“I hope not while I am preparing for the new collection,” said Madame Koska calmly. The inspector laughed.
“You are taking it very well, Madame Koska, just as I have hoped. I have put a guard around the area.”
“And yet you don’t even know vhat you are looking for? I believe you have some suspicions, Inspector, or you vould not go to all this trouble.”
“Yes, I do, but I cannot prove anything. I must watch someone’s movements, Madame Koska, and she works in your establishment. I would rather we do not mention any names right now.”
“Of course, Inspector, and as a matter of fact, I rather like the idea of your people guarding the atelier. In utmost seriousness, if my first London collection is interfered vith, I might be forced to go out of business. But still… since vhen does Scotland Yard involve itself in such straightforward, petty crime?”
“That’s just it, Madame Koska. It may not be a simple petty crime. We suspect the Eurasian gang Mr. Korolenko told you about. But it can be worse. This might have been done by another criminal, and that would be much, much worse.”
“How can anything be vorse than a gang of murderers who deal with opium and jewelry?”
“A master criminal who works alone is much harder to catch,” said the inspector. “There is a man, who for the last two or three decades has been eluding us. He steals important jewellery all over Europe and sells it to private collectors who are willing to pay the price and hide the gems. We have reasons to suspect that he is in London now.”
“But vhat leads you to connect him vith my atelier?”
The inspector looked at her, as if trying to make a decision before telling her the worst. Madame Koska did not hurry him, and sipped her wine. After a short time, the inspector said, “There is no reason for alarm, but we think he has an interest in your atelier. On the scene of his last job, done in Paris two weeks ago, we found a piece of paper he must have dropped, next to the safe he broke into. Written on the paper was the address of your atelier, Madame Koska.”
Madame Koska’s fork froze midway between her plate and her mouth. She put it down on her plate, forcing herself to act calmly. “I see,” she said. “Yes, a guard around the atelier vill be highly appreciated, Inspector.”
“He creeps like a cat, so it would not be easy to notice him. But even though he has been known to elude the police, we think he might be slipping due to his age. He has never made such a mistake before. He cannot be very young now and his system of robbery requires great agility. The good news is that his mistake made our work easier. The note was written in French. This is the first clue we have to his identity, we are now sure he is French.”
“But it seems that the former break into my atelier was not cat-like at all,” said Madame Koska, recovering. “They made knocking noises, and by the look of the place after they broke in, there vas more than one person ransacking it.”
“I know. It is highly perplexing, I admit,” said the inspector. “And since we don’t know what he is looking for in your atelier, it makes everything very, very difficult.”
“This was the most delicious dinner,” said Wilma when they were having their coffee. “So what do you say? It’s not very late, should we let Vasily take us to church?”
“Why not,” said Madame Golitsyn. “It’s been many years since I went to church. Let’s go.” Everyone agreed, and Natalya, who was extremely quiet during the dinner, hardly saying a word, suddenly said, “Yes, please. I would very much like to go.”
Madame Koska watched as Natalya put on a small white cloche hat, worn diagonally over one eye, and pulled on her gloves. She definitely looked very nice… people are never what they seem, she suddenly thought. Gretchen, this silly, pretty girl, proving to be a scholar. Natalya, plain, thin, haggard Natalya looking suddenly so elegant… Where did she find the money for such an expensive material, even if she made the suit herself? And the hat, which must have cost a fortune… rather suspicious… Madame Koska shook her head. What next? Who else may do something uncharacteristic? She really did not need all that now while preparing for her first London collection… such bad timing. The thought crossed her mind that she might want to help resolve this mystery, rather than leave it to the police, who seemed to be out of their depth… What could she do? Well, she would sleep on it and then put her mind to work on the problem in all seriousness.
They left the restaurant and went up the street toward the Russian Orthodox Church. Madame Koska was deep in thought, when suddenly she heard Mr. Korolenko and Inspector Blount talk behind her, rather quietly but clearly. “No, I think they are coming from Constantinople this time, Inspector.”
“Are you sure, Korolenko? A lot hangs on where they come from.”
“That’s what I heard. Of course, you can never be certain, they do cover their tracks very carefully. But the opium was definitely delivered there, several months ago.”
“So they have plenty of money already at hand,” said the inspector.
“Yes. If it’s their work, and I say if, since I am not at all sure they are involved with the Imperial Brooch, they are ready to strike. They are very well financed,” said Mr. Korolenko.
“And Constantinople is practically crawling with Russians who are in need of money and who would allow them to smuggle anything in the shipments to Paris.”
“Or London,” said Mr. Korolenko.
“And Orlov is still at large,” said the inspector.
“Orlov might be dead,” said Mr. Korolenko. “It’s been years.”
“The likes of Orlov don’t die so easily,” said the inspector. “I am firm in my belief that he is the cat burglar behind the disappearance of the brooch. Remember the affair of the small Dutch piece, the Hans Holbein painting? The technique was the same, exactly the same.”
“Yes, but it was more than ten years ago, Inspector. It’s a long time.”
“He lived off the proceeds for ten years, I suppose. Now he needs money again. If he sells the brooch to the right customer, he will be set up for many years. He might even retire, move to another continent, who knows?”
Madame Koska listened with all her might, but was interrupted by Natalya who turned around from where she was walking with her aunt.
“Madame Koska, I was thinking we should set up a small room for the ironing,” she said.
“Vhy do ve need a special room? Ve have three big ironing boards in the main room, are they not enough?” asked Madame Koska.
“I don’t mean for the dresses, only for the embroideries. You see, you have ordered a large quantity of soft materials for the collection, chiffons, silks… they should be basted to mousseline, Madam Koska. They are too fragile to be embroidered speedily on their own.”
“But you vorked on the other embroideries vithout it,” said Madame Koska.
“They were not as soft as some of the fabrics we got, and I was not hurrying. I could stretch and re-stretch the material on the embroidery frames. But if we want to work efficiently, it’s different. Before a very soft fabric, with a pattern already transferred onto it is embroidered, it is best if it is basted onto rigid, chemically treated mousseline. Then, when the work is finished, the mousseline is burned away when pressed with a hot iron. But it cannot be done inside the general work room; the ashes float around the room, making it difficult to breath, and also, the ashes settle on other fabrics and make them dirty.”
“Aren’t you vorried it might burn the fabric, and then you have to do it all over?”
“Well, yes, it does happen sometimes,” admitted Natalya. “But rarely, since we test scraps first.”