The Coronation

19 May

I served a genuine breakfast: with chinaware and silverware on a starched tablecloth. Without a chef of course it is impossible to prepare anything proper, but even so there was an omelette and cheeses and smoked meats.

Emiliewas lookingmuch better today and she ate with a great appetite. Her eyes flashed with life and her voice was strong and cheerful. Women possess an astounding ability to recover from the most grievous of ailments if the conditions of their life suddenly change for the better. I had had the opportunity to witness such transformations on many occasions. It is also true that members of the weaker sex are affected most positively by the company of men and male attention, and in this sensewe treated Mademoiselle like a genuine queen.

Fandorin came to breakfast in morning tails and a white tie, clearly demonstrating that the liberties that he had been obliged to take the previous day had in no way diminished his respect for our guest. I appreciated his gesture. To tell the truth, the tenor of my own thoughts was similar, only, unlike Erast Petrovich, I did not have any clothes into which I could change and had to make do with shaving my exposed features properly.

Whilewewere drinking coffee – Iwas also at the table because I was not present as a butler but as a private individual – Erast Petrovich spoke about our business. The conversation was conducted in French.

‘I did not sleep very much last night, but I did do a lot of thinking. The reason for my unforgivable error seems clear to me now. I had not expected such audacity from Doctor Lind. In all his previous operations he has behaved with extreme caution. But evidently this time the prize was too great and Lind decided to occupy the most advantageous position possible. Being inside the Hermitage, he was able to observe all our preparations. And another source of information for him was Mr Carr, so artfully offered up to Simeon Alexandrovich. The drama of passions and jealousies was probably no more than a performance. The governor general confided in his English darling, who then told everything he had heard to the false Lord Banville.’

‘Perhaps the doctor’s audacity is explained by the fact that he has decided to retire forever once he has his colossal trophy?’ Emilie suggested. ‘How much money does a man need, after all?’

Fandorin twisted down the corner of his mouth.

‘I do not know what this man likes more, money or sheer villainy. He is no ordinary moneygrubber, he is a true poet of evil, a virtuoso engineer of cunning and cruelty. I am sure that the doctor derives pleasure from the erection of his brain-teasing constructions, and this time he has truly excelled himself by raising up a veritable Eiffel Tower. We have undercut this complicated structure, and it has collapsed, but its fragments appear to have caused substantial damage to the edifice of the Russian monarchy.’

I sighed heavily, thinking that the previous day’s catastrophe could indeed lead to quite unforeseeable consequences. If only there was no uprising as a result. And it was frightening to think what the émigré newspapers and the press of hostile nations would write.

‘I did not fully understand the allegory of the collapsed tower, but it seems to me, Erast, that you have precisely defined the most important feature of Lind’s character,’ Emilie said, nodding in agreement. ‘He is truly a poet of evil. And of hate. This man is full of hate, he literally exudes it. If only you had heard how he pronounces your name! I am certain that settling accounts with you means just as much to him as this ill-fated diamond. By the way, did I understand the meaning of the doctor’s curses correctly? You still have the stone?’

‘Would you like to take a look at it?’

Fandorin took a folded handkerchief out of his pocket and extracted the diamond from it. The bluish facets drew in the rays of the morning sun and glittered with bright rainbow sparks.

‘So much light,’ Mademoiselle said thoughtfully, screwing her eyes up slightly against the unbearable radiance. ‘I know what light that is. Over the centuries the stone has extinguished many lives, and they are all still shining there, inside it. I would wager that in the last few days the Orlov has begun to sparkle more brightly than ever, after absorbing new nourishment.’

She glanced at me, or rather at the top of my head, and said: ‘Forgive me, Athanas. Yesterday I was too concerned with myself and I did not even ask what happened to you. Where did you get that purple lump on your head?’

‘Ah yes, you know nothing about it!’ I exclaimed. ‘That is why you did not understand the Eiffel Tower.’

And I told her about the previous day’s carnage at the Khodynsk Field, concluding my narrative with the words: ‘Lind is not merely ruthless but also preternaturally cunning. Thousands of people were killed, but he survived unscathed.’

‘No, no, this is more than just cunning,’ said Mademoiselle, throwing up her hands, and the bedspread slipped off her shoulder.

The three of us would certainly have looked very strange to an outsider: Fandorin in a white tie, I in a torn jacket and Mademoiselle wrapped in a silk bedspread – we had no other clothing there for Emilie.

‘I think Doctor Lind is one of those people who likes to kill two hares with one stone,’ Mademoiselle continued. ‘When we were running through that appalling underground passage, he said something to his men in German after you shouted about the exchange: “I have four matters to deal with in Moscow: the diamond, Fandorin, Prince Simeon and that Judas, Carr.” From this I conclude, Erast, that your assumption about Lind play-acting jealousy is false. He was genuinely affronted by his lover’s betrayal. And as for yesterday’s catastrophe, most probably it was meant to serve a different purpose – to settle scores with the governor general of Moscow. If Lind had simply wanted to get away, he would have invented something less complicated and less risky. After all, he could have been trampled underfoot in the crush himself.’

‘You are a very intelligent woman, Mademoiselle,’ Erast Petrovich said in a serious voice. ‘And so you think that the life of our lover of dyed carnations is in danger?’

‘Undoubtedly. Lind is one of those people who never retreat or forgive. His failure will only further incite the hate that is seething and boiling inside him. You know, I formed the impression that those men attached some special, almost mystical significance to homosexuality. Lind’s cut-throats did not simply fear or respect their leader; it seemed to me that they were in love with him – if that word is appropriate here. Lind is like a sultan in a harem, only instead of odalisques he is surrounded by thieves and murderers. I think you were right about Mr Carr – for Lind he was something like a lapdog or a greyhound, an occasion for mixing work and pleasure. I am certain the doctor will not forgive him for being unfaithful.’

‘Then we have to save Carr.’ Fandorin put his crumpled napkin down on the table and stood up. ‘Emilie, we shall send you to the Hermitage, and you will warn the Englishman of the danger.’

‘Are you suggesting I should appear in the palace wrapped in this rag?’ Mademoiselle exclaimed indignantly. ‘Not for the world! I would rather go back to the cellar!’

Erast Petrovich rubbed his chin, perplexed.

‘Indeed. You are right. I had not thought of that. Ziukin, do you know anything about women’s dresses, hats, shoes and all the rest of it?’

‘Very little indeed,’ I admitted.

‘And I know even less. But there is nothing to be done. Let us give Emilie a chance to perform her morning toilette, while we make a visit to the shops on Myasnitskaya Street. We shall buy something there. Emilie, will you trust our taste?’

Mademoiselle pressed one hand to her heart.

‘My dear gentlemen, I trust you in everything.’

We stopped at the Myasnitsky Gate and hesitantly surveyed the frontages of the ready-made-clothing shops.

‘How do you like that one there?’ Fandorin asked, pointing to a gleaming shop window bearing a sign – THE LATEST PARIS FASHIONS.

‘I have heard Her Imperial Highness say that this season the fashion is for everything from London. And also let us not forget that Mademoiselle Declique does not have those things that a respectable lady cannot manage without.’

‘In what s-sense?’ Fandorin asked, staring at me dull-wittedly and I had to express my meaning more directly: ‘Underclothes, stockings, pantaloons.’

‘Yes, yes, indeed. I tell you what, Ziukin. I can see that you are a man well-informed about such matters. You give the orders.’

The first difficulties arose in the shoe shop. Looking at the piles of boxes, I suddenly realised that I had absolutely no idea what size we needed. But here Fandorin’s keen powers of observation proved most helpful. He showed the salesman his open palm and said: ‘That length plus one and a half inches. I think that will be just right.’

‘And what style would you like?’ the salesman asked, squirming obsequiously. ‘We have prunellas on a three-quarter heel – the very latest chic. Or perhaps you would like satin lace-ups, Turkish sateen slippers, Russian leather bottines from Kimry, chaussurettes from Albin Picquot?’

We looked at each other.

‘Give us the ones that are the latest chic,’ Fandorin decided boldly and paid nineteen roubles and fifty kopecks.

We moved on, carrying a lilac-coloured box. The sight of this elegant cardboard construction reminded me of another container that I had not seen since the previous day.

‘Where is the casket?’ I asked, suddenly anxious. ‘What if thieves should break in? You know Moscow is full of riff-raff.’

‘Do not be c-concerned, Ziukin. I have hidden the casket where even the detective department of the police will not find it,’ he reassured me.

We bought a dress and hat rather easily in the shop BEAU BRUMMEL. GOODS FROM LONDON. We were both rather taken by a dress of light straw-coloured barège with gold thread and a cape. Fandorin paid out a hundred and thirty-five roubles for it and upon my soul, it was well worth the money. The hat of lace tulle (my choice) cost twenty-five roubles. Erast Petrovich considered the paper violets on the crown excessive, but in my opinion they matched Emilie’s eyes perfectly.

We had a hard time of it in the lady’s underwear shop. We were delayed here for a long time because we were unable to give a proper answer to a single question that the saleswoman asked. Fandorin looked embarrassed and I wished the earth would open up and swallow me, especially when the shameless girl started enquiring about the size of the bust. It was in this shop that I overheard a conversation that completely spoiled my mood, so that I took no further part in discussing the purchases and relied entirely on Erast Petrovich.

Two ladies were talking to each other – in low voices, but I could hear everything quite clearly.

‘. . . and the sovereign shed a tear and said: “This is a sign from above that I should not rule. I shall set aside the crown and go into a monastery, to spend the rest of my days praying for the souls of those who have been killed,”’ said one of the women, a plump and self-important individual but, judging by her appearance, not from the very highest society. ‘My Serge heard that with his own ears because yesterday he was His Majesty’s duty orderly.’

‘Such nobility of soul!’ exclaimed her companion, a somewhat younger and simpler lady, gazing respectfully at the plump woman. ‘But what about Simeon Alexandrovich? Is it true what they say, that he was the one who persuaded the tsar and tsarina to go to that ill-fated ball?’

I cautiously stole closer, pretending to be absorbed in studying some lacy bloomers with frills and ribbons.

‘Absolutely true,’ said the first woman, lowering her voice. ‘Serge heard His Highness say: “It’s nothing important. The hoi polloi have trampled each other in the rush to get hold of something for nothing. Stop playing the baby, Nicky, and get on with ruling.”’

The fat lady seemed unlikely to have enough imagination to invent something like that. How like Simeon Alexandrovich it was to repeat word for word the phrase that was spoken to Alexander the Blessed by the killer of his father!

‘Ah, Filippa Karlovna, but why did they have to go to the French ambassador’s ball on such an evening?’

Filippa Karlovna sighed dolefully. ‘What can I tell you Polinka? I can only repeat what Serge said: “When God wants to punish someone, He takes away their reason.” You see, Count Montebello had ordered a hundred thousand roses to be brought from France especially for the ball. If the ball had been postponed, the roses would have withered. And so Their Majesties came to the rout but as a token of mourning they did not dance. And now there are rumours among the common folk that the tsar and his German woman danced with delight at knowing they had killed so many Orthodox souls. It’s terrible, simply terrible!’

Oh Lord, I thought, what inexcusable frivolity! To set the whole of Russia against oneself for the sake of some roses! The Khodynsk Field tragedy could still have been explained by some unfortunate confluence of circumstances; an exemplary trial of the organisers of the revels could have been arranged – anything at all, as long as the authority of the supreme ruler was maintained. But now universal hatred would be directed not only against the governor general of Moscow, but also against the tsar and tsarina, and everybody would say roses are more important to them than people.

We walked back along the street, carrying numerous boxes and bundles. I do not know what Fandorin was thinking about, but he had an air of concentration – probably he was making plans for further action. With an effort I also forced myself to start thinking in practical terms: how could we find the fugitive Lord Banville and Mikhail Georgievich?

Suddenly I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘And Freyby?’ I exclaimed.

‘What about Freyby?’

‘We have forgotten all about him, but he is one of Lind’s men too, that is obvious! And the doctor left him in the Hermitage for a good reason – to act as his spy! Why, of course!’ I groaned, appalled at the belatedness of my realisation. ‘Freyby behaved strangely from the beginning. On the very first day he said that there must be a spy in the house. He deliberately led us astray so that suspicion would not fall on him! And there is something else. I completely forgot to tell you. When Lieutenant Endlung and I set out to follow Banville and Carr, Freyby said to me: “Look more carefully today.” I was struck by it at the time – as if he knew what I was going out to do!’

‘“Look more carefully today”? That is what he said?’ Fandorin asked in surprise.

‘Yes, with the help of his dictionary.’

We were obliged to interrupt our conversation because we were already approaching the house.

Mademoiselle greeted us still wearing the same bedspread, but with her hair neatly brushed and smelling fragrant.

‘Oh, presents!’ she exclaimed, surveying our baggage with delight. ‘Quick, quick!’

And she set about untying the ribbons and string right there in the hallway.

‘Mon Dieu, qu’est-ce que c’est?’¹ Emilie muttered as she extracted the pantaloons chosen by Erast Petrovich from their pink packaging. ‘Quelle horreur!Pour qui me prenez vous?’²

Fandorin was a pitiful sight. His face fell completely when Mademoiselle declared that the pink corset with the lilac lacing was absolutely vulgar, only coquettes wore things like that and it exceeded her modest proportions by at least three sizes.

I was indignant. This man could not be trusted to do anything! I had only been distracted for a minute, and he had spoiled everything. The silk stockings were the only purchase he had made that received approval.

But there was a shock in store for me too. When she took the wonderful hat with violets that I liked so much out of its box, Mademoiselle first raised her eyebrows in surprise and then laughed. She ran across to the mirror and turned her head this way and that.

‘Un vrai épouvanteil!’ ³ was her pitiless judgement.

The remarkable dress of barège and the silk shoes, the latest Parisian chic, were judged no less harshly. ‘I see, gentlemen, that in the most important things of all you are not to be trusted,’ Emilie concluded with a sigh. ‘But at least I can get to the Hermitage, and then change my clothes.’

Before he put Mademoiselle in the cab, Erast Petrovich gave her his final instructions.

‘Tell them that Ziukin and I rescued you from captivity and we are continuing our search for Lind. Do not give away our address. You do not know that we have the Orlov and the other jewels. Rest and recover your strength. And one other thing.’ He whispered although the coachman could not possibly have understood French: ‘As far as we can tell, Freyby is one of Lind’s men. Keep an eye on him and take special care. But not a word about this to Karnovich, or the colonel might spoil everything in his eagerness. Definitely do tell him about Banville. Let the police join in the search, it will make Lind’s life more difficult. Well that is all. Goodbye. If something urgent comes up, telephone. You know the number.’

He shook her hand. Ah, gloves, I thought. We had completely forgotten to buy her gloves!

‘Goodbye, my friends,’ Emilie said, fluttering her long eyelashes and switching her gaze from Fandorin to me. ‘I am eternally in your debt. You freed me from that dreadful cellar, where I was choking to death on the smell of rotten potatoes.’ Her grey eyes glinted mischievously. ‘It was very romantic, just like a novel about chivalrous knights. Although I have never heard of knights rescuing a beautiful lady from an enchanted castle with a yard keeper’s crowbar before.’

She waved to us in farewell and the carriage set off towards the Myasnitsky Gate.

We gazed after her for a long time, until the cab disappeared round a bend. I glanced sideways at Fandorin. He looked thoughtful, even rather bewildered. Could this lady’s man possibly have developed special feelings for Emilie?

‘What next?’ I asked in an emphatically cool voice.

Fandorin’s face suddenly turned gloomy and determined, but he did not answer me straight away, only after a very lengthy pause indeed.

‘Right, Ziukin, the women and the wagons are in a safe place. And we are b-back on the warpath. Doctor Lind is strolling around at liberty, and that means our mission has not been completed.’

‘The most important thing is to save His Highness,’ I reminded him. ‘I hope that the desire for vengeance will not lead you to disregard Mikhail Georgievich’s fate.’

He was embarrassed, it was quite obvious. That meant my reminder had been timely.

‘Yes, yes, of course. But in any case we first need to reach our irrepressible doctor. How are we going to do it?’

‘Through Freyby?’ I said with a shrug. ‘The butler must have some way to contact Lind.’

‘I keep thinking about Mr Freyby,’ said Erast Petrovich, climbing the steps and opening the door. ‘Something there doesn’t add up. If he really is Lind’s man, then why would he warn us about a spy? And why would he tell you to keep a sharp eye on his master? There’s something wrong here. Can you recall the exact words that he spoke?’

‘I remember them very well. “Vy . . . smotret’ . . . luchshe . . . sevodnya.” He fished every word out of his dictionary.’

‘Hmm. And what was it in English? “You . . . watch out today”?’

‘No, that wasn’t it.’ I wrinkled up my forehead and tried to delve into my memory. ‘It was something that began with “b”.’

‘With “b”? Better?’

‘Yes, that was it!’

‘Well then, let us try to reconstitute the English phrase.Vy is “you”,smotret’ is “see” or “look”, then comes “better”, and sevodnya is “today”. “You see better today” makes no sense. So it must be “You look better today.”’

‘Yes, that’s right! The very words!’ I exclaimed in delight.

Erast Petrovich shrugged.

‘Then I’m afraid that I must disappoint you, Ziukin. That is by no means a recommendation to keep a closer eye on Lind, but an expression that means, “You are looking better today.”’

‘Is that all?’ I asked, disappointed.

‘I’m afraid so. You and Mr Freyby have fallen victim to literal translation.’

Fandorin seemed proud of his little victory. Naturally. The previous day’s embarrassment over Banville had left his glorious reputation as an analytical genius badly tarnished.

‘You should never place too much confidence in dictionaries. But he gave you very good advice about the spy. I should have thought about that from the very beginning. There was definitely someone in the Hermitage spying for Lind. The doctor knew everything: the times of arrivals, the daily routine, even where you went for a walk and who was in the company. Banville, Carr and Freyby arrived too late. They simply could not have found out all those things in time.’

‘Then who is the spy?’

‘Let us think.’ Erast Petrovich sat down on a couch in the drawing room and crossed one leg over the other. ‘Wait . . . Why, of course!’ He slapped himself on the knee. ‘Did you hear the Postman call out “Ziukin” yesterday at the Khodynka?’

‘Of course I did.’

‘But how did he know that you were Ziukin? Were you acquainted with him?’

‘No, but he saw me at the post office, and naturally he remembered me.’

‘Who did he see at the post office’ asked Erast Petrovich, jumping to his feet. ‘An official of the Ministry of Agriculture and State Lands. The Postman was supposed to think you were Fandorin in disguise, but somehow or other he realised who you were, although he had never seen you before. Just what is the source of such incredible astuteness?’

‘Well, obviously Lind explained it to him later,’ I suggested.

‘Very well, that is also possible. But how did the doctor know that you were involved in the operation? The letter in which I arranged the meeting was written in my name, without any mention of you. Did you tell anyone that you were now assisting me in this risky business?’

I hesitated for a moment, and then decided there was no point in being secretive in such important matters.

‘When we were in the Hermitage I told two people about our plans. But when I explain how it happened, you will understand I had no other—’

‘Who?’ Erast Petrovich asked quickly. ‘The names!’

‘Her Highness—’

‘You saw Xenia?’ he interrupted excitedly. ‘What did she say?’

I replied coolly: ‘Nothing. She hid me, and that was enough.’

‘And who was the other person?’ Fandorin asked with a sigh.

‘My Moscow assistant, Somov. He proved to be an honourable man. Not only did he not give me away, he even promised to help . . .’

I related the content of my conversation with Somov, trying to recall everything in precise detail.

‘Well then, Somov is our spy,’ Erast Petrovich said with a shrug. ‘That is as clear as day. He was based at the Hermitage before you arrived from St Petersburg. He had a thorough knowledge of the house and the disposition of the rooms. He must have made a careful study of the park and identified the spot for the ambush. It was easy to guess that after an exhausting journey the child would be taken out for a walk. And apart from Somov no one could have informed Lind that you were working for me.’

I said nothing. There were no objections I could raise against what Fandorin had said, but I had already formed an opinion of Somov that I was reluctant to abandon.

‘I see you are doubtful. Very well, let us make certain. You told me that Somov had moved into your room? That means he has a telephone there. Telephone him. Say we are in a desperate situation and need his help.’

‘And then what?’

‘And then g-give the phone to me.’

I told the lady operator the number, Erast Petrovich pressed the second earpiece to his ear and we waited. For a very long time there was nothing but the ringing tone, and I had already decided that Kornei Selifanovich must be busy dealing with household matters in some distant corner of the palace, but after about three minutes there was a click and Somov’s breathless voice.

‘Hermitage. What can I do for you?’

‘Listen and do not say a word,’ I said. ‘Do you recognise me?’

‘Yes,’ he replied after a pause.

‘Are you still prepared to help us?’

‘Yes.’ This time there was not the slightest delay.

‘We have to meet.’

‘I . . . I can’t just now. You can’t imagine what’s going on here. Mr Carr has been found dead! Just now! I walked in and he was lying in his room with a knife stuck in his chest. A kitchen knife, for filleting white fish. The police have turned the entire house upside down and they’re scouring the garden!’

‘Ask how long ago he was killed,’ Erast Petrovich whispered.

‘How long ago was he killed?’ I asked.

‘What? How should I know? Wait, I do know! I heard the gentlemen from the court police say that the body was still very warm.’

‘That Lind is no man, he’s a devil!’ I whispered with my hand over the receiver. ‘He carries on settling scores, no matter what!’

‘Ask if Emilie has got back.’

‘Tell me, Kornei Selifanovich, has Mademoiselle Declique shown up yet?’

‘Mademoiselle? Why, has she been found?’ Somov’s voice trembled. ‘Do you know something about her?’

There had to be some reason why he was so agitated, there had to be. I immediately recalled how he had pestered Emilie with his French lessons. Perhaps Fandorin was not so far wrong in suspecting him!

‘Surely Banville would not have dared to go back into the Hermitage?’ I asked Erast Petrovich. ‘That’s simply incredible!’

‘Of course it’s incredible,’ he remarked coolly. ‘Carr was stabbed by Somov. He certainly knows all about kitchen knives.’

‘I can’t hear anything!’ said the voice in the receiver. ‘Afanasii Stepanovich, where are you? How can I find you?’

Fandorin took the mouthpiece from me.

‘This is Fandorin here. Hello, Somov. I would like to see you. If you value the life of His Highness, leave the house immediately by the back entrance, walk through the park and in thirty minutes, no later, be at the Donskoi Cemetery, by the wall opposite the entrance. Delay may be fatal.’

And he hung up, without waiting for a reply.

‘Why such a rush?’ I asked.

‘I do not want him to meet Emilie, who will reach the Hermitage at any moment now. We don’t want Somov to get the idea of eliminating a dangerous witness. You heard how agitated he was. If the audacity with which Somov killed Carr is anything to go by, your estimable assistant was planning to make a run for it in any case.’

I shook my head, far from convinced that it was Somov who had killed Carr.

‘Right, Afanasii Stepanovich,’ said Fandorin, putting his little revolver in his pocket. Then he took another pistol of rather more impressive proportions out of his travelling bag and stuck it into his belt. ‘This is where our p-paths part. I shall meet Somov and have a good talk with him.’

‘What does “a good talk” mean?’

‘I shall tell him that he has been discovered and offer him a choice: to serve hard labour for life or to help catch Lind.’

‘And what if you are mistaken, and he is not guilty of anything?’

‘I shall understand that from the way he behaves. But Somov is the spy, I am certain of it.’

I followed Erast Petrovich round the room, observing his preparations. Everything was happening too fast. I had no time to gather my thoughts.

‘But why do we have to separate?’

‘Because if Somov is Lind’s man, it is highly likely that at this very moment he is telephoning his boss, and the welcome awaiting me at the cemetery will be somewhat hotter than I was counting on. Although of course they have no time at all to prepare. But it’s a convenient spot, isolated.’

‘All the more reason why I must go with you!’

‘No, Ziukin. You must stay here and guard this.’

Erast Petrovich put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the diamond, wrapped in his handkerchief. I held out my hand reverently and felt the strange warmth radiating from the sacred stone.

Fandorin swung round on his heels and went out into the corridor. I stayed close behind. In the kitchen doorway Erast Petrovich squatted down on his haunches, hooked up one of the floorboards, and a moment later he was holding the familiar casket.

‘There you are, Ziukin, now I d-do not owe the House of Romanov anything. You can be regarded as a plenipotentiary representative of the royal family, surely?’ He smiled briefly. ‘The important thing is, never leave the telephone. I shall definitely call you.’

‘Where from?’

‘I do not know yet. From some hotel, restaurant or post office.’

In the doorway Fandorin turned and looked back at me. His glance seemed strange, as if there was something he could not bring himself to tell me, or he was hesitating over what to do next. I did not like this at all; in fact, to tell the truth, I was frightened that he might have changed his mind and intended to take the jewels with him.

I took a step back, tightening my grip on the casket, and said: ‘You’ll be late. It’s a long way. What if Somov doesn’t wait for you?’

‘He will,’ Fandorin replied absent-mindedly, clearly thinking about something else. Could that possibly be pity in his eyes? ‘Listen, Afanasii Stepanovich . . .’

‘What?’ I asked cautiously, sensing that he was about to tell me something very important.

‘No . . . never mind. Wait for my call.’

He turned and left.

What an abominable way to behave!

I made myself as comfortable as possible beside the telephone.

Judging that Fandorin could not call me during the next hour in any case, I took some money (Erast Petrovich had left an entire wad of banknotes on the table), went to Myasnitskaya Street and bought fresh cod, some remarkable Moscow ham and newspapers. I took the casket with me, pressing it close to me with my elbow and keeping a keen lookout to spot any thieves who might be loitering nearby. The Orlov was hanging round my neck, in a bag specially made out of a woollen sock.

Weary of all the shocks it had endured, my heart had also been tempered and toughened by them. Only a few days earlier I would scarcely have been able to sit there so calmly, drinking tea, eating and looking through the newspapers. As the common folk would say, a few of my corners had been knocked off.

The Moscow newspapers did not exactly pass over the Khodynsk Field disaster in silence – how could they, when the entire city was filled with wailing and weeping? But they wrote evasively, laying the greatest emphasis on the charitable actions of members of the imperial family. A certain fitting delicacy and concern for the authority of the dynasty could be discerned in that.

For example, the Moscow Gazette gave a highly detailed description of a visit to the Staro-Ekaterinskaya Hospital by the dowager empress, during which Her Majesty gave each of the victims a bottle of Madeira. The emperor and empress had given instructions for the funerals to be paid for by the treasury and families who had lost their breadwinner were awarded compensation. This was indeed a most noble gesture, but it seemed to me that the newspaper was excessively admiring of Their Majesties’ generosity, making no comment on the reason for the royal benefaction. The people of Moscow were unlikely to find the tone of the article to their taste. And I was totally dismayed by the Moscow Illustrated Newspaper, which could think of nothing better than to reproduce the artistically designed menu for the forthcoming supper for three thousand in the Faceted Palace:

LUCULLAN BOUILLON

ASSORTED PIES

COLD HAZEL GROUSE Á LA SUVOROV

CHICKENS ROASTED ON THE SPIT

SALAD

WHOLE ASPARAGUS

ICE CREAM

DESSERT

That is to say, I could see perfectly well that, owing to the sad events, the menu that had been drawn up was modest in the extreme, with no extravagances at all. Only a single salad? No sturgeon, no stuffed pheasants or even black caviar! A truly spartan meal. The highly placed individuals who had been invited to the supper would appreciate the significance of this. But why print such a thing in a newspaper that had many readers for whom ‘dog’s delight’ sausage was a treat?

On sober consideration, what I detected in all of this was not concern for the prestige of the authorities but rather the diametrical opposite. Obviously, Simeon Alexandrovich and the high police master had forbidden the newspapers to write openly about what had happened, and so the editors were doing their best, each in his own way, to inflame the resentment of the common people.

Feeling very upset, I put the newspapers aside and gazed out of the window. This occupation, which appears so pointless at first glance, is excellent for calming agitated nerves, especially on a clear May evening, when the shadows are so soft and golden, the trees are still growing accustomed to their newly acquired foliage and the sky is clear and serene.

I spent a rather long time in quiet contemplation free of all thoughts. And when the outlines of the houses were completely blurred and then effaced by the twilight, and the street lamps came on, the telephone rang.

‘Listen carefully and d-do not interrupt,’ I heard Fandorin’s voice say. ‘Do you know the Vorobyovsky Hills?’

‘Yes, they’re not far from—’

‘There’s a decorative p-park there. We saw it from the boat, remember? Do you remember the bridge suspended on cables over the ravine? I told you I had seen one almost exactly like it in the Himalayas?’

‘Yes, I remember, but why are you telling me all this?’

‘Be there tomorrow morning. At six. Bring the stone and the casket.’

‘Why? What has ha—’

‘Yes, and one more thing,’ he said, interrupting me unceremoniously. ‘Do not be surprised as I shall be dressed as a monk. I might well be late, but you, Ziukin, be there on time. Do you understand all that?’

‘Yes, that is no. I don’t understand a single—’

I heard the disconnect signal and slammed the receiver down in extreme indignation. How dare he talk to me in that fashion? He had not explained anything; he had not told me anything! How had his meeting with Somov gone? Where was Fandorin now? Why was he not coming back here? And, most importantly, why did I have to take the jewels to such a strange place?

I suddenly recalled the strange expression with which he had looked at me when we parted. What was it he had wanted to tell me as he left, but had not been able to bring himself to say?

He had said: ‘This is where our paths part.’ What if our paths had parted not only in the literal but also the figurative sense? Oh Lord, and I had no one to ask for advice!

I sat there, looking at the silent telephone and thinking intently.

Karnovich? Out of the question.

Lasovsky? I could assume that he had been removed from his post, and even if he had not been removed . . .

Endlung? Of course. He was a fine chap. But he would be no help in a such a puzzling business.

Emilie! She was the one who could help me.

I had to telephone the Hermitage, I realised, and ask for Mademoiselle Declique in a disguised voice, preferably a female one . . . And at that very moment the telephone came to life and began ringing desperately. God be praised! So Fandorin was not quite such an ignorant fellow as I had supposed. We had simply been cut off.

I deliberately spoke first, so that he would not have a chance to shock me with some new trick in his usual manner.

‘Before I do as you demand, be so good as to explain,’ I said hurriedly, ‘what happened with Somov? And why disguise yourself as a monk? Could you not find any other costume? This is sacrilege!’

‘Mon Dieu, what are you saying, Athanas?’ Mademoiselle’s voice said and I choked, but only for a moment.

It was simply wonderful that she had phoned me herself!

‘Who were you talking to?’ Emilie asked, changing into French.

‘Fandorin,’ I mumbled.

‘What monk? What has Somov got to do with anything? I’m ringing from his room, your old room, that is. Somov has gone missing; no one knows where he is. But that is not important. Carr has been killed!’

‘Yes, yes, I know.’

‘You know? How?’ She sounded amazed. ‘All the grand dukes are here, and Colonel Karnovich. He has been interrogating Freyby for several hours. The poor colonel has completely lost his head. He took almost no notice of my arrival – all he said to me was: “You can tell me later; it’s not important just now.” I try to tell him about Lord Banville, but he does not believe me! He tells me I am mentally disturbed because of all the shocks. Can you believe it? He imagines that Freyby is Doctor Lind! I want to ask you and Erast for advice. Perhaps I should try once again? Explain to Karnovich that Freyby is only a minor figure? Or perhaps tell him that you have found the empress’s stolen jewels? Then all these gentlemen will calm down and start listening to me. What should I do?’

‘Emilie, I am in need of advice myself,’ I confessed. ‘Never mind about Mr Freyby. I don’t think he is guilty of anything, but let Karnovich carry on questioning him. At least that will keep him busy. Don’t tell anyone about the jewels. I have a different idea . . .’

I hesitated, because the idea had only just occurred to me and it had not been properly formulated yet. I picked the telephone book up off the table and opened it at the letter ‘p’. Was the Vorobyovsky Park listed?

As I leafed through the pages, I said what I would not have been able to say if Emilie had been standing there in front of me: ‘I am so glad to hear your voice. I was feeling completely lost and alone, but now I feel much better. I hope I am not speaking too boldly?’

‘Good Lord, Athanas, sometimes your formality makes you quite insufferable!’ she exclaimed. ‘Are you never going to say the words that I long to hear? Simply and clearly, with no quibbling or evasion?’

I guessed immediately which words she wanted to hear, and my throat went dry.

‘I don’t entirely understand,’ I croaked, nonplussed by her directness. ‘I think I have already said far more than might be considered acceptable, bearing in mind—’

‘There you go humming and hawing again,’ Mademoiselle interrupted me. ‘All right, damn you. I’ll shake your declaration out of you when we meet. But in the meantime tell me your idea. Only be quick. Someone could come in at any moment.’

I told her about Fandorin’s strange demands.

Emilie listened without saying a word.

‘I intend to act differently,’ I said. ‘Let us meet and I shall give you the casket and the Orlov. At dawn I shall go to the meeting place and demand an explanation from Fandorin. If his answers satisfy me and I realise that he really does need the stone for this business, I shall telephone you from the office in the Vorobyovsky Park. There is an apparatus there, I have just checked. Be ready. From the Hermitage to the Vorobyovsky Park is a fifteen-minute ride in a cab. Fandorin will not lose much time as a result of these precautions.’

I heard her breathing in the earpiece, and that quiet music warmed my heart.

‘No,’ Emilie said after a long pause. ‘I do not like your idea at all, Athanas. Firstly, I am not sure that I will be able to leave the Hermitage unnoticed today. Secondly, I am afraid that we will cause problems for Erast. I trust him. And you should trust him too. He is a truly noble man. More than that, he is an exceptional man. I have never met anyone else like him in my life. If you want the little prince to be rescued, go to the meeting with Erast and do exactly as he says.’

Her verdict shocked me, and in the most unpleasant way. She had even spoken like Fandorin: ‘Firstly . . . Secondly . . .’ How clever this man was at making people adore him!

I asked in a trembling voice: ‘You trust him that far?’

‘Yes. Implicitly,’ she snapped, and suddenly laughed. ‘Naturally, apart from dresses and corsets.’

What an incredible woman – joking at such a moment! But she was immediately serious again.

‘I implore you, Athanas, do everything that he says.’ She hesitated. ‘And also . . . be careful. For my sake.’

‘For your sake?’ I asked stupidly, which of course I should not have done, because no self-respecting lady could possibly have expressed herself more clearly.

But Mademoiselle repeated: ‘Yes, for my sake. If anything happens to Mr Fandorin, even though he is a genuine hero and an exceptional man, I can survive.’ She hesitated again. ‘But if anything happens to you, I am afraid . . .’

She did not finish the sentence, and there was no need for her to.

Totally and completely unsettled, I babbled in a pathetic voice: ‘Thank you, Mademoiselle Declique. I shall make sure to contact you tomorrow morning.’

‘Thank you, Mademoiselle Declique. I shall make sure to contact you tomorrow morning.’

Then I quickly hung up.

Oh Lord, had I imagined it? And had I understood the meaning of her words correctly?

Need I say that I did not sleep a wink all night long until the dawn?

¹My God, what is it?

²How horrible! Who do you take me for?

³A real scarecrow!