Not knowing what to say to this dismal news, I simply muttered: ‘How terrible. I hope at least she didn’t suffer before she died.’
‘Fortunately, she is still alive,’ Genji declared impassively. ‘A fantastic piece of luck. Columbine did not simply throw herself out of the window, for some reason she t-took a run and jumped – a very long way. That is what saved her. Of course, even though the side street is narrow, she could not possibly have jumped to the other side, but luckily for her, directly opposite her balcony there is an advertising sign – a tin angel. Columbine’s hem caught on the angel’s hand and she was l-left hanging there. Her dress was made of incredibly strong material – the same as my driving suit. It didn’t tear. The poor girl was stuck ten sazhens above the ground, unconscious and dangling head down, like a doll. And she was there for a long time, because no one noticed her in the dark. It was very difficult to get her down, they had to call the fire brigade to help. The young lady was taken to hospital, and when she recovered consciousness and was asked for the address of a relative, she gave them my telephone number. They phoned me and asked: “Does Mr Genji live here?”.’
I realised that he was not really speaking impassively, but making an immense effort to control his powerful agitation. The longer I listened to my late visitor, the more I wondered why he had come to me. What did he want? Genji is not the kind of man who needs someone to talk to after he has suffered some kind of shock. And in any case, I was not suited to playing the role of his confidant.
‘Have you come to me as a doctor?’ I enquired cautiously. ‘Do you want me to visit her in the hospital? But the young lady must have been examined already. And then, I am not a general practitioner, I’m an anatomist. My patients have no need of medical assistance.’
‘Miss Mironova has already been released from hospital, there is not a single scratch on her. My valet took her to my apartment, gave her hot Japanese vodka and put her to bed. Columbine will be p-perfectly all right now,’ said Genji, removing his gigantic goggles, and the gaze of his steely eyes made me feel uneasy. ‘I need you, Mr Horatio, not as a doctor, but in a different capacity. Your capacity as a collaborator.’
I raised my eyebrows in puzzlement, trying to pretend that I did not understand the term, but I turned cold inside.
‘Don’t waste your time, I saw through your cover a long time ago. You were eavesdropping on my conversation with Blagovolsky when I d-declared my purpose in joining the club. The door was slightly open and I saw a glint of light on glass through the crack. You are the only aspirant who wears spectacles. At the time, I admit, I thought you were the ubiquitous reporter Lavr Zhemailo. But the death of the journalist made it clear that I was mistaken. Then I asked my servant, with whom you are slightly acquainted, to take a look at you, and he confirmed my second hypothesis – you were the person who tried to t-trail me. On my instructions, Masa then proceeded to trail you. The gentleman in the check jacket whom you met yesterday on First Tverskaya-Yamskaya Street serves in the Gendarmes Department, does he not?’
I shuddered and asked: ‘What do you want with me? I’ve done you no harm, I swear it! The story of the “Lovers of Death” is over and done with, and the club has been disbanded.’
‘The club has been disbanded, but the story is not yet over. From the hospital I went to Columbine’s flat, and there I found this.’ Genji took a sheet of odd-looking marbled paper out of his pocket. Through the marbling I could see the words Ich warte. ‘This is the reason why Columbine jumped out of the window!’
I gazed at the paper in confusion and asked: ‘What does this mean?’
‘It means that my conclusions were erroneous because I accepted answers that were too facile and closed my eyes to a number of details and circumstances that didn’t fit the overall picture,’ Genji replied. ‘And that very nearly led to the death of a young woman whose life matters to me. You, Horatio, are going to come with me. You will be an official witness, and afterwards you will report what you have seen and heard to your gendarme b-bosses. For certain reasons that it is not necessary for you to know, I myself prefer not to meet the Moscow police. And I shall not be staying in the city for long. It would delay my record attempt.’
I did not understand the comment about a record attempt, but I decided not to ask. Still looking me in the eye, Genji added: ‘I know you are not an irredeemable scoundrel. You are simply a weak man, a victim of circumstances. Your case is not entirely hopeless. As it says in the scriptures: “Out of the weak shall come forth the strong.” Let’s go.’
His tone was peremptory and I could not resist. And, indeed, I did not wish to.
We drove to Rozhdestvensky Boulevard in the motor. I sat between Genji and his strange companion, clutching the handrail with both hands. The nightmarish device was driven by the young Jew, and on the corners, he cried out: ‘Pull, my beauties!’ We were moving so fast and jolting so hard that the only thought in my mind was how to avoid being thrown out of my seat.
Genji told the driver to stop at the corner. ‘We’ll go on from here on foot,’ he said. ‘The engine makes too much noise.’
The youth stayed to watch the auto and the two of us walked up the side street.
Despite the late hour, there was light in the windows of the familiar house.
‘The spider,’ Genji muttered, pulling off his gauntlets with immense cuffs. ‘Sitting there rubbing his feet together. Waiting for a moth to get caught in his web . . . When I have finished, you will summon the police by t-telephone. Give me your word that you will not try to detain me.’
‘I give you my word,’ I muttered obediently, although I still did not understand a thing.
The Doge opened the door to us without bothering to ask who had come to see him in the middle of the night. He was wearing a velvet dressing gown that looked like an old-fashioned caftan, with a white shirt and tie visible between the lapels. Prospero looked at us for a moment without speaking, laughed and said: ‘An interesting pair. I didn’t know that you were friends.’
I was astounded to see that he looked quite different from the way he had been at our last meeting – not pitiful and bewildered, but confident, even triumphant. Just like in the old days.
‘To what do I owe the honour of this late visit from such sullen guests?’ the Doge asked in the same derisive tone of voice, as he showed us through into the drawing room. ‘No, don’t tell me, let me guess. The suicides are continuing? The dissolution of the pernicious club has had no effect? And what did I tell you!’ He shook his head and sighed.
‘No, Mr Blagovolsky,’ Genji said in a quiet voice, ‘the c-club is no longer active. But there is just one final formality to be settled.’
Before he could say another word, the Doge leapt backwards spryly and pulled his Bulldog revolver out of his pocket. I gasped in surprise and dodged to one side.
Genji, however, was not perturbed in the slightest. He flung a heavy gauntlet into Blagovolsky’s face, at the same moment raising one foot in a brown shoe and gaiter and kicking the revolver with incredible agility.
The weapon was sent flying before it could be fired. I quickly picked it up and handed it to my companion.