David Dickinson - Death Comes to the Ballets Russes

‘The English politicians are preoccupied with matters at home, with strikes, with the problems of the House of Lords and the Irish question that never seems to go away. Her hopes are for a period of domestic peace and no change abroad. She worries that the great days of Empire may be over, that she could become one with Nineveh and Tyre.’

‘And France, Monsieur le Ministre?’

‘France hopes for la revanche , for revenge against Germany. Some of our monuments in the capital have been draped in black since we lost at Sedan in 1870. Nobody, man or woman, horse or dog has ridden through the great arch of the Arc de Triomphe since that date. La Gloire, l’Audace on the battlefield, the restoration of France to her rightful place as the cultural capital of Europe and the world: those are the hopes of France, Monsieur Brouzet.’

‘Germany, Mr Dubois?’

‘I didn’t come here to speak for the Germans, Monsieur Brouzet, but I can speak to the question. We are in touch with our comrades in Berlin and dustmen everywhere. Germany means the Kaiser, a bundle of neuroses and vanities. He wants to be master of the universe. He wants peace with all the world. He is obsessed with the country of his mother and his grandmother Queen Victoria. He is the most unstable ruler in Europe.’

‘I would dispute that, Mr Nivelle. I speak for Russia.’ M. Brouzet was inspecting his ivory chessmen very carefully. ‘I offer Tsar Nicholas the Second in place of the Kaiser. The Tsar is, even now, preparing to celebrate the tercentenary of the Romanovs next year. It will be a year of processions and parades and loyalty reaffirmed. Three hundred years of supreme power. He is probably waiting for some simple peasant being lined up to greet his Father, The Father of all the Russias, Nicholas the Second. Throw in Rasputin and the German bitch and the Tsar wins by several lengths. Above all, he wants no truck with Dumas and democracy. He wants to be an autocrat once again, to reclaim the past to secure his future.’

Colonel Brouzet paused for a moment and moved the white knight forward into an attack position. The black horseman went into the defence.

‘Time is short, messieurs, eternity is long, Sir Miles. We have to grasp the nettle. Each of you has one sentence to explain why your country would want to buy up these bonds. England, Sir Miles?’

‘England would buy the bonds to preserve the status quo and to prevent the Germans getting them.’

‘Thank you. France?’

‘France too would buy them for fear of the Germans having them.’

‘Russia, that’s me, is so preoccupied with the celebrations next year that it takes no notice of what might be happening in Paris.’

‘Germany would buy them to throw a spoke in the wheels of the Triple Alliance and because some Germans want war now before the Russians become too powerful with their new industrial might.’

‘Thank you all,’ said Colonel Brouzet, moving a couple of Chinese pawns on his board. ‘We may not have the answer, but at least we are better informed.’

Later that day, M. Brouzet sent the news of the vanishing bonds to his friend, the English investigator Lord Francis Powerscourt. There was only the most tenuous connection with the Ballets Russes — had one of their number brought word that the selling was to begin, perhaps? — but you could never tell.

Performing steps while on the tips of the toes, with feet fully extended and wearing pointe shoes, a structurally reinforced type of shoe designed specifically for this purpose. Most often performed by women.

They had most of the story now, Powerscourt and Lady Lucy. They knew that the jewels had been stolen in St Petersburg but they didn’t know who had taken them or from whom they had been taken. They knew that Anastasia had been charged with the selling of them, but not by whom. They knew now about George Smythe, currently sitting happily in a Powerscourt chair and drinking some Powerscourt coffee. Anastasia’s reluctance to name names did not extend to George’s, possibly because he was English. At any rate, she had thrown him, metaphorically, to the wolves at the first available opportunity. Anastasia had been so upset after telling most of the rest of what she knew that she had been sent back to her hotel in a taxi-cab.

‘Mr Smythe,’ Powerscourt began, ‘thank you for coming to see us so promptly. I appreciate that.’

‘Thank you, Lord Powerscourt.’

‘I’d just like to ask you a couple of questions, if I may. We are, as I am sure you know, engaged in the mystery of the deaths at the Ballets Russes, not into the thefts of large sums of money from a hotel in Russell Square. Let me begin by asking, who approached whom: did you get in touch with Anastasia, or did she get in touch with you?’

George Smythe paused before he replied. He was going to do a lot of pausing in the course of the interview.

‘She got in touch with me, originally.’

‘And how did she know to get in touch with you? Why you, George Smythe, and not anybody else?’

This question seemed to cause a certain amount of thought.

‘I knew she would be coming.’

‘How did you know she would be coming?’

‘Somebody wrote to me from St Petersburg, saying that a girl called Anastasia would be in touch with me.’

‘And are you prepared to tell us who that person is?’

‘No, I am not.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because, Lord Powerscourt, if I may say so, you are, in effect, behaving like a policeman in this matter. I do not wish to incriminate anybody, even in a country very far away.’

‘So the person who communicated with you came from St Petersburg?’

‘I can say no more than I already have.’

‘Very well. I can see your position. Would I be right in saying that your role in all this was, quite simply, to sell the jewels for the best possible price?’

‘Yes, my lord. It was.’

‘Could I ask how you sold them?’

‘I made enquiries. I found a firm called Johnston Killick in Hatton Garden. They took most of the jewels, as far as I know, to Antwerp and various places on the Continent where they had contacts. They offered to wire the money back to Russia. Anastasia wasn’t having that. She wanted the money delivered to the hotel in a suitcase. I put her in a taxi after our last meeting and asked the cabbie to take her to the Premier Hotel.’

‘You didn’t want to be seen at the hotel with her, is that right?’

‘It is.’

‘Why not?’

‘Lord Powerscourt, I’m sure you will understand. I’m not absolutely sure about the legality of my actions. I don’t see how I could be breaking the law selling some jewels. But I wasn’t sure. And I knew about the murders. It seemed to me the most prudent course would be to have as little as possible to do with the ballet people.’

‘That’s very helpful. And am I right in thinking that you are not prepared to tell us who contacted you from St Petersburg?’

‘No, I mean yes, you are right in thinking that.’

‘Not even if it was connected in some way with the ballet?’

‘You said earlier that you did not think there was a connection with the Ballets Russes.’

‘I did,’ said Powerscourt, ‘but now I’m not absolutely sure.’

Literally ‘to chase’. A slide forwards, backwards, or sideways with both legs bent, then springing into the air with legs meeting and straightened. It can be done either in a gallop (like children pretending to ride a horse) or by pushing the first foot along the floor in a plié to make the springing jump up. This step is generally found in a series, either with several of the same or a combination of movements. Like a glide.