“If there’s anything more I can do …” Ranklin said.
“Yes there is,” Cross burst out. “You can ask some questions about this damnable business. I’m just not satisfied. Are you?”
“Ah …” Ranklin was conscious of Lenz’s glower.
“Well, I’m not,” Cross said firmly. “Why the devil should Richard get drunk – and that’s what you were implying,” he snapped at Lenz, “and go fooling around those locks in the middle of the night? It’s ridiculous: he wasn’t some idiot midshipman. I want you to look into it, for his sake if not mine.”
Ranklin had no idea of what to say. Both professionally and personally, his first instinct was not to offend Lenz.
However, it was a bit late for that. “Herr Spencer is not befugt – he has no rights to – ”
“Oh, get out!” Cross barked. “Buzz off. Go and arrest a stray dog.”
You do not speak to Prussian policemen like that. An English one might have apologised, saluted and buzzed; Lenz just goggled at Cross as if he’d spat on the flag.
“Herr Cross is distressed,” Ranklin said anxiously. “If you could leave us alone for a minute …”
Clearly unable to believe what he was doing, Lenz turned and slow-marched out.
“Bone-headed flatfoot,” Cross said loudly.
“Quite, but he’s not a village bobby. He could be back with the Horse Marines. Before he is, is there anything specific that makes you suspicious?”
“Just what I said: why should Richard behave like a backward schoolboy? If you want to know what I think, that pompous dog-catcher decided Richard was a spy and he and his bullyboys – and, damn it, the last thing I want said of my son is that he was a filthy spy.”
“Quite,” Ranklin said again, but more faintly.
“But there is something odd …” Cross took a sheaf of cablegrams from an inside pocket. “I was getting these all last week – all from a place called Korsor in Denmark. Only about eighty miles from here. They don’t make sense to me, but obviously something Richard arranged.”
“Have you shown these to Lenz or anybody?”
“No. They’d just make something nasty out of them.”
Ranklin pocketed them quickly. “Thank you. I’ll do what I can, but you heard Lenz, and it’s his town. One thing – ” he offered the bond; “ – does this mean anything?”
Cross frowned at the stained, crumpled document. “I can see what it is, but … was it …?”
“He had it with him when he died, yes. But you can’t think of any connection with the firm, or that line of business?”
“Nothing. Richard was never interested in speculation – or in building.”
“What was his line, in the Navy?”
“Signals, mostly.”
Not a bad background for … He said quickly: “The bond’s part of his estate, but I’d like to hang onto it just to see if …”
“Good God, man, do what you like with it.”
“Thank you. Here’s the rest of his stuff, passport and so on. I didn’t have to burn anything. Richard had nothing to hide.”
Except that he was a filthy spy, of course.
“Thank you,” said his father.
Cross must have passed Lenz and Kapitanleutnant Reimers on the stairs, but any conversation had been brief because Ranklin had hardly got his jacket on when they were inside his room. He braced himself.
But Reimers, wearing his best everyday uniform, was as sunny as the day. “Good morning, Mr Spencer. Now I hear you are to be the Sherlock Holmes of Kiel.”
“Oh, Lord,” Ranklin groaned. “The old man’s taking it very hard and …”
“I get it.” Reimers held up a hand in blessing. “And you are welcome. Unlike your Scotland Yard, Hauptmann Lenz will give you all assistance. Most willingly,” he said to Lenz, who was having trouble with his willing expression. “And maybe it’s best for an Englishman to investigate also. Then there can be no international misunderstandings. ”
It was a shrewd point. He wanted Ranklin to investigate – and find nothing. Which meant he thought there was nothing to find, or nothing that reflected on the German authorities, anyway. But on top of that, he was inviting Ranklin to display snooping abilities that, as James Spencer, he shouldn’t have.
“I am not Sherlock Holmes,” Ranklin said wearily. “But – I’ll go through the motions. For Mr Cross.”
“Excellent. But I am afraid you cannot use the Club as Baker Street (I forget the number). It was a kindness for only one night, but Hauptmann Lenz will find you a hotel room.”
“That’s very kind.” It was nothing of the sort: they just wanted him in a room of their choice, probably with their own man next door, stethoscope pressed to the wall. But at least it meant a place to sleep.
“Now all you need is your Doctor Watson. Hauptmann Lenz has some unhappy news, I’m afraid.”
Looking happy for the first time, Lenz reported: “Room-servant Gorman did not obey your order not to go to Kneipen. Also, he spent more than twenty marks. So he has money of his own.”
“Mine, you mean.”
“Yes, perhaps from you he steals.” That thought made Lenz even happier. “He went to three Kneipen, perhaps more.”
The imprecision of that “perhaps” surprised Ranklin. A little embarrassed but more indignant, Lenz explained: “The detective who was protecting Room-servant Gorman was attacked in the street, from behind, and made unconscious.”
Ranklin froze inside. Surely O’Gilroy hadn’t been fool, or drunk, enough to …
“We hope,” Reimers said sternly, “that Gorman did not arrange this attack.”
Ranklin drew himself up stiffly. “I hardly think that a stranger with barely a word of your language could arrange such a thing, particularly with Captain Lenz’s trained detective looking on. Now, has Gorman broken any law?”
Reluctantly, Lenz had to admit not.
“Very well. Thank you for your information, Captain, but provided no law has been broken, then a servant’s behaviour, no matter how ill-advised, is a matter for his master.”
Lenz might be disappointed, but Ranklin was playing the scene for the more cosmopolitan Reimers, who smiled in his beard and said: “But would the good Dr Watson have behaved so? Now, I think you want to see the locks at Holtenau.”
“Yes, but not until I’ve solved the case of what yachtsmen have for breakfast.”
Over breakfast in the original Club building, he read the Balkan news in the Kieler Zeitung. The Serbs were resisting strongly, and though it said nothing about the Greeks, he was reasonably sure they wouldn’t have been caught dozing. In a few days, Bulgaria was going to regret starting this war, no matter what secret encouragement it had been getting from Vienna. But supposing that encouragement became more open? Austria-Hungary wanted Serbia slapped down, but if one major power joined in, could the others stand idle?
Morosely, he joined a crowd of suntanned men in identical blue blazers and white trousers all harassing the hall porter for their mail. The impact of loud-voiced wealth depressed him further: each man here, he thought, could dip into his pocket and buy all I own. If, that is, I legally own anything but my own clothes. And even they – a dark town suit – aren’t the right ones for this occasion.
He was passed a single envelope and stared gloomily at the SY KACHINA embossed on the flap; if he hadn’t got the right clothes for the Club, they were even less right for a steam yacht. Then the gloom was swept away by pure terror: his own note had been innocent enough if steamed open, but what about her reply? Dear Spy …
No: My dear Mr Spencer – Delighted to hear from you again. If you would care to join us for lunch on board, be at the Club landing at noon. And by all means bring Gorman to carry your umbrella.
Yrs Affectionately, Corinna.
He let his shoulders sag with relief – a mistake in that muscular crowd, since he immediately got squashed flat. Wriggling his way out of the crush, he reflected that it was odd that she didn’t use her married name even to sign letters. American practice, perhaps. But now it was half past eight and time to find O’Gilroy.