The Chemickal Marriage

shell. That has been his intention all this time.’
    Miss Temple heard the words as if from a distance.
    A part of her heart went away, a cloud pulled to pieces by the wind.
    ‘Who?’ Her voice was calm. She realized Pfaff had taken her hand, to comfort her. Miss Temple gently reclaimed it. ‘Who did this?’
    ‘Old Foison.’
    ‘With a glass book.’
    ‘Who knew that there were any left? I heard them talking, the ones in robes. But they’re all in on it. Even your German doctor. You’ll see for yourself. I’m the only one with you now.’
    Pfaff nodded, as if her silence confirmed his last words, and walked on. Miss Temple followed in silence. Pfaff glanced back, with a wary look.
    ‘The Contessa is all that’s left, you know. Everyone else plays his game.’
    ‘Please stop talking, Mr Pfaff. Just take me to them.’
    Instead, he stopped at a metal panel studded with iron wheels and numbered gauges. Pfaff consulted a pocket watch she did not recall him owning, then shot a white cuff from his coat, marked with numbers. He peered at the scribbles of ink and turned the wheels accordingly. These were controls for the turbines, she guessed. He winked at her.
    ‘Couldn’t let him get too far without us!’
    The pipes behind Miss Temple’s head began to vibrate. Pfaff pointed to an open, square embrasure, its metal grille prised back. Pfaff threw off his robe.
    ‘No more need for these!’ He gathered his coat-tails and scuttled in. Miss Temple hiked up her own dripping robe, then discarded it as well.
    The metal passage was hot, despite several inches of water. She waddled half bent, aware that only the Contessa could have instructed Pfaff on the workings of Vandaariff’s machines. Whether Pfaff had betrayed Miss Temple outright or somehow sought to serve both women and survive, the overweening optimism of the man sickened her. She could shoot him in the back this moment.
    Pfaff clambered out. Miss Temple followed, aware of extending her bare legs.
    ‘Do not
look
at me, Mr Pfaff.’
    ‘Just making sure you don’t fall in, miss …’
    He nodded to a roiling moat of black water. A tattered streamer of white rolled to the surface and then, with a tug, shot back to the depths … an acolyte’s robe.
    They picked their way to an iron staircase, leading up. At its foot lay another acolyte, neck broken from the fall.
    Pfaff leant close to her ear. ‘Take care now. We may come up in the middle of everything.’
    She tightened her grip on the revolver and began to climb.
    Another acolyte’s corpse blocked the stairs halfway up. Pfaff extended a hand to help Miss Temple over the corpse. They crept the final steps bent double, then paused to listen, hunched below an open trapdoor.
    ‘You have done nothing, madam!’ This was Mr Schoepfil’s mannered tenor. ‘Nothing save deliver all into my hands!’
    ‘How is that?’ The Contessa’s voice was far away. ‘You are disinherited, are you not? You are officially, legally
nothing
!’
    Schoepfil laughed. ‘I have the will in my hand – once it is burnt, I reclaim my rightful place. You have slain the source too soon! His precious empty vessel will remain so – as if such a man, a known
criminal
, would ever be permitted such a legacy! No matter what this piece of paper may declare, my own array of supporters, powerful men –’
    ‘They are not yours,’ Doctor Svenson broke in. ‘Robert Vandaariffarranged it all. Just as he made sure you bought the Comte’s papers, and had the money to do so. Those men are loyal to him, and they will be loyal to his wishes.’
    ‘O what a tale!’ Schoepfil’s amusement trilled on. ‘His intentions, yes – I have read the strategy. But why should he engineer my support? What
service
do I provide him as an antagonist?’
    ‘By exposing your true self,’ replied Svenson. ‘With your own horrible behaviour
you
– and you alone – have made it possible for a criminal like Chang to inherit. Do you doubt that the Duchess of Cogstead, with the entire court behind her, will not intervene on his behalf if it means damning you?’
    Schoepfil was silent, then abruptly erupted in petulant screams. ‘
No!
No!
The court is
nothing
. And now that he is gone, those men will follow their own sense – they will throw their support behind the man they know! And mark me, Doctor, I won’t forget a
word
. After I burn this will –
then
I would like to see –’
    ‘O
think
, man,’ called Svenson. ‘Do you imagine there