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“A friend from out of town. Neither of us was supposed to have it and she never got the chance to tell me what it’s for.”

“May I see it?” Liliane says.

Vidocq gives her the vial and she holds it up to the light. Shakes it a little.

“It is dangerous,” he says.

“Is it all right to open?”

I politely take it back from her and set it on the table.

“You might want to hold off while you have a belly full of wine.”

She gives me a loose-necked shake of her head.

“I work with a lot of odd chemicals in my lab all the time. Some of them don’t smell like roses either, but I manage.”

“I wasn’t calling you a lightweight.”

“Good, because you should have seen some of the things that were in Eugène’s little dungeon in Paris. The most god-awful smells you can imagine.”

“What was it you used to call it?”

“Your perfumed abattoir.”

He chuckles lightly.

“That’s it. I once experimented with a Hand of Glory, subjecting it to an array of chemicals, potions, even electrical stimulation. All in hopes of reviving it.”

I look at him.

“You tried to bring a hand back to life? What the hell for?”

He shrugs.

“To see if I could. I was more reckless and ambitious in those days. We all were. They were exciting times.”

Liliane nudges him with her shoulder.

“They certainly were.”

He gives me a sheepish smile.

Liliane turns to me.

“Speaking of hands, James, what’s wrong with yours? If you don’t mind me asking?”

I give Vidocq a look. He nods.

“It’s all right. She’s seen much in two hundred years. She can handle it.”

I shrug off my coat and glove. Roll up my shirtsleeve, giving her a full-frontal look at my biomechanical flipper.

Her eyes widen. Liliane puts a hand to her mouth. She looks at me, then Vidocq.

She says, “Would it be all right if I touched it?”

“Sure. I suppose so.”