“Let us hear Eynard’s opinion before we jump to conclusions,” Kruger said. “Lock these up tight, Countess. Send for Eynard. You will not have time to see him before dinner. Well, here is a fine appetizer I must say.”
He was irate throughout his meal. His wrath was raised higher to have such a fine meal ruined. Larded plover, and his very favorite treat, ortolan, used to garnish the pheasant. Practically no one but Carême and the Countess Poronovitch’s chef served this cherished, tiny bird. Down the board, Chabon was trying to console Maria. “It is my fault. I should have warned you. The fact is, we at the French headquarters have been ordered to keep a watch on Mademoiselle Feydeau. I do not know what she is up to precisely, but it seems she is a lady with a past. An adventuress, Miss Kruger. It is
most
unfortunate your father took her in. We suspect her of being a Bonapartist agent. Pretty hard to prove anything, of course. This may be the very act that will put her behind bars, where she belongs."
“No, she did not change the earrings. If a switch was made, it was made after I left her,” Maria said firmly. This had been confirmed in her own mind by a meticulous recall, several times repeated, of the interlude. “In fact, she even suggested I have Papa take a look at them before leaving, in case Eynard had fooled her.”
“What is Eynard’s reputation? Is this possible?” Chabon asked.
“No, he is the most trusted jeweler in town. Why should he do such a thing?”
The harrowing meal seemed to last for hours. The roasts followed the fowl, platters of sweet soufflés, of fruits and finally the elaborate spun sugar concoction, half-ornament, half-edible, was served. Eventually it was over, and Maria and her father went into the study, while the gentlemen sat down to port. “You won’t want me in your way,” Chabon said, with becoming modesty.
Eynard awaited them. The Countess got the parcel and brought two lamps to a table to permit an examination. Eynard fixed a loupe in his eye, handing Kruger another. Each took up one of the earrings and subjected it to a close scrutiny, turning it this way and that.
“Not even colorless sapphire,” Kruger said at length.
“Good God! Don’t tell me I have got a pair of strass glass ear buckles,” the Countess exclaimed.
“No, Madame, you have got a pair of very clear zircons,” Eynard told her. “You know the trick, Kruger. Gently roast them in the oven, to get rid of the traces of yellow. They do better than colorless sapphires at a superficial glance. Give more brilliance,” he explained to the Countess.
“Aye. Pity,” Kruger said tersely. “You are quite certain these are not the ones you examined this afternoon, Eynard?”
“There is no room for doubt. Definitely these are the replicas. I made them myself.”
“Who commissioned them?” the Countess asked at once.
“A French woman calling herself Madame Clairmont. An alias, I expect,” Eynard replied.
“A young Frenchwoman?” Kruger asked, in a significant tone.
“No, not the Feydeau woman, if that is your meaning,” Eynard replied. “Feydeau claimed to be selling them for a friend. I did not inquire of the name, but presumed it to be Madame Clairmont.”
“We must get to the bottom of this at once,” Kruger said, scooping up the pieces of jewelry. “It is clear my daughter has been used to perpetrate a hoax. A good thing Chabon noticed it. I must get to know that fellow better. He has a good eye. I could not have been sure myself in the poor light. . . . Pray accept my apologies, Countess. We shall leave at once, and speak to Mademoiselle Feydeau.”
“It was not her doing, Papa,” Maria insisted.
“Hush, foolish child. She arranged it. How else should it be possible?” her father scolded. They left at once, leaving Chabon to escort the Countess von Rossner home later.
It was not at all late when the Krugers knocked at the small door of Mademoiselle Feydeau’s apartment, but already she was prepared for bed. The housekeeper took the message, and in a moment the mistress came to greet them, wearing a dressing gown, with her black hair hanging in loose curls over her shoulders. She looked about twelve years old, and utterly innocent. She listened with wide, horrified eyes to their story, wringing her hands, making low sounds of dismay. “But it is not possible! Miss Kruger—did you not show them to your father before leaving, as I asked?”
“I forgot. Oh but I know it is not your doing, Mademoiselle,” Maria assured her.
“How is this thing possible? Who else had the opportunity?” she asked.
“They never left my reticule,” Maria replied, in deep confusion.
“Did you leave your bag sitting about?” her father asked.
“No. That is—only for a moment, at the party. I left it on a chair, and Countess von Rossner handed it to me.”
“Who else was there?” Kruger asked, brushing aside the name of von Rossner as above suspicion.
“Monsieur Chabon of course. Anton—Miss Uzell. That’s all.”
“Chabon—he was with you the whole time,” Miss Feydeau said, in a significant tone.
“It was he who noticed the switch,” Kruger reminded her. “He would hardly have called attention to it if he were responsible. The answer lies in the business of the replicas, the ones Eynard made. You possessed the originals, Mademoiselle. From whom did you get them?”
“From a friend, Madame Lalonde, who had them from her husband. She has not been to Vienna, Herr Kruger. She had no copies made. I believe Eynard lies. He took advantage of my leaving them with him to show to customers to make a copy, and switch them on me. There was only your daughter and myself here. Neither of us is knowledgeable in these matters. He lied to us, gave us the copies.”
“Nonsense. He handles jewels worth ten times what those were worth. Why risk his reputation on such a paltry bit? He could duplicate for thousands, hundreds of thousands, if that were his game. A jeweler’s reputation is his most valuable asset. He would not risk it for worlds. I trust Eynard completely.”
“He would not deceive you, but he might take advantage of an unknown foreigner like myself, with no power to have revenge on him,” Miss Feydeau suggested.
“She could be right, Papa,” Maria said. As she went over and over the matter in her head, she could find no other solution.
“I’ll speak to him again. Certainly he is innocent, but he can at least give us a description of this Madame Clairmont who commissioned the replicas, and tell us when it was done too. We’ll see if she resembles your Madame Lalonde,” Kruger said to Miss Feydeau.
“The copies were made after I took them to him for selling,” Mademoiselle insisted.
“Copies are not made in a day, Mam’selle,” he pointed out.
“He had them longer than a day, Monsieur.”
They exchanged an appraising glance. It was the lady who averted her glance. “Naturally I do not hold your daughter responsible,” she said.
“I accept full responsibility for my daughter’s rashness in performing this errand for you. You will be repaid. It will be better if you deliver your own parcels in future, however. Come along, Maria.” He left without saying good evening, pulling his daughter away by the arm. Over her shoulder, Maria saw a tear forming in the tenant’s eye. She wanted to reassure her, but it was impossible with her father present. She would return soon.
“You were hard on her, Papa,” she said after they had left. “She cannot be held at fault.”
“I have a good mind to ask her to leave. I would do so, if it were not for the looks of it. It would make me look guilty, to send her packing now. I rue the day I let her into my house.”
It was still not late when they entered their own saloon, to find Monsieur Chabon just being shown in. “I came to see if I could be of any assistance, Herr Kruger,” he said. “Your precipitate departure from the party led me to believe the earrings were found to be forgeries. It is so?”
“I’m afraid it is. We are indebted to you for noticing it. What do you know of this Feydeau woman? Maria tells me she is being watched from the French headquarters.”
“That is true. No special attention has been paid her till the present, but she is known to be partial to the Bonapartist cause. Her whole family were supporters. Her father, one of the Olde Garde, her brother killed at Moscow, and a fiancé, I believe, took part in the last campaign. It seems, from what I hear, that she has somehow got hold of the King’s collection of diamonds, stolen at the time of the Revolution, and is selling them off in bits and pieces.”
“How should she have got this collection?” Kruger asked.
“It is pretty widely accepted in France they had come into Bonaparte’s hands. Her father was in his confidence. She tells some story of Napoleon giving a jewel here and there to his loyal supporters. I do not believe he would have the poor judgment to disperse the crown jewels of France. He gave them to old Feydeau for safekeeping, I expect. With the Emperor abdicated, she sells them for her own profit. An adventuress.”
Maria looked and said nothing. Kruger it was who said, “If she is pro-Napoleon, as you say, then she is more likely selling them for him.”
“This is possible,” Chabon admitted. “I would appreciate it if you said nothing about this matter, however. Prince Talleyrand is most anxious that the story not get about. Many nations are only tentatively committed to the return of the Bourbons, you understand. Any suggestion that Napoleon is not finished would make negotiations impossible for him.”
“It seems to me, Monsieur, that a young lady who sits on the crown jewels of France would have to be extremely stupid indeed to make her first sale a forgery. Who will buy from her again?”
“Her first sale was not a fake. It was the star ruby, purchased by Lord Palgrave.”
“Well, the second then. Little difference.”
“An excess of greed might account for it,” Chabon thought.
“You mentioned calling on Eynard, Papa,” Maria reminded him. “I suggest you call on Baron Hager first, and take a search warrant with you. You may very well find the genuine original diamonds in his safe.”
“Not a bad idea,” Chabon conceded. “You are mistaken, Miss Kruger, but it will prove Eynard’s innocence.”
“Let’s go,” Kruger said, and called for his cape. “I have been meaning to congratulate you on that piece of detection, Monsieur Chabon. How do you come to have such a knowledge of gemstones and diamonds? I count myself something of an expert, but I could not have been certain, just at a glance.”
“I had my suspicions alerted when your daughter told me of her errand. That’s all. My family have long been active in the field of jewels. You must have heard of the case some years ago of the pink diamond in the crown jewels of Russia that was passing for a rare ruby red one? It was my father who discovered the hoax—the foil dyed red that was used behind the diamond in the setting. Not very popular with the Tsar when he discovered it,” Chabon laughed.
“Know anything at all about jade?” Kruger asked, smiling at the man with a kinder eye than he had hitherto cast on him.
"A little something.”
“Well, let us be off then.”
“Don’t forget to take Hager with you!” Maria reminded them.
“Let us pander to her whim,” Chabon said, with a fond smile at Maria.
Chapter Twelve
The streets of Vienna were always crowded, with the visitors from all the western countries come to work and make merry. Even at this hour of the night one’s carriage was held up at every intersection. The luxurious equipages of the visiting dignitaries, rushing happily from one party to another, vied for road space with the more simple gigs of the local inhabitants. There were pedestrians aplenty, and, several mounted riders. The rich carriages accompanied by soldiers or livened postboys alerted onlookers to the possibility of a crowned head within. “Where is Eynard’s place?” Chabon asked.
“Two blocks farther along. We’ll pass it to get to Hager’s headquarters. The Baron won’t be there himself, but we’ll take along a minion of the law to lend us authority. Not that it is necessary. He is above suspicion, Eynard. I have known him from the cradle.”
After another ten minutes of careful driving, Kruger’s carriage turned off into a side street. "That’s Eynard’s shop there,” he said to Chabon. “Seems to be something going on. Those are the uniforms of the Austrian police.”
“Maybe we should stop,” Chabon suggested.
“That’s Hager himself,” Kruger exclaimed, pulling the check string to have his carriage stopped. He leapt out, with Chabon following closely at his heels. “What’s afoot here, Hager?” he asked.
“Murder, my friend. The first of the Congress. We prided ourselves on the peacefulness we have contrived till the present. Not a robbery of note, not a murder—nothing but rumors of disaster. It is old Eynard, the jeweler, who got it. Shot in the back, just as he was about to enter his shop. A very stupid murder it was. The thief would have done better to allow him to first enter his shop, open his safe, and then shoot him after taking the loot. This was a senseless business. Nothing stolen. The shot was heard—a neighbor came running out, and the murderer-thief took to his heels, without even having time to rifle Eynard’s pockets. The work of an amateur obviously, or a drunkard.”
“When did it happen?” Chabon asked.
“Three-quarters of an hour ago.”
“Who was the neighbor who saw the murder?”
“Ruysek, the lace seller next door. He has no description. A man in a dark coat. A gentleman he thinks. That leaves me only a hundred thousand or so suspects. This will be an unsolved case, I fear.”
“I would like to speak to you in private, Baron Hager,” Kruger said. “Can we go into the shop? I may have some light to shed on this matter.”
“I hope it is not political. Metternich will be down my throat, making me arrest someone for the looks of it.”
“Quasi-political,” Kruger said apologetically, as he followed Hager into the shop. In approximately forty-five minutes, the three gentlemen came out.
“The diamond earrings were not there. Not in Eynard’s pockets, not hidden in any of the drawers nor in his safe. There was no evidence of chicanery. No unusually large sums of money. Just the pieces of jewelry he was working on, each carefully noted in his books. Well, Eynard has no reputation for double-dealing. This was a senseless murder by some fellow who hoped to steal a fistful of diamonds,” Baron Hager said.