The Curse Of The Diogenes Club (25 page)

“Your troika, de Mervilles’
landau – I came with them and was checking to make sure they didn’t
leave me behind, Lord Faversham’s carriage, Mrs Klein’s brougham,
Prince Sergei’s distinctive red carriage, and one or two
others.”

“I thought I saw a man in Mrs
Klein’s carriage as I was crossing the carriage park,” she
lied.

Damery dropped his diplomatic
gaze. “Well, I wouldn’t know about that,” he replied tactfully and
evasively, confirming that Xenia’s keen eye was not to be
doubted.

“Do you recall seeing a camera
on the hall table as you were going out to the lake?”

He shook his head. “No, I can’t
recall seeing one but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. I wasn’t
looking. Do you think the third bomb was inside the camera?”

“It does seem likely. Mrs Klein
was meant to join you in the dome room but she failed to arrive. Do
you know why?”

“I believe I heard Blague say
she went up to the wrong room. There were two rooms with hookahs,
you see, and she went to the other one and was surprised no one was
there so she came back down to the dance floor.”

Mr Blague was randomly potting
coloured balls on the billiard table when the Countess joined
him.

“May I ask you some questions
about the night of the ball?”

“Go ahead. Care for a game of
snooker while we talk?”

“Certainly.” She chalked her
cue while he set up the balls. “It was Mrs Klein who suggested you
try the hookahs, is that right?”

He nodded briskly. “I’ll break.
The balls scatter better if a man breaks. Yes, she seemed very keen
on the idea; she’d tried out the water pipes in Cairo. She said
she’d meet us up there because she was supposed to have a dance
with Pugswell or someone of that name but then that duel business
happened and we all left.” He missed his shot and cussed.

The Countess sank three balls
in arrow. “She apparently went up to the wrong room?”

“Nice play for a woman. Yes,
she went to the room on the other side of the pavilion.”

He missed again.

“When you were discussing the
duel can you recall what everyone was doing?” She sank another
couple balls then deliberately missed the next.

“Bad luck,” he said, not
unhappily, sinking a few. “Just arguing – that’s what we were
doing!”

“Were you sampling the shisha
while the argument was raging? Nice shot.”

He beamed. “No, everyone was
just milling about. Major Nash was pointing his pistol with menace
and the Irish interloper was stood in the centre of the room with
nowhere to run. Malamtov lit a cigarette and sauntered round the
room looking bored. De Merville examined the water pipes and played
around with them for a bit. Damery positioned himself between the
two young bucks. I checked out the shisha. Being in the tobacco
business, you see, it interested me quite a bit. I was keen to
learn more but I never got the chance.”

“You remained with Prince
Sergei by the lake after the bombs went off?”

He was going for his shot but
missed. “I might take that shot again,” he said, “your question put
me off my game.”

“Oh, yes, certainly, I’ll wait
till you’ve finished.”

He potted the ball and felt
vindicated. “You were saying?”

“Did you remain long by the
lake after the bombs went off?” she rephrased, watching as he
missed and she was forced to have a turn. She made sure to be wide
of the mark.

“Not long. I can’t say exactly
how long though. Malamtov collected his weapons, which had just
been tossed to the ground. He was furious because they are valuable
heirlooms. I helped him to clean them up; ruined a brand new silk
handkerchief in the process. Then we shared a cigarette and I
helped him carry them to his carriage. Duelling pistols are quite
heavy and the boxes are even heavier.”

“You left immediately after
that?”

He chalked his cue. “I couldn’t
see the point of staying longer. The ball was over. It was better
to leave it all to the troops to deal with.” He potted the next two
balls and beamed triumphantly. “I sat in the carriage for a bit and
waited for some of the carriages to clear out. The prince sat in
his carriage too. He was closer to the gate. I thought he was going
to leave but when he just sat and sat I ordered the coachman to go
around him. The coach went wide and almost hit a lady who seemed to
be lost.”

“Did you see anything unusual
in the carriage park?”

“I’m not sure what you mean by
unusual. I didn’t see the bomb man skulking around, though I did
see the photographer; he had ditched his folding camera and was
getting into one of the carriages.” He potted the last of the balls
and tried to look modest.

“Congratulations. Did you
happen to notice which one?”

“No, but as I was leaving I
noticed the carriage was doing quite a bit of shaking, if you know
what I mean.”

“Do you recall where the
carriage was parked?”

“It was parked right next to
Malamtov’s. Yes, now I remember it was the brougham belonging to
that Valkyrie. But she wasn’t inside it. I can swear to that. She
was down by the lake organizing a line of bucket boys. I could see
her metallic helmet flashing gold as some of the spot fires were
being put out.”

“Is General de Merville still
in the gun room?”

“No, I believe he went down to
the wine cellar with Malamtov to sample some Scotch. In fact, I
might join them. Care to come?”

She politely declined. She did
not want to interview the general while he was in the company of
others so she knocked on the door of Mrs Klein’s bedroom instead. A
lady’s maid ushered her in. The celebrated Spanish beauty was
sitting in a copper hip bath which had been placed in front of the
fire. Her naked breasts glowed in the flickering firelight and her
gorgeous dark hair fell wetly around her proud shoulders.

“Come in, Countess Varvara.
Make yourself comfortable in that armchair by the pie crust table.
Dolores can serve you a glass of Madeira while we chat. I will have
one too. I won’t bother to cover up. I can see you are not offended
by the naked female form. Not like Miss Blague, who would be
horrified to look at her own breasts. You want to know what I
remember about the night of the ball. I’m afraid the night was a
blur after those terrible bombs.”

The Countess knew she would
need to tread carefully. Isadora Klein was no fool. Flattery would
be pointless and subtlety would get her nowhere. She needed to
steer a gentle course between the two. “Mmm, a true vinho da roda;
was it aged in an estufas?”

“I see you know your wines,
Countess. It has been distilled from one of the last batches of the
vitis vinifera grapes to grow on the island of Madeira. Phylloxera
wiped out the rest. The vines were ripped out and they grow cane
sugar now. Times change but not always for the best. We have both
seen off rich husbands. We have more in common than you know.”

She soaped her voluptuous
breasts while she spoke. The nipples stood out like bullets.

“Did you know that a man was
sitting in your carriage while you were organizing the brigade of
bucketeers?”

Isadora was sang-froid
personified. “Poor thing! He was probably terrified and clambered
into the first womb-like place he could find. Men are such babies,
don’t you think?”

“Quite.”

“And such hopeless romantics
too! Take our brooding host and that intense Irish colonel, two men
who wear matching chips on their shoulders like badges of honour,
one on the right and the other on the left – fighting a duel over a
woman!”

“I believe it was Miss
Blague.”

Isadora laughed breathily and
it was like the sirocco, hot and sultry, reminiscent of the dry red
Saharan dust that can turn tropical and stormy when met with a cold
continental current of air. “Miss Blague is not for hot-blooded
men. She will marry the Hon. Pugsy Setterfield and settle happily
in Shropshire. I believe it was
you
they were duelling over.
Please do not bother with an ingenuous denial. They could hardly
keep their eyes off you at lunch. Some men not only make a virtue
of poverty, they flaunt it. Of course, you are not interested – you
do not wish to relinquish control of your fortune to a new husband
- and that only encourages them all the more. Some men never tire
of punishment. See, we have more in common than you think. What
else do you want to know?”

Was Mrs Klein implying they had
the major and the colonel in common as well as widowhood and that
she
wished to humiliate them by toying with their
affections? Or that Mrs Klein had not finished humiliating them and
had more in store? Did the colonel suffer the same humiliation at
the hands of the ruthless Queen of the Conquistadores as the
major?

“I believe it was you who
suggested visiting the room with the shisha and the hookahs?”

“Yes, I had sampled some shisha
in Cairo and when I mentioned the hookahs to the American he seemed
very excited. It was his idea to go straight up and the others
seemed equally keen. Just like babies! I had promised the last
dance to Pugsy and said I would join them as soon as I was
free.”

“You went to the wrong
room?”

“Yes, I was in a hurry because
dear sweet Pugsy wanted to chat after our dance. I shamelessly
brushed him off and raced up the stairs but when I got there the
room was empty and I realized my mistake.”

“You didn’t go to the other
room?”

“No, I bumped into the Princess
of Wales who was going to get her cloak in preparation for the
fireworks. I decided it was too late for shisha and collected my
cloak as well.”

“While you were in the foyer
did you notice if there was a camera on the hall table?”

Mrs Klein sipped her Madeira;
it was the first time she had hesitated. “Yes, yes, I did, now you
mention it. The studio photographer was coming down the stairs and
he picked up the folding camera resting on the table and put it in
the cupboard under the stairs. I remember at the time thinking it
was an odd thing to do. That was the bomb wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I believe so. After you
organized the relay of buckets you disappeared somewhere but you
didn’t leave. Your carriage was still in the carriage park. Can you
remember where you went?”

“I went to powder my nose. I
spoke to a few people on my way out but I cannot recall any names
now. It was all just a blur. I think I went straight home after
that. Yes, yes, I did.”

“The terrified man was no
longer in your carriage?”

“No, it was quite empty. He
must have gathered up his courage or realized he was in the wrong
carriage and fled before being discovered.”

“Do you remember if Prince
Sergei’s carriage was still there?”

“No, I was very tired by then
and I paid no attention to anything.”

Prince Sergei was returning to
his bedroom when the Countess spotted him. It was an opportune time
to catch him alone before he took a nap or a bath. She knocked on
his door and waited for his valet to open it.

“Who is it, Ivanchyk?” called
the prince, shrugging off his frock coat. “Ah, Countess Varvara,
entrez-vous, s’il vous plait, enchanté
.”

She spotted the hip bath by the
fire. “I hope I’m not holding you up from your banya?”

“Not at all,” he assured,
signalling for his valet to leave them. “Mr Blague said you were
asking questions about the night of the ball. You want to speak to
everyone, da? You are now an English detective, da?” He gave a
hearty laugh as he offered her a Russian cigarette.

She waited until he had lighted
it for her and then waited some more while he lighted one for
himself. They settled in armchairs either side of the copper
bath.

“What is it you wish to ask?”
he prompted, enjoying that first deep inhalation.

“When the duellists ran back to
the pavilion you stayed in the wood with the American?”

His distinguished face creased
into an undistinguished scowl as he exhaled. “Da, the major and the
colonel simply tossed the duelling pistols into the
merde
and fled. I was incensed. The trigger mechanisms on antique pistols
are delicate, you understand, sensitive and delicate. One should
treat them with respect, as one treats a beautiful woman.” He
essayed a charming smile her way. “One does not toss them aside
like a spent cigarette. Mr Blague helped me to clean them up and
re-house them. He helped to carry one of the boxes back to my
carriage.”

“You did not return to the
pavilion?”

“Certainly not! The place was a
madhouse. I could see all that from the wood. Bombs going off.
Women screaming. Men rushing about like headless chooks.
Mon
Dieu
! That Hispanic beauty was braver than all those Englishmen
put together! True daughter of a hidalgo! I watched from my
carriage as she rallied some weaklings to fill buckets with water
from the lake. She whipped them into shape by sheer force of female
will. You witnessed this too, da?”

“Mrs Klein was certainly
extraordinary.” She wondered if he’d already chosen his next wife
as she blew a plume of tobacco smoke across the top of the bath and
watched it merge with tendrils of steamy water vapour like two
will-o-the-wisps entwining. “I believe Mr Blague left immediately.
You did not follow?”

“As I said, I watched from my
carriage. The spectacle of the pavilion was more dramatic than the
fireworks. It was not a wise time to leave anyway. Blague’s horses
threatened to bolt. His coachman did his best to keep them steady.
He almost knocked over a lady looking for her carriage. The other
horses were spooked by the loud noises, pawing the ground and
stamping their feet. Coachmen were struggling to calm their steeds.
I lit a cigarette and thought to myself it was like watching a war
from the side-lines.”