The Snake Stone

28

A pair of white cotton gloves slapped down onto the table, setting the coffee cup ringing. Yashim put out a hand and glanced up to see Palewski standing over him.

“My dear friend! Have a seat.” Yashim beckoned to the cafe proprietor. “A coffee. Make it two.” He frowned at Palewski. “Are you ill?”

“I’ve felt better,” the ambassador said in a low voice that was almost a whisper. “Are both these coffees mine? Good.”

It would be an exaggeration to say that the color returned to Palewski’s cheeks as he drank his coffee, for they were bloodless at any time; but when he next spoke his voice was firmer.

“Odd news, Yashim. I’ve just come from the French embassy. The night watch found a body last night, almost on their doorstep. It’s one of theirs.”

“How extraordinary.”

Palewski turned his head and made a signal to the cafe owner. “I–I’m afraid you won’t like this. It’s Lefevre.”

Yashim stared at him blankly. “It couldn’t be.”

Palewski shrugged. “I’m afraid so. The embassy need your help in dealing with the Porte,” he said. “Lefevre was a French citizen, so he’s technically their responsibility. But the authorities have to be informed, and the ambassador’s concerned that none of the embassy dragomen know the ropes. He doesn’t want too many people involved, either. The body is a mess, apparently.”

“I saw Lefevre leave,” Yashim insisted.

Palewski ignored him. “Dr. Millingen will be holding an inquest, I expect. Who he saw, where he went, that sort of thing. They’ll want you there for that. Maybe you’re the last person who saw him alive.”

“He took a caique straight to the ship,” Yashim said.

Palewski shrugged. “Nothing was very straight about Lefevre. The French ambassador thinks I know my way about. He called me over at some unearthly hour this morning for advice. I suggested you.”

Yashim said slowly: “I owe Lefevre something. He was weak, but-”

Palewski nodded. “He trusted you. I’m sorry, Yash.”