It was a flash of genius on my part to solve the problem by employing their son to be my assistant, thus guaranteeing a flow of income into the hands of the mother that could not be diverted into slaking the father's thirst, and securing for myself the services of one of the most useful people I have ever known.

I do not usually spend time discoursing on the character of sixteen-year- olds, but as young Jules is now a grand man of influence throughout France, and, as I can claim some proud responsibility for this, I feel I should divert my story a while to give a proper account of him.

He was, as I have said, the son – the eldest son – of a poor family, the father a lazy drunkard of amiable disposition, the mother a worrying fusspot, living permanently in a haze of crisis and despair. In one small room lived parents and five children, some of whom were among the worst-behaved and most revolting infants I have ever encountered. That they did not all end up in gaol or worse was largely due to the efforts of Jules, who took on the burdens of parenthood which properly belonged to others. He was, in fact, an accomplished criminal by the age of twelve, expert at filching fruit or vegetables from market stalls, milk from dairies, sausages and meat from delivery vans, clothes from department stores. He was also perfecting a good line in picking pockets until I persuaded him that this was an unwise career development.

'Very risky, and for only uncertain gains,' I told him severely, waving my wallet in his face. 'And I understand that the penalties in France are exceptionally high for this sort of activity. You are too young to spend the next few years in prison and, on the whole, it is better to avoid spending time there at all.'

He was not entirely certain how to take my remarks; I had, after all, just caught him with his hand in my pocket and had grabbed his wrist hard to make sure he did not escape. He squealed in pain as he tried to wriggle free, attracting the glances of passers-by in the rue de Richelieu, along which I was walking after my luncheon. I waited until he might realise that he was not going to get free of me, and calmed down.

'Good,' I said when the noise subsided, 'As far as I understand these things you should never, ever work alone, but need someone operating with you to distract the attention of the person whose wallet you admire. Secondly, it is unwise to try and steal from a gentleman; they are far more violent and unpleasant than ordinary working folk, and do not hesitate to call the police. You are only a man of property if you are good at keeping hold of that property. Thirdly, like most well-dressed men, I keep very little cash in my wallet, and much more in the bank. If you want serious wealth, I suggest you address your attentions over there.'

I waved behind him at the façade of the Crédit Lyonnais, just visible on the boulevard beyond.

He continued to eye me with ever more doubt, and began to shuffle uneasily from foot to foot.

'Are you hungry? You have a sort of pinched look about you. Perhaps you were stealing to buy yourself a good meal?'

'No,' he said scornfully. 'I mean, I am hungry, but . . .'

'In that case, young man, you must allow me to offer you a good bowl of soup and bread. The contents of this wallet were so nearly yours, I feel such proximity to triumph should not go without recompense.'

He looked at me with narrowed eyes once more, but did not object when I led him – still holding on to his wrist quite firmly – up the stairs to a bouillon on the other side of the road.

It was still quite busy, but there was no difficulty getting a table in the corner and I sat the boy against the wall, so he could not make a run for it with any chance of getting away. I ordered him a large bowl of onion soup and bread and water, and watched with satisfaction as he ate.

'I hope all this makes you realise that I am not inclined to call the police, nor even to inform your father of your activities. Do you wish to be like him when you grow up?' I asked gently.

He looked at me with a wisdom and sadness beyond his years. 'No,' he replied with a touch of steel in his voice. 'And I won't be.'

I pondered this as he ate his soup. He was very hungry, and ate with both noise and relish; the offer of a second bowl was accepted with enthusiasm. It is remarkable how much you can find out about someone in a short time and a few words. The boy was courageous and defiant. He knew loyalty – even though its object was undeserving. He was prepared to take responsibility, to act where others might have sat and merely accepted their fate.

'Now, listen to me,' I said seriously. 'I have not paid to pour litres of soup into you for no reason. I have been thinking, and I have a proposal for you. Do you want to hear it?'

He nodded cautiously.

'Can you write and count adequately? I know you can read.'

He nodded. 'Course I can.'

'Good. In which case you are well to leave school. It has nothing else to offer you. You need a proper job, which I am offering you.'

He gazed at me in that same, steady fashion, not reacting at all, really. Just patient.

'As you may know, I am a journalist . . .'

'I don't like the English,' he remarked, although without any personal animosity.

'Nor do you have to. In my work I need messages sent, letters delivered. I will occasionally need other tasks done. Following people, watching people without being seen. Perhaps even going into their houses and taking things.'

He frowned. 'You do that?'

'It's an odd job, journalism. And no, I do not. You do. Do you have any objection?'

He shook his head.

'The pay will be adequate, even generous, that is to say about a hundred francs a month. Does that suit you?'

He stared at me. I knew it was almost as much as his father earned.

'You will be punctual at all times, start work when I say and finish when I say. There will be no days off unless I say so.'

He nodded.

'You agree?'

He nodded again. I held out my hand. 'Then we must shake on it. Present yourself at my hotel tomorrow morning at eight.'

He gripped my hand over the range of soup bowls and, for the first time, his face creased in a broad, happy grin.

CHAPTER 11

Jules did turn up the next morning, and more or less from the moment he walked through the door, he transformed my life. I only ever had to tell him once about how to do any task, or where something was to be put. Anything I requested he did speedily and well. He was never late and was as tidy as I was messy. On his own account he began teaching himself English by borrowing a copy of David Copperfield and a dictionary, and showed a considerable flair for the language. When there was nothing for him to do, he retired to a corner and read quietly, when there was something to do, he did it without questioning.

And so, when the question of the Countess Elizabeth Hadik-Barkoczy von Futak uns Szala's shareholders began to pique me, I naturally dispatched Jules to discover who they were. As a test of his ingenuity, I did not tell him how to go about it, but rather let him discover for himself the best way of accomplishing the task.

It took him two weeks which, on the whole, was not bad going, and at the end of that time he produced a list of four names. I was impressed; professionalism in any field is something to be admired, and in a relatively short space of time Elizabeth had captured a Russian count attached to the Embassy and a banker, both married and of stupendous wealth. In addition there was a composer of a progressive hue, who made up for his limited financial success by the possession of a very wealthy wife; while the last one was an heir, that is to say the likely inheritor of a grand fortune with no personal merit of his own. By the time Elizabeth had finished with him, the fortune was considerably smaller. And that was before she had a reputation for knowing the Prince of Wales. Shortly after she got back to Paris, the composer was replaced – she was quite ruthless in these matters – with the Finance Minister in whose company I had met her at Biarritz and a few months after that the heir, his fortune now depleted, was also cast aside. Each one of these made her wealthy. All combined rapidly made her prodigiously so; each one, for example, took on the entirety of the rent on her house, paid for her servants and gave her generous gifts of jewellery, which she kept in a safebox, each piece labelled with the name of the giver so she would not wear the wrong piece when being visited. Four-fifths of her income, after a portion of her debts were paid off, was carefully banked.