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“Your statistics might be right—”

“They are.”

“—but your conclusions are wrong. Don’t you care about that?”

“Right? Wrong? Suddenly you’re the arbiter? Such hypocrisy, Dr. Gilbert. After all, there were some pretty controversial studies out of your own university, I believe. Didn’t Ewen Cameron work at McGill?”

Now Armand did turn around and saw the surprise on Vincent Gilbert’s face.

“He was a monster,” said Gilbert.

“True. But monstrosities live a long time. And monsters beget other monsters.” She looked again at the other guests, including Jean-Guy and Annie, who were watching them. “All that’s missing are pitchforks and torches. But maybe I’m not the one they should be coming for.”

Now Armand was confused. Had she just called Vincent Gilbert a monster?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded Gilbert.

Up onstage the play had resumed. A lion was reciting, “By history we find it noted / That lives have been just so devoted. / Then let us all turn eyes within, / and ferret out the hidden sin.”

“Abby Maria, maybe we should—” Debbie began but was interrupted by Gilbert’s laugh.

“Abby Maria? As in Ave Maria?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Debbie began but was ignored.

“You call yourself Abby Maria?” Gilbert sneered. “You are out of control.”

“Come on,” said Debbie. “No one cares what he thinks.”

Though Armand thought that wasn’t true. He thought Abigail Robinson cared. She cared so much that she’d traveled thousands of miles to meet him.

He looked over at Colette, who’d been silent through all this. Was silence agreement? And if so, who did the Chancellor agree with?

“You have no moral authority to judge me.” Abigail Robinson’s voice was low, and it dropped further as she said, “Don’t think I don’t know.”

Up on stage, the Fable de La Fontaine was wrapping up, with all the animals turning to the audience and reciting the final lines.

Thus human courts acquit the strong,

And doom the weak, as therefore wrong.

Chapter 18

You can stop pretending you’re not listening, Armand,” said Gilbert.

Colette and Debbie were heading down the corridor toward their coats. Preparing to leave.

But Professor Robinson was taking a different tack. She was heading straight for Annie and Jean-Guy.

Surely the professor could see she was sailing into a storm. But maybe, after that confrontation with Gilbert, that’s what she wanted, thought Armand. Needing to blow off steam and spoiling for a fight, she’d chosen the people most likely to give her one.

“You two were really going at it,” he said to Vincent. “What did she mean just now when she said she knows. What does she know?”

“Nothing. She’s a sociopath.”

Armand continued to watch Abigail Robinson. They all did, it seemed. Everyone in the room was riveted on her. While the Hero of the Sudan had all but disappeared.

It was twenty minutes to midnight.