He had gotten out of Frankfurt without her being any the wiser, and in the four weeks he had spent in Paris, he had been staying out of the streets, confining himself to the quieter public houses and the cathedrals. He had been so clever, as a matter of fact, that he decided he was entitled to a bit of fun. After all, he had given her the slip so thoroughly in Frankfurt that there was a chance she was still in Germany. There was surely nothing to stop him from stepping out into the brisk winter night to find something to eat. The pretty girl in the flimsy gown pursed her lips sweetly at him, and at a nod, she followed him into the alleyway between the shops. It was a narrow space, lit only by the faint glow of the lanterns from the street. She said something to him in French, and Daniel spread his hands, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, and as she started to gesture, he met her gaze and stepped close. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “but this will not hurt you, I swear…”
