Devil May Care

little game, so I couldn’t go to the secretary or anything. Anyway, I got Max to go into the storeroom and tell Chagrin he knew what he was up to and if he didn’t stop fixing the net that he, Max, would go on court and tell you in front of Gorner.’
    ‘At what point in the game was this?’ said Bond.
    ‘I’m not sure exactly. By the time Max had got Chagrin out of there and reported the all-clear to me, it must have been well into the third set.’
    ‘Then what did you do?’
    Scarlett looked slightly ashamed. ‘I took Chagrin’s place and made things a bit fairer.’
    Bond smiled. ‘That must have been when he smashed his racquet. He thought it was impossible for him to serve a double fault.’
    ‘I’m afraid so. But I only raised it a fraction. Nothing like as much as Chagrin had been doing.’
    ‘And for me?’
    ‘I let it go back to the correct height. So all those lovely winners you hit were legitimate.’
    Bond smiled. ‘You’re quite a girl, aren’t you, Scarlett?’
    ‘So now am I invited to lunch?’
    ‘I think it’s … destiny,’ said Bond.
    ‘Good,’ said Scarlett, jumping down from her stool. ‘First I shall show you the Sainte Chapelle. Culture before gluttony. I don’t suppose you’ve ever been there, have you?’
    ‘I’ve always been too busy for rubbernecking,’ said Bond.
    ‘I’ll go and get the car,’ said Scarlett. ‘See you on the steps.’
    There was a short queue of weekend sightseers outside the Sainte Chapelle, but after ten minutes Bond and Scarlett were inside. The ground floor was bare and unremarkable, largely taken up by an extensive souvenir stall.
    ‘Not impressed, are you?’ said Scarlett.
    ‘It’s like a bazaar.’
    ‘My father told me that outside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem he was offered an egg from the cock that crew.’
    ‘The cock that –’
    ‘When Peter denied Christ for the third time.’
    ‘Improbable.’
    ‘For a number of reasons.’
    ‘And what’s special about this place?’ said Bond.
    ‘This is,’ said Scarlett. ‘Follow me.’
    She went to a stone staircase and began to climb. Bond followed, watching the muscles of her slim calves and thighs in the shadow of the short linen dress.
    The upper chapel was a blaze of stained glass.
    ‘It was a miracle of engineering,’ said Scarlett. ‘They managed to build it without flying buttresses to support it, otherwise you’d see them and they’d spoil the pictures in the glass.’
    Scarlett spent some minutes walking round the chapel,and Bond watched the reflections of the coloured glass as they played across the stone floor and over the slim figure of the girl who so admired them. Her enthusiasm seemed quite guileless. Either she was the most accomplished actress he had ever met, or she was what she claimed to be.
    She came back and lightly took his arm. ‘That’s your culture for today, James. Now you can take me to La Cigale Verte. It’s only five minutes away. We can leave the car here and walk along the river.’
    The restaurant she’d chosen on the Île St Louis had a long terrace overlooking the Seine with only a footpath between the tables and the river.
    ‘I was rather presumptuous, I’m afraid,’ said Scarlett, as the maître d’ greeted them. ‘When I saw which way the game was going I telephoned to book a table. It’s very popular at the weekend.’
    The maître d’, who seemed unable to take his eyes off Scarlett, ushered them to a table directly overlooking the river and the Left Bank beyond.
    ‘Do you like shellfish?’ said Scarlett. ‘They do a spectacular selection. Langoustines, crab, little flat-faced spiky things that look like Chagrin … And they make this wonderful mayonnaise. It’s the best in Paris. Shall I order for you, too? Will you trust me?’
    ‘Trust you? Why ever not? Then we’ll talk business,’ said Bond.
    ‘But of course.’
    Bond felt elated by the tennis, and hungry too. The waiter brought a bottle of Dom Pérignon and some olives. The cold bubbles fizzed on Bond’s dry throat.
    ‘Now, Scarlett, I want to hear all about Dr Julius Gorner.’
    ‘I first heard of him through my father, Alexandr,’ saidScarlett, pulling the tail of a langoustine from its shell. ‘My grandfather came to England during the Revolution. He had estates near St Petersburg and a house in Moscow. My grandfather was an engineer by training, but he managed to get some of the family money out of Russia and he bought a house