Seligmann,’ said Box, gently. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of.’
‘I’m sure there isn’t, Inspector. And I can assure you that I’m not afraid of you !’
Her voice was clear and firm, very pleasant in tone, and with a slight foreign intonation. Before Box could frame a reply, the German girl launched into speech.
‘My name is Ottilie Seligmann. I am the daughter of the late Ernst Seligmann of Mecklenburg – from Rostock, which is a city there. You have heard of it, no? And so I am the niece of the late Dr Otto Seligmann. I have lived with my uncle since my father died sixth months ago. I am twenty-two years old.’
Knollys stirred in his chair near the window. Glancing in his direction , Box was disconcerted to see the look of frozen hostility on his sergeant’s face. Perhaps he was one of those men who were easily offended by pertness of Miss Ottilie’s kind.
‘Thank you, Miss Seligmann. My purpose today is really to see the various members of the household. I have seen your late uncle’s secretary , Mr Schneider, and in a few moments I hope to speak to the Austrian gentleman, Count Czerny—’
‘Czerny? Bah! He is one piece of my late uncle’s baggage that can go. Out he goes! He is a mountebank, a professional diner at other men’s tables. Do you know how he speaks? Like the English milord. He was brought up in England, at a school called Stowe, and then at Cambridge. And yet this Austro-Englishman claimed to have a vast web of confidants throughout Europe, and Uncle Otto believed it all. For years and years he has had his feet under poor uncle’s dining-table. He will go. I have told him so, this very morning. And that Polish woman. She sneers at us all, and bullies the English staff. This house is mine, now. She, too, will go.’
Ottilie looked quizzically and rather tauntingly at Box. A fascinating young lady, he thought, but she can’t be allowed to have the last word.
‘Very interesting, miss, to hear your arrangements for the future. And I take it that you have been devastated by your uncle’s murder?’
It was a shrewd thrust, and it went home. The black lashes dropped to veil the bright blue eyes, and there was a little silence. Ottilie drummed the fingers of her right hand impatiently on the desk in front of her. Finally she sat up straight in her chair and fixed her glance on the inspector once again.
‘My uncle was kind and good. You must catch the men who killed him and hang them high on the gallows. They are wicked. But no; I am not devastated. Fritz is devastated – Herr Schneider, you know. He was devoted to Uncle Otto, though he is a Saxon ox, and doesn’t care to parade his sorrow. Me, I will go back to Germany. I have no part in all this politik. When my uncle’s money comes to me, I will dance, and wear fine clothes, and go to Court in Berlin. I will look for a noble youth and beckon him to me, and we will marry. There will be fine children – noble boys and beautiful girls. That, then, is Ottilie. You have seen her and you have heard her.’
‘Thank you, miss. You’re very frank, a point which I very much appreciate. We’ll talk further, perhaps.’
Ottilie suddenly smiled at him. It was a captivating smile.
‘You are not angry with me? You will shake hands, yes?’
‘Certainly, miss. And of course I’m not angry with you. Not at all!’ Inspector Box gravely shook hands with Ottilie Seligmann. She half bowed to him, and glided out of the room. Box sat down again.
‘Phew!’ he said. ‘There’s a charmer, if you like, Sergeant Knollys. A very enchanting young lady, quite frank and fearless—’
‘Tickled your fancy, did she, sir?’ There was genuine amusement in Sergeant Knollys’ voice, though Box could hear the exasperation lurking behind it.
‘“Tickled my fancy”? Really, Sergeant, I don’t know where you get these coarse expressions from. I thought she was a charming and brave young lady. I’m sorry you’ve taken a dislike to
‘I’m sure there isn’t, Inspector. And I can assure you that I’m not afraid of you !’
Her voice was clear and firm, very pleasant in tone, and with a slight foreign intonation. Before Box could frame a reply, the German girl launched into speech.
‘My name is Ottilie Seligmann. I am the daughter of the late Ernst Seligmann of Mecklenburg – from Rostock, which is a city there. You have heard of it, no? And so I am the niece of the late Dr Otto Seligmann. I have lived with my uncle since my father died sixth months ago. I am twenty-two years old.’
Knollys stirred in his chair near the window. Glancing in his direction , Box was disconcerted to see the look of frozen hostility on his sergeant’s face. Perhaps he was one of those men who were easily offended by pertness of Miss Ottilie’s kind.
‘Thank you, Miss Seligmann. My purpose today is really to see the various members of the household. I have seen your late uncle’s secretary , Mr Schneider, and in a few moments I hope to speak to the Austrian gentleman, Count Czerny—’
‘Czerny? Bah! He is one piece of my late uncle’s baggage that can go. Out he goes! He is a mountebank, a professional diner at other men’s tables. Do you know how he speaks? Like the English milord. He was brought up in England, at a school called Stowe, and then at Cambridge. And yet this Austro-Englishman claimed to have a vast web of confidants throughout Europe, and Uncle Otto believed it all. For years and years he has had his feet under poor uncle’s dining-table. He will go. I have told him so, this very morning. And that Polish woman. She sneers at us all, and bullies the English staff. This house is mine, now. She, too, will go.’
Ottilie looked quizzically and rather tauntingly at Box. A fascinating young lady, he thought, but she can’t be allowed to have the last word.
‘Very interesting, miss, to hear your arrangements for the future. And I take it that you have been devastated by your uncle’s murder?’
It was a shrewd thrust, and it went home. The black lashes dropped to veil the bright blue eyes, and there was a little silence. Ottilie drummed the fingers of her right hand impatiently on the desk in front of her. Finally she sat up straight in her chair and fixed her glance on the inspector once again.
‘My uncle was kind and good. You must catch the men who killed him and hang them high on the gallows. They are wicked. But no; I am not devastated. Fritz is devastated – Herr Schneider, you know. He was devoted to Uncle Otto, though he is a Saxon ox, and doesn’t care to parade his sorrow. Me, I will go back to Germany. I have no part in all this politik. When my uncle’s money comes to me, I will dance, and wear fine clothes, and go to Court in Berlin. I will look for a noble youth and beckon him to me, and we will marry. There will be fine children – noble boys and beautiful girls. That, then, is Ottilie. You have seen her and you have heard her.’
‘Thank you, miss. You’re very frank, a point which I very much appreciate. We’ll talk further, perhaps.’
Ottilie suddenly smiled at him. It was a captivating smile.
‘You are not angry with me? You will shake hands, yes?’
‘Certainly, miss. And of course I’m not angry with you. Not at all!’ Inspector Box gravely shook hands with Ottilie Seligmann. She half bowed to him, and glided out of the room. Box sat down again.
‘Phew!’ he said. ‘There’s a charmer, if you like, Sergeant Knollys. A very enchanting young lady, quite frank and fearless—’
‘Tickled your fancy, did she, sir?’ There was genuine amusement in Sergeant Knollys’ voice, though Box could hear the exasperation lurking behind it.
‘“Tickled my fancy”? Really, Sergeant, I don’t know where you get these coarse expressions from. I thought she was a charming and brave young lady. I’m sorry you’ve taken a dislike to
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