She laughed again. ‘Where on earth are you getting all this?’
‘I have my contacts.’
‘So? Go to the police.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘The police do not pay for such information.’
‘And you have proof with you now?’
He passed her a folder. ‘You will find it there. My cousin, shall I call her, works at the bank where the money is paid in and from where your father draws it out. Like I said, he uses a false name, but my “cousin” recognised him from the photograph inLe Temps.’
‘Where’s the bank?’
‘All in the folder. The bank is in a distant suburb where under normal circumstances nobody would be likely to recognise your father. Civil servants are usually grey, faceless men. Usually his image would not have been in the paper, but with no minister in post, it was.’
‘But why would my father do this? It doesn’t make sense.’
‘You may not know it, but your father has another secret.’
She stared at him, feeling a strange fluttering in her chest. ‘Not another family?’
He laughed. ‘I can put your mind at rest about that. He gambles, my dear.’
She frowned. ‘Where?’
‘Private members’ clubs. Secret clubs.’
‘So why not go straight to him with this?’
He twisted his mouth to the side. ‘Because he’d kick over the traces in moments and I’d likely be carted off as a blackmailer.’
‘Which you are.’
‘Maybe.’ He lifted the earrings and smiled. ‘But I’m not a greedy man. These will do nicely.’
‘Who else knows?’
He sighed. ‘Only my cousin knows about the bank. But I do have an associate who works in one of the private members’ clubs. It was only I who put two and two together.’
The next day was Sunday and Rosalie was feeling jittery, her nerves completely on edge. She needed to decidewhether to show the folder to her father or not. He would be outraged if he saw it, not least with her, and would undoubtedly deny everything, but if she didn’t show it to him, what then? Pierre or his cousin might get greedier. Demand more, or even inform the police. If a scandal erupted, then everything would be lost and her father could go to prison. She wasn’t his greatest fan, but she didn’t hate him. At least if she gave him the folder, he might be able to ward off disgrace and humiliation.
After a long dreary lunch, during which she tapped her foot nervously and was scolded for it while her mother ate painstakingly slowly, she went to her room and then came back into the drawing room carrying the folder.
‘You need to see this, Papa,’ she said, holding it out.
He didn’t look up. ‘Put it down somewhere, I’m reading.’
‘Papa, you have to see this now.’
Her mother raised her chin. ‘Do not speak to your father like that, child. What are you thinking?’
‘But Maman …’
Her father looked up now. ‘Well give it to me then,’ he said and reached out for the folder. Rosalie watched anxiously as he opened it and read the contents. His face turned pale.
‘What is it?’ her mother demanded and when he held it away from her, she snatched it from him.
Rosalie remained motionless, holding her breath. Her father was staring at the floor and breathing heavily.
