Mme. Gerard sat on her vanity chair and looked at herself in the mirror. She was hungry after her nap, but did not wish to go down to the hotel restaurant to eat dinner. Hunger kept her senses on edge and she wanted to be sharp tonight. 206.… 206.… her mind kept on repeating. She saw his alias on the register and her discreet inquiry with the bellhop and a flash of money earned her the information she sought.

She pulled off her blonde wig and scratched her head vigorously to stimulate her scalp and loosen her short dark hair. She needed a bath to freshen up. She placed the blonde wig into a hatbox and then opened one of her traveling bags. She pulled out the small pistol and examined it. It was clean and well oiled. Loaded. Satisfied, she placed it back in the bag.

Opening another satchel, she pulled out a pair of black silky trousers and a black cotton blouse. Soft black kidskin slippers. She decided to do some stretches to loosen her muscles. She was no longer a dancer, but she still possessed a dancer’s grace and flexibility.

After a series of stretches she went into her bathroom and turned on the spigot. Steam filled the room and she watched the large porcelain tub fill while her mind flashed memories of her husband’s last letter to her while he sat in the trenches. How he longed for a nice hot bath! He told her of the lice and rats he lived with for weeks on end. Stinking dead bodies lay everywhere. Her eyes filled with tears as she turned off the water and removed her clothing and let them drop to the floor. She slipped into the tub and closed her eyes.

“Roland,” she murmured.