I drove Maganhard's Citroen round the corner of the house out of sight of the main road, changed the plates with a screwdriver, and went back upstairs.

They were halfway through some sort of birdpate, a long block of the stuff cut in the middle so as to preserve the tasteful decoration of a dead bird's head sticking out one end, and its tail feathers the other. It looked something like a thrush, which suited me fine: I prefer eating them to being woken by them.

I helped myself to a reasonable slice and told Harvey: 'I've changed plates on the car.'

He turned slowly to look at me. 'You won't get it across the frontier with the old papers.'

I nodded with my mouth full. 'We weren't going to get it across anyway. The customs'll have the number by now.'

Maganhard stared at me: 'What will you do, then?'

'You should have thought of that when you brought your damn boat inside the three-mile limit. Well – if nobody knows we're in Geneva, we may be able to hire a car there. Or, of course, there's always the Swiss railways.'

Harvey said thickly: T prefer a car.'

I looked at him and nodded. For his side of the business, trains provided too many witnesses.

Madame Meliot waddled in and scooped up a bottle of red wine from the table and poured me a dose. Maganhard and the girl had glasses of it already; Harvey was on water.

She nodded at him and shrugged.

'Americain,'I explained, if she'd take that for an explanation.

She did, then turned the label to show me.'Pinel, ha?' And she grinned knowingly, and waddled out with thepate.

Miss Jarman asked: 'Does Pinel have some special significance?'

I nodded. 'In a way. The family that makes it: their chateau used to be a "safe house" on the same Rat-line. Across the Rhone from here.'

I glanced at the closed kitchen door. I hadn't realised Madame even knew about the chateau – but these things must have got talked about openly after the war. Still, even that wouldn't account for the knowingness of her grin. She must have heard I stayed at the chateau for a better reason than just that it was 'safe'. Did they talk aboutthat as well?

Maganhard said: 'An overrated wine.'

I nodded. True enough – but they knew what they were doing at Pinel. You can't start overpricing a wine until first you've got somebody to overrate it.

Madame came back with a vast earthenware pot ofcassoulet: a mixture of goose, beans, mutton, and God-knows-what that she probably started in September and kept going with additions through to the end of May.

Harvey took a couple of forkfuls, then reached into his pocket, decanted a couple of pills, and swallowed them. Then he stood up, 'I need some sleep.' He looked at Maganhard: 'If you get shot, I'm sorry.'

He didn't need sleep nearly so much as he needed a stack of stiff drinks, but in the morning I'd rather have him dozy from barbiturates than weary from spending the night fighting a screaming thirst.

Madame shrugged at me, then led Harvey upstairs.

After dinner Maganhard decided he wanted to pass a message to Liechtenstein, and I remembered I'd promised to call Merlin again. Madame assured us there was a 'safe' phone down with the newmaire', it sounded as if he owed the Meliots money from how sure she was that he was 'safe'.

Maganhard was quite certain he couldn't give me the message to give to Merlin to give to Liechtenstein. I wasn't keen on phoning any Liechtenstein number direct, but the object of the whole trip was to save Maganhard's business, so I couldn't really argue. Miss Jarman came down with me to themaire's house; Maganhard didn't make his own calls, of course.

She asked for her number, then turned to me. 'What time shall I say we will be in Liechtenstein?'

'By tomorrow evening – with luck.'

'How much luck?'

'A certain amount. If they're watching the frontier, we might have to wait until dark to cross.'

She frowned, puzzled. 'If they don't catch us tonight, won't they assume they've missed us?'

I shook my head. 'Wrong approach to police mentality. If they don't catch us, they'll assume we haven't tried yet. Unfortunately, they'll be right.'

Then her number came through and I drifted off to chat with themaire.

At half past seven the next morning I was drinking black coffee with Madame Meliot and Miss Jarman.

I wouldn't say life seemed much fun right then, but at least I had that feeling that you know you're going to feel okay sooner or later. I'd sat up for an hour after the telephone calls drinkingmarc with Meliot himself and recalling the Resistance days and asking what had happened to old so-and-so? We hadn't mentioned Giles.

Meliot came in from somewhere outside, clapped me on the shoulder, and then said something I missed to Madame. She turned round and kissed me.

That woke me. I started to say:'Mais, pourquoi-?'

The girl said: 'I think it must be those flowers – the wild daffodils – you left on their son's grave yesterday. He must have seen them.'

'I did? Oh – so that's what you were doing when I lost you.'

I smiled back at Madame and shrugged meaninglessly. She called me an Englishman and went to get more coffee. Meliot had vanished, too.

I looked at the girl: 'Thanks. I suppose I should have thought of it.'

'Englishmen never think of flowers. But the gesture wasn't out of character. For a moment I wondered why you'd expect them to put us up, when you'd got their son killed on a job you were doing.' She sipped her coffee. 'Then, when you said you'd gone on with the guns to Lyons, I understood: you could have thrown his body out at the roadside. Instead, you took it up to Lyons and then brought it all the way back here. It must have been quite a risk. I see why they like you.'

Madame came back with the coffee; Meliot came back and poured a shot ofmarc into it. I tried protesting, but it didn't help. They stood around grinning at me while I drank it. Well, there are worse ways to start a day.

Harvey and Maganhard came down, neither of them looking as bright as the desert sun, but at least on their feet. They'd got stuck sharing a room; Madame had made it clear she was entertaining them because they were with me. Therefore, I got the best single room. Logical.

Harvey took a cup of coffee. 'You ring Merlin last night?' he asked.

'Yes.' I studied him carefully sideways. He looked a little bleared and slow, but his hands on the cup were quite steady.

'What did he say?'

'Said he'd try and get to Geneva overnight on the Simplon-Orient. Then if we get stuck on the frontier, without the car, he'll try and think of ways of getting us across. He could be some help.'

He frowned into his cup. 'He could be dangerous, too – if the cops are really watching him.'

I nodded. 'Yes – or he could just lead them away from us. We don'thave to get in touch with him.'

Maganhard looked up quickly. 'Monsieur Merlin must be with me in Liechtenstein.'

I waved my head meaninglessly. I'd take my own decision – and we could always ring him when we were well past Geneva. He'd reach Liechtenstein in a couple of hours by plane to Zurich and then a train or hired car.

Maganhard said: 'I am ready to go on.' It sounded like an order.

Getting away from the Meliots wasn't difficult. They'd never known me except as a person who had to go when he said so, and with no fuss made. We were rolling by a quarter to eight.

Harvey slipped his gun down to his ankle, then started juggling with the maps. 'About seventy kilometres to the Rhone: where do we cross?'

'Le Pouzin, probably.'

'It's a big river,' he said doubtfully. 'They could be watching all the bridges.'

'I hope they'll think we'll be crossing north of Lyons. Merlin said he'd sent that telegram to the yacht, so they think we're going from Paris. And Le Pouzin's about ten bridges down from Lyons.'