‘Mademoiselle, did you see Mika?’ Pavel Georgievich asked.
‘No, Your Highness.’
‘What do you mean?’ Georgii Alexandrovich exclaimed. ‘They didn’t show you my son, but you gave them the bouquet anyway?’
This reproach seemed outrageously unjust to me. As if Mademoiselle could have defied an entire gang ofmurderers! But then I could sympathise with the feelings of a father too.
‘I did not see Mika, but I heard him,’ Mademoiselle said quietly. ‘I heard his voice. The boywas very close to me. Hewas sleeping and rambling in his sleep – he kept repeating: “Laissez-moi, laissez-moi,5 Iwon’tevereverdoitagain. . .”.’
She quickly took out her handkerchief and blew her nose loudly, seeming to take an awfully long time over this simple procedure. The room began dissolving in front of my eyes, and I did not immediately realise that this was caused by my tears.
‘Well then,’ Mademoiselle continued in a flat voice, as if she had a cold. ‘Since itwas definitely Michel, I decided the condition had been met and gave them the bag. One of the men said to me in a loud whisper: “It didn’t hurt him, the finger was amputated under an injection of opium. If the game is played fairly, there will be no more need for such extreme measures. Tomorrow be at the same place at the same time. Bring the Empress Anna’s diamond clasp. Repeat that.” I repeated it: “The Empress Anna’s diamond clasp.” That was all. Then they led me back to the carriage, drove me around for a long time and put me out beside some bridge or other. I caught a cab and drove to the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour, and the carriage was waiting for me there.’
‘Have you told us everything?’ Georgii Alexandrovich asked after a pause. ‘Perhaps you missed out a fewsmall details. Think.’
‘No, Your Highness . . . Except perhaps . . .’ Mademoiselle screwed up her eyes. ‘Michel never used to talk in his sleep. I suspect that yesterday they gave the child a very strong dose of opium and he has still not woken up.’
Pavel Georgievich groaned, and I involuntarily clenched my fists. We had to free Mikhail Georgievich as soon as possible, before that diabolical Lind ruined his health completely.
‘The Empress Anna’s diamond clasp! This villain has refined taste. And what has the perspicacious Mr Fandorin to say to all of this?’ Simeon Alexandrovich enquired sarcastically, addressing the retired deputy for special assignments directly for the first time that I could recall.
‘I shall be ready to present my reasoning following Mademoiselle Declique’s trip tomorrow,’ Erast Petrovich replied, without even turning his head towards His Highness. And then he added in a low voice, as if he were speaking to himself: ‘A whisper? That is interesting. I beg Your Highnesses’ permission to withdraw . . .’ He clicked open the lid of his Breguet. ‘It is already nine o’clock, and I have certain pressing business this evening.’
Yes, yes, I remembered. The gathering of the one-handed bandit’s gang.
Pretending that I wished to empty an overflowing ashtray, I overtook Fandorin in the corridor.
‘Your Honour,’ I said, forcing myself to smile beseechingly, ‘take me with you. I won’t be a burden to you, and I might even come in useful.’
I found this popinjay profoundly repulsive, but such minor inconveniences had no importance just at that moment. I knew that I would not get to sleep that night – I would be hearing the pitiful voice of Mikhail Georgievich tossing and turning in his delirium. It was quite possible that Karnovich was right, and Fandorin’s planwas absolute nonsense, but itwas certainly better than doing nothing.
Erast Petrovich looked searchingly into my eyes.
‘Well now, Ziukin. I realised yesterday that you are no coward. Come with us if you like. I hope you understand what a dangerous business you are getting involved in.’
The Japanese and Iwaited round the cornerwhile Fandorinwent on ahead alone.
Peeping cautiously round, I saw Erast Petrovich, once again dressed as a ‘toff’, strolling down the middle of the road with that bouncy stride. There was a crescent moon shining in the sky, as sharp and crooked as a Turkish yataghan, and the nighttime Khitrovka street was lit up as brightly as if the street lamps were burning.
Fandorin went down to the basement doors, and I heard him ask: ‘Code, are you there?’
I could not make out the answer.
‘I’m Striy, from theWarsaw mob,’ Erast Petrovich declared in a cheerful voice as he approached the sentry, who was invisible from where I was standing. ‘Me and Code are close mates, as tight as tight. Are all your lot here? And has Stump rolled up? Sure, I know the scrip, I know it. Just a moment . . .’
There was an abrupt sound like someone chopping a log of firewood with an axe and Masa pushed me forward: time to go.
We hurried across the empty space and ran down the slope. Fandorin was bending over, examining the door in the gates. A tousle-headed young man was sitting beside him with his back to the wall and his eyes rolled up, opening and closing his mouth like a fish that has been lifted out of the water.
‘A cunning d-door,’ Erast Petrovich said apprehensively. ‘You see that wire? It’s just like in a good shop – when you walk in, the bell rings. But we are modest unassuming individuals, arewe not? We’ll just cut the wire with a knife, like so. Why distract people from their conversation? Especially since it appears that Mr Stump has already arrived or, as they like to say in this beau monde, “rolled up”.’
I could not understandwhy Fandorinwas so very cheerful. My teethwere chattering in excitement (I hope that itwas excitement and not fear), but he was almost rubbing his hands in glee and in general behaving as if we were engaged in some enjoyable, if not entirely decent, form of recreation. I recalled that Endlung had behaved in the same way before he took Pavel Georgievich to some disreputable spot. I have heard that there are people for whom danger is what wine is to a drunkard or opium to the hopeless addict. Evidently the former state counsellor belonged to this class of people. In any case, that would explain a lot about the way he behaved and the things that he did.
Fandorin pushed the door gently, and it opened without a squeak – the hinges must have been well oiled.
I saw a sloping floor illuminated by the crimson reflections of flames. Somewhere down below there was a fire or torches were burning.
We walked down a rather narrow passage for about twenty steps and then Fandorin, who was at the front, flung out his hand. We heard voices echoing hollowly under stone vaults. My eyes grew slightly accustomed to the gloom, and I saw that the passage was formed by two rows of old oak barrels that were half-rotten from age and the damp air.
Erast Petrovich suddenly crouched over and slipped into a gap between the barrels. We followed him.
It turned out that the hugewooden containerswere not standing right up against each other, and the gaps between them formed a kind of a maze. We crept soundlessly along this winding path, maintaining our direction from the flickers of light on the ceiling and the sound of voices that became ever more audible, so that I could already make out individual words, although I did not always understand their meaning.
‘. . . Tomorrow I’ll drill a hole in your bonce if you yap. When I whistle, that’s when you can start crowing.’
Erast Petrovich turned into a narrow opening and stopped moving. Peeping over his shoulder I saw a bizarre and sinister scene.
There was a planking table standing in the middle of a rather wide space, surrounded on all sides by rows of dark barrels. Standing around itwere several iron tripods with burning torches thrust into them. The flames fluttered and crackled and thin plumes of black smoke rose up to the vaulted ceiling.
There were six men sitting at the table, one at the head and five along the other three sides. I could make out the leader better than the others because he was facing in our direction. I saw a coarse, powerful face with a prominent forehead, sharp folds alongside the mouth and a lower jaw that broadened towards the bottom, but it was not the face that caught my attention, itwas the leader’s right arm, lying on the table. Instead of a hand it had a three-pronged fork!