‘Yes, they’re not far from—’
‘There’s a decorative p-park there. We saw it from the boat, remember? Do you remember the bridge suspended on cables over the ravine? I told you I had seen one almost exactly like it in the Himalayas?’
‘Yes, I remember, but why are you telling me all this?’
‘Be there tomorrow morning. At six. Bring the stone and the casket.’
‘Why? What has ha—’
‘Yes, and one more thing,’ he said, interrupting me unceremoniously. ‘Do not be surprised as I shall be dressed as a monk. I might well be late, but you, Ziukin, be there on time. Do you understand all that?’
‘Yes, that is no. I don’t understand a single—’
I heard the disconnect signal and slammed the receiver down in extreme indignation. How dare he talk to me in that fashion? He had not explained anything; he had not told me anything! How had his meeting with Somov gone? Where was Fandorin now? Why was he not coming back here? And, most importantly, why did I have to take the jewels to such a strange place?
I suddenly recalled the strange expression with which he had looked at me when we parted. What was it he had wanted to tell me as he left, but had not been able to bring himself to say?
He had said: ‘This is where our paths part.’ What if our paths had parted not only in the literal but also the figurative sense? Oh Lord, and I had no one to ask for advice!
I sat there, looking at the silent telephone and thinking intently.
Karnovich? Out of the question.
Lasovsky? I could assume that he had been removed from his post, and even if he had not been removed . . .
Endlung? Of course. He was a fine chap. But he would be no help in a such a puzzling business.
Emilie! She was the one who could help me.
I had to telephone the Hermitage, I realised, and ask for Mademoiselle Declique in a disguised voice, preferably a female one . . . And at that very moment the telephone came to life and began ringing desperately. God be praised! So Fandorin was not quite such an ignorant fellow as I had supposed. We had simply been cut off.
I deliberately spoke first, so that he would not have a chance to shock me with some new trick in his usual manner.
‘Before I do as you demand, be so good as to explain,’ I said hurriedly, ‘what happened with Somov? And why disguise yourself as a monk? Could you not find any other costume? This is sacrilege!’
‘Mon Dieu, what are you saying, Athanas?’ Mademoiselle’s voice said and I choked, but only for a moment.
It was simply wonderful that she had phoned me herself!
‘Who were you talking to?’ Emilie asked, changing into French.
‘Fandorin,’ I mumbled.
‘What monk? What has Somov got to do with anything? I’m ringing from his room, your old room, that is. Somov has gone missing; no one knows where he is. But that is not important. Carr has been killed!’
‘Yes, yes, I know.’
‘You know? How?’ She sounded amazed. ‘All the grand dukes are here, and Colonel Karnovich. He has been interrogating Freyby for several hours. The poor colonel has completely lost his head. He took almost no notice of my arrival – all he said to me was: “You can tell me later; it’s not important just now.” I try to tell him about Lord Banville, but he does not believe me! He tells me I am mentally disturbed because of all the shocks. Can you believe it? He imagines that Freyby is Doctor Lind! I want to ask you and Erast for advice. Perhaps I should try once again? Explain to Karnovich that Freyby is only a minor figure? Or perhaps tell him that you have found the empress’s stolen jewels? Then all these gentlemen will calm down and start listening to me. What should I do?’
‘Emilie, I am in need of advice myself,’ I confessed. ‘Never mind about Mr Freyby. I don’t think he is guilty of anything, but let Karnovich carry on questioning him. At least that will keep him busy. Don’t tell anyone about the jewels. I have a different idea . . .’
I hesitated, because the idea had only just occurred to me and it had not been properly formulated yet. I picked the telephone book up off the table and opened it at the letter ‘p’. Was the Vorobyovsky Park listed?
As I leafed through the pages, I said what I would not have been able to say if Emilie had been standing there in front of me: ‘I am so glad to hear your voice. I was feeling completely lost and alone, but now I feel much better. I hope I am not speaking too boldly?’
‘Good Lord, Athanas, sometimes your formality makes you quite insufferable!’ she exclaimed. ‘Are you never going to say the words that I long to hear? Simply and clearly, with no quibbling or evasion?’
I guessed immediately which words she wanted to hear, and my throat went dry.
‘I don’t entirely understand,’ I croaked, nonplussed by her directness. ‘I think I have already said far more than might be considered acceptable, bearing in mind—’
‘There you go humming and hawing again,’ Mademoiselle interrupted me. ‘All right, damn you. I’ll shake your declaration out of you when we meet. But in the meantime tell me your idea. Only be quick. Someone could come in at any moment.’
I told her about Fandorin’s strange demands.
Emilie listened without saying a word.
‘I intend to act differently,’ I said. ‘Let us meet and I shall give you the casket and the Orlov. At dawn I shall go to the meeting place and demand an explanation from Fandorin. If his answers satisfy me and I realise that he really does need the stone for this business, I shall telephone you from the office in the Vorobyovsky Park. There is an apparatus there, I have just checked. Be ready. From the Hermitage to the Vorobyovsky Park is a fifteen-minute ride in a cab. Fandorin will not lose much time as a result of these precautions.’
I heard her breathing in the earpiece, and that quiet music warmed my heart.
‘No,’ Emilie said after a long pause. ‘I do not like your idea at all, Athanas. Firstly, I am not sure that I will be able to leave the Hermitage unnoticed today. Secondly, I am afraid that we will cause problems for Erast. I trust him. And you should trust him too. He is a truly noble man. More than that, he is an exceptional man. I have never met anyone else like him in my life. If you want the little prince to be rescued, go to the meeting with Erast and do exactly as he says.’
Her verdict shocked me, and in the most unpleasant way. She had even spoken like Fandorin: ‘Firstly . . . Secondly . . .’ How clever this man was at making people adore him!
I asked in a trembling voice: ‘You trust him that far?’
‘Yes. Implicitly,’ she snapped, and suddenly laughed. ‘Naturally, apart from dresses and corsets.’
What an incredible woman – joking at such a moment! But she was immediately serious again.
‘I implore you, Athanas, do everything that he says.’ She hesitated. ‘And also . . . be careful. For my sake.’
‘For your sake?’ I asked stupidly, which of course I should not have done, because no self-respecting lady could possibly have expressed herself more clearly.
But Mademoiselle repeated: ‘Yes, for my sake. If anything happens to Mr Fandorin, even though he is a genuine hero and an exceptional man, I can survive.’ She hesitated again. ‘But if anything happens to you, I am afraid . . .’
She did not finish the sentence, and there was no need for her to.
Totally and completely unsettled, I babbled in a pathetic voice: ‘Thank you, Mademoiselle Declique. I shall make sure to contact you tomorrow morning.’
‘Thank you, Mademoiselle Declique. I shall make sure to contact you tomorrow morning.’
Then I quickly hung up.
Oh Lord, had I imagined it? And had I understood the meaning of her words correctly?
Need I say that I did not sleep a wink all night long until the dawn?