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Two ladies were talking to each other – in low voices, but I could hear everything quite clearly.

‘. . . and the sovereign shed a tear and said: “This is a sign from above that I should not rule. I shall set aside the crown and go into a monastery, to spend the rest of my days praying for the souls of those who have been killed,”’ said one of the women, a plump and self-important individual but, judging by her appearance, not from the very highest society. ‘My Serge heard that with his own ears because yesterday he was His Majesty’s duty orderly.’

‘Such nobility of soul!’ exclaimed her companion, a somewhat younger and simpler lady, gazing respectfully at the plump woman. ‘But what about Simeon Alexandrovich? Is it true what they say, that he was the one who persuaded the tsar and tsarina to go to that ill-fated ball?’

I cautiously stole closer, pretending to be absorbed in studying some lacy bloomers with frills and ribbons.

‘Absolutely true,’ said the first woman, lowering her voice. ‘Serge heard His Highness say: “It’s nothing important. The hoi polloi have trampled each other in the rush to get hold of something for nothing. Stop playing the baby, Nicky, and get on with ruling.”’

The fat lady seemed unlikely to have enough imagination to invent something like that. How like Simeon Alexandrovich it was to repeat word for word the phrase that was spoken to Alexander the Blessed by the killer of his father!

‘Ah, Filippa Karlovna, but why did they have to go to the French ambassador’s ball on such an evening?’

Filippa Karlovna sighed dolefully. ‘What can I tell you Polinka? I can only repeat what Serge said: “When God wants to punish someone, He takes away their reason.” You see, Count Montebello had ordered a hundred thousand roses to be brought from France especially for the ball. If the ball had been postponed, the roses would have withered. And so Their Majesties came to the rout but as a token of mourning they did not dance. And now there are rumours among the common folk that the tsar and his German woman danced with delight at knowing they had killed so many Orthodox souls. It’s terrible, simply terrible!’

Oh Lord, I thought, what inexcusable frivolity! To set the whole of Russia against oneself for the sake of some roses! The Khodynsk Field tragedy could still have been explained by some unfortunate confluence of circumstances; an exemplary trial of the organisers of the revels could have been arranged – anything at all, as long as the authority of the supreme ruler was maintained. But now universal hatred would be directed not only against the governor general of Moscow, but also against the tsar and tsarina, and everybody would say roses are more important to them than people.

We walked back along the street, carrying numerous boxes and bundles. I do not know what Fandorin was thinking about, but he had an air of concentration – probably he was making plans for further action. With an effort I also forced myself to start thinking in practical terms: how could we find the fugitive Lord Banville and Mikhail Georgievich?

Suddenly I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘And Freyby?’ I exclaimed.

‘What about Freyby?’

‘We have forgotten all about him, but he is one of Lind’s men too, that is obvious! And the doctor left him in the Hermitage for a good reason – to act as his spy! Why, of course!’ I groaned, appalled at the belatedness of my realisation. ‘Freyby behaved strangely from the beginning. On the very first day he said that there must be a spy in the house. He deliberately led us astray so that suspicion would not fall on him! And there is something else. I completely forgot to tell you. When Lieutenant Endlung and I set out to follow Banville and Carr, Freyby said to me: “Look more carefully today.” I was struck by it at the time – as if he knew what I was going out to do!’

‘“Look more carefully today”? That is what he said?’ Fandorin asked in surprise.

‘Yes, with the help of his dictionary.’

We were obliged to interrupt our conversation because we were already approaching the house.

Mademoiselle greeted us still wearing the same bedspread, but with her hair neatly brushed and smelling fragrant.

‘Oh, presents!’ she exclaimed, surveying our baggage with delight. ‘Quick, quick!’

And she set about untying the ribbons and string right there in the hallway.

Mon Dieu, qu’est-ce que c’est?’1 Emilie muttered as she extracted the pantaloons chosen by Erast Petrovich from their pink packaging. ‘Quelle horreur!Pour qui me prenez vous?’2

Fandorin was a pitiful sight. His face fell completely when Mademoiselle declared that the pink corset with the lilac lacing was absolutely vulgar, only coquettes wore things like that and it exceeded her modest proportions by at least three sizes.

I was indignant. This man could not be trusted to do anything! I had only been distracted for a minute, and he had spoiled everything. The silk stockings were the only purchase he had made that received approval.

But there was a shock in store for me too. When she took the wonderful hat with violets that I liked so much out of its box, Mademoiselle first raised her eyebrows in surprise and then laughed. She ran across to the mirror and turned her head this way and that.

Un vrai épouvanteil!’ 3 was her pitiless judgement.

The remarkable dress of barège and the silk shoes, the latest Parisian chic, were judged no less harshly. ‘I see, gentlemen, that in the most important things of all you are not to be trusted,’ Emilie concluded with a sigh. ‘But at least I can get to the Hermitage, and then change my clothes.’

Before he put Mademoiselle in the cab, Erast Petrovich gave her his final instructions.

‘Tell them that Ziukin and I rescued you from captivity and we are continuing our search for Lind. Do not give away our address. You do not know that we have the Orlov and the other jewels. Rest and recover your strength. And one other thing.’ He whispered although the coachman could not possibly have understood French: ‘As far as we can tell, Freyby is one of Lind’s men. Keep an eye on him and take special care. But not a word about this to Karnovich, or the colonel might spoil everything in his eagerness. Definitely do tell him about Banville. Let the police join in the search, it will make Lind’s life more difficult. Well that is all. Goodbye. If something urgent comes up, telephone. You know the number.’

He shook her hand. Ah, gloves, I thought. We had completely forgotten to buy her gloves!

‘Goodbye, my friends,’ Emilie said, fluttering her long eyelashes and switching her gaze from Fandorin to me. ‘I am eternally in your debt. You freed me from that dreadful cellar, where I was choking to death on the smell of rotten potatoes.’ Her grey eyes glinted mischievously. ‘It was very romantic, just like a novel about chivalrous knights. Although I have never heard of knights rescuing a beautiful lady from an enchanted castle with a yard keeper’s crowbar before.’

She waved to us in farewell and the carriage set off towards the Myasnitsky Gate.

We gazed after her for a long time, until the cab disappeared round a bend. I glanced sideways at Fandorin. He looked thoughtful, even rather bewildered. Could this lady’s man possibly have developed special feelings for Emilie?

‘What next?’ I asked in an emphatically cool voice.

Fandorin’s face suddenly turned gloomy and determined, but he did not answer me straight away, only after a very lengthy pause indeed.