Pinkrose bent over it, smiling thinly, and agreed: ‘It has a certain macabre charm.’
Watching the faces of the two elderly men, Harriet suddenly saw them similar and bound in understanding.
Inchcape promised Pinkrose: ‘I will take you down to the Dâmboviţa. You’ll be delighted by the odds and ends one can pick up there. Ikons, for instance. In my bedroom, I have quite a collection of ikons.’
Time was passing. The other guests were slow in coming. The front-door bell rang at last, but the newcomers were only Dobson and David Boyd.
Dobson, usually a vivacious guest, was greatly subdued by the death of Foxy Leverett, who had been his friend. He apologised that his stay must be brief: he had only come to make the acquaintance of Lord Pinkrose.
‘I left the Legation in a pretty fair flap,’ he said. ‘McGinty was found this afternoon, here in Bucharest: in a lane behind the law courts. He’s in poor shape.’
‘You mean he’s been ill-treated?’ Inchcape asked.
‘He’s been tortured. At least, he’d been strung up by his wrists and beaten. His back was in a shocking state. I must say, H.E. has been simply tremendous about all this. He went straight to the Minister of the Interior and demanded a full enquiry into Foxy’s death and this business of McGinty. He said he would not rest until the culprits were brought to justice. It was just like the great days of Palmerston and Stratford-Canning. And the Minister of the Interior wept. He’s supposed to be a Guardist, but he said: “You English are a great people. We have always loved you. Some of us believe that even now you may win the war. But what can we do? There are too many of the young men. We can’t control them.”’
‘But why did they pick on McGinty? What had he done?’
‘Nothing. But his name was on a list …’ Dobson paused, sipped at his drink, then, having said so much, realised he had to say more. He added: ‘Before the war, Britain, France and Rumania compiled a list of engineers who could be relied on to destroy the oil-wells should the Germans occupy Rumania. This list was handed to Germany by the Vichy government. Voluntarily, I may say. The men who’ve been kidnapped were on it.’
Clarence asked sharply: ‘Do you mean McGinty isn’t the only one?’
Dobson looked about him, flustered. ‘Look here,’ he said. ‘Keep all this under your hat. There’s no point in starting a panic here. These men were all specialists. They knew the risk they ran. They could have left when the others went: they chose to stay.’
‘How many have been kidnapped?’ Clarence insisted.
‘Four, including McGinty. The Iron Guard imagine there’s some plot to blow up the wells. They’re a pack of clumsy fools. They want information. They think they can get it by beating these chaps up.’
‘What about the other three?’ Guy asked.
‘No news yet.’ Dobson put down his glass then, turning to Pinkrose with his official smile, made a little speech welcoming him on behalf of Sir Montagu who was ‘tied to his desk’. ‘I’m afraid it’s a difficult time,’ said Dobson smiling.
Pinkrose agreed in a surprised tone: ‘Things do seem a little unsettled …’
‘A little, a little. But H.E. thinks we should hang on here as long as we can. Show them we’re not defeated yet.’
‘I heartily agree,’ said Inchcape.
When Dobson had gone, David and Guy went out to talk on the terrace. Inchcape, who now seemed more resigned to Pinkrose’s arrival, began asking him, pleasantly enough, about their acquaintances at Cambridge. Harriet stood around awhile, waiting to see if Clarence would speak to her. When he remained aloof, she went out to the terrace where she could hear David snuffling in delight. He was saying: ‘Recent events have shocked poor old Sir Montagu to the core. He was heard to say (of course, I only have Dobson’s word for it): “So young David Boyd was right. Things have come unstuck in just the way he predicted.”’ David was staring modestly at his feet. He sniffed his amusement, then said with his usual tolerance: ‘Sporting of the old boy to admit it, don’t you think? But the fact is, he still thinks that somehow or other the situation can be salvaged.’
Guy said: ‘It could be salvaged even now – by a Russian occupation. Not that Sir Montagu would welcome that.’
‘No, indeed! But I’m afraid there’s little hope of it. The Russians don’t feel too secure. They’re not likely to enlarge a frontier they may have to defend.’
In the pause that followed, Harriet took the opportunity to speak of Sasha Drucker: ‘Now that Foxy is dead, what can we do?’
‘I wouldn’t worry,’ David said in his usual unperturbed tone. ‘When a Legation goes, there are always a number of committed aliens packed on to the diplomatic train. It’s taken for granted. No questions asked.’
‘You think you could take Sasha? That would be wonderful. But supposing we have to go before the Legation goes: what could we do with him?’
Guy took her arm. ‘Let’s face these problems when we come to them,’ he said and led her back into the room.
A gloom overhung the party. No other guests had arrived. Inchcape was becoming bored and Clarence remained silent, retired into a chair. When the doorbell rang, Pinkrose watched hopefully but the new arrival was not a beautiful, hospitable princess. It was Woolley. His face was lugubrious and his conversation did nothing to lighten the atmosphere. Like Inchcape, he was inclined to blame Foxy for getting himself killed, but the ill-treatment of McGinty he took as a warning of the fate that might overhang them all. He made no mention of the other engineers who were still missing, but said:
‘I don’t like the smell of things. I don’t like it at all. People are getting out, and I don’t blame them. The Rettisons have gone. Been here three generations. Now they’ve moved to the Levant. It’s bad for business, all this shunting and shifting. You don’t know where you are from one day to the next.’ He brooded awhile, his long, sallow, pendulous head hanging over his glass, then he looked up and sighted his old enemy, Harriet. ‘My lady wife’s taken herself off, as is only right and proper. His Excellency wants the ladies out of the way. He said to me only yesterday: “If I have to evacuate the English Colony, I’m only taking young men of military age.”’
Harriet’s response was sharp and quick: ‘If Sir Montagu thinks he can take my husband and leave me behind, he still has a lot to learn.’
Woolley gave her a long, sour, threatening look. ‘We’ll see,’ he said.
‘Yes, we will see,’ Harriet vigorously agreed.
There was a silence, protracted until Pinkrose suddenly threw out his hands with the gesture of a man tried beyond all endurance. ‘What is all this, Inchcape? Evacuating the British Colony! Taking young men of military age! What is going on here?’
Inchcape replied in reasonable tones: ‘As you noted yourself, my dear fellow, things are a little unsettled. After all, there’s been a revolution. You must have heard of it.’
‘I heard something. The Times mentioned that King Carol had been deposed. That’s always happening in Balkan countries. No one, at any time, suggested there was any danger.’
‘No one suggested there was any danger!’ Inchcape parted his lips and looked about him. He asked the room: ‘What were the London officials thinking about? Are they so wrapped up in the piddling chit-chat of administration that they are totally unaware of conditions in Eastern Europe?’
His voice rose, indignant on Pinkrose’s behalf but Pinkrose was not to be diverted. ‘You should have warned me, Inchchape. I take this badly. I take this very badly.’