Boris Akunin - The Coronation

The Japanesewould learn about it from his master in any case. Mademoiselle could not be kept in ignorance either – thatwould be too cruel. Foma Anikeevich and Luka Emelyanovich could give useful advice. The only awkwardnesswas occasioned by the presence of Mr Freyby.

Catching my glance, the Briton raised his eyes from his book and mumbled something incomprehensible, with his pipe swaying up and down.

‘I know everything,’ Mademoiselle translated into Russian, pronouncing the word ‘efrything’. ‘My lord has told me.’

The butler stuck his nose back in his book to let us know that we need not take any notice of him.

Well then, so in England gentlemen had no secrets from their butlers. So much the better.

I briefly told my comrades about the letter, the sinister doctor and the decision that had been taken at the secret council. They heard me out in silence. It was only when I told them that Doctor Lind never returned his captives alive that Mademoiselle broke downand gasped, clenching her firmlittle fists above the table. To assist her in mastering her understandable agitation, I digressed briefly to talk about the remarkable self-control shown by Georgii Alexandrovich. But, as was often the case, Mademoiselle’s comment took me by surprise.

‘Georgii Alexandrovich has six sons from Heh Highness and two from a young ballehina. If Doctor Lind had abducted His Highness’s only daughteh – O, he would have behaved quite diffehently.’

I must confess that I was flabbergasted – both by the judgement itself (which might not have been entirely unjustified, since Xenia Georgievna really was Georgii Alexandrovich’s favourite) and by the tactless reference to Miss Snezhnevskaya.

Foma Anikeevich changed the subject and smoothed over the awkward moment.

‘Is there not anything that we servants can do, for our part?’

There you have a genuine butler – with only a fewscantwords he swept away the dross and defined the most important point. Compared to him we are all of us mere dwarves.

‘Pardon me for saying this, Afanasii,’ Foma Anikeevich continued with his unfailing politeness, ‘but we are not talking here just about the life of Mikhail Georgievich, but about even more significant matters – the fate of the monarchy and of Russian statehood itself. If you take all our internal upheavals, disorder and vacillation, as well as the sovereign’s obvious weakness and lack of experience, then add a blow like this, with the whole of society, the whole world looking on . . . The consequences are quite unimaginable. We, the servants of the Romanovs, must not allow it to happen.’

The Japanese banged his saucer down on the table and bowed his forehead down to the tablecloth so abruptly that I was afraid he was having an apoplectic fit. But no, it turned out to be a bow. With his forehead still touching the tablecloth, the Oriental addressed Foma Anikeevich, speaking with passion.

‘These words of genuine samurai, Foma-sensei, you nobur man.’

I had read that a samurai is a kind of Japanese knight, but I did not know the meaning of sensei. I can only assume it is some kind of respectful oriental formof address, similar in kind to cher maître.

Foma Anikeevich replied with a polite bow and the Japanese straightened up.

‘We have to hewp my masta,’ he declared in his outlandish but perfectly comprehensible Russian. ‘Onry my masta can save ritter odzi and honow of the empia.’

‘I have heard a lot about Erast Petrovich, Mr Masa,’ said Foma Anikeevich. ‘I believe that during the governorship of Prince Dolgorukoi here in Moscow he performed no small number of remarkable deeds.’

I had not known that Foma Anikeevich was informed about Fandorin, but was not in the least surprised.

The Japanese replied staidly: ‘Yes, ver’, ver’ many. But that no’ importan’. Importan’ that my master will not wive if Dokutor Rind wive.’

It was not said in the most elegant fashion, but I understood the meaning.

Mademoiselle spoke in a different accent, far more pleasing to the ear: ‘But what can he do, your master?’

‘Evewyfin’,’ Masa said laconically. ‘Master can do anyfin’. Dokutor Rind will not wive.’

‘Lady, gentlemen, I propose the following . . .’

It immediately went quiet, and even Mr Freyby looked up from his book, peering curiously at Foma Anikeevich over the top of his spectacles.

‘Our gentlemen, unfortunately, are not on good terms with each other. That could be bad for the cause. Let us therefore agree that at least we servants will act together. We shall keep each other informed and protect His Majesty and Their Highnesses against making mistakes. Insofar as it lies in our power.’

That was how he spoke – simply and wisely.

At this point my assistant Somov stuck his head into the servants’ parlour and pressed his hand to his heart as he apologised: ‘Afanasii Stepanovich, gentlemen, I beg your pardon, but Her Highness is asking for Mademoiselle Declique.’

Then he bowed and withdrew.

‘Ah, yes, Monsieur Ziukin,’ the governess said to me. ‘Poor Xenia does not know. What can I tell her?’

‘Do not tell Her Imperial Highness about Lind’s threats,’ I said sternly, somewhat annoyed by such familiarity in speaking of Xenia Georgievna. ‘Simply tell Her Imperial Highness that the kidnappers are demanding a ransom and the money will be paid.’

I believe that she left the room feeling duly chastened.

A few minutes later I had reason to regret Mademoiselle’s absence, because Mr Freyby suddenly parted his lips to utter a brief phrase.

‘What was that you were so good as to say?’ Foma Anikeevich asked.

‘He say “A spy”,’ Masa translated – apparently he understood English.

‘A “spy” in what sense?’ I asked, puzzled.

The Briton looked hopefully at Foma Anikeevich, who suddenly frowned pensively.

‘Mr Freyby is quite right. Theremust have been a spy at work. The kidnappers were too well informed about your movements yesterday. I do not wish to upset you, Afanasii Stepanovich, but it is very probable that Doctor Lind’s spy is one of your staff. Can you vouch for your servants?’

I felt the colour drain from my face.

‘Not completely. I can vouch for those from St Petersburg. All of them apart from Lipps – the one who is serving us – are old and well-tried colleagues. But I have a temporary staff of nine here and I don’t know the local staff at all; Somov is in charge of them.’

‘Then extreme caution is required,’ Luka Emelyanovich declared solemnly.

Foma Anikeevich spoke to the Englishman: ‘Thank you, Mr Freyby, for a most pertinent comment.’

The English butler shrugged in incomprehension, and I remembered that I had the lexicon he had givenmeinmypocket.

I looked up the words and said: ‘Tenk yoo, Meester Freebee.’

He nodded and stuck his nose back into his Trollope (I had looked in the library and now knew that this was the name of an English novelist).

For a while we carried on discussing the means by which we could maintain confidential contact with each other, and then the meeting was interrupted by Somov sticking his head in at the door again. From the expression on his face I realised that something out of the ordinary had happened.

I excused myself and went out into the corridor.

‘Look here,’ Somov said, whispering for some reason, and held out a white envelope. ‘This has been found. The doorman picked it up. No one knows where it came from.’

I took the envelope and read the message in capital letters that was written on it in pencil:AVEC LES COMPLIMENTS DE DR LAND.

It cost me an incredible effort of will to maintain my composure.