Justice Hall - Laurie R. King [81]
“They kept it from Debrett’s,” I told him.
“They kept it from Mycroft,” he said, and I had to agree that was the feat truly worthy of note.
“They were married—”
“Wait,” he interrupted. “Tell me while you are getting ready for dinner.”
“Oh, Holmes, must we? It’s chaos down there, they’re all the most eccentric friends of the Darlings, and I’ve spent a full twenty-four hours being sociable. Marsh suggested a tray.”
“Sympathetic as I am to your plight, my dear Russell, I think dinner is potentially too rich a mine for data for us to miss. I shall draw you a bath while you shed your hunting gear.”
I first hung the crumpled silk dress above the steaming bath to relax it, then slid gratefully into the scented water.
Holmes drew up a stool. “Now: Tell.”
I told.
No reason to dwell lovingly on the glories of Justice Hall: Holmes could see those for himself. The hidden stairway was worth a bit of detail, and I could see his interest rise at the hidden Roman floor (this from the man who had once told his friend Watson that he was not interested in useless knowledge!) before he deliberately pushed it aside as peripheral. The contents of the Greene Library pulled even more strongly at his imagination; that too was set aside. The Circles, the deep relationship shared by the three principals, the painful reading of the Gabriel Hughenfort documents, I summarised those and moved on.
The water in the bath was growing cool and the hour of the gong fast approaching when I finished with the previous evening’s dinner party. That episode had demanded considerably more detail in the telling, and evoked a long, thoughtful silence while Holmes fiddled with the bath-brush.
“Berlin is the centre of Darling’s activities, you would judge?” he asked me.
“He spends a great deal of time there, and he knew of this escape by Mr Hitler before it was in the papers. He claims altruism as his chief interest in the rebuilding process, but at the same time, what industry starts up in the post-war years, he intends to have his hands on the controls.”
“A man worthy of Mycroft’s attentions.”
“If Mycroft hasn’t noticed him already.”
“It must be said, there is nothing criminal in foreign investments. If there were, we would all be in gaol. Not in the least my good wife. I should like to be able to give Mycroft more than a mere name, however. Did Darling give out the title of his company, or even precisely where it is?”
“No. I’m not even sure just what it is, other than some kind of heavy manufacturing.”
“Of course, a man in his position would not wish to appear too knowledgeable about his investments, too eager for them to succeed, lest his fellow club-members suspect him of ungentlemanly pas-times. I wonder if his business papers—”
“Holmes, we couldn’t very well burgle our host’s rooms. At least, not unless we get Marsh’s permission.”
“It might be perceived as ungracious,” he agreed.
“And with all the servants around, we’d need spectacular luck not to have a maid walk in at the wrong moment. Or one of the children.”
“The children, yes,” he mused, a faraway look in his eye. “Your Justice Hall Irregulars. Do you suppose . . . ?”
“Holmes! Absolutely not! One cannot use children to spy against their own parents—it would be—the ethics of the situation would demand—”
“I suppose it does go against the Rules of War,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Freiburg and Stein, on the other hand,” I had begun when we were interrupted by a knock at the door to my bedroom. I raised my voice to call permission to enter: It was Emma, maid of many talents, enquiring through the bath-room door if I wished assistance with my hair. I was impressed that anyone had thought to send her, considering the circumstances. I also wondered that anyone was bothering to dress. Perhaps Roumanian peasant-dresses and monkey-capped lounge suits were considered formal dinner attire by that set.
“If you could return in ten minutes?” I called back. Emma gave me a “Very well, madam” and the outer door closed again. I hurried to finish