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and when my time was up, I changed my name and joined the FFL. And, for the past ten years, here I am.” He grinned. “Now you know the uninspiring history of Franchot Louviere.”
    â€œWell . . . at least that part he wanted known,” she returned his smile.
    â€œThat is very true, Madame.” He was silent for a few seconds. “I will tell you this much, Madame: your grand’mere tried to have a rider attached to her will—I believe that is what they are called. It would have cut you out of everything had you followed her to Louisiana.
    Janette laughed. “Then I believe I know how she would keep me from following her.” Her eyes touched his. “But I’m not a stupid woman, Louviere.”
    Louviere sighed. “It was to be a bluff, Madame. The mandataire told her he would have no part in such a will. Told her you already own half of everything international. And further told Madame Bauterre that her holdings in Louisiana would be exempt from such a rider. Something about Louisiana law.”
    â€œI go where I choose to go, Louviere; I have never taken orders well. I am puzzled, though. My grand’mère has spoken frequently of her almost rabid hatred of Louisiana—especially of Ducros Parish. Now the servants tell me she has not only gone to that state, but to Ducros Parish. I have to ask: why?”
    â€œI do not know, Madame.”
    â€œThen tell me this, for I know you are, for whatever reason, a confidant of my grand’mère: has there ever been any member of the Bauterre family afflicted with this . . . disease you spoke of a few moments ago?”
    Louviere hesitated for only a few seconds. “Oui, Madame.” His eyes touched the journals under her arm. “You must have read them?”
    Janette nodded.
    â€œThen you have your answer under your arm.”
    â€œI don’t believe it, Louviere. Not a word of it. But I can’t tell you why it was written.”
    â€œBelieve it, Madame.” He changed the subject. “I must get this place cleaned out should that fat fool Polchet return here in the morning.”
    â€œOne moment, Louviere. My grand’mère: was she born in France?”
    â€œNon. She was born in Louisiana.”
    â€œWhat was her maiden name? Do you know?”
    A perplexed look crossed the man’s face. “Non. I don’t recall her ever saying it. And that is the truth.”
    â€œBook me passage on tomorrow’s flight out to Dulles,” she instructed him. “I see no point in waiting around here.”
    Louviere nodded. “Madame? Your grand’mère . . . is dying, I believe. And I think she realizes it. That may have some bearing on why she went back to Louisiana.”
    â€œYou’ve heard something from the old doctor?”
    â€œOui. But I do not know exactly what is wrong with Madame Bauterre. But it is said in the village that she will soon die. Rumors, perhaps.”
    â€œHer present form will die,” the words tumbled from her mouth.
    Louviere’s smile was wan. “I thought you did not believe a word in those journals, Madame.”
    â€œI . . . don’t know what to believe, Louviere.”
    â€œIf you go to Louisiana, you might discover something best kept from you.”
    Was that a warning? “I am still a Bauterre, Louviere. It is my right to know.”
    â€œOui,” was his reply.
    The storm once more picked up its fury, battering the countryside with rain, wind, lightning, and rolling thunder.
    â€œThe man Beaullieu killed tonight—the creature. He was a relative of mine, wasn’t he, Louviere?”
    The ex-Legionnaire looked at her for some time before speaking. “Probably,” he said, then turned and walked down the narrow corridor, leaving her standing alone.
    That night, unknown to Janette, Louviere stood a lonely guard outside her bedroom door.

Chapter Three
    Thousands of miles away, in South Carolina, set