Writ in blood : a novel of Saint-Germain
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“She has been through an ordeal,” Blau agreed. “Which is why I would like to spare her a second one, as you know as well as I her testimony at a trial must be.” He prepared to write in his notebook. “You tell me you do not know this Oertel Morgenstem, who revealed so much to us?”
“The name is not familiar to me, no. I have thought about him since you mentioned him last night, and I cannot recall meeting anyone by that name. It does not mean I may not have encountered him once or twice, but if I did, it was without an introduction that I can bring to mind.” He frowned, his gaze directed at the logs in the copper bucket at the hearth. “And yet: you say he was watching me? For a cultural journal in Prague? I find that baffling, even if it were true. Did he indicate anything more?”
“Such as why?” Blau suggested. “Only in the vaguest terms, I regret to tell you; his discretion is exemplary. There was a kind of excuse he gave, although I doubt he cared if I believed him, which I did not. He said he was observing you for an article on exiles, those who have risen above misfortune.” Blaus inflection indicated how little he was convinced by that assurance. “I was certain he had other reasons, although I cannot confirm them, and it is not required of me that I try, for the case is solid without knowing Morgenstem s truth beyond his observations.” He scribbled a few words.
“Might not the defense call Morgenstem s statement into question, with so many questions about hirh as yet unanswered?” Ragoczy asked, thinking it was what he would do, were he defending Reighert.
“I think we have enough information to support everything he told us, aside from his direct observations of the evening of the murder, and for that we have Lukas Strauss, who is willing to appear in court.” Blau held his pen poised. “You are aware you were being followed while you were in Berlin?”
“I have been followed in many places, Inspector,” said Ragoczy.
Blau sniffed to show impatience. “About Berlin?”
“Oh, yes; two men stand out particularly: one was a thin sort of rabbity fellow, thirty or so, I should say; he kept track of me in Berlin. Most of the time he was riding a bicycle. There was a second man in Berlin: large, brutish, with a face that had seen some brawling. He generally watched my house on Glanzend Strasse, but occasionally followed me when I went out on business.”
“And you do not know who these men are, or why they watch you?” Blau persisted.
“Foreigners are often watched, for a variety of reasons,” said Ragoczy in a spirit of philosophical acceptance. “I am no longer surprised when it is done.” Over the last three thousand years he had ceased to permit such surveillance to trouble him; he had learned to deal with such inconveniences at the Temple of Imhotep, when he rarely left the building but was still subject to occasional scrutiny by the Temple denizens. “I regard it as a necessary evil of my... life.” At least, he reminded himself, these men were not officers of the Emirs son, or companions of the Vidame de Silenrieux, or familiars of the Inquisition, or Vasilli Shuisky s minions, or members of Saint Sebastien s coven: at the worst these men were spies.
“Do you know if they were foreigners?” Blau persisted, prepared to make more notes. “Was there anything to draw your attention in that regard?”
“You mean Austrian, or something further afield?” Ragoczy inquired, and answered before Inspector Blau could clarify, “No; there was nothing outwardly that made me think the men were anything other than German. I did not have occasion to hear them speak, and their clothes, as you might expect from men in their line of work, were quite inconspicuous.”
“You admit to having been in Berlin at the behest of Nicholas Romanov. That has been established, I am convinced. Your mission may or may not be as issue, but we will assume it is a factor. As an emissary of the Czar, you did not think you were being watched by his men, or by those who oppose him?” Blau made an uneasy gesture. “I am anticipating the concerns of the prosecutor.”
Ragoczy stared out the window at the trees. “No, Inspector, I did not have any reason to think the men following me were either in the employ of the Czar or of his enemies. And to anticipate the rest of it,” he went on with asperity, “no, I doubted the King of England, or any other power, in or out of Europe, had sent men to spy on me.”
“I did not intend to offend you, Count,” said Blau in a tone that was almost contrite. “You do understand the goals we are pursuing here, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” said Ragoczy, his manner becoming more compliant at once. “And I am in sympathy with you, although I am not fond of the method.”
At that, Blau was able to chuckle. “I am not enchanted with that myself.” He made a few more notes, then put his pen away. “It is not my
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favorite activity, either.” His smile was predatory. “I would far rather be running von Wolgast to earth, but until we have more information, any attempts along those lines would be wasted effort. And it could provide him the very thing we seek to withhold—a chance to slip through our fingers.”
Ragoczy glanced at the clock on the mantel. “If there is nothing more, I have a few matters to attend to,” he said to Blau.
“Not for the moment,” Blau said as he returned his notebook to his pocket. “We’ll let the rest go for now. I have a number of telegrams to compose, and then, as soon as luncheon is finished, I will go into Hausham to send them.”
“Then I wish you a good appetite,” said Ragoczy, preparing to leave the study to Blau.
“You will not be joining us?” Blau asked blandly as he screwed the cap back on his pen. “At luncheon?”
“Alas, no,” said Ragoczy. “I have a... condition of the blood that limits my diet, and for everyone’s comfort, I dine in private.” He gave Blau a knowing stare. “As my cook has certainly informed you.”
“Ah, yes.” Blau had the grace to be embarrassed. “Gualtier Shenk has been most informative, with your permission, he tells me. You are to be congratulated on the circumspection of your staff. He has confirmed everything you and Mister Bowen told us of how you came to go into Austria, searching for Miss . . . Saxon.”
“And are you satisfied on that account?” Ragoczy s manner remained courteous, but a quality of distance altered his demeanor in a subtle way.
“Generally, I am,” Blau answered more formally. “Although I am not yet certain I understand how Mister Bowen took it into his head to come to you.”
“That is a puzzle,” Ragoczy said, and turned to leave the study to Inspector Blau; he added from the door, “You will have to inquire of him.”
By the time the Inspector went into the dining room for luncheon, he saw Rupert Bowen had come down and was struggling, his arm in a sling, with a plate at the sideboard where the buffet was laid. Blau went to the Englishman’s aid, holding the plate for him while Rupert selected the items that struck his fancy. Only when Rupert had taken his place at the long mahogany table did Blau go back for his own food. Sitting down about hallway along the table, across from Rupert, he remarked in English, “You are looking improved, Mister Bowen. It is good to see you up and about.”
“I am feeling more myself. I expect I will be able to leave in a day or
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two, if I put my Darracq aboard a train, and me with it,” Rupert said as he attempted to cut his portion of eel with the edge of his fork. His jacket, borrowed from the stationmaster at Hausham, was slightly old-fashioned and too broad in the shoulder, which added to Rupert s uneasiness; he felt terribly conspicuous, both for his injuries and for his sartorial ineptitude.
Blau did not know if it would offend Rupert to offer him help again, so he merely said, “Let me know if there is anything else I may do for you.”
“Much appreciated,” muttered Rupert, continuing in his efforts. “I’ve been told one of the blighters who abducted Miss Pearce-Manning is being held in Innsbruck.” He lifted his head. “Ragoczy s man, Roger, has been keeping me abreast of developments.”
> “Yes. The man Reighert is going to be taken back to Berlin,” said Blau, tasting the eel, and delighted at how good it was. “I will be one of his guards.”
“But the other man is still at large? Is that right?” Rupert put his fork aside to listen.
“As far as I know this morning, yes, I am sorry to tell you he is,” Blau replied, and cut another slice of eel.
“I see,” said Rupert. The tone of his voice hinted at his desire to say more.
Blau could not resist probing a bit. “We have every hope of apprehending him shortly.” It was not the truth, but it caught Ruperts attention.
“You know where he has gone?” he demanded, his cheeks reddening. “You are in a position to apprehend him? You will have him under lock and key shortly?”
“Not yet, but we are pursuing every clue, and we are confident of useful results,” Blau said, unwilling to sustain the deception. “As soon as we do locate him, you will be informed of it, in Germany or in England.”
“Bloody poltroon deserves to be shot,” Rupert said under his breath.
“He has a great deal for which to answer, we are agreed on that,” Blau said, but thought that his view of von Wolgast s crimes and Rupert s view wouid be very different.
“And the other man, the one in Amsterdam? Mightn’t he know something of use? Have police taken him into custody yet?” Rupert asked, shifting awkwardly in his chair.
“I have not yet had word from Amsterdam today. I hope there may be some word at the railway station when I go there within the hour; I
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will be dispatching word of the Austrian decision to let our charges against Paul Reighert take precedence over theirs, and our coming extradition of him.” He decided that Rupert needed to hear some good news to make up for the failure to arrest von Wolgast. “We have been able to establish that Ragoczy played no part in Nadeznas murder; there will be no legal action taken against him, and all allegations will end.” Rupert did not seem pleased to learn this. He glowered down at his plate as if he had discovered the food was inedible. “How fortunate for the Count. He must be glad to be so conveniently absolved.”
Curious and bewildered, Blau went on with his meal while he tried to make sense of Rupert s evident dislike of his host. Finally he said, “I gather I have been under a misapprehension regarding your dealings with the Count. I have assumed you came to him for help. You did a heroic thing, driving here, and in such poor condition, to inform Ragoczy of the abduction. Your timely—”
“I did not come to inform him, or for his aid,” Rupert said huffily. “I came here because I was convinced he had arranged the abduction. I expected to find my fiancee here. It was enough to drive me mad when I discovered that in my haste to prevent scandal I had done the wrong thing.” Now that this confession was out, Rupert glared defiantly at the Inspector. “You may say what you like about my error, but how could I think otherwise? He had made her the object of his gallantry, even though he was aware of our engagement. He called upon her in Amsterdam, ostensibly to sit for his portrait, but with the intention of playing upon her emotions. I do not absolve him of all responsibility in these terrible events. Had he not encouraged her as he did she would never have been in the hands of such miscreants as von Wolgast and his henchman.”
“So he says himself,” Blau remarked, and heard a cough at the door; he swung around in his chair to see Rowena standing there, her posture overly straight. Blau half-rose from his chair. “Miss Saxon,” he said.
“Miss Pearce-Manning,” Rupert corrected him. “Saxon is the name she uses to sign her paintings.”
“It is my grand-father s name,” said Rowena with great finality. “I am proud to have it as my own.” She went to the sideboard and stood looking at the food laid out; she was hungry, but the thought of eating made her queasy; she poured herself a cup of coffee, added milk and sugar, and sat down at the foot of the table, three chairs away from the men. She stirred her coffee absently. “It is lovely outside.”
“Yes, I can see this,” said Blau, a little too heartily. “I am sorry my duties have not allowed me the chance to enjoy this splendid setting.”
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He started on his carrots baked with cheese, trying to maintain a degree of friendly chatter as he did. “I am told that the road to Stamberg is glorious at this time of year. Perhaps, when I have the opportunity, I will be able to see for myself.”
“And when do you think that will be, Inspector?” Rowena asked, her question remote, as if unattached to her.
“I would like to hope it would be soon,” said Blau with purpose.
Rupert seized on this with a tenacity that surprised Blau. “Then you do have some notion about von Wolgast’s whereabouts?”
Blau did his best to deflect the onslaught he knew was coming. “I cannot say quite yet. But I am expecting useful information this afternoon.” He did not mention specifically what he hoped his various morning telegrams would reap. “I do not want to offer false hope to you, Miss . . . erh ...”
“Saxon,” she informed Blau while staring at Rupert.
“Of course,” said the Inspector, and resumed, “I am fairly certain that we will be able to eliminate several points of egress for the Baron, and that will keep us from . . . isn’t the phrase ‘wild goose chases’?”
“That is the phrase,” said Rowena as she took a sip of her coffee. If only she could bring herself to eat, she thought as she stared at Rupert’s plate. Had three days’ captivity robbed her of her appetite so completely? She had a bit more coffee and thought it tasted like mud.
Rupert went back to work on his luncheon, glaring with the effort of cutting his food with his fork. When he had at last got four sections of eel ready, he shifted his gaze to Inspector Blau once again. “Something has been bothering me. Inspector: perhaps you can explain to me how a man of von Wolgast’s stripe has been able to carry on the nefarious activities of the last week without catching any attention? Didn’t anyone suspect he might be capable of—”
“Of abducting Miss . . . Saxon?” Blau finished for him. “If you can tell me why we should have made such an assumption, I wish you would. Mister Bowen.” He was almost finished with the contents of his plate, but he put his utensils aside in order to give his whole attention to Rupert. “It was not von Wolgast’s habit to announce his plans aloud to the world.”
“But surely someone must have—” Rupert insisted.
“Who? I gather it was his practice to tell his . . . associates only as much as each individual required to know in order to carry out his part in von Wolgast’s schemes.” He leaned forward. “Even your Scotland Yard would not have been able to determine what he had planned: I know this, for I have twice worked with Scotland Yard on cases involv-
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ing smuggling. By comparison with von Wolgast, the smugglers were sterling examples of loquacity.” He rose, nodding in Rowenas direction. “If you will excuse me, Miss, I must be about my work.”
“Certainly,” she said. “I wish you every success.” It was an automatic response, but in this instance she meant it as sincerely as she had ever meant anything in her life.
As soon as Blau was gone, Rupert took advantage of the moment to say, “It may not be the most opportune time to point this out, but I trust you have come to realize that this whole unspeakable episode could have been avoided.”
“Oh?” There was a brilliance in her golden eyes that should have warned Rupert he was on dangerous ground. “Why do you say that, pray?”
“Well I should think it is obvious,” Rupert declared, taking up some of the eel he had cut. “Had you not made that ill-considered move to Amsterdam, you would not have been accessible to von Wolgast s men.” “So I am responsible for my abduction?” she challenged him, her words keener because she dreaded that some portion of his accusation might be true.
“Well, not responsible, exactly,” he said, his ind
ignation fading, “but not wholly without blame. If you had listened to your mother, and to me, and allowed yourself to be guided by us, you would not have encouraged Ragoczy s attentions, and then you would not have suffered. None of us would have.” He showed his most indulgent smile. “You let your enthusiasm overwhelm your good sense.”
“How idiotic of me, to be sure,” Rowena said with a brittle laugh. “I should have arranged to be killed, so you would not have to be ashamed of me.”
“You were in the hands of those men for three nights,” said Rupert critically. “I know what the world thinks of such incidents.”
Rowenas face grew rosy. “You think that they . . . raped me? When I have told you and the police that they did not? Or do you require that they have done, so that you may feel more offended?”
“It is not my opinion that we must consider here, Rowena.” He stared down at his plate and poked the eel with his fork. “You know how censorious people are. It is the assumption the world will make, and—”
She did not let him continue. “You are telling me that you will give greater credence to gossip—to gossipl —than to my word?”
The sound of an automobile starting up in the courtyard reminded them both of Inspector Blau s errand.
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“I tell you, it isn’t what I think, it is what persons of quality will believe that concerns me.” He dared to meet her eyes. “If only you had not run off to Amsterdam in that ramshackle way, it might have been possible to maintain your reputation untarnished. But, Rowena, don’t you see what your ill-considered escapade has led to?”
“You mean,” she said crisply, “that persons of quality’ will take it for granted that by pursuing my painting, I became a woman who deserved to be abducted.”
Rupert’s face was a study in disapproval and misery. “I did not mean precisely that,” he began.
“No? It sounded very like that to me,” she countered, and braced her elbows on the table. “Dear me, I had not known that my painting was so very harmful to my good name—”