“I don’t believe in talking down to any audience,” Hornbeam said. “My real message is that international law touches us all, and increasingly so, since it grew primarily to govern our conduct in the making of war and the making of trade.”
“Very true,” Ranklin said, rather over-sincerely. “But tell me, sir, when you discussed intervention in a neighbouring state, did you have any particular situations in mind?”
“No, my boy, I was talking purely of principles. But I know what you’re getting at. Back home it’s assumed I was referring to Mexico, over here I find it applied to the Monarchy’s relations with, in particular, Serbia.”
“Do you find that embarrassing?”
“Indeed not. One of the experiences I hope for from this trip is to observe international relations in the field, so to speak, to meet those gentlemen applying such law to their everyday dealings. And perhaps be given the opportunity to comment on those dealings. Law should never become the house rules for life in an ivory tower.” He gave a little grunt of satisfaction whenever he felt he had ended on a telling phrase.
Ranklin also grunted, but just as another way of saying “very true”. “And it obviously gave you the opportunity to meet some interesting people?”
“We surely did. I believe I can say I met with almost all their leading jurists – but Lucy, of course, was more taken with high society.” He smiled indulgently at her and she hastily replaced her napkin in her lap before he could see the stain of lip rouge as well as peach juice.
“Oh, yes, we met Prince Montenuovo: he’s the … the Chamberlain at their court, and the boss of the Army, von … von …”
“General Conrad von Hotzendorff, usually just General Conrad.”
“That’s right. And Colonel Urbanski, I recall his name, and Herr Schwarzenburg – ”
When the waiter asked if they wanted coffee at the table or in the salon, Hornbeam pulled out a large gold watch and calculated. “We should be in Budapest in under two hours and there’s sure to be a welcoming committee and hand-shaking – I think I’m going to rest up a while. But you stay on and keep Mr Ranklin company, sweetheart.” He got up clutching a legal brief-case that seemed to go everywhere with him.
Lucy looked quickly around the dining-car. “Have you met any interesting people here, Mr Ranklin?”
Since, even if he’d been found “interesting”, Ranklin would rather talk to Corinna, he said sadly: “I’m afraid all the interesting people got off at Vienna, Miss Hornbeam.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It looks like you’re right. They all look like spies – isn’t this supposed to be the spies’ express? – except you and Mr O’Gilroy, of course. I guess I’ll rest up, too.”
Ranklin had brought an envelope of papers from Sherring’s office, and Corinna picked through them over her coffee to mask their talk as business.
“And how,” she asked, “did you get on with Lucy?”
“I listened well.”
Her voice got tart. “Lucy is a very sweet girl, she just happens to be the type who needs a husband to decide what sort of woman she’s going to become.”
“I’d suggest ‘silent’.”
“A husband who knows his own mind, no matter how little of it there is. Like an Army officer.”
Ranklin retreated behind a cloud of pipe-smoke, muttering: “Well, let her get on with looking, then.”
“What the hell d’you think she’s trying to catch around Europe? – smallpox?”
There was silence until O’Gilroy said: “At the end of Round One, the challenger, Matt Ranklin, was carried back to his corner in a bucket.”
She burst into laughter. “Oh shut up, Conall. Now, what did you make of Hornbeam himself?”
Ranklin reflected. “He doesn’t know much about European politics, but says he’ll be happy to offer them a comment if they’ll listen. I can’t say that improves my peace of mind.”
She nodded. “Yes, if he hadn’t got such a good opinion of himself I think he’d be surprised at being invited over. A guy I got speaking to at our Embassy certainly was surprised: said there were several lawyers in Washington and Harvard who were better informed.”
“Could it be that his naivety was part of his attraction? – to whomever asked him across. Who did, by the way?”
“Their sort of Bar Association.”
“But he was speaking at their Embassy in Paris. He wouldn’t be doing that unless somebody high up in their government approved.”
“Everybody seems to approve, with the people he’s been meeting. And it all seems a bit forced for a man who isn’t top in his field.”
“When ye got a circus come to a small town in Ireland,” O’Gilroy recalled, “they always had the Strongest Man In The World with ’em. And sometimes I’d wonder why he wasn’t in Dublin or London or Paris instead. But most folks jest liked to believe it.”
Corinna smiled a little ruefully. “Yes, society sets out to catch swans, but whatever they catch they’ll call it a swan.”
Ranklin said: “If all they wanted was to quote him on intervention, the damage is already done. He’s said it out loud, in public, on Austrian soil. What more can they want?” Then another thought struck him. “Is anybody making money out of the Strongest Swan In The World?”
“I thought of that. No, he’s getting well enough paid, but his lectures are free, by invitation only. I’d be happier if I could see some financial racket going on – but maybe it’s nothing more sinister than being nice to influential Americans: Hornbeam’s quite a voice in the Republican Party. But with a Democrat just installed in the White House …”
“They said they’d met a Colonel Urbanski. Did you?”
“No, I don’t recall … Who is he?”
“Head of their Secret Service.” Corinna’s eyes widened; Ranklin went on: “On the other hand, such people take evenings off, like to be seen at society shindigs talking to the right people; colonels want promotion, too.”
Corinna sat back, brooding. The parrot-voiced Turk came past, pausing to give her an unmysteriously Eastern look. Her return glance nearly unmanned him.
“Poor Lucy,” she sighed. “I fancy this train’s headed the wrong way for her ambitions-”
“Aren’t they breeding plenty of cavalry officers in these parts?” O’Gilroy asked. “Ye could fix her up with one of them. Or his horse, if she wants more high-toned talk.”
Corinna gave him a look. “I wasn’t being as serious about Lucy’s problem as she is herself. Trouble is, too many of her class at school have got English or French titles by now. And most of the Hungarian aristocracy, as I understand it, is broke and landless. So, back to business: how well d’you know Budapest?”
O’Gilroy shook his head, Ranklin said: “Hardly at all.”
“Me, too. I guess you don’t speak Magyar?”
“Who does?” Magyar was almost unique, related only to Finnish both in its grammar and its utter uselessness outside its own country. Most Hungarians they were likely to meet would speak German, too, but thought of it as the language of tradesmen and Austrians. English and French were acceptably “neutral”.
“You’re going to be great business advisers,” she observed.
“Both the iron business and banking,” Ranklin said solemnly, “are, effectively, what one does not call cartels. Even the Rothschilds, despite having a branch in Vienna, are losing their part in the government loan business to the German-backed banks. On the other hand, if that’s partly anti-Vienna sentiment, there could be room for an American player.”
“It’s light industry they’re short on,” O’Gilroy said, just as solemnly. “D’ye know they can only make clothes for a third of the population? And God knows it doesn’t take much money to start a sweat-shop, nor run one, neither.”
“You boys have been doing your homework,” Corinna admitted, smiling broadly. “But remember your real job is to turn your nasty suspicious minds on whether somebody is really trying to swing something by using Hornbeam.”