Our Lady of Pain by Marion Chesney Page A

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.