They must have been at Nico’s closing banquet. Knox walked towards them, slowing deliberately as he drew close, so that they’d know he had business with them. Franklin’s expression clouded when he saw him. ‘You!’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’‘You know what I’m doing here.’He licked his lips but said nothing. ‘What is it, Claude?’ asked his wife, in the nasal tone of deafness taught to speak. ‘What’s going on?’Franklin turned to her with a calm smile. ‘Nothing, my love,’ he assured her, signing the words as well as speaking them. ‘Please go inside.’‘But I—’‘Please,’ he repeated. ‘Go inside. Go to bed. Everything’s fine. This gentleman and I just have some matters to discuss.’ He watched her go in, the lights coming on downstairs and then up. ‘Well?’ he asked.Knox told him. ‘I just ran an Internet search on Roland Petitier. Unusual name. Did you know he’d published an article while he was at the French school. More to the point, can you take a wild guess as to who his co-author was?’‘It was a long time ago.’‘It was you, Dr Franklin.
