachache and in a few hours, a day at the most and everything perfect.

For a moment she felt her whole world twisting but again managed to put on the brakes: Stop it!

You're alone. You are the heroine whom the forces of evil have ensnared. You must be strong, you have to fight alone and you-can-beat-them! "Thirty days?" She sounded strangled.

"Yes, and you repeat it on the thirty-fifth.

You must be accurate and th--"

"And what happens then, Andr`e? Is it fast, what?"

"For God's sake let me finish. She said it's, it usually works at once. The second draft isn't always necessary."

"There's nothing I can take immediately?"

"No. There isn't anything like that."

"But this other, she said it's successful every time?"

"Yes." Raiko's answer to his same question had been, "Nine times in ten. If the medicine does not work, there are other ways."

"You mean a doctor?"' "Yes. The medicine usually works but is expensive. I must pay medicine maker before he will give it to me. He must buy herbs, do you understand..."

Andr`e concentrated on Angelique again. "The mama-san said it was effective--but expensive."

"Effective? Every time? And not dangerous?"

"Every time and not dangerous. But expensive. She has to pay the apothecary in advance, he has to obtain fresh herbs."

"Oh," she said airily, "then please pay her for me, and shortly I will repay you three times."

His lips went into a thin line. "I've already advanced twenty louis. I'm not a rich man."

"But what can a little medicine cost, Andr`e, such an ordinary medicine? It can't be expensive surely?"

"She said, for such a girl wanting such help, secret help, what does the cost matter?"

"I agree, dear Andr`e." Angelique brushed this problem aside with warmth and friendliness, her heart hardening against him for being so mercenary.

"In thirty days I can pay whatever it is out of the allowance Malcolm has promised, and anyway I'm sure, I know you'll be able to arrange it, a good, wise man like you. Thank you, my dear friend. Please tell her it is exactly eight days from when I should have had my period. When do you get the medicine?"

"I already told you, the day before the thirtieth day. We can collect it or send someone for it the day before."

"And the, the discomfort? How long will that be?"

Andr`e was feeling very tired, uncomfortable and now furious that he had allowed himself to become embroiled, however many the potential, permanent advantages. "She told me it depends on the girl, her age, if this has been done before. If it hasn't it should be easy."

"But how many days of sickness will there be?"

"Mon Dieu, she didn't say and I didn't ask her. I didn't ask her. If you have specific questions write them down and I'll try to get you the answers. Now if you'll excuse me..." He got up. Instantly she allowed her eyes to fill with tears. "Oh Andr`e, thank you, I'm so sorry, you're so kind to help me and I'm sorry to upset you," she sobbed and was pleased to see him melt at once.

"Don't cry, Angelique, I'm not upset with you, it's not your fault, it's... I apologize, it must be terrible for you but please don't worry, I'll fetch the medicine on time and help all I can, just write down the questions and in the next few days I'll have the answers for you. Sorry, it's... I've not been feeling well recently..."

She had pretended to comfort him and, after he had left, she weighed what he had told her, looking out through the flyspecked curtains to High Street, seeing nothing.

Thirty days? Never mind. I can live with the delay, nothing will show, she was thinking over and over, wanting to convince herself. Twenty-two more days won't matter.

To make sure she took out her diary, unlocked it and began counting. Then she re-counted and reached the same day. November 7th.

Friday. The saint day of Saint Theodore.

Who is he? I'll light candles to him every Sunday. No need to mark the day, she thought with a shiver. Nonetheless, she put a small cross in the corner. What about confession?

God understands. HE understands everything.

I can wait--but what if.

What if it doesn't work or Andr`e gets sick or lost or killed, or the mama-san fails me, or any one of a thousand reasons?

This gnawed at her. It obliterated her resolve. Real tears wet her cheeks. Then, suddenly, she remembered what her father had once said, years upon years ago, just before he had deserted her and her little brother, in Paris...

"Yes he deserted us," she said out loud, the first time she had ever articulated that truth. "He did. Mon Dieu, from what I know now, probably that's just as well. He would have sold us, certainly sold me long since."

Her father had quoted his idol, Napoleon Bonaparte: "A wise general always has a line of retreat planned, from which to launch the hammer blow of victory."

What is my line of retreat?

Then something Andr`e Poncin had said weeks ago slid into her mind. She smiled, all her care vanishing.

Phillip Tyrer was putting the final touches to the draft of Sir William's reply to the roju in his best copper plate writing.

Unlike all previous communications, Sir William was sending the original in English and a copy in Dutch which Johann had been told to prepare.

"There, Johann, I'm done." He finished the tail of the B of Sir William Aylesbury, K.c.b. with an intricate twirl.

"Scheiss in mein Hut!" Johann beamed. "That's the best writing I've ever seen.

No wonder Wee Willie wants you to copy all his London dispatches."

"Shigata ga nai!" Tyrer said without thinking. It doesn't matter.

"You're really working at it, the Japanese, eh?"

"Yes, yes I am, and between us, for God's sake don't tell Willie, enjoy it immensely. What do you think of his ploy?"

Johann sighed. "With Jappos I don't think. Me, I think Jappo mealy-mouthing has scrambled his head."