never see, someplace that the moneyed Annamites had managed to keep for themselves.
I could tell even from a distance that she was a beautiful woman, but I didn’t want her to have to dress a certain way. I was starting to see Khoi’s point. Would I have fallen in love with him if he wore traditional clothes, if he hadn’t been trying to resemble a university student in Paris?
Khoi pursed his lips as his servant bowed and said, “Would you like to eat lunch outside, Monsieur Khoi?”
“Non, merci, Ngoc. We will come in and forage for food later.”
She nodded and left, stepping quickly over the manicured grass.
“Even my servants speak French,” he said, laughing. “Even though they are all Tonkin-born. How ridiculous is that?”
“Very,” I agreed. “But I’m glad you’re not yelling at me anymore. Are you convinced yet that I don’t want you to powder your hair and sing ‘La Marseillaise’?”
“I’m not,” he said. “I think you would like that. But I am ready to start formulating a plan about how we confront Paul Adrien. You met him once, can you do it again? Can you somehow invite him here, without saying why?”
“Maybe. If I invite him to something he can’t say no to.”
“Like a party with a man playing the ukulele, another with a monkey on his shoulder, and a bathtub full of gin?” said Khoi, daring a smile.
“He doesn’t deserve such a party. He deserves prison. But a party is a good idea. Yours are legendary. It would also be a very good way for you to finally meet Victor Lesage. It’s odd that you still haven’t.”
“To be frank, I haven’t wanted to. Perhaps the anger you hold for Paul Adrien, I hold for Victor. But I need to, so let’s change that,” said Khoi.
“And as for Paul Adrien, I’ll find another way for you to meet him. For both of us to finally have that conversation.”
Khoi opened his mouth to respond but closed it as we saw the same servant walking out again.
“There is a phone call for you,” she said after she’d bowed in apology.
“I’ll come in,” Khoi said, starting to stand.
“It’s not for you, sir,” she said quickly. “It’s for Madame de Fabry.”
“Who is it, please?” I asked, surprised. No one had ever called me at Khoi’s house.
“It is the concierge of the Hôtel Splendide,” she said.
“Ah, yes, of course,” I said, smiling, knowing immediately who it actually was.
I accompanied her inside, where Lap, the head butler, handed me the telephone. He stood next to me as I said hello.
“Le Chat d’Or. Thirty minutes,” a man said and hung up.
“Thank you, that will be all,” I replied to dead air.
When I walked back outside, Khoi had moved farther from the house.
“I forgot to tell you, regarding Anne-Marie…”
“Yes?” I said, my heart hurting at the sound of her name.
“In an odd twist of fate,” said Khoi, “Sinh’s father said he might know where she is.”
“Oh, I hope so,” I said quietly. I kissed Khoi on the cheek, thankful that through everything, even through our differences, we were still knotted around each other.
“Where are you going?” he called as I stood to leave.
“Le Chat d’Or.”
“At this hour?”
“I have an errand to run,” I said. “The phone call.”
“Ah.” Khoi nodded. “The money is in my dresser.”
I had my chauffeur drop me by the opera house and then, when he was out of sight, climbed into a pousse-pousse and told the driver my destination.
Twenty minutes later, we were in the red-light district near Kam Thien Street at a large house known as Le Chat d’Or. Its plaster walls were washed a light pink, and its green wooden shutters were pulled closed. I climbed the stairs to the side entry on the second level and rang the bell. A pretty indigène who looked to be in her twenties opened it and told me to follow her up one more level. She left me in a sitting room where a woman in a billowing dress who was old enough to be her mother sat drinking tea, staring out the window. It was not shuttered and had a direct view of the staircase I’d just climbed.
“Where is Red?” I asked her, without bothering to extend a greeting. She looked me up and down and shrugged.
“Hugh Redvers. Red,” I repeated. “I’m sure he’s a regular here.” I reached into my bag and put more piastres than she deserved on the table by her teacup.
“Come,” she said, standing. Together, we walked down a