“Commandant Ladoux? Who is he?”
“He’s with the French Secret Service. I met him through Jean Hallure, the drunk musician from the Kursaal. Now he’s a lieutenant.” I’m going too fast for him. Edouard pats his jacket, then his pockets, looking for a pen and paper to write all this down.
“Why have they let you visit me?” I ask.
“They haven’t,” he says absently, giving up the search. “I bribed a guard to come in here to see you.” He gives me a wry look. “Haven’t I told you there isn’t anyone in Paris I don’t know? Now—how many times did this Captain Bouchardon interrogate you?” he asks.
“Sixteen times. Those were the only days I was allowed to shower. I was made to wash myself before they brought me to his office. The prison issued me a number, Edouard. 721 44625. I told Bouchar-don exactly what happened in Madrid. I chronicled every detail. I informed him that I was hired by Commandant Ladoux of the French Secret Service, and that I provided the commandant with important information to aid France.”
“How did you get this information, M’greet?”
“I seduced a German in Madrid; his name is Major Arnold Kalle. I spent an evening with him and he revealed a plot to send a German submarine into French territory. I went straight to the French Embassy and reported this information by telegram to Commandant Ladoux! I’m not in bed with the Germans for pleasure, Edouard. I did this for France. But no one will listen to the truth—it’s as if the world has gone mad.” I take a deep breath. “I need you to represent me.”
“I don’t know that I can do that, M’greet. I’m not a criminal lawyer.”
“That’s fine. I’m not a criminal.” I grip the bars and he wraps his fingers around mine. But I can see doubt in his eyes. “The cell at Saint Lazare had no furniture at all. It was worse than Scotland Yard. I thought that was impossible. I slept on the hay; it was flea infested and soaked in urine—”
“M’greet, there’s something I don’t understand. If you are working for the French Secret Service, why have they arrested you? Why are they the ones calling you a German spy?”
“I don’t know.” Though I’ve had nothing but time to think it over. “I can’t understand it either.”
“Are you aware that they’re planning a court martial? There must be something you know, something that they want.”
“I swear, there’s nothing! I’ve considered everything and none of it makes sense.”
“What evidence do they have, then, that you are giving information to Germany?”
“None! They searched all of my belongings. Everything I had with me at the élysée Palace was confiscated. All they have confronted me with is a tube of oxycyanide of mercury.”
“And? Why do they think it is important?”
“Because they are fools—it’s my birth control, Edouard!” I say, exasperated. “Bouchardon behaves as if fertility is imaginary. He insists I use it to make ‘sympathetic inks.’ That’s what he said. ‘One drop of this,’ he claims, ‘and you are translating letters.’ ”
Edouard puts his hand to his temple.
“It doesn’t make any sense, I know. The world has gone mad.”
“Why did they transfer you here from Saint Lazare? Did they tell you that?”
“No. Sometimes I think I’m in a horrible nightmare. I’m not a double agent, Edouard. You have to believe me. I’ve only gathered intelligence for France. Do you think this could be about money?” I ask. “Commandant Ladoux never paid me the sum we agreed upon. Also, when they arrested me, they took all the money I saved for Vadime—”
Edouard interrupts me. “What money?”
I tell him about the three hundred thousand marks Alfred Kiepert’s family paid me to stay away from him, and the twenty thousand marks I received from Consul Cramer.
Edouard’s face pales. “Who is Consul Cramer, M’greet?”
“He’s the German consul in Amsterdam. I was given his name by General von Schilling—”
He puts up his hand to silence me. “When were you in Amsterdam? And why did the German consul give you twenty thousand marks?”
I see how it appears through his eyes and feel a stab of fear. “I went to Amsterdam after I left Berlin. I was coming home, to Paris, but the train was stopped by German soldiers. The money from Cramer was compensation for my furs. The soldiers stole them.” I don’t want to tell him that I promised Cramer I’d keep my eyes and ears open for Germany. I did nothing for Germany. It was Germany that I betrayed.
Edouard shuts his eyes as if he’s blocking out terrible images.
“You can clear this up for me, can’t you?” I ask, willing myself to stay calm. “Despite how it may appear on the surface, surely no one will believe I’d give secrets to the Germans, not after you explain the truth to them. Even the British understood in the end.”