Abberline watched from the dark doorway as two men exited the main steps of the DGSE building. They had coats buttoned up to their chins but their faces were familiar. Cold hard and completely without morality, the secret police came from the same brood wherever you went in the world. He waited until they had rounded the corner then slipped from the shadows and across the street confidently walking into the reception area. The young desk clerk barely had time to stand up before Inspector Abberline was brushing past him towards the stairs "Wait Monsieur...you have to sign in"

Fred Abberline turned on his heels, an exaggerated sigh "I tell you what, since you are the one with the paper and the pen, why don't YOU fill in my name...OR I could waste my time and that of your boss by filling in forms in triplicate, while you stand there looking like a nob, and he waits upstairs getting that look in his eye...you know the one...'Look for another job'..." Abberline raised his eyebrows and with a dismissive "I will be on me way then…" continued up the wide stone stairs to the floor above. He tried the handles of a fair few on the darkened stretch of corridor before he found the one that was locked and grinned to himself, slipping a switch blade from his pocket and into the key hole, jiggling it gently 'open sesame..' maybe it was just superstition but it seemed to work.

Working by candle light he fingered through thin grey files, 'Blanchard', a small frown passed through his brows to see 'DuBois', 'Richileau' but found nothing more than cold details until he muttered 'Faberge' under his breath. And there it was- copies of the original theft report, statements by the Comte and Comtess, Aimee's 'Death Certificate' and, at the back, another thin paper folded in two. He squinted at the writing which was a statement given to a police officer by the name of Mouton at the local police station, by a Giselle Martin, whose occupation was listed as 'scullery maid'. What made Abberline's heart skip one or two beats was the address. Les Tuileries

"Bloody hell! That's the Comtes place! " drifted out of his mouth as his eyes moved quicker even than his brain to take it in. It appeared that Mademoiselle Martin, had not only heard the shouts as Aimee had been 'discovered' but from the back door of the scullery had seen Aimee knocked to the floor and kicked repeatedly before being bundled into a carriage. She reported with some shock apparently seeing the Comte smiling and clapping the man on the back before retiring back into the house. She had, she said, reported what she had seen to the head cook but was told that it was non of her concern, a point of view clearly she did not share.

A loud laugh in the hall brought the Inspector back to where he was, there was nothing to do except relieve the DGSE of this obviously unwanted piece of paper, which should anyhow have found its way onto his desk. That would have to wait. The thing now was go get out of this building and find Mademoiselle Martin, and without delay, if he wasn't going to end up with another crime to add to those no doubt piling up in police headquarters. Nothing for it except to walk out of there the way he came in. Abberline slid the paper inside his jacket and let his mind concentrate on the slipping of buttons through holes instead of the more taxing proposition of coming face to face with a no doubt curious agent of the DGSE as he stepped back out into the hall.

He had always found that if you looked like you were late people tended not to stop you, alright so he had more often tested that out on the fore mentioned wives and sisters and maiden aunts of colleagues but then again this was the DGSE, not known for their social niceties, he would just have to hope his luck held. There was a nasty moment when a door to an office swung open, necessitating a quick about turn, but at last he reached the front door, the call of the desk clerk as he disappeared out into the night air making him smile "Shall I sign you out sir?"
"You can sign out Napoleon Bonaparte if you like sonny" muttered under his breath as he hailed a cab

The carriage stopped outside the dark boarding house, just glimmers of candle light in the windows, and Abberline climbed out climbed out, his boots loud on the cobbles and echoing down the thin street. Despite the loudness of the knock, it was sometime before the door opens an inch or two "What would a gentleman be wanting here at this hour?" He smiled at her and was taking the stairs in no time, somewhat faster than was necessary it has to be said.

Lily had long since decided that since he had apparently disappeared off the face of the earth into the arms of some other less disreputable woman or the even colder arms of the DGSE, brandy was the only answer. She was well into the 'he really is no good for me, what was I thinking of?' all mixed up with the touch of her fingers along her lips to see if she could feel him still when the door swung open and it was his turn to gasp. The candle light diffused a picture Botticelli himself might have sketched, her body barely concealed by white cotton and a mouth smiling an invitation, she was stretched out on a tumble of sheets and already softening to greet him. He had to close his eyes to say it "Lily I need your help, we must find Giselle Martin before they do, though if I am honest with yer I don't know exactly who 'they' are, she is in mortal danger. We have to go."

Well at least she was with him, which was how Lily was trying to reconcile why it was that she was now getting dressed instead of feeling all those buttons against her skin. Fred Abberline was standing in the doorway of her room, his body leaning against the door frame watching her pull a dress over her head and fumble with the fastenings...Christ she maybe had drunk a little bit too much of that brandy
"You want to help me Abberline? Since you are the one insisting on buttons being done up rather than down?" a little giggle and she tried again. The both knew that one step forward would be the end of detection for tonight

He took a breath- he always wanted to be a policeman, but the reason was quite escaping him now. "The maid Lily...we have to find Giselle Martin and quickly." As much to remind himself

"Yes yes.! So Aimee is safe, and this maid is saved and you get to find the egg and justice is done and all that, but I want you right now" her voice trailed off as the last bow was pulled tight "There. I am ready- if you touch me I swear you won't leave this room."

His low moan was lost in the huge hammering on the door downstairs, all down the street lamps were being lit and curses uttered, the noise ringing out in the cold Parisian night. They could hear the door opening accompanied by the curses of Madame and the breathless voice of a young man surging up the stair well. "I am Officer Mouton Madame- I am looking for Inspector Abberline, there has been a shooting at the home of the Comte de Richileau, the Comte he is dead...the Inspector-he must come at once"

Lily closed her eyes "Just go..."
"Lily…"
She brushed off his hand on her shoulder with the confidence that she knew she would regret withing a second and sat back on her bed, her eyes already filling and the clatter of feet down the stairs ringing in her ears. She could just hear him- "Les Tuileries. Vite" and she had taken another two huge slugs of brandy by the time she found herself doing what she knew she had no choice in, pulling her shawl around her shoulders. The next two slugs she took to take her mind into that of a penniless scullery maid, in need of somewhere to rent and the means to rent it.

The night air was probably the best thing for Lily, and as she walked towards the Pigalle she planned it out in her head, but spoke aloud "Le Poussoir Rouge- I should start there", well it was better than no company at all. She was about to ring the bell to what was possibly the least inviting door it would be possible to imagine- one too many drunken arguments with a doorman scarring the woodand the deitrius of a night already nearly over evident in a slumped body beside it, when a woman's voice called out. "Down on your luck then Lily?!"

She grinned back, it wasn't so far from here to the Moulin Rouge after all "Ah no- I am not here to steal your trade Monique!" raucous laughter echoed in the dark lane and Lily was glad of their warmth, even if they had nothing to tell. "Giselle Martin? Non…" There were any number of women passing through these streets and one more went quite unnoticed "Try Les Bras de Maçons down the street"

Lily winced a bit "Anyone have a knife I can borrow? - just in case?" With some trepidation and a small blade down her sleeve Lily stepped into the bar of Les Bras de Maçons, the air thick with smoke, the smell of spilt beer and bodies and she did her best to slip unnoticed through the groups of men, her eyes searching for she wasn't sure what, now that she thought of it.

"What will you have?" the barman's tone was more of an instruction than a question and Lily took a deep breath

"I am looking for a young woman..."

"And so am I!" huge hands had hold of her hips from behind and Lily gritted her teeth

"Monsieur. Take your hands off me- I am neither for sale nor for the asking" The hot beery breath on her neck was making her feel nauseous and Lily swung round, the small knife now in the palm of her hand "I can assure you I will use this in your belly if you don't take you hands of me" The drunk obviously figured she was too much like hard work and with a curse that Lily hadn't heard in a while stepped back into the sea of men. Lily turned to the barman, desperation that she hoped he could see "Please Monsieur...Giselle Martin, I must find her"

The barman's face screwed up a little in thought, she was pretty enough after all, and maybe she would have a kiss for him later if he gave her what she wanted "Giselle, maybe that was her name...small brunette, she was here an hour ago, though she was hardly standing. The man she left with drinks in the La Tête de Porcs. Come back here after you find her…" Lily shook her head slightly with a smile of thanks all the same

Outside however she leant against the damp wall and gritted her teeth. La Tête de Porcs, of course it had to be there, a drinking hole with no hours kept and no rules, mon Dieu, why hadn't she found Gabrielle to come with her? Lily breathed deep, well there was the state of things- her, rough drunk alone in the Pigalle searching the darkest depths of the city's underclass for a woman who didn't want to be found, and him, well him no doubt this minute feeling the deep plush of carpet under his feet, surrounded by crystal and light and men with important faces and fine port. Alright so there was a dead body but .it might still be better to find that, shot clean than to dip into the muck of Paris

Her jaw tightened, if there was a time to jump ship it was now, before she really jumped ship and walked into that place taking on whatever she found there. She could go back to her room and finish that bottle and tell him to get out of her life and her thoughts. Why not? What did she owe him? Nothing save the heat she could feel when he touched her. Only she couldn't, even if her eyes were brimming with frustration and fear, she couldn't abandon Aimee, nor this Giselle to a similar fate, nor could she abandon who she was. Inspector Frederick Abberline had better not let her down.