The Death of Achilles Read Online Free PDF Page B

smile. “After midnight the door of the hotel is closed on a spring latch. Anyone who wishes to leave can easily do so, but anyone who wishes to enter has to ring the bell.”
    “Now that is a fact,” the general conceded. “But please continue.”
    “The only moment at which Sobolev could have returned is when our d-dashing captain sent the porter to get some seltzer water. However, as we know, that happened when it was already dawn, that is to say, no earlier than four o’clock. If we are to believe Mr. Welling — and what reason do we have to doubt the judgment of that venerable gentleman? — by that time Sobolev had already been dead for several hours. What, then, is the conclusion?”
    Karachentsev’s eyes glinted angrily.
    “Well, and what is it?”
    “Gukmasov sent the porter away so that he could bring in Sobolev’s lifeless body without being noticed. I suspect that the other officers of the retinue were outside at the time.”
    “Then the scoundrels must be thoroughly interrogated,” the police chief roared so ferociously that they heard him in the next room, where the vague droning of voices immediately ceased.
    “Pointless. They have already conspired. That is why they were so late in reporting the death — they needed time to prepare.” Erast Petro-vich gave the general a moment to cool down and absorb what he had said, then turned the conversation in a different direction. “Who is this Wanda that everybody knows?”
    “Well, perhaps not everybody, but she is a well-known individual in certain circles. A German woman from Riga. A singer and a beauty, not exactly a courtesan, but something of the kind. A sort of dame aux camelias .” Karachentsev nodded briskly. “I see where your thoughts are leading. This Wanda will clear everything up for us. I’ll give instructions for her to be brought in immediately.”
    The general set off resolutely toward the door.
    “I wouldn’t advise it,” said Fandorin, speaking to his back. “If anything did happen, this individual will certainly not confide in the police. And she is certainly included in the officers’ conspiracy. That is, naturally, if she is involved at all in what happened. Let me have a talk with her myself, Evgeny Osipovich. In my private capacity, eh? Where is the hotel Anglia? The corner of Stoleshnikov Lane and Petrovka Street?”
    “Yes, just five minutes from here.” The chief of police was regarding the young man with evident satisfaction. “I shall be waiting for news, Erast Petrovich. God be with you.”
    He made the sign of the cross and the collegiate assessor left the room bearing the blessing of high authority.

----
THREE
    In which Fandorin plays heads or tails
     
    However, Erast Fandorin did not manage to reach the hotel Anglia in five minutes. Waiting for him in the corridor outside the fateful suite 47 was a sullen- faced Gukmasov.
    “Be so good as to step into my room for a couple of words,” he said to Fandorin and, taking a firm grasp of the young man’s elbow, he drew him into the suite next door to the general’s.
    The suite was exactly like the one that Fandorin himself was occupying. There was already a large group of men in it, scattered about on the divan and the chairs. Erast Petrovich glanced at their faces and recognized the officers from the dead man’s retinue whom he had seen only recently in the drawing room next door. The collegiate assessor greeted the assembled company with a slight bow, but no one made any response, and there was evident animosity in the gazes that they turned toward him. Fandorin crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the doorpost, and the expression on his face changed from polite greeting to cold hostility.
    “Gentlemen!” Captain Gukmasov announced in a severe, almost ceremonial voice. “Allow me to introduce Erast Petrovich Fandorin, with whom I have the honor of being acquainted from the time of the Turkish War. He is now working for the governor-general