I sighed heavily, thinking that the previous day’s catastrophe could indeed lead to quite unforeseeable consequences. If only there was no uprising as a result. And it was frightening to think what the émigré newspapers and the press of hostile nations would write.
‘I did not fully understand the allegory of the collapsed tower, but it seems to me, Erast, that you have precisely defined the most important feature of Lind’s character,’ Emilie said, nodding in agreement. ‘He is truly a poet of evil. And of hate. This man is full of hate, he literally exudes it. If only you had heard how he pronounces your name! I am certain that settling accounts with you means just as much to him as this ill-fated diamond. By the way, did I understand the meaning of the doctor’s curses correctly? You still have the stone?’
‘Would you like to take a look at it?’
Fandorin took a folded handkerchief out of his pocket and extracted the diamond from it. The bluish facets drew in the rays of the morning sun and glittered with bright rainbow sparks.
‘So much light,’ Mademoiselle said thoughtfully, screwing her eyes up slightly against the unbearable radiance. ‘I know what light that is. Over the centuries the stone has extinguished many lives, and they are all still shining there, inside it. I would wager that in the last few days the Orlov has begun to sparkle more brightly than ever, after absorbing new nourishment.’
She glanced at me, or rather at the top of my head, and said: ‘Forgive me, Athanas. Yesterday I was too concerned with myself and I did not even ask what happened to you. Where did you get that purple lump on your head?’
‘Ah yes, you know nothing about it!’ I exclaimed. ‘That is why you did not understand the Eiffel Tower.’
And I told her about the previous day’s carnage at the Khodynsk Field, concluding my narrative with the words: ‘Lind is not merely ruthless but also preternaturally cunning. Thousands of people were killed, but he survived unscathed.’
‘No, no, this is more than just cunning,’ said Mademoiselle, throwing up her hands, and the bedspread slipped off her shoulder.
The three of us would certainly have looked very strange to an outsider: Fandorin in a white tie, I in a torn jacket and Mademoiselle wrapped in a silk bedspread – we had no other clothing there for Emilie.
‘I think Doctor Lind is one of those people who likes to kill two hares with one stone,’ Mademoiselle continued. ‘When we were running through that appalling underground passage, he said something to his men in German after you shouted about the exchange: “I have four matters to deal with in Moscow: the diamond, Fandorin, Prince Simeon and that Judas, Carr.” From this I conclude, Erast, that your assumption about Lind play-acting jealousy is false. He was genuinely affronted by his lover’s betrayal. And as for yesterday’s catastrophe, most probably it was meant to serve a different purpose – to settle scores with the governor general of Moscow. If Lind had simply wanted to get away, he would have invented something less complicated and less risky. After all, he could have been trampled underfoot in the crush himself.’
‘You are a very intelligent woman, Mademoiselle,’ Erast Petrovich said in a serious voice. ‘And so you think that the life of our lover of dyed carnations is in danger?’
‘Undoubtedly. Lind is one of those people who never retreat or forgive. His failure will only further incite the hate that is seething and boiling inside him. You know, I formed the impression that those men attached some special, almost mystical significance to homosexuality. Lind’s cut-throats did not simply fear or respect their leader; it seemed to me that they were in love with him – if that word is appropriate here. Lind is like a sultan in a harem, only instead of odalisques he is surrounded by thieves and murderers. I think you were right about Mr Carr – for Lind he was something like a lapdog or a greyhound, an occasion for mixing work and pleasure. I am certain the doctor will not forgive him for being unfaithful.’
‘Then we have to save Carr.’ Fandorin put his crumpled napkin down on the table and stood up. ‘Emilie, we shall send you to the Hermitage, and you will warn the Englishman of the danger.’
‘Are you suggesting I should appear in the palace wrapped in this rag?’ Mademoiselle exclaimed indignantly. ‘Not for the world! I would rather go back to the cellar!’
Erast Petrovich rubbed his chin, perplexed.
‘Indeed. You are right. I had not thought of that. Ziukin, do you know anything about women’s dresses, hats, shoes and all the rest of it?’
‘Very little indeed,’ I admitted.
‘And I know even less. But there is nothing to be done. Let us give Emilie a chance to perform her morning toilette, while we make a visit to the shops on Myasnitskaya Street. We shall buy something there. Emilie, will you trust our taste?’
Mademoiselle pressed one hand to her heart.
‘My dear gentlemen, I trust you in everything.’
We stopped at the Myasnitsky Gate and hesitantly surveyed the frontages of the ready-made-clothing shops.
‘How do you like that one there?’ Fandorin asked, pointing to a gleaming shop window bearing a sign – THE LATEST PARIS FASHIONS.
‘I have heard Her Imperial Highness say that this season the fashion is for everything from London. And also let us not forget that Mademoiselle Declique does not have those things that a respectable lady cannot manage without.’
‘In what s-sense?’ Fandorin asked, staring at me dull-wittedly and I had to express my meaning more directly: ‘Underclothes, stockings, pantaloons.’
‘Yes, yes, indeed. I tell you what, Ziukin. I can see that you are a man well-informed about such matters. You give the orders.’
The first difficulties arose in the shoe shop. Looking at the piles of boxes, I suddenly realised that I had absolutely no idea what size we needed. But here Fandorin’s keen powers of observation proved most helpful. He showed the salesman his open palm and said: ‘That length plus one and a half inches. I think that will be just right.’
‘And what style would you like?’ the salesman asked, squirming obsequiously. ‘We have prunellas on a three-quarter heel – the very latest chic. Or perhaps you would like satin lace-ups, Turkish sateen slippers, Russian leather bottines from Kimry, chaussurettes from Albin Picquot?’
We looked at each other.
‘Give us the ones that are the latest chic,’ Fandorin decided boldly and paid nineteen roubles and fifty kopecks.
We moved on, carrying a lilac-coloured box. The sight of this elegant cardboard construction reminded me of another container that I had not seen since the previous day.
‘Where is the casket?’ I asked, suddenly anxious. ‘What if thieves should break in? You know Moscow is full of riff-raff.’
‘Do not be c-concerned, Ziukin. I have hidden the casket where even the detective department of the police will not find it,’ he reassured me.
We bought a dress and hat rather easily in the shop BEAU BRUMMEL. GOODS FROM LONDON. We were both rather taken by a dress of light straw-coloured barège with gold thread and a cape. Fandorin paid out a hundred and thirty-five roubles for it and upon my soul, it was well worth the money. The hat of lace tulle (my choice) cost twenty-five roubles. Erast Petrovich considered the paper violets on the crown excessive, but in my opinion they matched Emilie’s eyes perfectly.
We had a hard time of it in the lady’s underwear shop. We were delayed here for a long time because we were unable to give a proper answer to a single question that the saleswoman asked. Fandorin looked embarrassed and I wished the earth would open up and swallow me, especially when the shameless girl started enquiring about the size of the bust. It was in this shop that I overheard a conversation that completely spoiled my mood, so that I took no further part in discussing the purchases and relied entirely on Erast Petrovich.