The last time Esmerelda had entered the Palace of Justice, she'd been dragged in chains down to the dungeon. Now she was relieved when the guard on duty at the entrance let her in. He was young, younger than her and his helmet appeared to be slightly too big for his head, it sat at a kind of tilt. His eyes were full of concern beneath it.

"Are you alright, Miss?" He asked as he closed the door behind them

"No," she shook her head. "Someone just tried to kill me."

She was ushered up a flight of stairs and into a rather grand office with a high ceiling and tapestries hanging on the walls. Minister Simenon sat behind a desk at the far end of the room, scribbling away with a quill like the last time they'd met. There was a small stack of used dinner plates beside him. The young soldier cleared his throat and Simenon looked up from what he was doing.

"Ah, Esmerelda, what can we do for you?" He asked, his tone friendly and welcoming. She recounted her tale, pacing up and down in front of the desk. She was agitated and babbled a lot but she told him everything that had happened since she'd left the Black Cat tavern. He listened, the quill constantly scratching across the page in front of him. When she finished he put down the quill.

"Albert," Simenon addressed the young soldier who waited patiently by the door.

"Sir?"

"Go and wake the Captain and bring him here. Tell him what's happened but don't let him leave this building."

"Yes Sir." Albert inclined his head slightly and left. Minutes later the door opened again and Phoebus came in wearing a nightshirt and hastily pulled on trousers. He was across the room in three strides and she was swept into his arms. Minister Simenon, meanwhile, was belting a sword to his waist.

"She's fine, Captain," he said as he came out from behind his desk. "In fact, she may well have helped us catch our murderer." Simenon checked himself for things he might have forgotten.

"Now, I'm going out with a small patrol, you will stay here."

"But, Sir.." Phoebus protested but Simenon put up his hand for silence.

"If we do catch the devil, I want him to get here alive and able to speak. And I think you ought to take care of your lady, she's had quite a shock."

"Yes, Sir."

Simenon was about to leave when there was a knock at the door. A tall soldier entered carrying a longbow and in the company of the landlord of the Black Cat.

"Prisoner downstairs for you, Sir. This gentleman says he and a lady were assaulted in the street."

Simenon stepped aside and gestured towards Esmerelda with his hand.

"Would this be the lady in question?"

"Yes, your honour," the landlord said in a relieved manner. He had an enormous black eye where he'd been hit.

"Has your prisoner got a knife wound to his face?" Simenon asked of the tall archer.

"Yes, Sir, a fresh one Sir."

"Good, then you've just saved me a journey."

"Do you want him flogged, Sir?"

"No, I have a better idea." He turned to Esmerelda and the landlord.

"I need you two to come down and identify him," he said apologetically. Esmerelda broke out in a cold sweat, she really didn't want to go down to the dungeon. She'd forced her memories of the place to the back of her mind but as she went down the winding, slippery staircase, they started to come back. By the time she had reached the bottom of the staircase, she was trembling. They went through a heavy metal door and it banged shut behind them, Esmerelda's heart nearly leapt into her throat.

The man was standing in chains between two particularly large soldiers, but when he was faced with the minister for justice, he broke free and threw himself on his knees in front of him.

"Please, my lord, I beg you have mercy," he wailed, clutching at the minister's robe. Simenon took a step backwards, as if afraid to be tainted by the touch of a murderer, he yanked the end of his robe away.

"Mercy? You will not find mercy here. Did you attack these people?"

"No, I didn't," the man sniveled.

"Really? This woman says you tried to kill her and that you told her you'd killed another girl."

"She's lying, she's a Gypsy they're all good liars."

"You see, I don't believe she is lying. I see no reason why she would. Now…"

Simenon went to a rack and picked up a particularly lethal looking metal instrument, he held it in front of him and examined it carefully.

"If you don't tell me the truth, I have ways of getting it out of you, all of which are singularly unpleasant."

The man stared at the thing in horror, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"I didn't do anything," he whispered.

"Try again," Simenon said, eyeing the instrument again. "I will go easier on you if you cooperate."

"All right I did it, but he made me do it,"

"Who made you?"

"I don't know, he always wears a mask."

"So, I'm to believe a complete stranger in a mask made you kill another total stranger and attempt to kill yet another."

"It's true, I tell you." The man wailed pitifully. "He found me while I was begging in Reims, he was wearing a hooded cloak and a mask made of black leather. I presumed he was a leper or something. He said he had a job for me, but he'd tell me about it later at the rooms he was renting. I was desperate, my family and I had fallen on hard times. I was reduced to begging and we were living under a bridge. I was willing to do just about anything."

"Even murder?"

"I didn't know that was what he meant. I met him that night at his lodgings, there was nobody else there, just him. He wouldn't tell me his name, he said that wasn't important. He said he wanted someone 'disposed of' and that I would be paid handsomely for it. I refused at first but then he showed me how much money he'd pay me for doing it. It was more than I'd ever seen in my entire life. It would solve most of our problems. I agreed to do it, I was desperate my family hadn't eaten in days. He said I was to go to Paris and look for a Gypsy girl called Esmerelda. I asked him what she looked like but he said he didn't have that information. He wanted her killed because she was being courted by the person responsible for the death of his brother, he wanted this man to suffer as he had."

"He showed me how to kill her quickly and easily, by using a cord round her neck. I couldn't believe what I was being involved in. He gave me very strict instructions, I wasn't to deviate from them. I was to kill her, then leave a mark on her that he showed me."

"What did the mark mean?"

"I don't know," wailed the man. "He had it etched on a piece of leather on a thong around his neck, he said I had to remember it, it was imperative that I remember it. He said to mark her where it could be seen then leave her where she would be found. I was to be extremely cautious so I didn't get caught. He said he'd been watching me from afar for a while and he'd seen me to be a fairly adept thief, he was confident I could do this job for him. He paid me half the money, I would get the rest when I came back and I jokingly said 'what if I just run off with this and you never see me again?' He said he knew who my wife and children were and they'd come to harm if I didn't do what he asked. I had no choice. I went to Paris, but not before I had at least rented a room for my family and bought enough food for them to last until I returned."

"How very generous of you," Minister Simenon said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"I arrived in Paris a few days later, I found a Gypsy camp but I dared not go there. I was terrified they would notice me. I didn't want anyone to notice me. I hid in a lodging house near the docks and I only went out under cover of darkness. I was here days. I saw Gypsy girls thereabouts but I never caught their names, they always seemed to go about in groups anyway and getting them on their own would prove difficult. Then, one night I saw a Gypsy girl with an old woman on the outskirts of Paris."

"She was wearing this necklace, wasn't she?" Simenon asked quietly, he reached into his robe and brought out the emerald necklace.

"Yes. She hugged the old woman who said 'goodbye, Esmerelda and good luck.' Then the old woman left, she seemed to be leaving the city. The girl went off by herself and I followed her. I didn't know where she was going and I don't think she did either. Eventually she went into a burned out building and I think she was going to try to settle down for the night. I did the deed then, I hated myself afterwards but I completed the grim task. I marked her with a knife then I pushed the body into the river. Nobody had seen me, I waited for morning then returned home to Reims without any problems. For a few days my family and I lived in relative comfort. We ate well and we had a roof over our heads. Then he arrived at our door one day, luckily my wife and children were out. He was furious, he forced his way into our home. He said I'd killed the wrong girl. He said he'd overheard two Gypsies from Paris talking at a horse market about the right girl and how happy they were that it finally looked as though she was going to settle down. I said he hadn't given me much to go on and he started to calm down. He gave me more money and told me to return to Paris, I refused but he again threatened my family. You know the rest, I've told you everything."

"Where was the building you killed the girl in?"

"It was on the very edge of the city, beside a wheelwright's workshop."

"You've been very informative. Thank you. Take him away, guards, he hangs at dawn."

"You said you'd go easy on me," the murderer said fearfully, his lower lip trembling. Simenon smiled a rather savage little smile.

"I will, you'll have our finest hangman, your death will be swift. Get him out of my sight."

The murderer was dragged away to the same cell Esmerelda had been locked away in, he was still pleading for mercy after the guards had slammed the door shut. She flinched as the noise echoed around the dungeon. He would be abandoned until morning to darkness and terror, just as she had been. Simenon put down the object in his hands.

"It seems the past has come back to haunt you, Captain," he said.

"Yes and it's come back in the form of Francoise Lenoir, I know who he is now."

"Who's he? The name seems familiar."

"He was in my regiment years ago, along with his brother Armand. You'll recognize his name because he's wanted for desertion. I never thought he'd return to France, he's risking being beheaded just by being here. That's probably why he's skulking amongst the poor and wearing a mask."

"Were you responsible for the death of his brother?" Simenon asked, he wasn't annoyed, he merely sounded curious. Phoebus took in a weary breath.

"I was." He said