Pierre became aware of a gentle but firm hand under his elbow as a deferential waiter courteously led him back to his table.
The maitre de had righted his chair and stood behind it ready to push it in when Pierre sat down.
When he was seated, a fresh pot of coffee and a platter of cheese and greens materialised before him on the crisp white cloth.
The head waiter's thin, aristocratic face was almost sympathetic as he poured coffee into a fresh cup and leaned over to speak.

"A most distressing occurrence," he said his eyes on Pierre's pale face. "As a friend of Monsieur Lombard I regret such an incident in my establishment."

Pierre looked up at him, the shock he had received still evident in his face.
"I needed to meet someone. I thought that she----"

The maitre de shrugged eloquently.
"Not that one. She is Madame Louise Goudet. Wife of Colonel Richard Goudet, the head of a Government Ministry. Something to do with supplying the Army I am told."
PIerre nodded absently, asking himself if Inge had come and gone un-noticed in the brief furore.
The other man slid into the chair opposite Pierre and went on speaking.

"They hate each other, but he is too rich for her to leave him and she is too dangerous for him to abandon.So she frequents her old haunts and he collects her on the way home from his club.
She is vicious , that one. Fortunately we don't see her here very often."
He leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a confidential murmur.
"If Monsieur is lonely, there is a small establishment not far from here which I can vouch for. Their discretion is assured and---"

Pierre's expression flashed from disgust to anger and then Just as rapidly to amusement as the track of the Maitre de's reasoning hit him.
Of course it would appear to be an attempted pickup. A lucky thing too, since it would have hidden his real intentions.

He smiled into the dark eyes of the man opposite.
Relief flooded the head waiter's face as he smiled back at Pierre.
He feared at the moment of speaking that he had misjudged this tall, elegant man and brought shame and disgrace upon himself for actually being wrong.

"Where is this place?" asked Pierre.
"Not far Monsieur, Just across the boulevard and down Rue de la Roi. It's the house on the corner with roses growing along the pathway."

Pierre had already decided that his mission had failed and saw this as an opportunity to retreat from the Cafe de Boulevard. He was angry that he had failed in this simple task.
.Angry with himself and sickened as he realized some hapless woman remained oblivious to a deadly danger at his failure to warn her.
The waiter was still speaking and Pierre heard him say
"But keep your coat buttoned, it's cold tonight".
Pierre's eyes widened.Had the waiter just given the call sign or was it just coincidence?

He felt his knees buckle under him slightly so he sat down again . Their eyes met and in that fraction of a second the waiter unmistakably winked.

At that moment a waft of perfume enveloped them as a soft, husky voice asked, "Excuse me, but is that Camembert Swiss or French?"
PIerre looked towards the newcomer, but all he could see was a mane of golden, hair haloed against the light.

A pale, long fingered hand reached out and took a small wedge of creamy cheese from the platter. She tasted it and announced
"French".

The maitre de uttered an exclamation of pleasure and caught the lovely hand to his lips with an effusive greeting. Then, beaming he swept away to bring another setting to the table.
Pierre rose to draw a chair for her, but she patted him back into his seat and sat down gracefully. He felt she was no stranger to the Cafe de Boulevard, but was unsure of how to proceed.

She took some more cheese and a couple of crisp little wafer biscuits and ate them carefully, washing them down with a sip from the brimming glass that had appeared as if by magic before her.
"I" she said,"am Inge".

to be continued