Our Lady of Pain by Marion Chesney

the French lawyer who now inherits.”
    Lemonier made a note.
    “There is something else,” said Harry. He told Lemonier about Dolores being originally called Betty and how she had worked on the farm.
    “We will interview her lovers,” said Lemonier. “Fortunately we know who they are. I shall return tomorrow. I may have more questions for you.”
    When he and his detectives had left, the duchess said angrily, “Go away, the lot of you. I’m tired.”
    Outside her drawing room, Harry said to Rose, “I am going to telephone Kerridge.”
    “This is awful,” said Rose. Her lip trembled and with a sudden impulse he folded her in his arms. “There now,” he said gently. “I will look after you. Go to your rooms and I will join you shortly.”
    Rose smiled at him tremulously. He pressed her hand and hurried off, leaving Rose looking after him, torn between an odd sort of elation and fear.
    But ten minutes later, Becket arrived to say that the captain had been called to police headquarters to discuss the case further.
    “Are you going with him?” asked Daisy.
    “No, he went off in a police car that was sent for him.”
    “I feel restless,” said Rose, pacing up and down. “Let us go for a walk.”
    Daisy and Becket exchanged glances. “Do you mind if I stay here?” asked Daisy. “I am very tired.”
    “Do not worry. I shall go myself, only a little way.”
    “Becket,” said Daisy, “go to Her Grace and ask that one of the footmen accompany Lady Rose.”
    While he was gone, Rose changed into a blouse, skirt and long coat. Becket seemed to be away a long time and when he returned his normally pale face was flushed. “Her Grace is in a taking,” he said. “She said her servants are no longer to be of use to us. It is my opinion she is sulking.”
    “Oh, I’ll go myself,” said Rose. “The streets are full of ladies walking on their own.”
    Rose walked out of the hotel and stood looking at the cars and carriages circling around the Place de la Concorde. She had a sudden impulse to see Notre Dame. She went back into the hotel and asked for directions and then she set out again on foot after refusing the concierge’s offer of a carriage.
    The concierge picked up the telephone after she had left and dialled police headquarters. He had been told to report on the movements of the duchess’s party.
    Rose made her way down to the Seine, along the quays of the right bank and then crossed to the left at the Pont Neuf. She walked steadily, enjoying the rare feeling of freedom.
    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