attitude, James. It spares us much inconvenience.”
James gave this a reserved acceptance, then inquired, “What if she is an agent? What will you do then?”
“Inform the Resistance leaders. Yes, there are ways I can do this, and I will if it is necessary. I hope that it is not; I do not want to live under constant surveillance, as I have told you before.” He got up. “I have a few tasks to attend to. If you will excuse me?”
As he started toward the door, James called after him. “What tasks?”
Saint-Germain paused. “I like to spend some time in my laboratory each day. It’s a bit makeshift, but better than nothing.”
“Laboratory? What do you do there?” James was somewhat intrigued, for although he had no great interest in scientific experimentation, he was curious about how Saint-Germain occupied his time.
“I make gold, of course.” With James’ indulgent laughter ringing in his ears, Saint-Germain left the reception room.
That afternoon James discovered Madame Kunst to be a fairly good, if impatient, card player. They had begun with cribbage and had graduated to whist. As Madame Kunst put down her cards, she said, “After I have my supper, let us play another rubber. You have some skill, it seems.”
James, who was used to thinking of himself as a very good card player, was piqued by her comment. “Perhaps, after you have your meal, I will have forgotten my good manners, Madame.”
She smiled widely and insincerely. “I do not believe that you have been deliberately allowing me to win—you aren’t that shrewd in your bidding, for one thing.” She looked around the room. “It is getting dark. How unfortunate that there are no electric lights here.”
“But there are,” James said impulsively, remembering Madelaine’s pride at having them. “There is not enough gas to run the generator to power them. If the cars are going to be driven, it must be kerosene and candles here.”
“But there is a generator? Curious.” She smiled at James. “Have you seen this chateau when it is alight?”
“Yes,” James said, not entirely sure now that he should have told her about the generator. But where was the harm, he asked himself, when a quick inspection of the old stables would reveal the generator, and the allotted fuel for Montalia?
“It must be quite impressive,” Madame Kunst said quietly. She was wearing one of her two dresses, an elegantly knitted creation of salmon pink with a scalloped hem and long full sleeves. There were travel stains on the skirt and it would have been the better for cleaning and blocking. Madame Kunst fidgeted with the belt, putting her fingers through the two loops at either side of the waist. It was much more a nervous than a provocative gesture, but James could comprehend that in a lanky, high-strung way she might be attractive.
“It is,” he said, taking the deck and shuffling it methodically. “After your meal, we can try again.”
“Are you not going to join me?” she asked him.
“No, thank you.” Then he recalled what Madelaine had said to him the first time he had dined at Montalia, and he paraphrased her words. “I have a condition which severely restricts my diet. It’s simpler for me to make private arrangements for my meals.”
“This is the oddest household. Roger tells me that le Comte dines privately in his rooms; you have a … condition. If it were fitting, I would suggest to Roger that we both eat in the kitchen, but he won’t hear of it.” She gave a tittery laugh, then left the room.
James shuffled the cards two more times, taking time and care, then put them back in their ivory box. That done, he rose and sauntered out into the hallway, pleased to see that no one was about. Five careful minutes later, he was in Madame Kunst’s room, tugging the valise from under her bed. He knelt on the floor, holding the leather case between his knees while he inspected the lock that held it closed. The valise was not unlike a large briefcase, with accordion sides and a metal reinforced opening. The lock most certainly required a special key, but James thought he might be able to make some progress against it with a bent hairpin, if he could find one. He was so preoccupied that he did not hear the door open.
“You arrant fool,” Saint-Germain said quietly but with intense feeling.
James started up, and the valise fell heavily onto its side. “You said …”
“I said that you might try