“What a fine sentiment,” I said. “I have been examining the graves with Maxim Noah.”
I tried not to look back, to see if Maxim was still behind me. If Monsieur Degas thought it was odd that I was behaving in this familiar fashion, he was too much of a gentleman to say anything. We walked a few yards up the path when he said, “Madame, is something wrong? What is that I see? Mon dieu. Can it be that you are you bleeding?”
I looked down at the ground and saw bright splashes of red on the yellow gravel. I put my hand to my side. It came away warm and sticky. “Maxim Noah. He…” And I realized I didn’t know the French word for “stab.” “He wished to kill me,” I said and everything started to go black.
I must have sunk onto a tombstone. From a vast distance I could hear Degas’s voice booming out, “Help! Murder! Police!” Then a whistle blowing, then strong arms lifting me. The next moments were a haze. I was being carried, seated. Given cognac to sip. Then hands were examining me.
“You are fortunate, madame,” a voice said. “It is merely a flesh wound.”
A woman hovered over me. Warm water sponged my side. Then a policeman arrived, asked questions. I tried to answer when all I wanted was to be safe at home. Finally I said, “Find Inspector Henri. Maxim Noah must not escape to England. And I want to go home now.”
The policeman ran off to find a telephone.
The woman stood beside me, looking worried. “You do not think you should be taken to the hospital, madame?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Just call a cab for me.”
A cab was summoned. The initial wound had not hurt at all, but now the bumping along the street made every breath painful. I was still bleeding and held whatever I had been given as a pad pressed to my side. It seemed like an eternity until we pulled up outside Miss Cassatt’s house. Celeste appeared at the door, took one look at me, and started wailing as she helped me upstairs. “Mademoiselle, come immediately. Madame Sullivan is dying!” she called. They were in the salon together, Sid and Gus on the floor with my son, building him a tower of blocks. Mary had been watching from the sofa. Now they all jumped up. My one thought was that I shouldn’t frighten Liam.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just get me up to my room and help me out of this dress.”
I could see their expressions as they looked at the blood-soaked pad on my side.
“Celeste, summon a doctor immediately,” Mary said. She came over and took my arm, helping me up the stairs.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I met Reynold Bryce’s killer. He tried to stab me.”
“It looks as if he succeeded,” she said. “Now no more talking. Let’s get this dress off you and we’ll see how bad it is.”
She worked efficiently and her calmness calmed me too. Although I must admit I got a shock when I saw the slash along the side of the dress and the great red stain spoiling the light silk. At that moment I believe I was more upset by the loss of the expensive dress than the size of my wound. When Mary had me undressed and washed the wound we could see that it was a gash, about three inches long, but mercifully not too deep. The doctor arrived, examined the wound, and pronounced me fortunate. “A little deeper and the knife would have struck your kidney,” he said. He produced a salve then applied sticking plaster liberally. “You are not to move until this is healed. No stairs. No walking,” he said, wagging a finger at me. “Bandages to be changed every twelve hours and the wound to be kept clean or it may turn septic. It should heal well but you’ll probably be left with a scar. That can’t be helped. I shall return to examine you tomorrow.”
I lay back on my bed, feeling suddenly exhausted and close to tears. The memory of that knife in my side was suddenly all too vivid. He had been planning to kill me. That was clear to me now. And what would Daniel say when he saw my scar? I had tried to do the right thing and taken foolish risks again. I looked up as there was a light tap at the door. Sid and Gus stood in the doorway, not daring to come in. Gus was holding Liam.
“See, there is mama. She is taking a rest right now,” she said. “She’ll be ready to play with you soon. But let’s go and build another castle, shall we?”
Sid tiptoed in and sat beside me. “Molly, I’m so sorry,” she said. “You took all these risks for me, and it nearly cost you your life.”
“At least we now know who killed Reynold Bryce,” I said. “It was Maxim Noah.”
“My cousin?” She looked shocked.
“Not your cousin, I’m afraid. Not in any way related to you. He tricked you, Sid. He overheard you telling someone about your quest to locate your family and decided that a rich American relative was just what he needed.”