Chapter Six
The Red Lights
1
The shape of her coif against the dim light was like some legendary thing’s head, and she was eating. I heard her. That she was old and very stout was all I could see. I could smell just a little, too. Poor Iris.
I asked if I might have news of Mrs Storm.
‘Ah, la dame anglaise!’ She ate, but not finally. ‘Madame est assez bien, je crois. Mais pardon, monsieur. Je n’ai pas d’instructions à vous donner—’
la dame anglaiseMadame est assez bien, je crois. Mais pardon, monsieur. Je n’ai pas d’instructions à vous donner—‘But!’ I pleaded. ‘But—’
‘Je regrette, monsieur. C’est pas ma faute, vous savez. Pardon.’
‘Je regrette, monsieur. C’est pas ma faute, vous savez. PardonShe was closing the door! Terse as you like. I was helpless. ‘Madame est assez bien, je croi
