‘When we were in the tea room together,’ Alkmene picked up the thread of interrogation, ‘and you sent Oksana Matejevna off to go to the dressmaker’s ahead of you, what did you tell her exactly? Did you ask her to go to the hotel across the street and inquire about Ms Steinbeck?’
The countess looked puzzled. ‘Of course not. What for? I hardly know Ms Steinbeck.’
‘Still,’ Dubois said, ‘she went there and paid a bellboy for information. I suppose with your money.’
Oksana Matejevna took a step forwards as if she wanted to say something to her defence. Her cheeks were red, and her eyes flashed. But she kept her thin lips pressed together.
The countess looked at her and asked a question in Russian.
The maid shook her head.
Dubois laughed. ‘Come on, I saw her there. Lady Alkmene here can confirm I am telling the truth. We both saw her there.’
Alkmene quickly explained, ‘I went after Mr Dubois to give back his handkerchief like you had asked me to. We happened to see Oksana Matejevna talking to a bellboy and offering him money. I saw it clearly; there can be no mistake.’
Dubois said soothingly, ‘I do not dislike foreigners. Most people consider me a foreigner so I should know what prejudice can do. I don’t want to accuse anybody. I am just pointing out that if she denies that, while it is true, she might be denying other things that are true as well. We should get to the bottom of this.’
The countess turned to her maid again and seemed to translate the gist of what Dubois had said for her. The maid looked at her, then around past the canary cages and icons. She seemed to be searching for a clever reply.
Then suddenly she clapped her hands to her face and began to sob.
The countess exhaled. ‘No, Oksana, no tears to solve it.’
She turned to Dubois and Alkmene and said in an apologetic tone, ‘She often uses tears to get her way, like a little child. But this is too serious to let pass.’
Oksana muttered something.
Dubois pressed, ‘She has taken the brooch on purpose. That is not clumsiness or forgetfulness. That is theft.’
The maid’s head came up, and she stared at Dubois. If looks could have killed, he would have fallen on the spot. Russian words lashed at him, probably curses.
Dubois stood it quietly. Then he said, ‘Why don’t you tell me what you think of me in a language I can understand? You know a lot more English than you pretend to do. Why not drop the pretence now and talk to me? Unless you’d like to tell your story to the police.’
‘No police,’ Oksana Matejevna said in a rushed tone. ‘It will hit the papers, and my mistress will be hurt.’
‘Oksana,’ the countess exclaimed. ‘You speak English!’
Oksana Matejevna walked to Dubois and clutched his sleeve. ‘Please no police, no papers. No hurt to my mistress. I did it all for her. To protect her.’
The countess put her hands on her hips. ‘You stole from me to protect me? That will take some explaining, Oksana Matejevna!’
Oksana whirled round to her. ‘I did it to protect you, your highness. You are a Russian princess. You should live a sheltered life. You should not be…exposed to police officers and rude questions about your life, and vile reports in the papers.’
She turned to Dubois again. ‘You are a reporter too. You write up those lies.’
Dubois shook his head. ‘I never write anything unless I have ascertained that it is true. I do not want to hurt people. I don’t want to hurt your mistress either.’
Alkmene pointed at a chair. ‘Please sit down and tell us everything that happened. Tell us why you did what you did so we may understand it.’
Oksana blinked a few times. Then she seated herself and pulled her skirt straight. ‘Last week, two days before we went to the theatre, a letter came for her highness. It was not in the mail. It was…how do you say? Delivered to the door. The footman took it in. I saw it and I took it from him to bring to her highness.’
‘And then you opened it and read it,’ the countess said with a grimace.
Oksana hung her head. ‘I do not deny it. I thought it was strange there was no name on the envelope, no…emblem, no thing to see who sent it. I opened it and read it. It was terrible.’
Dubois glanced at Alkmene. His lips formed the word blackmail.
Alkmene ignored him and focused on Oksana, who pushed on, ‘The letter said that you had deceived your husband. That there was proof. To get the proof back you had to give up on something valuable. The brooch was…how do you say? Outlined?’
‘Described?’ Dubois scooted to the edge of his seat. ‘You mean, they asked for this particular brooch in the letter you read?’
Oksana nodded. ‘Yes. It had to be delivered in a certain way. In the theatre.’
‘So the sender also knew you were going to see an opera that night?’
‘Yes.’ Oksana nodded again. ‘I was so scared. I thought he had been…watching us.’
‘He had to have been to know so much.’ Dubois looked pensive. He cast a look at Alkmene, who nodded quickly. After all, her letter had said explicitly the perpetrators had been watching her.
Dubois asked, ‘What then?’
‘I didn’t want to show to my mistress. So I took the brooch to the theatre and left it there in the curtain as the letter had said. I was supposed to go back later and take the proof from the hiding place. But it was not there. I doubted what to do: take back the brooch or leave it. I had no time to think well.’
‘So you left it?’
‘Yes. I should not have. I am sorry.’
‘You should not have read a letter addressed to me. Or acted without consulting me first.’ The countess tried to look angry, but she was half smiling. ‘Poor Oksana, you only did what you thought was best.’
Then her face set again. ‘Why have you never told me you understand so much English?’
Oksana hung her head.
‘I bet,’ Dubois said, ‘it is much easier to catch all the gossip when people believe you cannot understand a word they are saying.’
Oksana looked up. ‘It is not always easy, monsieur. They also say things about me thinking I do not understand them. Hurtful things.’
Dubois’s jaw set. Alkmene wondered if he was thinking about the hurtful things flung at him because he was a foreigner. He was after all half French.
And a convict at that.
She was not sure what it meant exactly. She could not imagine him having committed crimes for which he had deserved to go to prison. Did that mean he had been imprisoned innocently? For a good cause maybe?
On an undercover assignment, arrested by mistake?
Yes, perhaps he had only been in prison a short while, then released. Maybe they called him a convict to exaggerate and get her money all the easier.
The countess sighed. ‘The brooch is back now. I am very glad, for it is a dear memory of my parents’ love.’
‘And the blackmailers have not been in touch again?’ Dubois asked Oksana Matejevna.
The maid shook her head. ‘I believed they had the brooch and were happy now. But as you found it right where I left it…’
Her face scrunched up. ‘I do not understand. Why did they not take it away from there?’
‘Something must have prevented them from doing so,’ Dubois said with a frown.