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became a boy he grew to be as happy as any child could be throughout his early years.
    As he grew, it became clear that young Jean Marie was indeed a favoured child. He had inherited his father’s cleverness and his mother’s good looks. By the age of ten he had been given a thorough education in his family histories, French as well as Highland. He knew that all English, Lowland Scots, and German Protestants should be at least despised and at best hated and killed. He also knew that God spoke French and was a good Catholic.
    All of this deep learning he took with him when he left his mother and Amélie in tears and went away to school where he found how quickly and completely the world can be made a living hell for any little boy unlucky enough to have, as his first two names, Jean and Mary. It was at school that he quickly and permanently became ‘The French Girl’, the name Darcy had now discovered and found funny. Found it so funny indeed, that it would very probably turn out to be the death of him.

Chapter Six
    B entley sat and waited for the lawyer’s reaction. Macleod’s mind turned over slowly while Bentley looked at him. For Bentley it was a pleasure to watch Macleod thinking, he could almost see the well-oiled cogs turning. There would be no rush. He wouldn’t betray any surprise if he felt it. And he would squeeze the pips out of what had been said and the way it had been said. Bentley knew Macleod’s response would be a good one, whatever he said would put him in an advantageous position to find out more without giving anything away. Oh, he was a joy to watch was Lawyer Macleod. But Bentley couldn’t wait indefinitely.
    â€˜You understand, Macleod, that whatever happens, whatever he may say or whatever comes to your ears, you’re not to kill him.’
    And he waited once more but this time the wait was very short and when Macleod spoke, it was in a casual, matter-of-fact voice.
    â€˜Then I won’t kill him.’
    That was it. And Bentley knew Macleod had turned the tables on him. He couldn’t leave it at that because that would leave him nowhere, and he couldn’t afford to be left nowhere. Bentley almost permitted himself a wry smile. Macleod was certainly some piece of work, yes sir, Lawyer Macleod was some piece of work. Carefully Cedric Bentley proceeded.
    â€˜And you’ll give me your word on that?’
    â€˜Yes, you can have my word.’
    Too easy, much too easy. What next? Bentley waited.
    â€˜On your oath?’
    â€˜You can have my private word, Bentley, and on oath if you like. Without witnesses, completely deniable, given to you at a meeting which I would guess no one else even knows about considering the lateness of the hour. For whatever you think it may be worth to you, you may have my sacred word.’
    â€˜Well, say at least you will honour your word as a gentleman?’
    Lawyer Macleod smiled and said nothing. Damn, thought Bentley, that was a stupid mistake and he couldn’t afford to look stupid. Macleod might or might not have some kind of honour tucked away somewhere, but he had none where being a lawyer was concerned, and tonight, even though this was Macleod’s home, he was very much the lawyer. Bentley knew that all he had done so far was show the weakness of his hand. Well, leave it alone or go on? Lawyer Macleod watched Bentley carefully. But what he did not know and could not have guessed was that Cedric Bentley was deciding whether Macleod would live or die.
    Bentley had decided that he had only two options, bring Macleod in or snuff Macleod out. Tell him or kill him. It was his turn to take his time and think. Macleod waited, he was good at waiting. Bentley thought about his choices. Killing would do the job in a way, but maybe telling would do the job better. A clock ticked in the darkness of the room as the two men looked at each other in silence. Finally Bentley decided. The lawyer would live. Telling