Barbara Cleverly - The Palace Tiger

Edgar gave a sly grin. ‘Not your scene exactly, is it, Joe? All right. I’ll let you off the other exhibits!’ He waved a hand at a series of large glass cases. ‘Torture instruments, bits of gladiatorial gear. All in use until a few years ago, I’m told. And all very interesting. Rather far-sighted of Udai to preserve it, you’d say. Would have been all too easy to dispose of it in the name of modernity but that’s Rajputs for you — very conscious of their past and proud of it.’

They turned the lights off and left. Joe shuddered, his imagination telling him that this was not a room in which he would have enjoyed finding himself alone after dark. But his tour was not yet over. Remorselessly, Edgar opened the door of the next room along the passageway. ‘Here you are, you see, in complete contrast — could you have anything more up to the minute than this?’

‘This’ was a lavishly decorated shrine to the game of snooker. In the centre of the room, standing like a huge altar, a snooker table (though the word was inadequate for such a structure) gleamed in gold-embossed mahogany. In an echo of the ranks of lances next door, snooker cues were lined up against the walls in racks and scoreboards were fastened to leather-lined panels.

‘Most impressive,’ said Joe. ‘We must have a game sometime. And I’ll wear Sir George’s jacket in deference to the sumptuous surroundings. Anything less sartorially sensational would smack of disrespect!’

‘Do you have to talk like a music hall MC?’ grumbled Edgar.

‘It must be all this mahogany and red plush,’ Joe muttered.

‘Well, thanks, Edgar, for the tour,’ said Joe as they arrived in front of his suite. ‘Now go and get an early night, old man. Remember we have a brisk start in the morning.’

With a sigh of relief he went into his room, loosening his tie, kicking off his shoes, hurling his jacket in the direction of the wardrobe and making for the bathroom. He was glad he’d had the forethought to tell his valet to stand down; he didn’t feel up to an appraisal by Govind’s bland but all-seeing eye. There were many things he was unable to come by in India and solitude was one of them. With pleasure he ran his own bath and wallowed in the water, then stood naked and dripping wet on the marble floor for several minutes until he could imagine himself cool again before drying off.

There was a light tap on the door. Joe sighed and tucked a towel round his waist. He waited, expecting Govind to come in to check he had all he needed. The tap was repeated. Cursing to himself he went to the door and opened it. There was a rush of scented air as Madeleine ducked under his arm and dashed into the centre of the room. She looked excited and determined and she was holding out a brown foolscap envelope for him to see. Joe groaned.

‘Got it! Didn’t I tell you I’d do it! But you weren’t really listening, were you, Joe?’

‘Good Lord, Madeleine! What have you got there? Your “ticket out of here”, I think you said. . you see, I was listening! Is that it? I want you to tell me quickly and then buzz off, will you? You’ve already ruined my reputation irreparably!’

Madeleine rolled her eyes. ‘Your reputation! Joe, you squeal louder than a virgin in the Black Sox dressing room! No one saw me come. I was very careful. And I thought you’d be interested to see what I have here!’

With shining eyes she handed over the envelope. Resentful of his own curiosity, Joe opened it and slid out several printed legal documents. It was a few moments before he could work out what he held in his hand but when the import of the papers hit him he sat down abruptly on the edge of his bed, clutching them in a damp hand.

‘What the hell, Madeleine!’

‘Thought you’d be impressed!’

He leafed through the package silently adding up figures in his head.

‘A million? Have I got that right? A million dollars’ worth of bearer bonds, stock certificates, title deeds. . All instantly negotiable, I notice. Now. . the question is — do I want to know how you came by them?’

‘Well, since you ask so prettily, I’ll tell you! The ruler gave them to me this afternoon. I think he’s glad to pay me off and get rid of me.’

‘And what did you offer to do in return?’

‘It’s what I offered not to do that got his attention and triggered his generosity!’ she grinned.

She left Joe riffling in disbelief once more through the documents and poured out two glasses of tonic water from the tray laid ready. She handed one to Joe and sat down by his side. Her triumphant good humour was hard to resist.

‘Let me guess. . you promised not to reveal what Prithvi had been getting up to in the States, I begin to think most probably with his father’s connivance?’

She looked at him in some surprise. ‘Why. . yes. . something very like that. Say — you really can put it together, can’t you?’

‘Let’s start a bit nearer the beginning, shall we? I did wonder exactly what Prithvi was doing in an obscure part of the southern states. . Texas, was it?. . when he met you. Now, looking at these, I think I can guess!’

She nodded. ‘He’d been in Florida. Know where that is, Joe?’

‘Vaguely. Carry on.’

‘He’d been sent over to the States as his father’s agent. His financial agent. Things had not been going too well, cash-wise, in Ranipur for years.’ She paused, wondering how far she should confide state secrets, he guessed.

‘I had worked that out,’ he said encouragingly. ‘Years of drought, the mines running out, crippling of the lucrative trade routes, depopulation, over-taxation, enforced contributions to the war in Europe. . I could go on! The signs are all there to be read by anyone with eyes to see. In an earlier century they would have taken up arms against another state on some pretext or none and simply stolen their treasure but this is no longer an option allowed under the Raj. And the clues that indicate the coffers are bare are the unfinished projects and the calculatedly spectacular pieces of extravagance — hocus-pocus to hide the true state of the princedom.’

‘You’re a hard man to fool, aren’t you?’ she murmured. ‘Yes, you’ve got it figured right. They cashed in their reserves of jewels and Prithvi came over to the States — via Paris, Switzerland and Amsterdam — to invest in the future. They decided that instead of sitting by watching the last reserves be depleted year by year until the treasure house ran dry, they’d invest and get a return on their money. And, Joe, it’s working! These guys own Florida!’

‘Own Florida? Is that good?’

Madeleine sighed. ‘Prithvi was interested in golf and polo and that’s what originally attracted him to the place. He realized that what he thought attractive, others did too. Americans were taking vacations. . foreign tourists were arriving. Suddenly real estate was hot! People were buying up mangrove swamps before breakfast and selling them as building plots before tea. For fifty times the price! Prithvi got in on the deals right at the beginning. He did well.’ Her face was animated with humour and affection. Joe didn’t interrupt.

‘His family wasn’t always royal , you know? Merchants, that’s what they were from somewhere on the trade route north of here.’

‘Surigargh,’ said Joe.

‘That’s right, and I guess it’s in the blood — dealing, I mean. Prithvi was good. Very good. He diversified. He invested his Pa’s money in lots of things. He was bright, he was lucky. He followed his nose. One day he was in the crowd that listened to the Dempsey-Charpentier fight. The whole thing, well, all four rounds of it, was described from the ringside and put out all over the country by wireless-telephony. Prithvi wanted a part of it so he bought Westinghouse stock and you know what’s happened to wireless-telephony?’