‘Indeed!’ said Joe, impressed. ‘The first French ship to open fire on Lord Nelson! But, sir, I protest! I’m a Scotsman! I won’t be held responsible for Trafalgar!’

‘A Scotsman? Then you are doubly welcome. But come and meet my friends. We were just about to go out into the garden for lemonade.’ He glanced down at their feet. ‘But you come unprepared! I’ll ask Fernand to go and make arrangements in the stables and, while he’s at it, to look out a spare pair of boots. I’m sure we’ll have a pair large enough for English feet,’ he added dubiously, eyeing Orlando’s size elevens. ‘It will take them a while to saddle up, we’ve plenty of time for a chat. Tell me—have you ridden Mercure before, Joliffe?’

‘Mercure? Ride him? But we thought the horse was lame …’

‘Lame? Whatever gave you that idea? Young horse, in the pink of condition. Raring to go. Watch out—he can be a bit of a handful!’

Chapter Twenty-Two

Two elderly gentlemen were talking together some distance away in the deep shade of an arbour. Joe located them and then looked about him with pleasure. From a sun-filled terrace behind the house a path struck off into what Joe’s mother would have called ‘a wilderness’. Here, the calm and luxury seemed to have been routed by Nature. Provence had asserted herself and thrown off the straight lines imposed by the Parisian architect. No shaven and decoratively distorted trees lined up here to salute them; instead, the thick shade of lustrous native foliage, a vine that swarmed unchecked over a wooden support, and scented curtains of honeysuckle, roses and jasmine crowded round for attention. The path itself gave way to a soft runner of close-growing herbs that gave up a delicious aroma under Joe’s feet.

‘There they are, lost in the gloom,’ said Lacroix. ‘This is what I still call “my wife’s garden”. She had an aversion to sun-baked symmetry. I allowed her to plant all this on sufferance! It was only after her death some ten years ago, I realized how right she had been. I often sit here after breakfast and tell her so. Come, let’s get out of the sun and meet my dear friends, le docteur Philippe Simon and Monsieur Alfred Lesueur. Gentlemen, we have Joliffe with us again … Alfred, you will remember Joliffe—the Man Who Reverses Time? And, with him, he brings a gentleman from London—Commander Joseph Sandilands. No, don’t get up—they’re joining us out here for lemonade.’

Greetings exchanged, it was the doctor who spoke first. ‘Have you enquired, Alphonse, about our friend?’

‘No, Philippe, I thought I’d leave medical matters to you.’

‘Then tell me, Joliffe—Bertrand, how did he appear, when he got back this morning?’ The question was put with concern, in the expectation of a crisp answer.

‘Not well,’ replied Orlando with some reticence. ‘Less than his usual self, I’d say. Somewhat tired.’

‘Orlando is being discreet,’ Joe broke in. ‘You’re talking to a medical man, Orlando. I think we can feel free to express our concerns. I’ll be frank—he seemed ill, sir. Emotionally disturbed, of course—you will be au fait with the vandal attack to which his chapel has recently been subjected?’

They murmured their understanding. ‘… disgraceful affair … youth out of control these days … a six-month spell in my old regiment would …’ From their reaction, Joe assessed that no message regarding the more serious crime had been sent to them. They were unaware of the murder.

‘But physically, he struck me as being much diminished …’

‘Yes? Go on.’ The doctor was encouraging him to throw off his British reserve.

‘In fact—jolly ill. From the way he clutches at his heart …’ Joe mimed the gesture, ‘it’s apparent that he has some fears in that quarter. On his return, we noticed that his breathing was irregular and laboured, his face pale, almost blue. He was favouring his left arm. We were concerned.’

‘There!’ said Lesueur. ‘We were quite right to ignore his tantrum and insist he went back in the car. He’d never have made it on that horse of his. Great, strong beast with a mind of its own! It’ll kill him one of these days.’

‘The ride over may well have done some damage …’ said the doctor thoughtfully. ‘Tell me, gentlemen—if you know—at what time did Bertrand leave home to come here yesterday? Precision would be appreciated.’

‘We were with him when he set off to walk to the stable. At two o’clock, Orlando? Yes. Let’s say he was mounted and off by two fifteen at the latest,’ said Joe.

‘And he arrived here at just after three!’ announced the doctor. ‘I knew it! He must have galloped most of the way to do the journey in that time!’

Orlando was desperately trying to repress a smirk and avoid catching Joe’s eye.’It’s not an easy ride,’ he commented. ‘Doubt if I could do it in an hour and I’m reckoned to be something of a centaur, back home.’

‘It may be the one thing in life Bertrand still really enjoys, but my friend’s right—it’ll be the death of him. I sometimes think that’s what he has in mind,’ said Lacroix, weighing his words.

‘Riding yourself to death?’ said Joe, picking up his thought. ‘Intriguing idea! Not a bad way to go if you know your time’s measured. No guilt of suicide to bear if you’re a religious man … And if you can calculate it finely enough to collapse in the arms of your oldest friends and your doctor on arrival? A good end!’

‘You understand me, Sandilands. It could kill him. You fellows all heard me ban him from strenuous exercise! And he flouts my good advice continually. Thinks he can fix it with the pills I hand out. I’m quite certain he can’t.’ The doctor looked seriously from Orlando to Joe. ‘Your diagnosis is correct, Commander. Heart, you know. An established condition which has got much, much worse over the past few months. I speak of this to you in the hope that his young friends at the château will be able to exert a greater influence daily than his old friends who see him only one day a week. He must desist from exercise any more taxing than chopping the top off his morning egg.’

‘Some chance of anyone exerting an influence over Bertrand de Silmont!’ Lacroix shook his head. ‘Pride, you know. And it gets stronger as he grows weaker. That’s why he told these chaps his horse had gone lame. He doesn’t want to be seen as a weakling who has to be driven about the place by a chauffeur … who has to consider the possibility that it’s time to give up the horses he adores.’

‘We’ve heard and understood,’ said Joe. ‘We’ll preserve the illusion. And we’ll do our best to urge restraint. Though we risk having our ears torn off if we interfere, I’m afraid,’ he hazarded.

‘Know what you mean!’ sighed Lacroix. ‘It’s a pity you’ve nothing in your medical kit for bad temper, Philippe. Those rages of his! Practically foams at the mouth—over nothing! He used never to be so touchy, you know, Sandilands. Quite out of character. I’m sorry you’ve been presented with this vision of our friend. Illness reduces us all.’

‘The stressful life he leads … One has to make allowances. Jump in boldly and do what one can …’ murmured Joe. His invention was running into the sand.

They mumbled their agreement.

‘But, gentlemen, allow me to reveal the second reason for visiting you without ringing in advance.’

They exchanged puzzled glances but seemed ready—even eager—for a change of subject and tone.

‘We were just passing, returning to Silmont after an unfruitful visit to the village.’

‘Our village? Then it would be likely to be unfruitful! It’s very small—three farmers and their dogs. What business could you have had there?’

‘First, I must make a confession. Or is it rather—a clarification? The “Commander” of my title is not a naval one but a police rank.’