At last she reached Notre Dame and went inside. She sat down in the gloom, dimly lit by all the flickering candles in front of the various saints, and felt at peace.
After half an hour, she left. She felt hungry and had no francs with her to buy food, but was reluctant to return to the hotel.
Rose walked a little way away from the front of the great cathedral and looked down at the river. She walked along to a flight of steps that led to the lower quay. The black water was hypnotic, swirling past. A barge sailed past. She could see the bargeman’s family at dinner in a cosy cabin.
She felt a sudden frisson of fear. There was a murderer on the loose in Paris. She should never have gone out for a walk without protection.
She was aware of a movement behind her and half turned round. A man leaped towards her and pushed her violently and Rose hurtled down into the waters of the Seine.
♦
Harry had gone over and over the little he knew about the case with Lemonier. While he was talking, a policeman came in and handed Lemonier a note.
“Lady Rose has gone out walking to Notre Dame,” said Lemonier. “I’m sorry, you were saying…?”
“When? When did she go out?” asked Harry sharply.
“The concierge telephoned about an hour ago.”
“Why was I not told sooner?”
“We decided that perhaps you did not want to be disturbed.”
Harry said, “I’ve got to go. She could be in danger.”
He hailed one of the new motor cabs and told the cabbie to get to Notre Dame as quickly as possible. Harry fretted as the cab sped over the cobbles of the Place de la Concorde, past the obelisk and down towards the Seine.
When they drew up outside Notre Dame, he hurriedly paid the cabbie and was about to rush into the cathedral when he saw an excited crowd of people farther along looking over the bridge.
He sprinted along and looked down. A figure was struggling in the water. The current was strong. He sprinted towards the steps leading down to the lower quay. He pushed his way through a gesticulating pointing crowd, stripped off his coat and hat and dived in. He didn’t know whether it was Rose or not. Harry lunged out and grasped an armful of clothing.
“Rose!” he spluttered, recognizing her. “Hang on.”
The great bell of Notre Dame began to ring, booming in their ears, reverberating across the swirling black water.
He struck out for the steps, fighting against the current. Arms reached down to help them and they were dragged up onto the quay. The watchers cheered him as he clutched a dripping-wet and shivering Rose to him.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said. Someone handed him his coat and hat and he draped his coat around Rose.
A policeman came up and said, “You must come with me.”
“Nonsense,” said Harry angrily. “The lady will get pneumonia if we do not get her back to her hotel.”
“We always arrest attempted suicides.”
“I was not attempting suicide,” howled Rose. “Someone pushed me.”
“You left a letter,” said the policeman accusingly. “It is in English, but as you can hear, my English is very good.”
“I have just come from Commissioner Lemonier,” said Harry. “You will come with us to the Crillon and you may telephone him from there.”
♦
Rose was lying in bed. Beside the bed sat a remorseful Daisy. Harry had been furious with her for having let Rose go out alone.
Daisy looked up as Harry and Lemonier entered the room. “How are you?” Harry asked Rose.
“Cold and hot by turns. I am so sorry. I should never have gone out alone. I thought the murderer would have fled somewhere out to the country. There was something about a letter. What letter?”
“This was found on the quay just where you were pushed in. It was weighted down with a stone. I’ll read it to you. It says, ‘I killed Dolores Duval and Madame de Peurey. I do not want to live any more. Rose Summer.’”
“I thought I was going to die,” said Rose through white lips. “The current was so strong and I felt myself getting weaker and weaker. I called for help but no one seemed to hear me.”
“Too busy watching the show,” said Harry bitterly. “Monsieur Lemonier, you must know this is rubbish. For a start, Lady Rose was with us in Saint Malo at the time of Madame de Peurey’s murder.”
“Nonetheless, to be thorough, we will take a copy of milady’s handwriting.”
“I have a note Lady Rose wrote to me,” said Daisy. “I’ll get it. No need to bother my poor lady at the moment. You can see she is not well.”
Daisy went to her room and found a list of things to be packed Rose had given to Daisy in London and brought it back.
Lemonier read it carefully and compared it with the note. “I have my police combing every hotel and lodging house in Paris, although we have only a vague description. Police are interviewing everyone who was on the quay. Can you remember seeing anyone, milady?”
Rose shook her head. “Funnily enough, just before I was pushed I began to feel afraid and realized how stupid I had been to go out on my own. I did not see anyone. There was no one on the quay when I went down the steps.”
♦
Benton, the duchess’s lady’s maid, came in to see her mistress in a high state of excitement. “You will never believe what has just happened, Your Grace. Lady Rose went out walking beside the Seine and somebody pushed her in! The police are here.”
“Will this never end?” demanded the duchess crossly. “I am no longer amused. We will leave tomorrow, Benton.”
“But Your Grace, the police said –”
“Do you think I care what a lot of frog policemen say? My orders are to pack. Fetch Kemp.”
When her butler arrived, the duchess said, “Take a telegram. Right. Got paper and pen? Good. ‘Dear Polly. Daughter involved in murder and mayhem and whole business is too vulgar for words and can no longer chaperone her so suggest you catch train to Paris and get to the Crillon toute suite and take her away because I have had enough of it. Effie.’ Send that right off, Kemp.”
But when the telegram arrived at the Palace Hotel in Monte Carlo, Lord and Lady Hadshire were on their way to Cairo and had left no forwarding address.
♦
Daisy rapped on Harry’s door during the night and when he answered, she whispered urgently, “Oh, Captain, Rose has a bad fever. She needs a doctor.”
“I’ll see to it right away.”
Harry ordered a doctor to be sent immediately and told the hotel manager also to hire a trained nurse. Then he quietly entered Rose’s room. She was tossing and turning and her face was flushed.
Daisy began to cry softly. “I should never have left her.”
Harry sat down beside the bed and took Rose’s hot hand in his own and held it tightly until the doctor arrived.
Dr Maurey was an elderly gentleman with silver hair and a gold pince-nez. He sent Harry out of the room while he examined Rose. Harry paced up and down the corridor wondering whether he should wake the duchess. When the doctor called him in, he said he thought Lady Rose was suffering from a severe chill and shock. He had prescribed powders which Miss Levine was to dissolve in water and get the patient to drink every four hours. He would call again in the morning. Harry told him a nurse had been ordered and if the doctor waited a few more minutes, he was sure the nurse would arrive. Rose needed expert care.
Daisy felt useless after the nurse arrived and took over. She wished they were all back in England. The nurse was middle-aged and appeared efficient but could not speak a word of English. Daisy felt so far from home, lost in an alien land. She began to wonder whether God was punishing her for having slept with Becket. What if Becket should decide not to marry her? Daisy had remained a virgin until her affair with Becket, having heard too many stories of girls being seduced and then abandoned.