‘Carr, beyond a shadow of a doubt, it’s Carr,’ the grand duke declared confidently. ‘Banville is a man from high society, after all. There’s no way to fake those manners and that way of talking.’
‘And just who, Paulie, told you Doctor Lind is not a man from high society?’ the lieutenant objected.
They were both right, and in general it all sounded very far from stupid. This was something I had not expected.
‘Should you not inform Colonel Karnovich of your suspicions?’ I suggested.
‘No, no,’ said Pavel Georgievich, shaking his head. ‘He or that blockhead Lasovsky will only ruin everything again. And in any case they both have plenty to worry about with the coronation tomorrow.’
‘Mr Fandorin, then?’ I asked reluctantly.
Endlung and His Highness looked at each other.
‘You know, Afanasii,’ the grand duke said slowly, ‘Fandorin is a clever chap, of course, but he seems to be preparing some cunning kind of operation. So let him get on with it.’
‘We’ll manage on our own,’ the lieutenant snapped. ‘Andwe’ll see whose operation is more cunning. But we need someone to help us. Tell me, Ziukin, are you with us or not?’
I agreed immediately, without even the slightest hesitation. I found the idea of doing something useful again, and without Mr Fandorin being involved, immensely inspiring.
‘What do we have to do?’ I asked.
‘First, tail them,’ Endlung announced briskly. ‘Both of them. Paulie can’t do it – he’s too conspicuous and also he has heaps of responsibilities. The royal family has an all-night vigil today, and in general he’s going to be like a little pug dog on a tight lead. That’s why we’ve brought you in. So I’m going to follow Carr and you, Ziukin, are going to follow Banville.’
I noted that he had kept the most promising suspect for himself, but I did not object – itwas Endlung not Iwho had come up with the idea.
‘Ah, how I envy you!’ His Highness exclaimed ruefully.
In accordance with our agreement, I installed myself with the Moscow Gazette on the bench beside the stairs, from where I had a view of His Lordship’s door. Endlung sat down to lay out a game of patience in the small drawing room, because he could see Mr Carr’s room from there.
In anticipation of our surveillance work I had changed my livery for a good suit of dark-grey English wool, a present from the grand princess the previous year. Endlung had also changed into civilian clothes – a sandy-coloured two-piece suit and dandified shoes with white gaiters.
To while away the time, I read the text of the solemn announcement to the people of the next day’s coronation:
His most Serene, Sovereign and Great Highness, the Emperor Nikolai Alexandrovich, having ascended the ancestral throne of the Russian Empire and the Kingdom of Poland and Grand Dukedom of Finland incorporated therein, has deigned, in the fashion of those devout sovereigns, his ancestors, to decree as follows:
The most sacred coronation of His Imperial Majesty and his anointment from the spiritual world shall take place, with the help of Almighty God, on the fourteenth day of this month of May. His Imperial Majesty has decreed that his consort, Her Majesty the Empress Alexandra Feodorovna, shall also be privy to these most sacred proceedings. This triumphant festivity is hereby proclaimed to all loyal subjects so that on this long-awaited day they might redouble their prayers to the King of Kings to illumine His Majesty’s kingdom with all the power of His grace and strengthen it in peace and quietude, to His own most sacred glory and the unshakeable prosperity of the state.
The sublime dignity of these majestic words filled my heart with a calm certitude. Reading official documents had always had a most salutary effect on me, and especially now, when the inviolability of the edifice of the Russian monarchy had suddenly come under threat.
I also studied with pleasure the composition of the company of heralds that was reading out this message every day on the Senate Square of the Kremlin: ‘An adjutant general with the rank of full general, two adjutant generals of adjutant-general rank, two high masters of coronation ceremonies, two heralds, four masters of ceremony, two Senate secretaries, two divisions in mounted formation – one of Her Majesty the Empress Maria Feodorovna’s cavalry guards and the other of the mounted lifeguards, with kettledrums and full choruses of trumpets, each division to have two trumpeters with trumpets decorated with cloth of gold displaying the state crest and twelve lead mounts in richly decorated horsecloths.’ How beautiful! Such music in every word, in the sound of every rank and title!
The previous year, on the initiative of the new empress, who wished to be more Russian than the Russians themselves, a genuine revolution had almost taken place in the names of court rankingswhen a projectwas conceived to replace all the German titles with old ones from Muscovy. According to Endlung the unrest among the servants at court had been reminiscent of the picture The Last Day of Pompeii by the artist Briullov, but, thank God, it had come to nothing. When the High House Marshal Prince Alten-Coburg-Svyatopolk-Bobruisky learned that under the new (or rather, old) order he would simply be called a butler, there was a great scandal, and the project was consigned to oblivion.
Through a hole I had made in a page of the newspaper, I saw Mr Freyby approaching along the corridor and pretended to be absorbed in reading, but even so the Englishman stopped and greeted me.
The butler’s company usually had a calming effect on me, but on this occasion his appearance was most inopportune, for the door of Lord Banville’s room might open at any moment.
‘Good news?’ Freyby asked, nodding at the newspaper and fishing his dictionary out of his pocket. ‘Khoroshii . . . novost?’
I did not have my dictionary with me – it was in my livery – and so I limited myself to a simple nod.
After looking me over carefully, the Englishman pronounced a phrase of four words: ‘You look better today.’ Then he rustled the pages of his lexicon again and translated it into Russian: ‘Ty . . . smotret . . . luchshe . . .sevodnya.’
I started and looked up at his ruddy features. Why would he advise me to look better? How did he know about our plan? What did he know in general?
The butler smiled benignly, bowed and proceeded on his way.
Five minutes later Mr Carr came out into the corridor, looking rather strange: despite the clear warm weather, he was wrapped in a long cloak reaching right down to his heels; his broad hat with a drooping brim was pulled down almost as far as his nose; and I also noticed that his shoes had heels that were high and extremely thin. On pressing my eye right up against the hole in the page, I sawthat the English gentlemanwas even more thickly painted and rouged than usual.
Stepping gracefully, Mr Carrwalked through to the exit. Then Endlung strode past me, whistling light-heartedly. He looked round and winked, and I remained at my post. But I did not have to wait for long. Literally half a minute later His Lordship’s door squeaked and Banville followed them out, walking on tiptoe. He was also wearing a cloak, but not such a long one as Mr Carr’s.
There was something mysterious going on. I waited for as brief a moment as possible, put on my bowler hat and joined this strange procession, bringing up the rear. Onthat day the emperor and empress had moved from the Alexandriisky Palace to the Kremlin, and so all the police agents had disappeared from the park, which was most opportune as to any observer our manoeuvres would certainly have seemed suspicious. I could not signal to Endlung because I was afraid of startling Lord Banville, and the lieutenant himself did not look round. However, he was strolling along casually, and I soon realised that His Lordshipwas not interested in Endlung at all, but in Mr Carr.