‘What do you want the dog for?’
Masa somehow managed to climb up on to the fence – about ten paces away from Fandorin – without releasing his live booty.
He swung his legs over, jumped down and dashed for the gate as fast as his legs would carry him. The mastiffs darted after the little titch, ready to tear him to pieces. But the nimble-footed valet opened the latch and flung the mongrel on the ground. It bolted out into the street with a squeal, and then a genuine miracle took place – instead of mauling the stranger, the guard dogs bolted after the mongrel.
It shot away from them, working its little legs furiously. The mastiffs ran after it in a pack, with their heads in line.
Ah, it’s a bitch in heat, Fandorin realised. Well done, Masa, brilliant!
The pack also set off at a rush after the terrifying suitors, but maintained a respectful distance. Five seconds later there wasn’t a single quadruped left in the street.
Masa walked out through the gate and bowed ceremoniously, gesturing to invite Erast Petrovich through on to the lawn. The vice-consul tossed his cloak into his servant’s arms, handed him the hat and went in – not over the fence, but in the conventional manner – through the gate.
In the distance he could hear the loud barking and lingering lovesick howls of the local canine community.
All things forgotten,
Careering along pell-mell,
Answering love’s call
THE GARDEN GATE
Erast Petrovich ran across the broad lawn, brightly illuminated by the moonlight. He walked round the house – if he was going to climb in through a window, it would be best to do it at the back, so that he would not be seen by some chance passer-by.
Behind the house he found a garden wrapped in dense shade – just what he needed.
Going up on tiptoe, the adventurer glanced into the first window after the corner. He saw a spacious room – a dining room or drawing room. A white tablecloth, candles burning out, the remains of a supper served for two.
His heart suddenly ached.
So, she dined with one and set out for a tryst with another? Or, even better, she returned from her dramatic rendezvous and calmly sat down to a meal with her ginger-haired patron? Women truly were mysterious creatures. After two more windows, the next room began – the study.
The windows here were slightly open and Fandorin could hear a man’s voice speaking, so he acted with caution and first listened to ascertain where the speaker was.
‘… will be reprimanded, but his superior will bear the greater part of the guilt – he will be obliged to resign in disgrace…’ said the voice in the study.
The words were spoken in English, but with a distinct Japanese accent, so it was not Bullcox.
However, the senior adviser was also there.
‘And our friend will occupy the vacancy?’ he asked.
Two men, Fandorin decided. The Japanese is sitting in the far right corner, and Bullcox is in the centre, with his back to the window.
The titular counsellor lifted himself up slowly, inch by inch, and examined the interior of the room.
Shelves of books, a desk, a fireplace with no fire.
The important thing was that O-Yumi was not here. Two men. He could see his rival’s fiery locks sticking up from behind the back of one armchair. The other armchair was occupied by a dandy with a gleaming parting in his hair and a pearl glowing in his silk tie. The minuscule man crossed one leg elegantly over the other and swayed his lacquered shoe.
‘Not this very moment,’ he said with a restrained smile. ‘In a week’s time.’
Ah, I know you, my good sir, thought Erast Petrovich, narrowing his eyes. I saw you at the ball. Prince… What was it that Doronin called you?
‘Well now, Onokoji, that is very Japanese,’ the Right Honourable said with a chuckle. ‘To reprimand someone, and reward him a week later with promotion.’
Yes, yes, Fandorin remembered, he’s Prince Onokoji, the former daimyo – ruler of an appanage principality – now a high society lion and arbiter of fashion.
‘This, my dear Algernon, is not a reward, he is merely occupying a position that has fallen vacant. But he will receive a reward, for doing the job so neatly. He will be given the suburban estate of Takarazaka. Ah, what plum trees there are there! What ponds!’
‘Yes, it’s a glorious spot. A hundred thousand, probably.’
‘At least two hundred, I assure you!’
Erast Petrovich did not look in the window – he was not interested. He tried to think where O-Yumi might be.
On the ground floor there were another two windows that were dark, but Bullcox was hardly likely to have accommodated his mistress next to his study. So where were her chambers, then? At the front of the house? Or on the first floor?
‘All right, then,’ he heard the Briton say. ‘But what about Prince Arisugawa’s letter? Have you been able to get hold of a copy?’
‘My man is greedy, but we simply can’t manage without him.’
‘Listen, I believe I gave you five hundred pounds!’
‘But I need a thousand.’
The vice-consul frowned. Vsevolod Vitalievich had said that the prince lived on Don Tsurumaki’s charity, but apparently he felt quite free to earn some subsidiary income. And Bullcox was a fine one, too – paying for court rumours and stolen letters. But then, that was his job as a spy.
No, the Englishman would probably not accommodate his native mistress on the front faзade of the house – after all, he was an official dignitary. So her window was probably on the back wall…
The wrangling in the study continued.
‘Onokoji, I’m not a milch cow.’
‘And in addition, for the same sum, you could have a little list from Her Majesty’s diary,’ the prince said ingratiatingly. ‘One of the ladies-in-waiting is my cousin, and she owes me many favours.’
Bullcox snorted.
‘Worthless. Some womanish nonsense or other.’
‘Very far indeed from nonsense. Her Majesty is in the habit of noting down her conversations with His Majesty…’
There’s no point in my listening to all these abominations, Fandorin told himself. I’m not a spy, thank God. But if some servant or other sees me, I’ll cut an even finer figure than these two: ‘RUSSIAN VICE-CONSUL CAUGHT EAVESDROPPING’.
He stole along the wall to a drainpipe and tugged on it cautiously, to see whether it was firm. The titular counsellor already had some experience in climbing drainpipes from his previous, non-diplomatic life.
His foot was already poised on the lower rim of brick, but his reason still attempted to resist. You are behaving like a madman, like a thoroughly contemptible, irresponsible individual, his reason told him. Come to your senses! Get a grip on yourself!
‘It’s true,’ Erast Petrovich replied abjectly, ‘I have gone completely gaga.’ But his contrition did not make him abandon his insane plan, it did not even slow down his movements.
The diplomat scrambled up nimbly to the first floor, propped one foot on a ledge and reached out for the nearest window. He clutched at the frame with his fingers and crept closer, taking tiny little steps. His frock coat was probably covered in dust, but that did not concern Fandorin just at the moment.
He had a far worse problem – the dark window refused to open. It was latched shut, and it was impossible for him to reach the small upper section.
Break it? He couldn’t, it would bring the entire household running…
The diamond on the titular counsellor’s finger – a farewell gift from the lady responsible for his missing the steamship from Calcutta – glinted cunningly.