Writ in blood : a novel of Saint-Germain
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“You mean you would expect him to send one of his ministers instead of a Carpathian exile? Why not include a full military escort and a brass band for the occasion?” Ragoczy inquired without rancor, although Sinclair-Howard s distrust of him and his motives was patently obvious. “But then his desire to have these agreements made without public notice, which he wishes to avoid, would have to end in failure or disappointment. The Czar is afraid that if his intentions are made known generally, that his purpose will be thwarted or so distorted that he will be unable to achieve his purpose, and the results may well make such limitations of arms impossible in years to come. For that reason, I am to speak with Edward on his nephews behalf so that they may come to a private decision. I presume that is part of what is contained in his letter to you.”
“In part,” said Sinclair-Howard, his hands beginning once again to shake. He strove to control it. “I find this all most irregular.”
“That it is,” Ragoczy told him. “But the regular diplomatic channels have proved to be too arduous for the Czar, too complicated by the expectations of many factions. He has decided upon a more simple, direct approach. A matter between family members, with a mutual understanding.”
“Yes, that is what the letter indicates. He is going to appeal to his cousins privately, through your good offices,” said Sinclair-Howard as he glanced down at the page again, as if he suspected it might have altered in the last minutes. “This is in his own hand, I surmise?”
“Yes. The Czar is as troubled with rumors and favor-mongering at his court as Edward is undoubtedly at his court as well. Nicholas decided that there would be no gossip if he wrote the letters himself, and sealed them.” Ragoczy could see the look of satisfaction that crossed Sinclair-Howards face. “Yes. You are the first to see the letter since Nicholas himself.”
“He indicates here that there is nothing in your mission that he has not outlined here, and that you are not empowered to act as anything
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but his messenger to secure these private agreements. Your negotiations may only be within the parameters he has already established with you. He says he reposes complete confidence in your abilities.” He regarded Ragoczy with an expression that was not quite respect beyond what was due to someone of Ragoczys position.
“That is a great compliment, and a grave responsibility,” said Ragoczy, aware that Sinclair-Howard was trying to find his footing. “Especially since I am, as you have said, not Russian.”
Sinclair-Howard straightened up in a manner suggesting he was about to take charge of the matter. “Well, I will do what I am able to, Count, such as that may be. I will see that the King is informed of your errand, and I will attempt to schedule a meeting for you in such a way as not to draw attention to it, as the Czar requests. That much I can promise you. Whether King Edward will be inclined to see you I can’t venture to say. Rest assured, however, that I will give your mission my best efforts, for his nephews sake.” His smile was as practiced as it was arrogant. “But these things take time.”
“I understand,” said Ragoczy, preparing to rise: he had accomplished as much as he could realistically expect in such an introductory meeting and he had no reason to prolong the discussion with Sinclair-Howard, which would serve only to strengthen the diplomat’s reservations about him. “And I appreciate your efforts.”
Sinclair-Howard recognized that the conclusion of this interview was at hand. “I will keep you informed, of course. If I do not, you must remind me.” There was a smugness about him that Ragoczy did his best to ignore. “I can’t tell you when I will have information for you; it should be fairly soon. I may not be able to arrange a meeting for a short while; I hope you will make allowances: I offer my apology for any inconvenience you may experience. In irregular circumstances such as this is, delays are likely. If you will leave your telephone number with the desk, I will seek to notify you as soon as—”
Ragoczy interrupted as politely as possible. “I would prefer we did not discuss this on the telephone, although I will leave the number for you. When you have something to tell me, let me know and I will meet with you wherever it may be prudent to meet, at whatever hour you designate.”
“Do you have something against telephones?” Sinclair-Howard sought to reassure his foreign visitor, remembering that Russia was backwards in many areas, and distrust of innovation was rife there. “The invention is new, but not so new that you should not deign to use it.”
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But Ragoczy shook his head. “It is not the telephone that troubles me, Mister Sinclair-Howard: it is those who may listen.”
Sinclair-Howard rose, doing his best to control his expression. “I assure you that no one in this building would—”
“But it is not just this building that must concern us, is it?” Ragoczy again interrupted, his voice mild. “There are many who may avail themselves of the opportunity to . . . eavesdrop. I recall seeing a report in one of your newspapers only two days ago—not in the Times, of course—in which the information had been obtained from an unnamed employee of the telephone exchange.” He let Sinclair-Howard have several seconds to consider this. “I would not like to see the purpose of my visit here bruited about in the press.”
“No. Certainly not,” said Sinclair-Howard. “Very well. I will make an appointment with you as soon as I have something in place. In the meantime, I trust you will find our London entertainments to your liking.”
“I always enjoy London,” said Ragoczy, remembering the times he had been here, since the place had been a Roman encampment called Londinium. He got out of his chair.
“Perhaps I could arrange an introduction or two, if that would suit your purposes? I have a few connections that may interest you.” It was more than his post required, but if Ragoczy was going to speak with King Edward, it would be no harm to have him give a good report of Julian Sinclair-Howard.
“Thank you, but I have some introductions already, through business associates, and a few diplomats I have had occasion to meet in the past.” He realized Sinclair-Howard assumed he was not involved in trade. “When one has lost everything but titles, business is necessary to survival, Mister Sinclair-Howard.” He did not add his alchemical work had financed most of his commercial ventures.
“No doubt,” said Sinclair-Howard, who could not entirely conceal his contempt for such concerns.
“Do not worry,” Ragoczy said gently. “I have no disreputable dealings that would embarrass you or Czar Nicholas.”
“Of course not,” Sinclair-Howard said dubiously. What was it about Ragoczy, he wondered, that Czar Nicholas should be willing to trust him?
As he held out his hand, Ragoczy achieved a brief smile. “If you wish to be certain, you need only consult with my solicitors. Their chambers are not far from here. Cowper, Sunbury, Halliwell, and Melton, in Middle Temple Lane. Speak with the elder Sunbury. I will authorize him
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to release all relevant information.” He was well-aware of the sterling reputation of the firm, and the standing of Carlisle Sunbury.
“Well; Cowper, Sunbury, Halliwell, and Melton. Most unexceptional,” said Sinclair-Howard, his old-fashioned expression as much a sign of snobbery as approval: the solicitors had a long history of incorruptible reliability, and as a result their clients came from the upper reaches of British society. “I am sure there is no need to request bona fides of them, not with this letter from the Czar.”
“I can give you the names of my men-of-business as well, if you would like,” said Ragoczy; he was not above being amused by Sinclair-Howard s apparent awkwardness.
“That is hardly necessary, Count,” said Sinclair-Howard rather stiffly, aware now that he was being tweaked.
“Very likely not,” said Ragoczy. “Still, if you seek reassurance that I am not some homeless adventurer taking advantage of the Czar to promote my own interests, I will be more than willing to show you that I am w
ell enough off in the world not to require the favor of Kings to maintain myself.” His personal fortune he knew to be vaster than Edward himself could boast.
“Yes. Well, if there are questions in that regard—”
“Other than your own?” Ragoczy interjected.
“—I will ask for that information when they arise.” Sinclair-Howard was visibly affronted as he finished. He went to the door with Ragoczy to hold it open for him. “I will notify you when there have been developments.”
“Thank you,” said Ragoczy, then added, “I am sorry if I have caused you any distress, Mister Sinclair-Howard. I would like to think you will not let any personal aversion to me influence your diligence on behalf of the Czar.”
“I . . . This has nothing to do with my . . . opinion of you, Ragoczy,” said Sinclair-Howard mendaciously.
“Does it not.” Ragoczy gave Sinclair-Howard a moment to consider his remark, then said, “Adieu. I anticipate our next meeting with hope.”
Sinclair-Howard was relieved to close the door on this most perplexing visitor. He could not help but wonder as he went back to his sherry, how such a poseur had gained the confidence of Nicholas Romanov—a confidence Sinclair-Howard was certain would be abused.
At the reception desk, Ragoczy paused to leave his telephone number with Crosleigh, then reclaimed his cloak, gloves, hat, and umbrella before stepping out into the bustle of Chancery Lane, and turned not north, toward the British Museum, but south toward the Thames and
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Middle Temple Lane; it was only a matter of a few blocks to reach his destination. Since his interview with Sinclair-Howard had been more brief than he had thought it would be, he decided to call on Carlisle Sunbury and give him permission to release certain of his records to Sinclair-Howard.
Ragoczy was admitted at once to the elder Sunbury s office, a dark, cavernous room with vast numbers of books behind glass panels. He was given a seat before the hearth, next to the well-used chair Sunbury had long claimed as his own. Behind them, Sunbury s desk was stacked with case file boxes. Carlisle Sunbury, whose long face had been schooled never to reveal anything of his inner perceptions, listened to what Ragoczy had to say, one lean finger crooked under his mouth, his deep-set eyes half-closed. “I will attend to it, Count,” he told Ragoczy; in his mouth the title was honorable rather than spurious.
“Thank you; I knew I could depend on you,” Ragoczy responded.
“That you may,” he confirmed. “It will give me much satisfaction to do this. And I would hope you would permit me to put the word about that you are not the sort of scoundrel, to take advantage of your mission, whatever it may be.” He lifted his hand to silence his client before he protested. “Oh, nothing obvious, or too contrived, but enough to take the wind out of Sinclair-Howards sails.”
“Why do I have the impression that you have more reason to do this than preserving my reputation?” Ragoczy asked as he studied Sunbury s uninformative features.
“Yes, you have the right of it.” Again he paused, offering no explanation. He gazed contemplatively into the middle distance. “In fact, Count,” he went on with a speculative lift to one shaggy brow, “if you were of a mind to accompany me Friday week to a weekend party in Chalfont Saint Giles, I think you might make headway on your own account. It is a private gathering, just the sort that would serve your purposes. Don’t worry. You would not have to do more than put in an appearance for the entertainments. But I believe it would do you good.”
“In what way?” Ragoczy was not enthusiastic.
“In many ways. For one thing, it will give you a chance to get about. That will dampen any speculation that you are avoiding anyone. Certain closed doors might open more quickly. It will also make the reason for your presence in London less a mystery.”
“And is it that?” Ragoczy wondered aloud.
“For some, yes, it is. When a man of your wealth is in London, many are curious as to the reason. If you would get out where you can be seen, you will be able to show you are not a recluse or a schemer.” Sunbury
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pulled out his pocket watch and studied the face, then replaced it. “This weekend party is a fine opportunity for you. I doubt it will be too awkward. I will try to see to it that you need not be pestered about meals.”
“Have you an appointment?” Ragoczy had taken note of the watch.
“Not for twenty minutes yet.” He returned to the previous subject. “What do you think, then? about the weekend party?”
“Who is the host of this event?” Ragoczy asked, prepared to decline politely. There were too many risks for him in such a setting, no matter how useful it might be.
“Pearce-Manning. He’s Brookes nephew, you know. Used to be poor as a parson’s groom, until he married that American woman. Now he’s got more of the ready than I’m likely to see in a lifetime, and the promise of more still when his father-in-law dies. They entertain generously, and very casually. Buffets four times a day, and dressing for the evening, but not to sit down. It is considered a coup to be invited, though no one likes to admit it. Longacres is a pleasant estate. You’ll not have a dull time of it. The food is excellent—not that you care about food—and the company is usually stimulating. Clarice Pearce-Manning is a woman of eclectic tastes and interests. It is difficult to be bored by her entertainments.” He stretched out his legs making his lean frame appear even more attenuated. “You will have the opportunity to make yourself known without display.”
“And, I would suppose, with some of the same officials to whom Sinclair-Howard would report?” Ragoczy guessed.
“I am pleased you take my meaning, Count.” He sighed once. “You will find that these men do not like to have their opinions formed by the likes of Julian Sinclair-Howard.” His normally deep and lazy voice now snapped like a closing trap. He glanced at Ragoczy. “One of those self-important functionaries, is Sinclair-Howard. Oh, yes, indeed: I have had dealings with him in the past. He figured in an estate my son represented, about three years since.” The languor came back into his voice. “It was not an edifying experience.”
Ragoczy hesitated, then ventured, “I take it that Sinclair-Howard’s opinion is not the only one that will be consulted? That young man— Crosleigh, the receptionist? Won’t he make a report?”
Sunbury chuckled. “You’ve always been hard to deceive. Count. Yes, young Crosleigh is probably the most knowledgeable young man for contemporary Eastern Europe and Russia that the Foreign Office has. They’re grooming him for an Ambassadorial post at the least. If he had not been satisfied with you, Sinclair-Howard would have been sum-
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moned to an urgent appointment and you would never have got upstairs.”
“And the old soldier in the cloakroom?” Ragoczy asked blandly.
This time Sunbury slapped his knee. “There is no deceiving you, is there? You’re right. He knows every spy who has ever set foot on the good, green isle of Britain. If he had recognized you, you’d be explaining yourself elsewhere by now.” He glanced aside. “Julian Sinclair-Howard is the least of your obstacles at Number Two, Saint Dunstan-the-West Close, little though he may be aware of it.” He reached into his jacket for the triple-cigar case, drew it out and opened it. “I know you do not indulge, so I will save us both the trouble of a declined offer.” “Good,” said Ragoczy with a touch of irony.
Sunbury went through the ritual of examining his cigar, then produced a safety match and lit it, blowing out a rum-scented cloud of smoke. “If you like, you may motor down with my son and me. It is not a very long trip, but it does take more than an hour.”
Ragoczy made up his mind. “If I have no appointment with King Edward, then it would be . . . interesting to go with you. I assume I will be permitted to bring my manservant?” He was a bit surprised at himself for agreeing so readily; he would have to ask Roger to plan the trip carefully. “However, in regard to the ride to
Chalfont Saint Giles, I would prefer to have my chauffeur drive us in my motor car.” He would have to travel by day, and the seats of his Silver Ghost were lined with his native earth.
“If that is what you wish, then Anselm and I will be delighted,” said Sunbury. “If you will call for us at half three, we will be ready.”
“Half three it will be,” said Ragoczy, comforted by the thought that if things went badly he could always return to London; that was another reason to have Harris drive. “You will have to guide us there.”
“Of course; in fact, I will send you a map,” said Sunbury. “You will not regret it, Count.”
“I will confirm this with you on Wednesday,” said Ragoczy, rising, and although he was nearly a head shorter than Carlisle Sunbury, he gave the impression of greater presence. “Will there be any difficulty about including me in that weekend party, do you think?”
At that, Sunbury gave a rumbling laugh. “Impossible. It is given by a socially ambitious American. If I know Clarice Pearce-Manning, she will be beside herself to have such a guest as you.”
Aware that Sunbury wished to reassure him, Ragoczy said, “You must let me know if she would consider me imposing upon her.” As he drew on his cloak, he said, “Will I be able to flag a cab, do you think?”
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“At this time of day? Of course.” Sunbury regarded Ragoczy. “Are you going back to your house?”
“No; to the British Museum. Harris is waiting for me there.” He drew on his gloves as he went on. “Call me when we have more to discuss. I will meet you at your convenience.”
“Still uncertain about telephone operators, I see,” said Sunbury. “In your situation, I might well feel the same way. A word or two in the wrong ears could make your work here much harder than it already is.” He watched as Ragoczy prepared to let himself out of the office.
“Diplomacy is not a speedy art,” said Ragoczy.