Midnight Masquerade (21 page)

“I’m sure
my
team could make it; whether yours is up to it, only you would know. A couple of carriages have been through.”

“I believe I’ll tackle it,” Bidwell decided.

“I wouldn’t expose my nags to such inclement conditions if I were you,” Belami said. “The legs in particular are susceptible to the wet and cold. An inflammation . . .”

“Bessler is more important than a nag, Dick,” Deirdre exclaimed, disappointed in him. She had thought him dashing enough to undertake the expedition himself.

“Ah, is it for
Bessler
that you go to such great lengths? That is philanthropic of you, Bidwell,” Belami smiled.

“I’m anxious to get back in any case. You know I’m particularly eager to return as I mentioned earlier.”

“I’ll tell you what, then, I shall accompany you,” Belami told him, “but in your carriage, of course, and with your team.”

“No!” Bidwell said quickly. “No, there can be no need for you to leave your own party. I am promised to Miss Cookson this very night. I’ll drop Bessler off first and see what I can do for him, then go about my business. Kind of you to offer.”

“The least I could do was to offer,” Belami said, not pressing the offer at all. “I shall consult with Réal again, as to the best route.” He disappeared and Bidwell went upstairs to make his own preparations, while Deirdre returned once more to her cold breakfast.

She was not pleased with Dick. He had very thoughtlessly announced to Bessler the burning down of his apartment. He knew where Bessler lived—had asked him that question rather pointedly. Had he forgotten the address? Somehow, she did not think so. Bidwell was more thoughtful. Had there been no question of a trip to Paris in the offing, she might have judged less harshly, but it was always there, nagging at the back of her mind.

And for all Belami’s reputation as a keen solver of crimes, what had he actually done to recover the diamond? He had deduced, but to no good purpose. He had found the sheet and stocking and pistol. She had found the chain in the syllabub, and the clasp on Lenore’s hearth.

As she pondered this, she came to the conclusion that the reason no solution was forthcoming was that he knew very well Lenore had done it—along with an accomplice, of course—and he was protecting her. All this business of broken glasses and scratching stones was a bluff, a show of doing something, to assuage Aunt Charney and Deirdre herself.

There was a commotion in the hallway of Bessler and Bidwell leaving, with messages from the former to be passed along to her aunt. As soon as they had left, Belami opened the door of Snippe’s parlor and came out. She noticed the air of excitement about him, the sparkling eyes, the little lift of the lips, the general air of distraction. She also noticed he had not gone to check with Réal  for the best route.

“You might have said good-bye to your guests,” she charged.

“I waved from the window. They didn’t see me, as they were in such an almighty rush.”

“No wonder. Bessler is very concerned about his fire.”

“A pity, but I don’t suppose his apartment is furnished with rare, priceless objects, after all. What has he to lose, when it comes down to it?”

“Whatever he has means as much to him as your own rare and priceless items mean to you,” she retorted, angry with his callousness.

He ignored her taunt. “You noticed what Bidwell let slip?” he asked with a knowing look.

“What, that Bessler went to him as soon as he learned about the fire? He was urging Bidwell to take him home, as
you
didn’t offer to do it.”

“No, I don’t mean that, though Bidwell’s sudden attack of philanthropy is also highly suspicious. I mean that he knew I hadn’t recovered your aunt’s diamond. Did you tell him it was a hoax?”

“Of course not. You asked me to keep it a secret. It was more likely Bertie who let it slip,” she answered.

“You don’t think me foolish enough to have told
her!
No, no one told him, but still he knew, and with good reason.”

“How could he have known? Do you think he got into your vault and saw the diamond wasn’t there?”

“Not a chance. The vault is so well hidden I have trouble finding it myself. I’m sure they were looking. Bessler had been into my laboratory uninvited. He was aware I had a microscope—remember he mentioned it?”

“He might have guessed a laboratory would have a microscope. What a visit it has been! First the theft, then Bessler’s fire.”

“And before either of those, Belami’s late appearance, to set the mood of jollity. Cheer up; it will soon be over.”

Bad as it had been, its termination did not put her in a good mood. “You’re looking forward to getting on to Paris, I expect?” she asked with a toss of her head designed to show her indifference.

“Are we going to Paris? I had thought a warmer clime. Italy perhaps, for the treacle moon.”

“I have said often enough I’m not marrying you.”

“Too often. Repetition becomes boring. You ought to vary your conversation a little. I deserve at least a maybe, after the way you have led me on. Shocking behavior, luring me into your bedroom, where you might have known I would behave with total indiscretion. I come to see you are not nearly as nice as you pretend. And it’s a great relief, I can tell you.” A dangerously attractive smile descended on his lips, while his dark eyes caressed her.

She felt a flush start at her collar and rise up to stain her cheeks. “I did not lure you into my room,” she said stiffly.

“I insist I was lured by your charms, but acquit you of doing it consciously. At least admit you didn’t try to put me out.”

“I told you to leave!”

“You didn’t mean it, did you, darling?” he asked. “But I shall obey your command, however tardily. I
am
leaving very soon. Another secret. Don’t breathe a word. If anyone should ask for me, invent a credible lie.”

“I don’t lie!” she charged.

“No, and duchesses don’t wear paste either. You were less than truthful about your trek to my roof, and caused me to waste a good deal of time. If invention fails you, you can say Belami told you he was going over to Boltons’ to see how they are weathering the storm.”

“But that’s ten miles away.

“How did you know that?” he asked.

“Because Réal  mentioned going there. Belami, what is going on at Boltons’?”

“Didn’t you know Lennie’s husband is there?”

“Lenore’s husband! I knew this had to do with pulling Lenore’s chestnuts out of the fire!”

“What on earth are you talking about?” he asked, frowning, but not very convincingly.

“You know perfectly well she stole my aunt’s diamond, and are arranging some trick to cover it up.”

He shook his head slowly. “How did you ever manage to convince the world you’re intelligent?” he asked sadly. “Every bit as muddle-headed as Bertie. It is Belami’s chestnuts I am retrieving from the fire—on Glasshouse Street, you know. I hope you liked roasted chestnuts.”

“I despise them,” she said firmly.

“Then I’ll eat ‘em all myself. I must take my leave of Bertie. Keep an eye on her for me, will you? You might as well begin learning you inherit a sixty- . . . sorry, fifty-four-year-old child with this marriage, darling.”

“As repetitions bore you, I shan’t repeat myself. You might as well go. I’m not trying to stop you.”

“You don’t have to try to wind me around your finger. So long as you stay there gazing at me with those great, stormy eyes, I am transfixed to the spot. Close your eyes, like a good girl, and let me go.”

When she only opened them more widely and blinked, he lifted his open hand and gently placed it over her eyes. She felt a brushing kiss on her lips, and when she opened her eyes, she saw his back disappearing down the corridor. He was gone, and she was in as much confusion as ever, though the surface of her mind did not dwell on it.

She stood remembering that even from the back, he was irresistible. Such a jaunty step.

Chapter 15

The temperature
had risen to forty-nine degrees. The melting snow was troublesome underfoot, but not so bad for mounted riders as for carriages. Diablo and Marabel made it to London without much trouble, particularly with Pierre Réal  mounted on the latter, with all his snow lore to aid them.

“What if you’re wrong in your deductions?” Réal  asked.

“I can’t be wrong. Nothing else works. This theory takes in all the troublesome details.”

“Can’t be wrong? We shall see. Your theory, he don’t account for—”

“Shut up, Pierre. I’m thinking.”

“About the diamond; where he is?”

“No, about Italy,” he answered with a soft smile. He enjoyed the warm sun on his shoulders; it gave a hint of the warmer climate soon to be enjoyed. As a few doubts still lingered with regard to the diamond’s whereabouts, however, he drew his mind back to business. He anticipated with considerable relish the melodrama that would be enacted, with himself as one of the principal players, when finally Bessler and Bidwell made it to Glasshouse Street. He sent Réal  off to Bow Street, while he continued to Bessler’s apartment.          

Arriving an hour before the other players, he had plenty of time to conduct a thorough search of Bessler’s premises. He was not disappointed when the diamond was not found under the doctor’s pillow or mattress, or hidden in the pocket of any of his jackets, or the toe of his boots. He expected better than that from the man ingenious enough to have set up and executed this elaborate hoax. He continued in an unflustered manner to go over the premises systematically. Consisting of only three rooms, the place was soon examined. There was an office, a bedroom, and one jack-of-all-uses room, which had a stove, a cupboard, a table and two chairs, running water, a sink, a mirror with shaving equipment and washing materials nearby.

A man liked to keep precious possessions near him. It was in the study that Bessler worked most of the day, and it was searched first. The desk revealed a thick stack of unpaid bills and IOUs amounting to approximately four thousand pounds. These were scooped into a bag for evidence. After a fruitless search of drawers, bookshelves, vases, and medical equipment, he decided it was the bedroom where Bessler spent a third of his time. He would want it there, for safekeeping during the night. But the bedroom too proved innocent of the diamond. Time was pressing hard at his back now. He and Réal had made a faster trip, but they had left later and taken a slightly circuitous route to avoid passing the others.

The jack-of-all-uses room took the longest time. After a lengthy, careful search, it failed to turn up the diamond. He paced through the apartment, bringing a chair to the windows to feel along the tops of the draperies, then got on his hand and knees to feel the hems, still with no luck. Where could it be? He deduced wildly as he went from room to room with a frown creasing his brow. Was he wrong after all? Did Bidwell have the gem? But certainly Bessler had taken it and been in a frenzy to get back here when told of the imaginary fire.

He hastened to the bedroom, his wary eyes darting hither and thither, in search of any nook or cranny he had overlooked. His eyes fell on a covered decanter of water on the bedside table. He had already looked in it. It was empty, but a glass beside it was half full. The frown faded, and a fiendish smile replaced it. He lifted the glass, emptied the water carefully into the decanter, and shook the Charney Diamond out into his hand, with a sigh of satisfaction. A diamond of the first water, invisible in water. Yes, that was fairly clever of Bessler, he granted. He liked competing with a worthy opponent.

With a mischievous smile, he poured the water back into the glass and went to the window. In four minutes and fifteen seconds, Bidwell’s carriage rattled up to the door, and the two men scrambled down. Their footsteps were soon heard clattering up the steps. Belami locked the door, to allow them a few more seconds of hope. He could not distinguish their words as Bessler put his key in the lock, but he recognized the tone as being extremely agitated.

“Good afternoon, Doctor,” he said with a graceful bow when Bessler plunged in.

“Belami, what are
you
doing here?” he asked.

“My migraine—you remember I told you I would come. Bidwell, did those old jades of yours have any trouble making it through the snow?”

“Not a bit, thank you.”

“I have no time for a session now,” Bessler said.

“No? But your place hasn’t burned down after all. That must save you any amount of bother.”

“There’s been no fire in all of the West End,” Bessler said. “Why did you send us off on this wild goose chase?”

“Wild goose chase? No, you have misunderstood me. There was a very good reason. I wished to remove the venue of the crime from Beaulac, you see. Tell me, Doctor, why did you choose my domicile for the scene of your vulgar melodrama?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bessler said gruffly, and walked into the bedroom. He looked at the glass of water by the bed, and was aware of a great wave of relief. He smiled at Bidwell, who also relaxed into a better mood.

“Whatever stunt you’re up to, Belami, it’s gone awry. You might as well run along. You’re bowled for a duck here,” Bidwell said.

“What is it you were looking for?” Bessler asked, but his face was benign. He still coveted the patronage of the aristocracy.

“This,” Belami answered, and tossed the diamond into the air, to catch it again. He displayed it on his open palm for a fraction of a second before pocketing it.

Bessler’s mouth fell open. He took an involuntary step forward but was beyond speech. It was Bidwell who spoke, trying to caution Bessler, in case of another hoax.

“What’s that, Belami? Found the duchess’s diamond again, have you? Or is it paste, something made up to—”

“To shock you into a confession, you mean?” Belami finished for him. “No, this one is the genuine article,” he told them, and watched from the corner of his eye as Bessler edged his way to the bedside table, picked up the glass of water, and drank it.

When the glass was empty, Belami turned to him. “Surprised, Doctor? Did you think the good fairies might have deposited a diamond in it for you? Too bad. We’ll talk now,” he declared, walking toward the door.