eat a horse； as the English saying goes。'
'I doubt very much whether horse flesh will be on the menu tonight；' she smiled faintly in the darkness and squeezed his hand。 Her fingers were icy cold。
The dining…room was much as Sabat had anticipated； a low…ceiling room which was dominated by a long scrubbed pine table at which a dozen or so people were already seated。 Sabat scrutinised them in one glance； his trained mind mentally photographing every detail which he would be able to recall later if necessary。 Hippies； men and girls； an odd assortment of cosmopolitan drop…outs who scarcely looked up at the new arrivals。 They were probably used to frequent ings and goings； they lived their own lives and didn't bother about anybody else。
Through a hatch which led off into an adjacent kitchen； Sabat caught a glimpse of Andre clad in grubby white overalls； ladling some kind of thick dark soup into bowls。
These must be our places；' Sabat motioned towards the head of the table。 They were obviously intended to sit on either side of Andre Schmid when he came through to join them。
'Wele； my friends。' Andre appeared； so agile in parison to his earlier slothful shuffle； balancing bowls of soup on a tray； setting it down without spilling so much as a drop。 'The food here is the best in Lucerne； nay in Switzerland。 Whatever our other short…ings； Sabat； we pride ourselves that we eat well。 Pray start； don't let your soup go cold。 Like coffee； it is insipid unless it is piping hot。'
Sabat felt strangely unfortable for a variety of reasons。 No way did he fit in here amidst this strange assembly。 Yet they didn't seem to notice； glancing neither at himself nor Madeleine； a buzz of low muttered conversation passing amongst themselves； drinking their soup noisily。
Schmid finished his soup； clanged his spoon down noisily in the bowl and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand。
'The trouble with you English； Sabat；' there was a faint smirk on his thick lips； 'is that you're too conventional as far as food is concerned。 Unadventurous。 I holidayed in England once。 Mon Dieu； the food was terrible； plain and badly cooked at that。 But perhaps you are different。 Tell me； did you recognise any particular flavour in the soup which you have just drunk？'
'Indeed I did；' Sabat smiled but his eyes were as hard as chips of Welsh slate。 'Garlic predominated。 Some frey and fennel and pearl barley as well。'
'Excellent！' Andre Schmid clapped his fat hands together making a noise like a fillet of wet plaice falling on a stone floor。 'But。。。 nothing else 。。。 the main ingredient？'
'Meat of some kind；' Sabat's stare was searching the other out； finding nothing。 'It would be impossible to tell； though； because the garlic was designed；〃 I am almost certain； to disguise the taste of the meat。'
Andre Schmid's small eyes narrowed balefully。 Then he laughed； a strange guttural sound that reminded Sabat instantly of his brother Quentin。 Himself！ Then perhaps when you have sampled the main course you will be able to identify the particular meat。 Again it is garnished with herbs； but not so heavily as the soup。 Tell me； Sabat； what is your favourite meat？'
'I don't have any favourite。' The reply was staccato； a duel with words that was developing into vicious rapier thrusts。 'Most of the time I am a vegetarian。'
'A vegetarian！' Schmid laughed loud； a booming sound that was mirthless； had heads suddenly turning in his direction then looking away again as though embarrassed that they had been eavesdropping on the mune leader's conversation。 'Man Dieu！ How absolutely abominable。 No wonder you have been seriously ill。 Lack of protein； waning physical strength。 Man was designed to eat meat。 Unfortunately through the process of evolution we have lost curability； or should we say our stomachs； for raw flesh。 Not all of us； though； I hasten to assure you。 These people you see here have all sampled uncooked meat and are all the healthier for it。 However； tonight； in deference to our guests； I have cooked the joint personally。 It is rare meat； juicy with blood； yet it has been cooked。'
'It's a fallacy that we need to eat meat。' Twin red spots appeared on Sabat's cheeks； a sign that the other was beginning to anger him。 'As a species we are not carnivores。 I myself eat meat occasionally because convention demands it and I am loath to offend a host。 But my own recipe for health and fitness is an abstention wherever possible from white flour； white sugar； all fats and red meat。'
'You're mad！' Andre Schmid leaped to his feet； sending his chair toppling over。 'Meat is the source of life and under this roof everyone shall eat it。 Including you； Sabat''
'As I have already said；' Sabat was outwardly unmoved； 'I am loath to offend a host。 Serve up your meat and I shall eat it。'
'And so you shall！' Once again the other moved with surprising spriteliness； rushing through the door into the kitchen。 Dishes were banged angrily； an oven door slammed。
'There was no need to be so rude；' Madeleine spoke in sharp whispered tones。 'We are guests here； Sabat； and my whole future depends upon Andre's hospitality towards us。'
'Possibly；' Sabat replied； 'but the more I see of this set…up here； the less I like it。 These people are like mindless morons。' He refrained from adding 'zombies*。
'Nevertheless； we must tolerate them；' she said。
They lapsed into silence as Andre Schmid returned carrying a tray loaded with steaming plates。 He proceeded to serve the others； then went back into the kitchen and fetched three more meals which he laid before his guests and himself。 Sabat stared at his food intently： sliced meat of some kind； a heavy texture that oozed blood。 He likened it to pork sparingly cooked； vegetables mixed with green pasta。 His nostrils wrinkled at the pungent odour which came from it。 An acquired taste； definitely； but he could eat most foods when forced to do so rather than offend a host； but that gnawing hunger was gone from his stomach。
'I think you will agree； Sabat；' Schmid was smiling； his recent outburst seemingly forgotten； 'that this dish is good enough to convert the most devout vegetarian to eating the occasional meat dish。'
Madeleine Gaufridi was eating ravenously； her whole attention centred on the food before her。 Sabat cut a piece of meat with his knife； speared it with his fork and lifted it slowly towards his mouth； fought offa momentary wave of revulsion。 There was something dreadfully wrong。
He chewed on a mouthful； it was exceptionally tender； easily swallowed； left a faint tang on his palate。 Garlic 。。。 and something else which he could not identify。
He ate steadily。 In some ways the flesh was reminiscent of pork； heavier though； a texture more like roast beef。 Not wholly unpleasant； but not in keeping with his customary vegetarian diet。 He transferred his thoughts to other matters； eating mechanically； SAS training for times when food was not readily available and it was necessary to eat something not normally acceptable to the human digestive system。
Andre Schmid wiped his plate clean with a piece of bread； belched loudly and patted his stomach。 〃Well； Sabat； and what did you think of our main course； eh？'
Sabat laid down his knife and fork； pursed his lips。 'Unusual；' he muttered； 'and I must confess I am still unable to identify the meat although it was the same as that in the broth。'
'You are right。' The other's eyes narrowed and his gaze switched to the girl seated on his right； 'But I am sure Madeleine is familiar with our meat。 She has eaten it before and will eat it many times in the future now that she has rejoined us。'
'Rejoined you！' Sabat glanced at Madeleine Gaufridi； noted the supercilious smile which twitched her deep red lips。 Now she looked so much older； so much more confident； no longer the innocent convent girl on the run from the wrath of her parents。
'Of course；' Schmid laughed harshly； 'she has stayed with us before； haven't you Mad