He frowned. “Please, Stefan. And I can call you Clare.”

I held my coat tight. “Maybe.”

He looked back over his shoulder at the open doorway. “Fräulein…Clare. You appreciate my help, yes?”

“Yes, very much.”

He turned back to me, took a step closer, and I realized how tall he was, taller even than Luc. “And if all I asked for in return was your friendship?”

Tante Lili pushed through the doorway in a slide of satin and a cloud of perfume. She glared at Mr. Bauer—Stefan—and set the pitcher on the washstand. He met her glare and something seemed to pass between them.

“I will leave you to your washing,” he said with a stiff bow, following Tante Lili out. I heard whispering behind the closed door, but then the hallway was finally silent.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. It wasn’t late, but the night already seemed too long. I slipped from my jacket and looked around for a wardrobe or, at the very least, a peg, but saw nowhere to hang it. There wasn’t even, I realized, a chest of drawers in the room. Guests must not stay long at Tante Lili’s. I tossed the jacket onto the bed. My hat I unpinned and set on the shelf of the washstand.

I filled the washbasin. I didn’t see any soap, but there was a towel that looked clean and I washed my face and neck. My face in the mirror was pale. I unbuttoned my dress, one of the new ones Madame had ordered for me, with carved buttons that ran all the way down the front.

The dress, I smoothed out and draped on the bed next to my coat. I slipped from my petticoats and shook them out. I unsnapped the valise and found my folded nightgown. It was the only thing I’d packed apart from a clean pair of socks, my comb, and Mother’s letter in the pocket of my coat. In only my combinations and elastic corset, I stood in front of the mirrored washstand. I untied my ribbon and ran hands through my hair. It was damp at the temples. My head ached.

In the mirror, with the door ajar, I saw Stefan Bauer watching me.

I whirled around and wrapped my arms around myself. “Stefan.”

He actually smiled at that and pushed the door open farther. “It is Stefan now?” He stepped into the room. “Ah, it is nice when you say that.”

“Don’t come in here.” I backed up into the washstand. Water sloshed out of the basin against my back. “Please.”

“I am sure you don’t think I would hurt you, fräulein.” He set an empty glass on the wooden stool. I wondered how many times it had been refilled. “I want only to say good night.”

My arms broke out in goose bumps. “Why were you watching me?”

“Clare.” He licked his lips. “You are nice to watch.”

I felt behind me until the hat pin scratched across my hand. I grabbed it and swung it out in front of me.

“Please!” he cried, but took a step back.

“I’ll stab out your eye.” Holding the long pin in front of me, I circled back towards the bed. “I will.” He moved farther into the room.

“Please, I do not wish to hurt you.” He held up his hands, palms out. “You will see I have no weapons.”

The backs of my knees hit the bed.

“Clare.” He looked at my hat pin, then looked at my face. “We are friends.”

With my other hand, I felt behind me for the linen of my jacket and the cracked leather of the small valise.

“I wish only to become better friends.” He took two steps across the room. “Rotkäppchen, I am not a wolf. You are safe with me.”

I hooked fingers into the handle of the valise and swung it up towards him.

It wasn’t a big swing, but I was near enough that it hit him in the face. Even almost empty, it made a thud. He cried out and stumbled back against the stool. The glass fell and shattered. My stockings slithered out of the bag. I swung it again, this time letting go. I heard a thump and a crack, but didn’t stay to see where I had hit. Snatching up my jacket and dress in a bundle of cloth, I fled the room.

Downstairs, Tante Lili sat on the velveteen sofa with a man, her dress unfastened to the waist. She winked at me as I passed. Upstairs, I heard a string of German curses.

I ran out into the night.

The next morning, Clare didn’t come down to breakfast. Yvette told Maman that she wasn’t in her room. Her bed was unslept in and her valise gone.

Maman was frantic. She dispatched the maids, the butler, even Marthe and Papa, to comb the house and the grounds. Clare couldn’t have gone far, could she?

I checked the chapel courtyard, the chestnut tree, and the fairy woods beyond. I brought Bede, who bounded off to bring me sticks, but no Clare. I walked as far as Brindeau farm. Though I had no candle, I clenched my fists and walked four steps into the big cave. “Clare?” I called out. “Clare?” There was no reply but my echo.

When I broke through the tree line to the lawn of Mille Mots, I saw Papa and Alain down by the river in a crooked little barge. They must have rowed from upstream, where the bluffs where lower. I wondered, until I saw Alain probing the bottom with a long pole. I went icy all over.

“Maman!” I ran straight across the lawn, as far from the river as I could.

She came from the house, hands twisting her shawl. She was red-eyed and exhausted.

“I’ll find Clare, Maman.” I kissed her cheek. “I promise.”

It had been my fault, I was sure. After our fight, when she shouted that she’d find someone who wanted her. Had she gone to the village? Had she gone all the way back to Scotland?

I jogged the few miles to the train station, but she wasn’t there waiting for the early train. I saw nobody but a man in a blue hat, sweeping. “Please, have you seen a young lady?”

He stopped and pushed back his hat, showing a shock of white hair. “I’ve seen many ladies.”

I resisted the urge to hit the door frame. “Monsieur, here at the station.”

He scratched his head. “This morning, no.” He leaned on his broom. “But last night we had two passengers from this station. A young lady and a young man.”

Bauer. He’d brought his motorbike on the Paris train, I knew. Maybe he’d seen Clare on his trip home. I needed to get to the Rue d’Ulm. I needed to see what he knew.

I paced the platform and then, once the train arrived and I boarded, I walked from one end to the other all the way to the Gare du Nord—as though I could make it go faster through sheer force of my restlessness. If Clare had left last night, when Bauer did, she’d been in Paris since then. She’d been all alone.

After the train arrived, I hurried to the university dormitories. Bauer was half awake and sporting a black eye.

“Please tell me you saw Clare at the station last night,” I said without preamble.

He scowled. “She is not very polite, is she?”

“She can be outspoken. Is that a yes?”

Bauer hesitated. “She was on the train, yes.”

“Where did she go from the station?”