Milan, 23 October 1816, 8.30 a.m.
Headquarters of the Directorate-General of the Austrian Police
Anna Molinari had worked nose to the grindstone on the dossiers about the people questioned in the Marais case.
Her eyelids, weighed down by the sleepless night, were about to sink when Ziani knocked at the archive door with the breakfast he’d been promised.
Upon the sight of the pile of dossiers on the table, he went pale all of a sudden.
‘I’ve transcribed a synthesis of two leaves of paper,’ explained Miss Molinari to appease him.
‘You’ve saved my life. Pass me the dossier on Henri Beyle, please’,
As Ziani rifled through the dossier, Molinari bit avidly into a croissant that was still hot and returned a little colour to her pallid face.
‘I see you’re confused, Lieutenant. Is
