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“No, no. It was Abigail Robinson’s idea to go to the party, not Colette’s. But we decided it was a good idea. It would give me a chance to try to reason with Abigail. Get her to stop this madness. Colette thought, I thought, that the reason she wanted to meet me was because she respected me. Not . . .”

“So Colette Roberge also wanted Abigail Robinson stopped? And she’s alone with Professor Robinson?” said Gamache.

“No. Well, yes, but she didn’t know how far I was willing to take it.”

“And maybe you don’t know how far she’s willing to take it,” said Gamache.

He turned to Beauvoir, who grasped the situation immediately. Getting up, he took a few steps away and placed a call.

“You’re coming with us,” Gamache said to Gilbert.

Gamache grabbed the letter off the coffee table and put it back in his pocket before taking Gilbert’s arm and maneuvering him to the door.

Jean-Guy had reached the agents guarding the Chancellor’s home and told them to go inside and find Professor Robinson.

“And stay with her. We’re on our way.”

The flurries had stopped, and the stars were just coming out while around them the creatures in the dark forest watched.

Chapter 35

Chancellor Roberge’s eyes widened, slightly, when she saw Vincent Gilbert at her front door.

She was expecting the Sûreté investigators, but not him. And not him with them. Though she quickly recovered herself.

“Welcome,” she said. This time Colette did not lean forward to kiss Armand. The lines, and boundaries, were now clear. “Your people are here, Chief Inspector. They’re in the kitchen with Abigail.”

“Merci.”

They followed her into the house. The Chancellor paused at the door to the now familiar kitchen. Armand could feel warmth radiating off the woodstove.

The agents behind Abigail Robinson stood a little taller when they saw the senior officers.

“Patron,” they said.

Beauvoir went to step into the kitchen, but Chancellor Roberge stopped him.

“I thought since there are so many of us, we should sit somewhere else.”

After passing through the gracious living room, Colette Roberge stopped at the room that was as far from the kitchen as possible.

Gamache quickly took in his surroundings, instinctively checking for any escape route.

The Chancellor had taken them to the solarium. The sofa and armchairs were covered in fresh botanical prints. Gamache could see that the room, with its three walls of windows, would be magnificent in the daylight.

But now, lacking both light and warmth, it felt as though the dark panes of the windows were made of ice.

Dr. Gilbert had taken the seat next to Chancellor Roberge on the sofa, while Abigail Robinson took one of the armchairs.

Beauvoir indicated to the agents that they should stand just outside the door, in the living room. Out of sight, but ready should anything happen. Then he and Gamache brought over two incidental chairs and sat.

Armand contemplated the Chancellor. A woman he admired, respected. Liked. And now distrusted.

She held his thoughtful gaze.

“What’s your role in this?” he asked, going straight to the point.

“This?” Her voice was almost amused. “What ‘this,’ Armand?”