“We need to talk,” the senator said.
“Sure.” Hugo opened the door and stood to one side. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Well, a little shaky but I slept it off.” He looked at Hugo. “I don’t remember going to bed, which sometimes means I made an ass of myself. That happen?”
“No, sir. Jet lag followed by a glass or too more than you should have, but your exit was moderately surreptitious and reasonably graceful.”
“Good. Did you come check on me in the night?”
“No,” said Hugo. “You were fine when I left you and once we finished downstairs I pretty much crashed myself.”
“I see.” He hesitated, then said, “Look, don’t think I’m crazy but … I think someone was in my room last night.”
Hugo looked at him but said nothing.
“I’m serious. I’ll be honest, Hugo, I think I was drugged, not drunk, and someone came into my room.”
“OK, but why would someone …”
“To look through my stuff. Papers. Maybe get a head start on the negotiations. Look, I didn’t drink all that much, and I can hold my liquor when I do.” He sank into an armchair by the window. “And I’m telling you, whether I was drugged or drunk, someone was in my room.”
“Could you see who? Man, woman, young …”
“No. It’s not even like I saw the person clearly.” He ran a hand over his face. “It wasn’t a dream. I know what you’re thinking, but it was like …”
“A dream.”
“Kind of.” Lake sank back and stared at Hugo. “Yes, but no. I mean that. It wasn’t a dream.”
“Could it have been a maid?”
“Whoever it was, I felt them leaning over me, touching my face.”
“I’m guessing it was a maid, one of the staff checking on you. Perhaps Tourville sent a doctor up.” Although he’d not seemed worried, Hugo thought, making jokes at Lake’s expense for the remainder of the evening.
“They should have locks on these doors.”
Hugo laughed gently. “They probably did at one point. Keys go missing over a hundred years or so.”
Lake grunted. “I’m not happy about this, Hugo.”
“Were any of your bags opened? Anything tampered with?”
“Not that I could tell, but that doesn’t mean anything. If they’re smart enough to knock me out they’re smart enough to crack a stupid lock on a briefcase.”
“That might qualify as a breach of security, yes. I’ll talk to Tourville, see if he sent someone upstairs to check on you. That’s my bet.”
“And if he didn’t?”
“Then we’ll take it from there,” Hugo said. “If you want to shower up and head to breakfast, I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Lake pushed himself out of the armchair and shuffled to the door. “Talk to him as soon as you can, if you don’t mind. I’ll try not to touch anything except my clothes in case we need to dust the room for prints.”
Or swab it for DNA, maybe get bloodhounds in, Hugo thought. But he was relieved Lake was letting him take the lead because on the morning of potentially delicate negotiations, one side didn’t need to be hurling accusations of malfeasance at the other before the pencils were sharpened.
Hugo caught Henri Tourville in the main hall as he was heading out of the door with two black Labradors tugging at their leashes, and therefore him.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Tourville, do you have a moment?”
“Bonjour. That depends on these two, I would say a little less than a minute.”
“Then I’ll walk with you, if that’s OK.”
“Of course. I normally let them have the run of the house, but since we have so many esteemed guests I thought I’d take them out to the field and let them blow off steam.”
The two men walked down the steps in front of the chateau and angled left, across the gravel driveway and the lawn to a wooden fence, beyond which a dozen cows grazed, heads down and paying no mind to their approach. Hugo wondered whether that would change once the dogs joined them. A large drop of rain hit the end of Hugo’s nose and he looked up to see heavy gray clouds filling the sky.
“It’s supposed to come and go all day.” Tourville unclipped the leashes and the dogs slid under the fence and sprinted away into the field. “How is Monsieur Lake, have you seen him this morning?”
“I have, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Tourville held up a hand. “If you plan to apologize, please don’t. A long trip from America, wine, heavy food … it could happen to anyone.”
“You are kind, thank you.” Hugo paused. “Tell me, did you have anyone check on him during the night?”
“Check on him?”
“Yes. Did you have anyone go to his room? Make sure he was alright.”
Hugo tried to keep his voice casual but Tourville was looking at him with a frown on his face.
“No. Are you saying I should have?”
“Non, monsieur, not at all.”
“Then why the question?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing, but Monsieur Lake told me this morning he thought maybe someone had come into his room during the night.” When Tourville just stared at him, Hugo continued. “I told him it was probably a dream, he imagined it somehow.”
“In his state, that seems almost certain.”
“Agreed, absolutely. It’s just that, he’s insisting someone was in there, leaning over him.”
Both men turned as the sound of footsteps on gravel reached them. They watched in silence as Lake strode toward them.
“You told him?” Lake asked Hugo, approaching at full steam.
“We were discussing the matter, yes,” said Hugo.
“There is nothing to discuss,” said Tourville, his tone clipped. “No one in my household would enter the room of a guest at night, it’s out of the question.”
“I don’t mean to accuse anyone,” Lake said, “or insult you. But unless you stood guard at my door all night, you can’t possibly give me that assurance. And,” he turned to Hugo, “I was wrong about my things. Last night my briefcase was propped between the bed and the side table. This morning it was lying flat on the floor.”
Tourville snorted. “Senator Lake, given that you … how you were feeling last night, I don’t see how you can be sure exactly where your case was.”
“I put it there before dinner. I remember that, and I’m guessing that I got into the bed from the other side last night.”
“Guessing?” Tourville looked as though laughter might take over from outrage, and Hugo suspected that would be even worse.
“Actually, that’s right,” Hugo said. “I helped you into bed from the other side because that’s where the bathroom is. Still, it’s entirely possible you somehow knocked or … I don’t know. Things fall, it doesn’t seem like definitive evidence of anything untoward.”
Lake spoke through clenched teeth. “I remember someone coming in and leaning over me. And my briefcase has been disturbed. I call that evidence, Mr. Marston. You yourself said that if an intruder had been in my room, that would be a security breach. Did you not?”
“I did suggest that it might be, yes.”
“Right. Precisely. Which means I expect you to investigate this and bring me some answers. This may not seem like a big deal to you, and if it turns out that some wandering maid came to feel my forehead, then fine. But I won’t have you acting like it’s nothing at all when you have no clue who was in there, or why.” He pointed a finger at Hugo’s chest. “You will investigate, Hugo, because I see this as a personal violation and I appreciate neither the intrusion nor your collaboration in pretending nothing happened.”
Lake straightened, looked past both men for a brief moment, then turned on his heel and marched back toward the house.
Hugo and Henri Tourville watched him go. When he was out of earshot, the Frenchman said, “Why is he here, anyway?”