Circle of Shadows by Imogen Robertson

cones, strange limbs, sharp crops of pointed files, and pinned to the wall from time to time, pencil drawings and water colours, designs of cogs and levers. To Harriet’s right stood a deep stack of leather notebooks, and to her left where Rachel sat with a glass of tea in her hand and a cautious smile on her lips, a tiny lathe drawn by a bow. From the ceiling hung bunches of keys and garlands of clean brass discs. The place smelled of paint and metal.
    The younger Mr Al-Said slipped down from his perch.
    ‘Our little friend is ready, if Mrs Westerman would like to see him.’
    Crowther had almost finished his pile of papers when there was the sound of a knock on the door. Again he half-expected to see Krall, and again he was disappointed. It was Graves, his cheeks flushed.
    ‘Crowther! Where is Mrs Westerman?’
    ‘Still visiting these acquaintances of Mrs Clode and touring the gardens. I understand that they are quite extensive.’
    ‘We must find her at once.’
    ‘Do you require her assistance to negotiate with Chancellor Swann?’
    Graves looked angry and Crowther put down his pen. ‘I am sorry, Graves. What has happened?’
    ‘Manzerotti.’
    ‘What of him?’
    ‘He is here.’
    ‘Damn. How long has he been here?’ Crowther said, reaching for his coat. ‘How could Rachel not tell us?’
    ‘She cannot have known,’ Graves said, almost dancing with impatience. ‘He arrived only this morning, with a troupe of French dancers to swell the crowd of performers here for the wedding celebrations. It is a great coup for the Duke to have such a star perform at his court. Swann mentioned it in passing at the end of our discussion. Said he understood we were acquainted with Manzerotti and that the monster sent his regards. Well, he did not phrase it quite like that …’
    ‘Did he see your reaction?’
    ‘I think not – he was bent over his papers again. Crowther, what will she do if she meets him?’
    Crowther found himself transported back to the room in Highgate where James had died, saw Harriet’s face as she bent over her husband, his hand clasped between her own and his blood pooling round her dress. She had loved her husband very much. ‘I should imagine she’ll try very hard to kill him,’ he said, and took up his hat.
    Krall decided he had given the English travellers enough time to settle into their luxurious cages, and his pipe still clamped between his teeth, was making his way through the rear courtyard to pay his respects when he saw two gentlemen, strangers to him, walking swiftly out into the gardens.
    ‘Kinkel?’ The head footman turned from the underling he was berating and approached, his shiny black shoes tapping out a quick tripping rhythm over the flagstones under the colonnade.
    ‘Herr District Officer?’
    Krall pointed with his pipe at the disappearing strangers.
    ‘Milords Crowther and Graves, sir,’ Kinkel said. ‘Perhaps they go to meet Mrs Clode and her sister. The ladies left to tour the gardens some little time ago.’
    Krall decided it might be better to put off introducing himself for a while. To pursue the two men would necessitate walking so fast he might disturb his digestion. The two men, both tall, angular beings, disappeared from sight and Krall sniffed and looked about him, patting his belly. The courtyard was lively. Footmen went back and forth with large trunks held between them, and another carriage, emptied of its dignitaries, was being led back out under the arch towards the stables. Krall thought it spoke well of Kinkel’s organisational talents that he was able to watch this with apparent calm.
    ‘Any other notable arrivals today, Herr Kinkel?’
    The footman clasped his hands behind his back. ‘The Princess Theresa Anna, the Duke of Mecklenburg, a troupe of French dancers, and Manzerotti himself.’ Herr Kinkel allowed himself a small sigh. ‘Herr District Officer, I could almost wish myself a valet again if it meant the chance of dressing Manzerotti.