The Chemickal Marriage

Schoepfil warmly. ‘Enter, enter – so much to discuss, so little time. You have eaten – no? Well, hardly time now – you have been told of the fire?’
    ‘I saw enough of it myself.’ Miss Temple craned around a sofa leg. Doctor Svenson looked like a beaten dog. Schoepfil poked him playfully.
    ‘Not
that
fire. Can you not smell?’
    Svenson swatted at his greatcoat. ‘I would smell smoke if we stood in a rose garden.’
    ‘Yes, a shocking conflagration, by all accounts, and now that these accounts are arriving, thick as migrating crows – do crows migrate? – the Queen’s court is a-boil with fear.’ Schoepfil lifted a folder of papers from a table and raised a cloud of ash. ‘Thus the extremely small blaze in my own quarters prompts a request that I
relocate
.’
    ‘What caused this extremely small blaze?’
    ‘Do you truly not know?’
    ‘I have been locked in a room.’
    ‘The Contessa di Lacquer-Sforza. She has provoked an abominable inconvenience.’
    ‘I should say you came off lucky.’
    ‘I did not count you amongst her admirers.’
    ‘I am not. Where is Miss Temple? They were together in the baths.’
    Schoepfil shrugged, as if the question were trivial. Svenson reached for the man, but Schoepfil’s hand shot out and quickly twisted the Doctor’s arm at the elbow. Svenson grimaced, but managed to repeat his question.
    ‘Where is Miss Temple?’
    ‘Perfectly safe – how you will squirm! – locked with that fellow from the brothel.’
    ‘Let me make sure of her safety. I can as easily be locked up there as here.’
    Schoepfil released the Doctor’s arm. ‘An extraordinary request. Does the Contessa care for her as well? What if I threatened to cut off her nose?’
    ‘The Contessa would probably ask to eat it.’
    Schoepfil sighed. ‘Perhaps. Before I decide the fate of Miss Temple’s nose, however, I must know more about Madelaine Kraft.’
    ‘There is nothing to tell. She recovered. I cannot say how.’
    Schoepfil reached into his coat pocket and removed a cork-stopped flask of brown dust. ‘I believe this is called bloodstone.’
    ‘Is it?’
    ‘It was in your own tunic, Doctor. Gorine confirms that you employed
bloodstone
to effect the lady’s restoration.’
    ‘Mr Gorine was not present. He tells you what you want to hear.’
    ‘What I want are Mrs Kraft’s whereabouts.’
    ‘She died in the fire.’
    ‘Who taught you the properties of bloodstone? Vandaariff? He’s resumed production of the Comte’s
library
, as you know.’ Miss Temple’s eyes went wide at the sight of a leather case propped next to the papers. She bore a scar where another such case, containing the glass book preserving the Comte d’Orkancz, had nearly cracked her skull.
    ‘With luck he’s set a book aside for you.’
    Schoepfil trilled with amusement and shook his head, too quickly, like a little dog shaking off sleep. ‘You tweak me, Doctor Svenson – you
tweak
me because nothing has gone your way. I accept it – accept the
impulse
– though I insist on a serious response before we leave.’
    ‘Leave for where?’
    ‘Excellent question. And since I admire your abject determination, Doctor, I will tell you – well, tell you a
little
…’ Schoepfil held up a hand, stepped to the archway and poked his head through. He re-emerged, smiled, and then without warning leapt behind the sofa. But when Mr Schoepfil’s attention had been diverted at the archway, Miss Temple had crept to the cover of an over-stuffed
fauteuil
. Schoepfil lifted the sofa to glare at the carpet beneath.
    ‘Are you quite well?’ asked Svenson.
    ‘Of course I am,’ growled Schoepfil. ‘Didn’t you hear?’
    ‘Hear what?’
    ‘A
spy
.’ Schoepfil returned to the archway, scowling out. ‘
Breathing
.’
    Svenson sighed impatiently. ‘If you refuse to tell me –’
    ‘I will tell you when I want! And you will tell
me
– whatever I want – more than I want – you will beg for the chance!’
    ‘No doubt,’ agreed the Doctor blandly.
    Schoepfil marched straight to Svenson and struck him across the face. Neither man spoke. Miss Temple dared not peek to see their expressions.
    ‘I will not endure that … that
tone
,’ hissed Schoepfil. Svenson’s silence was excruciating. Schoepfil sniffed. ‘Set the matter aside. What I was
going
to say – what I was going to
offer
– was a chance for your own skills to turn aprofit, Doctor. A chance to follow in the footsteps of greater men. Doctor Lorenz, Mr