He rose on unsteady limbs and cleared his throat.
“Prego,
everybody. I never was much in the speechmaking line,” he said, and pulled from his pocket a piece of paper. “Ladies and gentlemen:
Che bella.
Hair. raven’s wing. No, dash it, that ain’t it. Ah, here we are,” he exclaimed, and read his short speech, written with much soul-searching and uncertainty.
Elvira gazed at her plate and did finally blush then, when her bridegroom hovered from compliment to compliment, comparing her to the sun and the moon, the lilies of the valley and Eclipse, the first Derby winner. “Eclipses them all. Even Eclipse,” he finished, and lifted his glass in unsteady fingers.
As soon as the last toast was drunk and Pronto sat down again, he cast a commanding look at Dick. “Daresay you and Deirdre want to run along now. Thankee kindly for coming. Oh, they’ve left us presents in the other room, Elvira. Your mama can take them up to our room. No,
her
room. We shan’t want to be disturbed.”
Elvira turned a demure face to him. “You are rushing our guests, Pronto, my dear. There is still plenty of wine,” she pointed out.
“We’ll take it upstairs,” he said, and grabbed a bottle.
“I want another glass of wine now, dear,” she insisted.
“Oh. Well, if you feel you need a little encouragement, I daresay it don’t matter whether we have it here or there,” Pronto agreed, and filled her glass to the brim.
She took a suspiciously long time over it.
“Drink up, my pet. We haven’t got all day,” he urged once or twice.
“We have the rest of our lives, dear,” Elvira told him.
Pronto smiled blissfully. “She’s right, you know.” But as he glanced at his watch, he saw he had only a few hours till it would be time to dress for the masquerade ball. “Don’t hurry your last drink,” he added, with emphasis on the “last.”
With this subtle hint, Belami set down his glass. “We have to be going now. Good luck, Pronto, and to you, Mrs. Pilgrim, every happiness for the future.”
“We’ll see you tonight,” Deirdre added. When they left, Elvira was just filling her mother’s and sister’s glasses once again.
Pronto frowned, wondering just how firm a bridegroom ought to be. Didn’t want her disguised—on the other hand, to play the heavy wouldn’t put her in a loving mood. To solve this problem, he poured himself another glass of wine.
Before leaving, Belami stopped to speak to Nick, who was sitting in the hotel lobby. “Did anything interesting happen while we were busy?” he inquired hopefully. Nick shook his head. “I’ll be at the palazzo if they turn up.”
“Why do I feel I’ve just attended a wake?” Deirdre said as they went to the gondola.
“I felt like bawling,” Dick admitted.
“It’s enough to turn a man against marriage.”
“Only against marrying Elvira Sutton. Elvira Pilgrim now. I’ve failed Pronto. He may never speak to me again when I have to turn her in.”
“She didn’t even buy a new gown. At least you can stop wondering whether she’s married to Claude. He would never sit still for her marrying someone else.”
“Much he’d have to say about it if she treats him as she treats Pronto. We know who’ll wear the breeches in this marriage.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised if she buys herself a curled beaver and cane, and even takes up shaving,” Deirdre said.
She suddenly realized she was walking alone. Dick had stopped dead in his tracks. “What is it?” she asked. Belami looked as though he had just been struck by lightning. “She already has a razor,” he said. His voice was light, questioning.
“I know. Come on, Dick. I have to try my costume gown on. Haskins is hemming it for me.”
Belami was so excited he didn’t seem to notice he had ceased being Belami. “Wait, just a minute,” he said, and began slowly pacing the landing. “I’m either insane or inspired. Let me think.” After a few laps he said, “I’ve got to go back to the hotel, Deirdre. Will you come with me?”
“Oh, very well.”
He walked so quickly she had to run to keep up with him. He went directly to his valet. “The night Elvira got into the hotel without being seen, Nick, you mentioned a young man coming in. He didn’t register, you said—just went upstairs. Can you describe him to me?”
Nick wrinkled his face and described him. “He was a good-looking youngster. Smallish but well-set-up. Black hair. Wearing a bluejacket with brass buttons.”
“An English jacket, would you say?”
“I’d go a step further. It was the work of Stultz. The young lad was a strutter—you know the sort.”
“Was he carrying anything?”
“He had a small case with him, an overnight bag.”
“But he didn’t check in?”
“No, I fancied he must be joining his wife here, or a lightskirt. We get a bit of that.”
“I’ll bet there was some of it that night. Have you seen him around since?”
“Not before nor since. Is it important?”
“It’s crucial.”
“Should I follow him if he shows?”
“He won’t show. At least I don’t think... But if he does, stop him. Stop him dead.”
“That I will, sir.”
“Thank you, Nick.” With a broad smile he turned to Deirdre. “Let’s go, my dear. We want to prepare for the ball.”
“What was all that about?” she demanded. “Was the man Claude?”
“Of course it was. I should have seen it days ago.”
“But Claude was described as fair-complexioned. I assumed he had fair hair.”
“So did I. He must have dyed it. If I’m wrong, I’ll look a flaming fool, so I shan’t reveal my suspicions. But I think—yes, I really fear Pronto has just committed a gross indiscretion.”
“We both know it. Why should that set you to grinning?”
“It’s you who should be grinning. You were right—it
is
Lucy Claude’s married to.”
“Then that means Elvira was single all along.”
“Not necessarily,” he replied, but his laughing eye told her there was some joke in the air. “I only said she wasn’t married to Claude.”
“Then who was she married to? I wish you would not be so provoking, Dick. I know you’ve deduced something important.”
“Not deduced. I wish it were that certain. My conclusion is based on ratiocination. But if I’m right, I know how to rescue Pronto. Mind you, he may already have rescued himself before the masquerade ball, but somehow I think not. Elvira will keep him in line. She’ll get him drunk or she’ll have a maidenly fit of the megrims.”
“Why are we walking so fast?” she complained, as she ran along to keep up with him.
“Time flies, and so must we.” He looked down at Deirdre, his eyes glistening with excitement. “Did you call me Dick?”
“Certainly not.”
He laughed and drew her arm through his. “I wasn’t that preoccupied. It slipped out unawares. Forward wench!”
“I could call you plenty worse!”
“And shall, no doubt, after we’re shackled. But, pray, don’t become an Elvira on me.”
Why this should set Dick chuckling was a mystery. Deirdre only smiled. She knew she and Dick were engaged again without quite knowing how she knew. She even hoped that at some future date they might actually get married.
Chapter Sixteen
“Yes, I know it’s inconvenient and inconsiderate and intolerable of me to ask,” Belami admitted, “but will you do it, Deirdre?”
Deirdre liked her shepherdess gown very much. With the aid of starch, iron, and new ribbons, Haskins had worked wonders in reviving it. The stiff, full skirt, nipped in at the waist, looked very well on her.
“But I don’t want to wear a domino,” she objected. “I’ve gone to a deal of trouble to arrange this outfit. And the guests will be arriving any moment.” It was just after dinner that they met in a quiet corner of the contessa’s saloon to make plans for the masquerade party.
“You can wear your gown till everyone has seen you. In fact you must wear it till you’ve been identified. I only want you to change when I give the signal. I’ve put the domino under the sofa Charney is sitting on.”
They both looked across the room where her grace sat in state, her head rigged out in a hideous construction of egret feathers and her gaunt body draped in what looked like a black shroud. In her hand she held a half mask on a long handle.
“You’ll have to tell me why, Dick.”
“I’ll need some help keeping track of all our suspects. I fancy the whole Jalbert gang will be here. I sent Réal over to the hotel with Nick, but he’ll give me a hand when he returns.”
“What’s Réal doing at the hotel?”
“He’ll search the Suttons’ rooms after they leave. We’ll welcome them all when they arrive, and let them see what we’re wearing. I fancy they’ll dance and party in a normal way for an hour or so to allay my fears. Then one of them will slip out to exchange money for the dies Carlotta has. Before that time, we must be wearing new disguises so we can keep close watch on them without arousing their curiosity. My disguise will be the gondolier’s outfit from Carlotta’s collection.”
“You hope to catch them in the act of exchanging?”
“Precisely. I want to catch them before they buy the diamond necklace. Pronto said next week—on Monday, late in the afternoon, I should think, just before Cerboni closes up shop. They’ll leave the city immediately, before he discovers he’s been paid in counterfeit money.”
“Elvira mentioned some other shop.”
“Only to make Cerboni eager for their business. They’ll deal with Cerboni. He’s convinced they’re wealthy customers.”
“Then how will you get the phony money? Wouldn’t it be wiser to wait till they try to buy the diamonds?”
“Elvira might leave on the honeymoon before the purchase is made. We can’t let her escape. She’s the ringleader.”
“Surely Claude and Styger...”
He didn’t contradict her, but his tight little smile was a tacit denial. Deirdre was usually more eager to assist Belami than this interview would suggest. What had put her in a pelter was that Dick had spent a good part of the afternoon with Carlotta. “You didn’t have any luck trying to buy the dies from Carlotta?” she asked, as this was his alleged reason for seeking the siren’s company.
“No luck. I upped the ante to twenty-five hundred English pounds, and still she didn’t budge an inch. She wasn’t even tempted. They can’t possibly pay her more than that, not in real money. She wouldn’t be fool enough to accept counterfeit.”
Carlotta suddenly rose from the sofa and motioned for a footman to push her husband into the entrance hall. It was time for the dancing to begin. Carlotta was a vision of loveliness in a perfectly modern black silk gown, cut very low to show an expanse of white bosom. Her hair was a tousle of black curls, in which a red silk rose nestled. At her throat she wore a lavish necklace of Strass glass, which closely resembled the Ginnasi diamonds. Even the duchess wasn’t sure they were fakes.
“Carlotta will wear a domino and mask later, when she goes to make the trade,” Belami said.
“Is there anyone in particular I should watch?”
“I plan to watch Elvira. Why don’t you take Carlotta?”
Deirdre was happy to learn Dick hadn’t chosen Carlotta as his quarry. She felt he was safer following his best friend’s new bride. Carlotta would open the dancing. The dinner guests surged into the ballroom where the musicians were scraping their bows and glancing at their music.
The dilapidated ballroom looked elegant at night with the chandeliers burning. The guests’ gay costumes added a festive note. There were ladies wearing high white wigs and panniered gowns from the court of Louis Quatorze. There were Italian noblemen of yore, harlequins and columbines, dairy maids and half-a-dozen various Borgias, and of course an inordinate number of unimaginative gentlemen in dominoes of all hues.
Deirdre hoped to have the opening waltz with Dick, but as in England, the first piece was a minuet. To further rob her of pleasure, the contessa claimed Belami as her partner. Deirdre was presented to an Italian nobleman who didn’t know a word of English, though he spoke fluent Italian, with both hands.
The guests were arriving, each being announced in whatever guise he had chosen to wear, to conceal his or her identity. Part of the enjoyment of a masquerade was trying to guess the guests’ true identity. Deirdre watched closely, listening for the words “The Queen of Sheba” and whatever consort Pronto provided her. The announcement came just as the minuet finished. Deirdre glanced to the raised entrance and recognized the newlyweds at once.
Elvira’s costume was in no way authentic, but it was lavish and beautiful. She was wrapped in bands of various-colored silk to suggest the opulence of King Solomon’s court. But what caught Deirdre’s eye at once was the necklace she wore. It was the diamonds from Cerboni’s shop. She hardly glanced at Pronto except to notice his eyes were as red as a ferret’s. He tagged behind in a sheet, a white wig and beard, and carrying a shepherd’s crooked staff. Just who this conglomeration of pieces represented she couldn’t imagine, unless it was Father Time with his scythe changed to a staff.
She caught Belami’s eye and together they went to greet the new arrivals. “Did you see Elvira’s diamonds?” she asked.
“See them? You could hear them a mile away. They don’t add authenticity to her outfit. I wonder why she wore them?”
Deirdre stared at his obtuseness. “Any lady would wear a new set of diamonds, Dick.”
They hastened forward to greet the Pilgrims and the Suttons, who were following close behind. Deirdre wanted to be aware of how all their quarries looked and noted that Mrs. Sutton wore an antique embroidered gown from early Italy, predominantly gold, with a green feathered mask. Lucy was more simply attired in a pretty peasant girl’s dress, with a white blouse and flowered skirt. The kerchief covering her hair should make her easy to follow. Deirdre hadn’t noticed anything similar at the ball.
“Who are you supposed to be, Pronto?” Belami asked.
“King Solomon. Supposed to be wise—why I wore the white hair and beard.” Why a king noted for his displays of wealth was wearing a bed sheet wasn’t mentioned.
“He refused to come as my slave.” Elvira pouted.
“But it is supposed to be a masquerade party, Mrs. Pilgrim,” Belami replied archly.