An hour after it had departed La Force, the coach bearing citoyen Beaucarnot and Lady Blakeney rattled to a halt at the corner of two dimly-lit streets before a roughly hewn five-storied stone building. Perhaps two� three windows as far as the eye could see emitted a fade light as though there were life inside. As the coach had slowed Beaucarnot peeked out of the shuttered window, then when the vehicle grinded to a stop he flung the door open and leapt out, quickly moving to a darken passageway beside the porte-coch�re, his boots echoing ominously in his wake.

Marguerite took the opportunity to lean over and glance up at the faces of the buildings around them, all similar in appearance with their dark, wooden shutters closed against them and twisted wrought-iron balconies that appeared to her like the bars of a prison. From one prison to another. She spotted Beaucarnot in the shadows of the building with the silhouette of a humped figure backlit in an open door. After a minute there came a whistle and the guard beside the open door leapt out and the guard on her left nudged her to follow. As the step was not set, Marguerite made an awkward leap-step as she disembarked. They filed to the porte-coch�re, where Marguerite brief saw the back of a gray-haired head shuffle away and the wicket keeping the gates closed was drawn by the chord that was undoubtly somewhere in the concierge�s lodging.

Beaucarnot lead the procession across a small enclosed courtyard to a back stairway that was permeated with rank, evil smells. Marguerite held her hand over her nose as they ascended all four flights of stairs to the top of the stairwell. Down a narrow corridor, Beaucarnot stopped at a door at the far end, there was a rattle of keys, then the door swung open.

Instantly, Beaucarnot lit a lamp and much to Marguerite�s surprise, the apartment was clean and well, if simply, furnished � a quaint sitting room with a short hallway that lead to two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a small cabinet de toilette. Beaucarnot firmly planted his hand on Marguerite�s back, just between her shoulder blades and propelled her towards one of the rooms. �You will be staying in here until Chauvelin states otherwise,� he said as he pushed her forward. �You are lucky enough to have a window, but should you think to squeeze out of it, you�ll find it a long drop down.�

The room was also plainly but nicely furnished, but the furniture in this room was disproportionately small as though fashioned for a child. The bed looked clean and comfortable, but she had seen bigger settles than this bed. Before she could open her mouth to ask a question the door slammed shut behind her. Without a lam, Marguerite felt her way around until her eyes grew accustomed to the faint light that filtered in through the window from the street lamp below.

She undressed, draping her clothes on one of the small chairs and wearily crawled between the sheets of the little bed, curled up, and shortly fell into a fitful sleep.

The light of a distance sun had scarcely broken the sky when Marguerite�s eyes abruptly fluttered open. Something had change, she had awoken several times in the night to the unfamiliar room, but this time something had woke her that hadn�t been there before. A soft squeal of metal rubbing metal, drew her attention to the door, where by the grey pre-dawn light she saw a tall figure closing the door.

Marguerite pushed herself back up against the headboard into a sitting position, pulling her thin covers up to her neck, as the man drew near. He dragged a stool to bedside and sat there staring at her for a moment. �I remember when you had Chauvelin trailing after you like a puppy,� the man said. �You always acted the part of the hoity-toity aristo and now you�ve become one. I doubt you remember me� you always were too good for your own kind.� Marguerite blinked several times and picked out of the shadows the features of Chauvelin�s grim faced assistant. �No longer the untouchable ice queen, are you? I can touch you with impunity if I so wished.� With this he reached towards her and Marguerite gasped, Beaucarnot chuckled. �Remember that while you are a guest here. I have been given leave to do as I think needful, including putting a bullet in your brain should you try to escape or should someone attempt rescue.� He rose abruptly loaming over her, before slowly walking to the door. �You remember your place,� he said just before he left.

Marguerite remained still on the bed, the covers still pulled up to her chin, a tremble of terror shaking her whole body. There was no way she would get back to sleep. Ever.

The hours seemed to stretch themselves out, seeming to take an extra long time before the sun was fully in the sky. She had dressed in the dark, shortly after Beaucarnot's visit, but remained huddled in the corner prepared to face whatever came through the door next, hoping the light of day would reveal to her anything she might use to defend herself, should she receive a more aggressive nocturnal visit.

As she had surmised that night, the room seemed designed for a beloved child or dwarf - the possibility couldn't be ruled out - but most everything of use had been removed. Chauvelin didn't want her hurting herself or his men apparently. The heaviest things in the room beyond furniture was the pitcher and washing bowl set beneath the window, she moved these closer to the bed. The wardrobe had been stripped entirely, but a few books still remained on a shelf - not much ammunition. Chauvelin left her entirely at the mercy of his henchmen.

Marguerite crossed the room and took in the view of the street below, vaguely familiar, but the again it looked like many other streets, with their vendors hawking their wares. But she wasn't entirely without clues: her window faced the rising sun and just beyond the houses she saw the grey waters of the Seine. West of the Seine. She looked around for other clues when she heard a door outside the room open and an argument follow between a man and woman. The door knob rattled, then the voice of a child called out, �Louise! There's a lady in my room!�

�Come away from there,� the woman called. Marguerite heard the patter of footfalls down the hall as she ran to the door to peek through the keyhole. Odd that Chauvelin would place her in a house where the occupants still lived. Marguerite preesed her ear to the door to listen.