The Bas-Vivarais, near the village of Maisonneuve March 3, 1732 A week had gone by and she still was no closer to guessing the place where MacPherson was leading them. Since killing Stevens at Valence the Monday before, he’d been more than annoyingly secretive, and if the others knew where they were going they hadn’t seen fit to tell Mary. They’d driven straight through that long night from Valence, getting what sleep they could in the coach, till at sunrise they’d come to a town called Étoile where they’d struck out on foot, crossing over the Rhône while the coachman, relieved of his passengers, carried on south with instructions to turn when he could to the east and proceed towards Switzerland, hopefully drawing off any men still in pursuit. While the bodies they’d left in the stables would not have lain long without being discovered, it stood in their favor the night had been dark and their contact with those at the inn had been brief and thus few there got a good look at them.
