“Very well.” I thought it best to change the subject, and pushed back my seat, about to rise. “If you’ll—”
However, de Becque had no intention of allowing me to do so. “I think, M’sieur Mann, that were I you, I would take this man to my bed and try to get him out of my system.”
“I beg your pardon?” I sank back down, stunned.
“I do not think you will succeed, but, qui sait?” He shrugged once more. “Who knows?”
“I am quite aware of what qui sait means, de Becque,” I snapped.
“Pardonnez-moi.” But there was a spark of deviltry in his eyes. “Mark Vincent is not the only one with an obsession, I think.”
“Why would you say that?”
“You travel three thousand miles to see me on a matter that could just as easily have been dealt with over the telephone.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came ou
