An Unexpected Peril (Veronica Speedwell #6)(64)
“We must gain access to the Alpenwalder suite,” I told him.
“Absolutely out of the question,” he replied.
I blinked at him. “Whyever not?”
“Whyever not? Let me enumerate the reasons,” he said, holding up each finger in turn. “First, a possibly homicidal princess who has gone missing. Second, her possible accomplice, a potentially murderous aristocrat who is a little too free with his admiration of your person. Third, courtiers who may or may not have knowledge of the princess’s liaison with a murder victim and who could have easily conspired with her to commit the crime. Did it never occur to you, Veronica, that they might all have done it? What if they plotted together, all of those bloody Alpenwalders, to remove Alice from the scene? The chancellor and the baroness would do anything for Gisela, they adore her. And Durand is captain of her guard. I do not know if he would draw the line at murder, but there is every chance he would not. And Yelena’s entire world is bound up in her employer. There is not one member of that retinue that would balk at killing for her or covering it up if she ordered someone killed, of this I have absolutely no doubt.”
As he finished his impassioned speech, a lock of long black hair fell over his brow. His nostrils were flaring like a stag’s, and I realized we had taken positions in opposition to one another, squared off like combatants, our hands curled into fists.
“You are, of course, correct,” I told him. My humble reply caught him off guard and he dropped his arms, unclenching his fists.
“I am?”
“Naturally,” I said in the same soothing tone. “But I am afraid your opposition, while well considered, is not enough to keep us from continuing this investigation.”
“What makes you say that?” he demanded.
“Because George has just come in behind you, and from the envelope in his hand, I believe we have been summoned once more to the Sudbury.”
CHAPTER
18
Stoker sulked all the way to the hotel whilst I tried very hard not to gloat. And failed.
“Smugness does not become you, Veronica,” he told me in icy tones as we alighted at the curb. I said nothing. I merely favored him with my most dazzling smile and swept inside the hotel, careful to keep my veiled face averted from any of the reporters or detectives who were no doubt loitering in the lobby.
The Alpenwalders received us warmly. The baroness answered the door herself, and as we moved into the drawing room of the suite, I could see the chancellor sitting behind the desk, but of Duke Maximilian there was no sign. “Thank you so much for coming,” the baroness said in a fervent tone as she pressed my hands.
“Your note only asked us to call,” I told her. “Have there been any developments? Has the princess returned?”
“Not yet,” she replied, her mouth set in a serious line. “But I know she will come soon. She must.”
The chancellor rose from the desk, gesturing towards a stack of newspapers. “There have been many reports about the bomb, naturally,” he told us. “And we had a call very early this morning from an Inspector Mornaday.”
At the mention of Mornaday’s name, my heart skipped an uncomfortable beat. I exchanged a quick glance with Stoker. “Oh?”
“He came to tell us that it was as Mr. Templeton-Vane surmised—the bomb was no bomb at all, really only a glorified firecracker,” he said. “He wished to pay his respects and apologize personally to the princess, but the baroness and I were able to prevent this by saying Her Serene Highness was in need of rest after the upset of last evening. We also made a statement canceling all official engagements today, which will work quite well, I think, since we are still without a princess,” he added with a moue of regret. He turned to me. “You have done well, Fraulein. So well, in fact, that I am afraid I must prevail upon you once more.”
Beside me, I felt Stoker stiffen like a pointer.
“I think Miss Speedwell has accommodated your schemes quite enough,” Stoker began.
The chancellor held up a hand. “Please,” he said, nearly choking on the word. So startled were we by his pleading that we fell silent and let him continue. He did so with obvious difficulty, speaking slowly, as if extracting each word cost him pain.
“How much do you know of the situation on the Continent?” he asked, but it was apparent the question was rhetorical as he launched into a discussion that echoed the one I had enjoyed with the baroness on our first meeting. “If I told you it was a powder keg, it would not be an exaggeration. Matters are so delicate that all it wants is the slightest spark and—” He spread his fingers upwards, making the gesture of an explosion. “Loyalties are so conflicted and convoluted that if Germany went to war, it would plunge the rest of Europe into chaos.” He paused and went to rummage in a folio of papers, extracting a large map of the Continent. “Look here,” he urged, pointing towards the middle of the map. “The German Empire is colored in blue. You see the change from only a few decades ago?” He laid another map beside it. “With the unification of the German states, the empire has become powerful. Too powerful,” he added under his breath. I surveyed the maps. The earlier one looked like a broken plate, colorful bits strewn across the breadth of Europe, each representing a different tiny German-speaking principality or duchy. The current one was a single terrifying monolith collected under one banner and ruled by the Hohenzollerns from Berlin.