Neither man noticed the fellow in the overcoat with deep-set eyes who stepped out of the shadows across the way, watching them go; Sidney Reilly glanced at his watch and entered the time of their departure—as he had their arrival—in his notebook using his private code.
Text of a letter from Horace Saxon in San Francisco to his granddaughter Rowena Saxon in Amsterdam.
San Francisco, California, USA November 9, 1910
Rowena Saxon
do Maarten and van der Gelder Willemstraat, #16 Amsterdam, Holland
My dear Rowena;
This is coming to you through my lawyers there because I want you to know througfi them that I am amending the terms of my trust to you—I want you to be able to use it whenever you want, without hav-
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ing to answer a lot of fool questions. This way, you will know that Fve done it, and the damned lawyers will know that you know. They’re old ladies, the lot of them.
The paintings you shipped arrived safe and sound, all three canvases, and I got to tell you, I’m proud as pistols to have them. They’re framed in nice gold-leaf frames. I hung them in the drawing room, just over the red settee. You haven’t been here, so you can’t know how good it looks there. The windows across from the settee face northwest, and it means that the light is best in the afternoon, when I’m most likely to do my entertaining. I show them off to everyone, and you should hear how surprised they are when I tell them my grand-daughter did them. Sometimes people don’t believe me, so I show them where you’ve signed, and then they have to beg pardon, which tickles me.
Your mother has sent me another letter of complaint about you, as if she has nothing better to do with her time. If she’s been half as persistent with you as she has with me, I can see why you decided to get out of there. She’s my daughter and I love her, but she can try the patience of a saint, and that’s a fact. Who is this paragon Rupert she keeps going on about? She says he’s been waiting to marry you for years. I got to tell you he sounds like a half-baked Napoleon to me, but your mother is convinced he’s the best husband material anywhere. She also carries on about this insinuating foreigner — those’re her words, not mine — who she thinks has homswoggled you. According to her, you’ve been mooning after this Count since he hove on the scene last spring. I’ve told her time and time again that you know your own mind, but I don’t think it’s done any good. She just gets all riled up at me for encouraging you. If you want to tell me what’s going on, I’d keep it confidential, but I’d have a better idea about what to say to your mother. I don’t mean to intrude, and I’m not telling you what to do, but I’d be able to deal better with Clarice if I knew how much of what she says is ^sensible and how much is pie in the sky.
You know you can come here any time you want, if you decide you need to put more distance between the family and you. I got plenty of room, or I could get you your own place. I’m not the interfering type, and you won’t find me riding herd on you if you show up here; you’ve had more than your share of that already. I think you’ve got a lot to chew on right now, but don’t think you have to manage it all by yourself I don’t mean you have to do it. Just think it over. There’re places in California that are mighty wild and pretty. You’d like painting them. I’ll bet. In the meantime, you keep at it, Rowena. You got something special, and I don’t say that just because I’m your grand-father; if you didn’t
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have an eye, I wouldn’t be doing you any service by saying you have. I’ve bought a passel of art in the last thirty years, and I know quality when I see it, even if I don’t know the high-brow palaver for it all. You got quality.
You let me know if those lawyers of mine give you any guff. I’ll set them to rights, I promise you. In the meantime, you look out for yourself Rowena. It would kill me if any harm came to you, and they say things arefiercing up in Europe again. Don’t stick around if any shooting starts. You come here and be safe.
Your loving grand-father, Horace Saxon
9
It was always difficult dealing with foreigners, thought Inspector Herbert Blau as he looked over the statement Franchot Ragoczy had just signed for him: it was the third such account he had provided. It was more difficult, Blau told himself, when the foreigners were rich and had the ear of some important Berliners, as well as diplomatic ties to the Czar of Russia. He read over the three pages, finding the small, neat handwriting highly legible, if a bit old-fashioned. With a sigh he put the sheets aside and stared with supreme blankness at the filing cabinets on the far side of the room. Inspector Blau realized his wife would be dining without him again tonight or going to their usual Friday concert, and felt a pang of regret: he missed his evenings with Sophie and their two children. At forty-three, he had come to value his wife’s calm good sense as well as her Hungarian cooking, and their childrens optimism.
If only he were not under such scrutiny. There had been a public outcry, of course, for Nadezna was a legendary dancer, and to find her, brutally hacked to death in her bathtub, had created a scandal; for the last eleven days, the press had continued to speculate about her murder. Blau s superiors had insisted he get results, and obtain a quick conviction, and all he had been able to do was to detain Franchot Ragoczy for a third round of questioning, trying to break down the Counts story of his last visit with Nadezna. So far he had not been able to find a flaw in the man’s report.
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The Inspector went over the other statements he had taken, reviewing the subject in his mind: Pflaume, the houseman, had admitted Franchot Ragoczy shortly before he left for supper, which would make his arrival at Nadeznas house at approximately six-forty, or so Pflaume estimated; there had been nothing threatening in Ragoczys manner, no sign of anger. Pflaume stated that it was well-known in Nadeznas household and her school that her patron was Ragoczy—no one had ever made a secret of it. Pflaume admitted to having lingered at the bier-stube longer than usual, for he had become sleepy; he had not returned to the house until after ten, and by then the police had arrived. He had been aghast at what he found, so incoherent with grief that he had not been able to say anything that night; his statement had been secured two days after the hideous act.
The other statements supported what Pflaume had said in regard to time, and so far he had no reason to suspect any of them. He rose slowly and walked the length of his office; it took no more than four moderate strides. Impulsively he rang for coffee and added, “See if Ragoczy wants any.”
“He hasn’t before,” the uniformed policeman said.
“Offer it, in any case,” said Blau, lowering his eyes and rubbing his underlip with the end of his thumb. “And tell him I will be with him in ten minutes.” He suspected the wait would demand more of him than it did of his prisoner.
“Very good, Inspector.”
It was common wisdom that any man in police custody, left alone in an empty room for half an hour or so after writing an official statement, would, become nervous and when questioned would betray himself, goaded by the anxiety of his long wait. That had not been the case with Ragoczy, who for the last two interviews had been content to wait patiently as long as it was necessary and remain unruffled and polite when finally addressed; at his first interview, the foreigner had given every evidence of shock and distress, but that might be a deception. What had come after had almost convinced Blau that Ragoczy was either innocent or the most unnatural, depraved killer he had ever encountered. Blau went down the corridor to the toilet, anticipating a long evening. When he got back to his office he found a large cup of sugared coffee waiting for him. He sipped at it and burned his tongue. Picking up the mug, he went along to the room where Ragoczy waited.
“Good afternoon, Inspector,” said Ragoczy courteously as Blau came into the room. He half-rose from his wooden chair. “Or perhaps it is evening now.” He was dressed with an easy elegance that Blau recog-
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nized as aristocratic in its very understatement. From his black suit, dark waistcoat, immaculately white shirt, and burgundy silk tie, there was nothing out of place or anything fussy. The silver signet ring worn on the index finger of his right hand showed a disk with raised, opened wings all in black cabochon sapphire.
“Good evening, Count,” said Blau, feeling self-conscious about the cup of coffee he held; he put it down on the small table as if to disown it. “I’m sorry to inconvenience you again, but—”
“But someone murdered Nadezna, and you are doing your utmost to discover who it was,” said Ragoczy with understanding, resuming his place. “Because—aside from her killer—I was the last person to see her alive, you need to go over my statement again.” He had sat down once more. “I am at your disposal.”
“Thank you for your cooperation,” said Blau, his delivery automatic. “It is unusual to find someone so willing to help us.” He managed to fill this observation with sinister implications.
“And you find it strange that I should be one such?” Ragoczy said. Blau shrugged in his best noncommittal manner, watching the foreigner out of the comer of his eye.
“Very well, Inspector.” Ragoczy leaned forward. “Let us be plain with one another: it is in my best interests to assist you to the limits of my abilities. Like it or not, I am under investigation. That you need not deny, for what other purpose would you have in these repeated interviews, if not to try to catch me unaware? You assume my protestations of innocence are mendacious, as I suppose you must. There are many unanswered questions in this case, aren’t there? And all of them are bruited about in print. I don’t enjoy the hints that I am the murderer, nor do any of those associated with me. Therefore I will do all I can to help you find the one who did kill her. That was why I gave you all my evening clothes—so you could inspect them for blood. Which you admit you have not found. Surely after such a killing, with all the water and blood on the floor, the murderers clothes would be soaked in it.” “As you say,” Blau murmured. “It is worthwhile to be plain. And you may have disposed of the bloody garments. You are certain we cannot find them, and thus suppose we cannot apprehend you. You are willing to help us so that you may laugh at us. Do not bother to argue with me: I will only think the worse of you if you do.” He folded his amis, wanting to look imposing, although inwardly he felt foolish and could not persuade himself Ragoczy did not sense this. “Shall we get on with it? You say you called on her.”
“Certainly. As Pflaume must have told you. I arrived and went to her
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study. She was expecting me, and we discussed certain modifications in our dealings regarding the funding of her school. She was in need of ready cash, which you know I gave her. She had requested it and I provided it; such incidents were rare, but there had been a few of them in the past, which I handled in the same way—the cash she needed delivered personally. You admit you found the roll of banknotes I left with her, and that my banker has confirmed I withdrew those funds that morning. You know anyone killing her by . . . misadventure or with the intention to profit by the act would have taken the money, and so, quite reasonably, when you discovered it, that money led you back to me. And you have remained fixed on me ever since.” He had been punctuating his points with single taps on the tabletop; now he leaned back and steepled his fingers. “If I had killed her, I would have removed the money just to avoid such suspicions. Yes, I knew her servants had Tuesday off; Nadezna asked me to come when we could be private. She gave me no reason, but I suppose she wanted our financial arrangements to remain confidential.”
“That is just the trouble,” said Inspector Blau, his features arranged for stern friendliness. “The arrangements have been so confidential that—”
“My man-of-business has been instructed to supply you with photographs of the contract she and I signed when the school was founded. He will have all the material delivered to you by tomorrow.” Ragoczy looked directly at Blau, catching him unaware with the full intensity of his eyes. “I know it is assumed I was her lover, but I give you my Word, I was not. Ask Charlotte Milch. She will know.”
Blau picked up his coffee and sipped it; it was almost cool enough to drink. “She has given her statement.”
Ragoczy knew better than to prod. He nodded once. “I am relieved to hear that you are taking precautions and being thorough. I would not like the killer to slip away due to your lack of diligence.”
With a sigh, Blau conceded. “She confirms your statement. We have taken two statements from her, and her answers from one to the next are consistent. We have corroboration on her statements from others who occasionally entertained with her; dancers from her company who assisted her and her guests. The list is impressive. We are in the process of interviewing each of them. Milch will not tell us who among the guests were also Nadezna s lovers, but she says that you were never one. She also says that your lack of . . . shall we say interest? often aggravated Nadezna.”
“No doubt,” said Ragoczy. “She liked to have a sense of a man’s weak-
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nesses, particularly when it gave her strength.” This was not said critically, but Blau seized on it.
“And she wanted to know yours! She had found your weakness.” He put his cup down surprised he had almost finished it, as he leaned forward.
“Certainly she tried to,” Ragoczy said steadily. “She preferred having men as lovers so she would not feel beholden to them when they did favors for her.”
“You were different,” said Blau, hoping that at last he would learn something not already in Ragoczys accounts of his dealings with Nadezna.
“I did not do her favors,” he said. “That is why we had a business contract, so that we would know what things each was to do for the other, and the terms on which they would be done.” He regarded Blau with the same level look he had given from their first meeting. “You will see for yourself, when the copy of the contract is delivered.”
“I am looking forward to receiving it,” Blau said, as if he doubted this would ever happen.
Ragoczy heard the dubious note in Blau s voice, and told him purposefully, “Inspector, understand me: I did not kill Nadezna. I intend to see her killer found and brought to justice, as much to establish my innocence as to avenge her death. I am prepared to do anything within the law to accomplish this, so let us abandon this adversarial stance.” He let Blau consider this. “I am willing to provide you anything that will end your suspicions of me, if you will tell me what such a thing may be. Is that clear? If it is not, what must I do to make it so?”
Blau sipped his coffee again, and spoke aloud the observation that had haunted him since he began work on the case. “You are either the most cold-blooded murderer I have ever encountered, or you are genuinely indignant, and an innocent man,” he allowed as he walked to the far side of the room, then turned and stared back at Ragoczy, keeping the accusation out of his voice. “The trouble is, there are those who say Nadezna was blackmailing you—that your business contract was a sham to cover the payments she demanded of you.”
“If that were true, if she were blackmailing me, why would I be so foolish as to leave a legal document of the arrangement? It would surely serve neither her purposes nor mine, having such a record of blackmail, would it? for it could be called into question. Aren’t you doing that right now?” Ragoczy asked unflustered. “If the purpose of blackmail is concealment of acts, there are far more sensible means at hand to pay it without making discovery as likely as it is with contracts for it. She may
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have blackmailed some, but Nadezna never blackmailed me. Don’t you think I would have arranged matters differently if she had been successfully blackmailing me for years?”
Blau acknowledged the accuracy of this. “Perhaps the payment she demanded was the support of her school, not payment to her. That is possible, isn’t it? She might hav
e thought with the traveling you do, she needed something to insure you would continue to pay. A contract, properly put together, would guarantee her the money she required. Aren’t those considerations reasonable? Wouldn’t you have them if you were in my place?” It was unlikely, and both men knew it, but he felt compelled to ask, if only to hear Ragoczy s answer.
“Why would she blackmail me?” Ragoczy inquired levelly. “She did not know me at the time we began our dealings together.”
“There have been rumors,” said Blau, deliberately vaguely. “She may have heard them.”
“If you mean the rumors that I keep brothels of children in various parts of the world, you will discover they only began after the Czar commissioned me as his envoy to his cousins, and so far are centered in Berlin, although that may change, given how quickly news spreads these days.” He put his hands flat on the table. “It is my belief that they were started specifically to discredit me with the Kaiser, to prevent my gaining access to him.”
“For the Czar’s business?” Blau asked, hoping to disrupt Ragoczy s thoughts.
“As I have said before: it is in my statements,” Ragoczy replied, unfazed.
“And Nadezna was aware of that? She knew you were attempting to see the Kaiser?” Blau all but pounced on this.
“Certainly she was. She was the first to tell me what the rumors were, but she did not know that few things are more repugnant to me than the deliberate exploitation of children. Of all the acts I might do, prostituting children is not one of them.” He recalled the terrible things he had seen in Tunis, when he was a slave, and they still had the power to sicken him with loathing. “Until she spoke to me, I knew only that there had been whispers.” Ragoczy hesitated. “She was not willing to tell me what the source of the rumors was, if she knew.”
“Then it is possible that she had private information she could use to change her agreements with you.” Blau watched carefully for Ragoczy s reaction.
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