" She looked almost coquettish. "I am just a cabaret dancer, not even a star." She drew out a cigarette and leaned against the door. He took out his silver lighter and lit it for her, moving closer to her as he did it. "A man like you must have much better ways to occupy his time than to worry a poor girl like me." He leaned back, still smiling."You would be surprised Fraulien, at how useful someone like you can be to the wrong people. A decoy of sorts, and certainly a confidante." He looked her straight in the eyes. "Some men tell things to their mistresses that they would hold from anyone else" She let out a small laugh. "Not the men I know. They are all of them deadly boring. They come to drink and watch the show to forget how dreary their lives are" And a man named Gerard Lemieux? I suppose he has never come to see you dance?" She opened her eyes wide, and inhaled her cigarette, but again her look of fright soon faded into that same complacently flirtatious mask."I know no one by. A bystander could spot a friendly gleam in her eyes, onethat could only be translated as joy of being back home. She quickly looked behind her - a glance to die for - to see whether shewas finally alone in her mansion. None of the servants had followed her.She was sure that her beloved husband, the Marquis, would out in Nice atan important alnd ownership discussion. She was alone in the house. Suddenly, she was full of determination. What was the graceful clickingof her heels, now became a hasty tiptoeing. She hurried accross thechateau, moving from one room to another, seemingly with no direction atfirst, but then the maze became a pattern, through which the Marquesswas looking for her objective. At a corridor she met a group of maidswho were carrying large baskets of laundry. They hastily greeted theMarquess, but she paid no heed. Soon she was at the door she was lookingfor - the Marquis's study. She quickly hurried inside and deftly closedthe door and locked it behind her. She.
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