The young woman still said nothing. She was now looking down at her fingers, as if admiring the gold rings that gleamed on two of them.
‘Has he spoken to you about any papers? Has he made use of the hotel safe?’
Dolly moistened the forefinger of one hand and used it to polish the rings on the other. She lifted her head and gazed past Adam at the painting of an Arcadian landscape that decorated one wall of the room.
‘Very well,’ he said. If the young woman could maintain such apparent indifference to their previous relationship, he decided, then so could he. ‘Let us start with some questions that I know you can answer. Where did you meet Harry?’ For a moment Adam thought that Dolly might continue to maintain her silence but she had obviously grown bored with holding her tongue.
‘At a party,’ she said after another short pause. ‘Some toff like yourself had arranged it. We get plenty of invites to parties.’
Adam nodded. He had been to such parties himself. Parties where rich young men could meet women less formal in their manners, less inhibited in their behaviour than those they were likely to marry. Parties where drink flowed freely and dancing girls from the Drury Lane theatres would be very welcome guests indeed.
‘And Vernon approached you?’
Dolly laughed mirthlessly. ‘’E did more than bleedin’ approach me. ’E was all over me. Like he ’ad more hands than a shire horse. ’E couldn’t get enough of me.’
‘And so you bedded him. I am sorry to be crudely direct, but I can think of no other way of putting it.’
‘Yes, I bedded ’im. Same as I did you.’ The young woman had emerged from behind the armchair. She took several steps sideways, her eyes not leaving Adam’s face. ‘Not that it was much to talk about. It was all over before you could say Jack Robinson, if you catch my meaning.’
‘But you continued to see him.’
‘’E continued to see me. I was working in a show at the Gaiety.’
‘With Cyril Montague,’ Adam interrupted, further light dawning.
‘Cyril?’ Dolly was puzzled. ‘What’s that old Margery Jane got to do with anything?’
‘He knew you were Dolly.’
‘’Course ’e did. Why wouldn’t ’e? I was still callin’ meself Dolly then.’
‘No matter.’ Adam waved his hand. ‘Do continue with your story.’
Dolly looked at him and then shrugged her shoulders very slightly. ‘Harry come visiting all the time, didn’t he? After we’d done the business that one time, ’e must have found out I was at the Gaiety. ’E was round at the stage door every night.’
‘And you encouraged him?’
‘Bought me flowers, didn’t he? And jewels,’ Dolly said. ‘Mind you, some of ’em were logies. He thought I couldn’t tell good from bad but I’m sharp enough when it comes to shiners. I’ve worn enough sham ones on stage to know the difference. But some were the real thing.’
‘The ones you sold, doubtless.’ The remark seemed cruel as soon as he made it.
Dolly stared unblinkingly at Adam. ‘You ain’t got no idea what it’s like to be poor, ’ave you?’ she said, after the silence threatened to grow even more uncomfortable than their conversation had so far been. ‘Poor so’s you don’t know where your next feed’s coming from. Poor so’s you’ve been obliged to cut off your hair and sell it to keep body and soul together.’ The girl was so carried away by what she was saying that she had lost the nervousness she had earlier shown at Adam’s appearance. She had crossed the room and was now standing no more than a foot in front of him. She was a head shorter than the young man but her face was thrust defiantly upwards so that her eyes could catch his. ‘Well, I do,’ she said, speaking rapidly. ‘I’ve got plenty of idea what it’s like. And I ain’t ’aving it ’appen to me again. Harry’s a rich cove, ain’t he? So, if ’e’s set on buying me jewels, logies or not, and treating me to other stuff, all so’s he can bury his wick from time to time, I ain’t going to be saying, “No, take your ’ands off me, I’m a respectable girl,” am I?’
Breathless after her outburst, Dolly put her hands on her hips and looked at Adam.
‘Put with such eloquence, your case is irrefutable,’ he said, only too painfully aware of how pompous he sounded.
‘Anyways, Harry is a sweet man. He knows ’ow to treat a lady.’
‘So you have come here to Berlin with him.’
‘A working girl deserves an ’oliday, same as anyone else. I was fed up of flashing my pins at the Prince Albert.’
‘Your story sounds true enough, as far as it goes.’
‘Well, thank you for nothing, Mr Clever-arse.’
‘None of it, however, explains why you changed your name. Or why the girl I thought was Dolly Delaney, the girl I followed to York, was killed.’
Dolly’s hands dropped from her hips. Her look of belligerence disappeared and she took several steps backwards. Momentarily she appeared utterly horrified, but she recovered her poise. ‘Ain’t no ’arm in calling yourself something else,’ she said. ‘Half the girls in McIlwraith’s troupe have got names their mothers wouldn’t know ’em by.’
‘Perhaps not. But you gave your name to somebody else. And that poor girl ended up stabbed to death on the stage of a York theatre.’
‘That weren’t my fault.’ Dolly suddenly looked close to tears. ‘She weren’t supposed to end up dead. She weren’t even supposed to end up in York.’
‘So where was she supposed to be?’
‘London. The idea was to fool you. Make you think she’d gone north. But she’d stay in town while you chased your arse around Yorkshire. Gawd alone knows why she actually went. If she’d done what she was told to do, she’d still be alive.’
‘I think she went to York because she was scared of what was happening in London. She was beginning to realize that she had waded out into deep waters. Somebody frightened her. So, when the Bascombe woman offered her some money, she took it and fled.’
Dolly shrugged unhappily. ‘Well, that weren’t part of the plan,’ she said.
‘And whose elaborate plan was this? Yours? Harry’s?’
‘Look, I ain’t saying no more to you ’less Harry’s here.’ Dolly was defiant once again, returning her hands to her hips and scowling at Adam.
‘And where is Harry now?’
When Adam had asked the question a little earlier, the young woman had been silent. Now she stared hard at him. He felt as if he could very nearly see the thoughts swirling through her mind as she tried to work out whether there was more advantage in answering him or in staying quiet.
‘’E’s away,’ she snapped eventually. ‘’E left me just after we got ’ere.’ Dolly did not sound best pleased that her paramour had deserted her. ‘“I’ll be back in a day or so,” says he. “Off on business,” says he.’
‘Did he say with whom?’
‘A lord or a count or something. Some German nob.’
‘Did he mention where he was going?’
‘’E talked about an island. Visiting an island.’
‘An island? There are dozens of islands around Berlin. Did he say which one?’
‘Something about peacocks. An island with peacocks. He didn’t want to tell me. ’E got shirty when I asked him more questions.’ Dolly continued to glare at Adam. ‘And I’m gettin’ pretty shirty meself with you and all your bleedin’ questions. Chargin’ into a lady’s boudoir and badgerin’ ’er with gammon and spinach about changing names. What d’you think the manager of the ’otel would think if I was to tell ’im you’ve been pestering me?’ She moved towards the wall where there was a bell pull that could summon the hotel staff. ‘’E’s took a real shine to me, ’as ’Err Müller. “Sherner Frow”, ’e calls me, according to Harry. That’s “beautiful lady” in case you
ain’t up on the lingo ’ere.’
Dolly reached out her arm towards the pull. Adam forced himself to laugh. He held up his hand in mock surrender. ‘There is no need to trouble Herr Müller.’ The young man still had questions in plenty for Dolly, but they would have to wait. He even continued to harbour the faintest of hopes that she might rekindle the desire for him she had shown in London. However, there was no point in instigating a scene in the woman’s room when, he had to admit to himself, it would be difficult to explain his presence there. ‘I am leaving. But it is of vital importance that I speak to Harry. When he returns, you must let me know. I am in room twenty-eight on the first floor.’
Adam bowed politely to Dolly Delaney, who raised her eyes to the ceiling and, with a swish of her skirt, turned her back on him. He smiled bitterly and left the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The man from the embassy was standing where they had agreed to meet, under the trees to the west of the Neue Wache. Karl Friedrich Schinkel’s neoclassical guardhouse on Unter Den Linden, built half a century previously, was one of the landmarks of the city’s grandest street, and Etherege had assumed that even a first-time visitor to Berlin such as Adam would have no difficulty in locating it. He had been correct. The portico of Doric columns that faced the street was unmistakable. Soldiers were lined up outside the guardhouse, an officer barking instructions at them. As Adam approached, they wheeled smartly to the right and marched off in the direction of the Brandenburger Tor, leaving only two of their number still standing to attention in front of the columns.
Etherege held out his hand as Adam walked towards him. He had eschewed the smartly tailored suit he had been wearing on their previous meetings in favour of the black jacket and trousers that were standard dress for Berliners. In striving to look as much like a native as he could, Adam decided, the man had succeeded only in emphasizing his essential Englishness. After they had shaken hands, Etherege gestured in the direction of the Stadtschloss across the bridge. ‘Shall we walk towards the castle?’ he asked, setting off before Adam had chance to reply. The young man followed in the diplomat’s wake, obliged to quicken his pace to draw level with him. ‘A stroll in the Lustgarten would be pleasant. Have you seen the fountain? One of the wonders of the city in my estimation. How they propel the water so high in the air is a mystery to me. By steam, I am told, but I fail to understand exactly how it is done.’
Chatting amiably but inconsequentially, Etherege seemed to require no response from his companion, guiding Adam into the small park opposite the castle. Within a few minutes they were standing side by side before the famous fountain, watching its waters shoot forty feet into the air. Around them, Berliners of all classes walked the paths that criss-crossed the park, some hurrying to another destination, others enjoying a leisurely promenade.
Adam moved backwards to allow a young woman pushing a perambulator more room in which to pass him. Etherege made no such move and the woman, clearly exasperated, was forced to swerve the baby carriage to avoid him. The diplomat, still staring up at the fountain, was oblivious to the manoeuvre. Adam waited for him to speak but he seemed to be lost in wonder at the sight of the jetting water. A slight breeze caught the spray and a few drops were blown into their faces. Adam decided that Etherege must be waiting for him to take the conversational initiative.
‘Have you heard any word of Harry Vernon?’ he asked him.
Now Etherege did take a step back, so that he and the young man were once again shoulder to shoulder. ‘In a manner of speaking,’ he said. ‘The chap who lost sight of Vernon in the Gendarmenmarkt found him again. Sadly, he proceeded to lose him again as well. I am beginning to think he is not cut out for the kind of work for which we are employing him.’ Etherege continued to watch the fountain, apparently entranced by it. ‘However, our man did discover one interesting thing about Vernon before he mislaid him for the second time. You remember Ravelstein? The fellow with the Mensur scar at Frau Kestelmann’s?’
Adam nodded.
‘Of course you do. He is not an easy man to forget. And I warned you against him, I recall. As you know, Vernon met Ravelstein in the Alexanderplatz.They went off together in the German’s carriage.’
‘But you do not know why he met him? Or where Vernon is now?’
‘The why is easy enough to guess. Vernon has brought something to Berlin in which the Graf is interested. The other question is not so readily answered. How are your own investigations progressing?’
‘I have found the young woman who accompanied him. She is staying in the same hotel that you found for me.’
Etherege laughed briefly. ‘A happy coincidence. And she has not been able to point you in the direction of Vernon?’
‘She claims not to know where he is. I am inclined to believe her. She says that he left her in the hotel the day after they arrived in Berlin. He told her that he had important business to conduct and that he would return in a day or so. That is the last she has seen of him.’
‘Not very gentlemanly behaviour on his part.’
The two men had moved away from the fountain and were walking in the direction of Unter den Linden. Adam glanced briefly over his shoulder at the water still shooting in the air and, behind it, the columns of the Altes Museum. He turned back to his companion. ‘Perhaps not.’
‘Or perhaps,’ Etherege said, ‘he wishes to protect her from knowledge of his more dangerous pursuits. Such as selling his country’s secrets to a foreign power.’
Adam did not reply immediately. For some time he had assumed that it would be impossible to keep so intelligent and well informed a man as George Etherege in ignorance of the true reasons for his visit to Berlin; now that he had guessed correctly what was happening, Adam felt no need to confirm his conjecture. Silence was his best option.
They had reached the entrance to the garden. Another troop of soldiers, heads held high, strode past in the direction of the Brandenburger Tor. The diplomat watched them as they went, a look of quiet irony on his face. ‘Very fond of marching, the Prussians,’ he remarked, once they had gone. ‘They can’t seem to get enough of it. Particularly after their triumphs over the French. The city is forever echoing with the sound of tramping feet.’
They turned in the opposite direction to the one in which the soldiers were travelling.
‘Do you know of an island near the city with peacocks on it?’ Adam asked as they crossed the Spree.
‘Peacocks?’ Etherege looked surprised. He paused to consider his reply. ‘There is Pfaueninsel, of course. It takes its name from the bird.’
‘And where is Pfaueninsel?’
‘In the Havel. As it makes its way towards Potsdam.’
‘Are there buildings on it? People living there?’
‘It belongs to the king. The emperor, as we must learn to call him. He has a small schloss there – a folly almost. Built as if it were a ruin. There is a palmhouse on the island as well, I believe. But why do you ask?’
‘The woman spoke of it. She said that Vernon had mentioned an island with peacocks. Would Ravelstein have access to it?’
‘He might,’ Etherege conceded. ‘I doubt if Wilhelm uses the place very much. It is an out of the way spot.’ He looked sidelong at Adam. ‘Ideal for your friend’s purposes, I would say.’
The two men had stopped on the bridge across the Spree. Adam asked a few more questions about Pfaueninsel which his companion answered. Eventually Etherege turned away and both of them gazed down into the waters of the river below.
‘I bumped into Ravelstein again, by the by,’ the diplomat said. ‘Yesterday, at the Café Beethoven.’
‘The place we met?’
‘Yes, on Friedrichstrasse. I say “bumped into”, but I doubt if the meeting was fortuitous. Ravelstein does little without a purpose.’
‘And his purpose in
speaking to you in the café—? Let me guess.’ Adam ran his gloved fingers along the bridge’s iron railing like a pianist starting a sonata. ‘It was to warn you that I was a dangerous miscreant whose presence in Berlin could not be tolerated.’
Etherege laughed. ‘More or less,’ he said. ‘And just as bluntly expressed, which I found surprising. Ravelstein more usually employs the rapier rather than the bludgeon. He made it very clear that your visit to the city does not delight him and that he would be more than happy to see you bring it to a conclusion.’
‘And what did you say to him?’
‘I made it equally clear that I could not interfere in the travel plans of a private British citizen.’ As they continued to stand at the bridge, Etherege rested his hand briefly on Adam’s arm. ‘I must reiterate what I said to you at Frau Kestelmann’s, Carver. Ravelstein is a dangerous man. Probably one of the most dangerous men in Germany. You must take care. You will be aware, no doubt, that he has men following you?’
‘I have seen someone at the hotel.’
‘There will be others. If you go anywhere, you will be watched. And I suspect that there are other places in Berlin you will wish to see before you say farewell to the city.’
Adam nodded once more.
‘Pfaueninsel, perhaps?’ Etherege asked.
‘What I hear of it makes it sound only too interesting.’
‘Well, be sure that you do not have unwanted company when you visit.’
‘I will make certain to take only my manservant Quint.’
‘That would be wise.’
The two men said their goodbyes and moved away from the bridge, Adam turning right towards the Brandeburger Tor and his hotel, Etherege walking briskly in the opposite direction towards Alexanderplatz. As they parted, rain began to fall.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The boat collided gently with something. Quint released his hold on the oars and Adam leapt onto a small wooden jetty. Using a length of rope, he tied their small craft to a stanchion. Quint hauled the two oars out of their rowlocks and laid them in the bottom of the boat. They were on Pfaueninsel.
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