Conscious that, although she had no business within its portals, her smart clothes were a passport that would ensure her entering without question.
Fiona walked slowly through the grand entrance, passed two commissionaires and taking the English Times from the table she sat down in an armchair.
She had not been there for long when she heard someone enter and, glancing up, saw the back of a man who was idly turning over the pages of a newspaper.
He looked vaguely familiar and, as she wondered where she could have seen him before, he turned and she recognised the dark man she had seen on her train journey to Paris.
Their eyes met and instantly he recognised her for he gave her an imperceptible smile and made a slight movement, as though he would have bowed and then corrected himself.
Fi
