"How much do I- ?"

"Oh, no hurry about that," says Virginie.

At some point, I realize I am embracing not her but the sheets where

she lay. As these are every bit as pliant, I drop straight to sleep. And in no time, I'm hustled back to Saint-Cloud. Once more the Grand Cascade has kicked into life, and Monsieur Tepac lies pale and heavy before me, blood f lowing freely from his side.

Gathered round us, in a loose triptych, are more watchers: Vidocq, in his best finery, and Charles, wearing a lopsided crown, and Tepac's assassin, Herbaux. There is about all of them a sort of hesitation- they'd like to help but don't know how-and blood f lows through the f lap of Tepac's skin and jets from the Grand Cascade and falls from the sky.

I wake, with shreds of Saint-Cloud trailing after me. I reach for the candle by the bed, thrust it into the darkness. In the doorway, a tall shadowy figure stands framed.

The man raises his own candle, and in the pool of our joined light, I behold him. No dream, after all. Herbaux, f lesh and blood. CHAPTE R 35

In Which the Vulnerability of the Hamstring Is Clearly Demonstrated Th e thing is, if you'd asked me before what Herbaux looked like, I doubt I could have told you. Somehow, without my knowing it, those features imprinted themselves on me. The hero's jaw, tapering into a cleft chin. The boxer's nose (broken at least twice in its career), and the satyr eyes, too wideset for comfort, coming at you from every possible angle.

One thing I didn't recall from Saint-Cloud: the scale of him. The very doorframe peels back to accommodate him.

"Get up," he says.

This is harder to do than I would have guessed. Champagne has rotted my head from the inside out.

"May I-put my clothes on?"

"Your trousers," he says. "That's all you'll need."

I move slowly, not from any strategy but simply to slow my heart. For several seconds, my gaze lingers on the window-until I hear Herbaux's measured tone:

"I wouldn't. It's a four-story drop. Now let's go wake your friend, shall we?"

"But I came alone."

"'Course you did."

He grabs me by the back of my neck and, with very little effort, f lings me down the hallway. I land about three feet short of Charles' door.

"Go fetch," says Herbaux.

Nothing about what happens next is planned. With one hand, I'm turning the knob. With the other . . . I'm grabbing Herbaux's candle and driving it toward his face. A grunt of pain, and then the candle clatters to the ground and Herbaux staggers back. I plant a foot in his midsection and send him sprawling onto his back. Then I f ling the door open and slam it after me.

"Charles ! "

My eyes, adapting slowly to the darkness, find him exactly where I left him-on the cot, breathing in long slow drafts.

By now Herbaux has recovered himself enough to hurl his bulk against the door. Again and again he comes, and as I press myself against the door, it seems to shrivel between us, as though it were aging before our eyes.

"Charles! For God's sake, wake up!"

My feet, scrambling for a purchase, knock against a white porcelain pitcher. With a single swing of my arm, I send its contents f lying toward him. At once, the room is filled with an acrid stench, and Charles bolts upright in bed.

"Did I piss myself?" he cries.

"It's all right. Listen, now. . . ." How calm I sound to myself! "I need you to do something for me, all right? I need you to get up right now and bring that dresser here. Can you do that?"

His faculties are even muddier than mine, but after several seconds of groaning, he manages to drag the dresser across the wooden f loor. And with his help, I'm able to wedge it against the door.

"Now I need you to push. Can you do that?"

"Like this?" he asks.

"Harder. As hard as you can."

He leans into the door-and is stunned to feel it buck back.

"Someone's out there," he says.

"Yes, that's right. We're playing a game. If we can keep the man on the other side from coming in, he'll"-a second or two of wild groping-"he'll make us breakfast."

Clouds of nausea pass over Charles' face. "Bit early for that, isn't it?"

"Just keep pushing."