Victoire told her husband and Fouche the next morning. She was astonished at the intensity of the revulsion that went through her at the mention of his name. He was the last of the prisoners she had been asked to try to identify, and when she caught sight of him a hard fist closed in her chest. She had been grateful to be taken to the antechamber. where she would not have to see Montrachet again. “The one you shot?” asked Vernet incredulously. Her face was grim. “The same,” she said, and went on. “I recognize a few of the others.” She looked around the whitewashed walls of the antechamber where they waited. “I will make a statement now, if you like.” “It would be welcome, if you are sufficiently collected in your thoughts,” said Fouche, and went to summon his secretary. Vernet looked truly upset. “I did not realize that ... It never occurred to me that one of these men might ... might be the person—” Victoire laid her hand on his. “He only threatened. We will be certain he is punished, between us.”
