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safe – there’s no risk of someone like me trying to steal it. But I don’t believe he’d have put the notebook into the bank if he was expecting to hand it over to the Fraternitas immediately. He must be expecting to wait for at least a few days.’ She couldn’t help thinking that was rather strange. She knew how important the notebook was to the Fraternitas, and how much they wanted the information it contained. Why would they delay collecting it from the Count?

      What’s more, how was she to get hold of it now? If the Count had kept it in his hotel room, or even in his pocket, she’d have had a chance at stealing it. But locked away in a bank vault? That would be impossible. She’d have to wait for the Count to withdraw it from the bank to give it to his Fraternitas contact before she’d have her chance.

      She’d kept a careful watch on the Count, but even after a week had passed he hadn’t returned to withdraw the notebook. It had been time for a new strategy, so she had come to Rivière’s.

      Now, under the twinkle of the crystal chandelier, the Count was saying to her: ‘You must get quite used to these treasures, being surrounded by them every day.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t believe I could ever get used to them!’ Sophie replied. ‘I have my own special favourites too.’

      She’d intended to point to one of the bird music boxes, but a sudden instinct made her point instead towards a silver box with a delicate enamel painting of a London scene on its lid – the river and the spires of Westminster.

      The Count turned to examine it. ‘A lovely English scene. You are English, are you not, mademoiselle?’

      Sophie felt triumphant. She’d been talking to the Count at Rivière’s for several days – but this was the first time he’d asked her a question about herself. ‘Yes, from London,’ she replied casually. ‘This reminds me of home, which seems very far away. You’re far from home too, aren’t you?’

      She said it as lightly as she could, turning slightly away to close the door of the cabinet, so the Count could not see her face. She dared to add: ‘From Arnovia, I think?’

      Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she felt the Count stiffen. There was a moment of tense silence, in which she locked the cabinet door and then turned to him with an expression of perfect innocence.

      ‘You know Arnovia?’ he asked, in a hoarse voice.

      ‘Oh no, not really. I’ve never been there. But I met a couple of Arnovians once, and I remember what they sounded like.’ No lie in that. She had met some Arnovians once, if you counted those brief moments on the airfield in Paris, when she and Lil had rescued Crown Prince Alex with Princess Anna’s help. ‘I believe it’s a lovely place,’ she added.

      Relaxing now, the Count nodded. ‘It is,’ he agreed, wistfully. ‘The mountains are beautiful. And Elffburg, the capital – it is a perfect little city. There’s nowhere else like it.’

      ‘You must miss it very much,’ said Sophie. ‘I know I miss London.’

      But the Count only nodded briefly, as if realising he’d stayed longer than he should have. ‘I’ve taken up too much of your time, mademoiselle. Thank you for showing me the opera glasses.’

      Sophie smiled in her friendliest manner. ‘Come again. It’s been a pleasure to talk with a fellow exile.’

      The Count looked at her sharply. ‘Exile?’ he repeated.

      Her face remained innocent as she replied: ‘Yes – it almost feels like that, doesn’t it, when you’re far from home? Come again and tell me more about Arnovia. Perhaps I’ll go there one day. I’d like to see Elffburg – and I hear they have the most wonderful cakes!’

      The Count’s face broke into an unexpected smile. ‘Indeed they do! The cake shops here are not bad – but I have found only one patisserie, in the Summer Gardens, that does real Arnovian-style pastries.’

      ‘I’ll have to try it,’ said Sophie.

      The Count bowed a polite farewell, and shuffled away – past Irina, who was taking the gold bonbonnière to be wrapped for her customer.

      Sophie watched him go, disappearing into the crowds on the Nevsky. It might not have seemed like much of an exchange, but for her it was important. It was a small but significant step towards completing her mission – and she was beginning to think that her plan for getting back the stolen notebook might just work.

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