The Devil in Music (39 page)

"That's
sensible, I suppose."

A
brief walk brought them to the caves. "Do you think he could be
hiding in them?" MacGregor asked.

"He
would be asking to be trapped. But we'll look."

Kestrel
lifted the curtain of scarlet creeper and went into the large round
cave known as the Salon, his lantern held before him. MacGregor had
been shown this cave before, but on a sunny morning. Now it was
perfectly dark, the lantern light cutting a narrow swathe through the
gloom to reveal patches of scarred grey wall. When the light fell on
a pallid, open-mouthed face, MacGregor jumped. But it was only the
little grotesque head carved on the back of the disused pool against
the cave wall. The nozzle protruding from its mouth gave the
impression it was about to play a tune.

Kestrel
shone the lantern all around, but there was no one hiding in the
cave. He went to the trapdoor in the centre of the floor. "Locked.
I thought as much. Stealing wine from the cellar would be too much
of a temptation on a night like this."

"You
don't suppose Orfeo could have kept a key to it?"

"Whether
he did or not makes no odds, since we haven't one. Come, let's see
if Grimani's turned up a trump."

On
their way back to the villa, they ran into Francesca and Valeriano.
They were strolling arm-in-arm, she nestled close to him and clasping
his arm with both hands. In his free hand, he carried a dark

lantern,
the shutter open to light their way. When they saw Julian and
MacGregor, they stopped abruptly.

"Have
you seen anyone in the garden?" Julian asked.

"Seen
anyone?" said Valeriano. "Whom should we have seen?"

"A
young man," said Julian. "A tenor."

"A
tenor?" Francesca's eyes widened.

"Yes.
Orfeo has reappeared, in a manner of speaking. He serenaded us a
short while ago."

"Madonna!"
marvelled Valeriano. "Where is he now?"

"We
don't know. We're on our way back to the villa to see if he's been
found."

Valeriano
and Francesca joined them. As they hastened along, Julian asked,
"Did you see or hear anyone in the garden?"

"No,"
they both said.

"Were
you together all the time?"

"Of
course," said Valeriano. "Even in a walled garden, I
wouldn't have left Signora Argenti alone on a festival night."

"Did
you leave the garden at any time?"

"No,"
said Valeriano.

They
reached the villa terrace. Grimani was pacing tensely. Carlo was
downing a glass of some liqueur. Donati sat where he had been
before, Sebastiano standing sentinel beside him. The marchesa stood
by the balustrade, turned away from the others and looking out on the
lake.

"Where
have you been?" Grimani snapped.

"North
to the caves," said Julian. "We thought Orfeo might have
gone that way, but we didn't find him."

Grimani
resumed his pacing. "We went as far as the garden gate. But he
had the start of us. Curse him! On this night of all nights, I'll
be lucky to find a sober gendarme within five miles to chase him.
Even Zanetti is at the festival the devil take him!"

He
stopped walking and clenched his fists, his body quivering with the
effort to control his rage. "I'm going to the barracks to find
Von Krauss and have him send out soldiers to look for Orfeo. Not
that I think it will do any good. He'll have got well away by now or
resumed his real identity."

The
marchesa looked around at that. "His real identity?" she
asked, in a strange, light voice. "What do you mean?"

"I
mean that there are two young Englishmen in Solaggio. I want them
brought here for questioning." Grimani's eyes narrowed. "And
that

Frenchman,
who knows so much about music, and who according to Zanetti speaks
English like an Englishman. I want to know if they can account for
their whereabouts at the time Orfeo was singing."

"What
time was that?" asked Carlo. "I wasn't paying attention."

"About
ten," said Grimani. "That's an estimate I didn't look at
my watch immediately."

"It's
a very good estimate," said Julian. "It was ten exactly,
by the library clock."

Grimani's
eyes sparked. "I don't need to have my observations confirmed
by amateurs!"

MacGregor
nudged Julian. "Show him what you found!"

Julian
took out the strip of white linen and explained how it had been tied
in a bow to a tree branch along the embankment. Grimani looked it
over and pocketed it. "It may be nothing. But it could be some
sort of Carbonaro signal. At any rate, it's the only clue we have."
He nodded at Julian grudgingly.

"Have
you searched the south terrace?" asked Julian.

"I
know how to conduct a criminal investigation, Signer Kestrel. Yes.
But it will have to be done again by daylight. I'll have the whole
garden combed at first light tomorrow. If that insolent blackguard
left so much as a thread or a button behind him, I'll find it."

The
marchesa said, a throb of urgency in her voice, "Hadn't you
better go to Solaggio, Signer Commissario? The longer you tarry
here, the greater the chance he'll get away."

"I'm
going, Your Ladyship. But nothing much will be accomplished tonight.
Orfeo chose the perfect moment to mock us with his song: the height
of the festival, when we won't be able to mount a concerted search
for hours. It was a clever trick!"

"Che
invenzione prelibata! " Julian murmured.

Grimani
rounded on him. "You think this is funny?"

At
that moment, Julian did. He suddenly missed de la Marque, who he
felt would be the only other person to appreciate the humour in an
entire barracks being called out to look for a lone serenader. "You
think Orfeo did this to mock us?"

"He's
obviously drunk on his own villainy," said Grimani, "taunting
us for our failure to solve his crime."

"He
wouldn't do that," said Donati gravely. "I feel sure he
must have had a good reason for this."

"If
he did," said Grimani, "I mean to find out what it was.
I'm going to Solaggio. In the meantime, no one is to leave the villa
grounds, and no one is to enter except Monsieur de la Marque,

should
he return. I'll be sending a party of soldiers to see that my orders
are obeyed."

"You've
no call to turn this house into an armed camp!" Carlo declared.

Grimani's
voice was like ice. "I will do whatever must be done to trap
Orfeo, Signer Conte. If I have to put a soldier at every window and
under every bed, so be it."

He
strode off in the direction of Solaggio. The marchesa looked out on
the lake once more. Carlo offered to escort her inside, but she
declined. Julian would have liked to try his own luck, if only to
find out what lay behind her separateness and self-containment. It
was as if she carried herself in an over brimming vessel and had to
concentrate all her faculties on ensuring it did not spill. But
first things must come first.

He
turned to Sebastiano. "You were in the music room when Orfeo
was first heard singing."

"Yes,
signor." Sebastiano straightened and looked at Julian warily.

"The
windows of that room face the south terrace. Did you look out?"

"No,
signor. I came here to find Maestro Donati."

"You
didn't stop to see who was singing?"

"It
was dark in the garden, signor. Anyway, it wasn't my business to
look for the singer, but to protect Maestro Donati."

"Did
you think the singer might be Orfeo?"

Sebastiano
shrugged. "Orfeo was a tenor, signor. This man was a tenor.
Maestro Donati thought Orfeo might be in the neighbourhood, and might
mean to do him some hurt. That's why he told me never to leave him
alone. So my business was to see that he wasn't alone, and to stand
by him. That's all."

"Thank
you, my boy," said Donati, touched.

Sebastiano
made a brusque movement, like an animal unwilling to be petted.
"It's my job, Maestro."

"Yes,"
said Donati, smiling. "I understand." He turned his
sightless eyes appealingly toward Julian. "Signor Kestrel, why
do you think Orfeo did this?"

"I
can think of several reasons, Maestro. He may have wanted to alert
someone at the villa that he was in the neighbourhood. He may have
been trying to distract our attention from someone or something
else." Julian paused. "But the best way to determine the
purpose of an act may be to look at its results."

"Its
results?" MacGregor began counting them off on his broad,

flat
fingers. "We know now that Orfeo is here. We know he's a saucy
fellow, if we didn't already, and not behindhand in courage. We know
Grimani is as angry as a hornet and means to look for Orfeo under
every blade of grass in the neighbourhood." MacGregor shook his
head. "It looks to me as if Grimani is right, and Orfeo did it
out of sheer devilry. What would be the point of signalling to
someone at the villa that he's here? We were all leaving tomorrow,
anyway."

Julian
lifted his brows suggestively.

"By
George!" MacGregor slapped his forehead. "We were
leaving, but now Grimani will stick here till Doomsday, sooner than
let Orfeo slip through his fingers! And you'll stay, which means I
will, too I expect everybody will stay. Is that why you think Orfeo
did it he didn't want us to go?"

"It's
possible."

Julian
translated this exchange into Milanese for Donati and Sebastiano.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I should like to have a look at the
south terrace."

"I'm
coming with you," said MacGregor.

"By
all means." Julian took up the lantern again, and they made
their way toward the south side of the house.

MacGregor
asked, "But why should Orfeo care a pin if we go or stay?"

"Because
we amuse him? Because he wished to do his country a service by
keeping Grimani out of it?"

"Be
serious, man!"

"If
I were serious, Doctor, I should have to make the rather melodramatic
suggestion that Orfeo didn't kill Marchese Lodovico, and that he
thinks one of us did."

"Good
God. You know, if that's the case, Orfeo may well be Fletcher, St.
Carr, or de la Marque. They all knew we were planning to leave the
villa tomorrow." MacGregor stopped walking abruptly and stared
at Julian. "Do you realize how lucky you are that you came out
on that balcony while Orfeo was singing? Grimani suspects every
other young Englishman in the neighbourhood of being Orfeo he even
suspects de la Marque, who isn't English. If he hadn't seen you on
that balcony with his own eyes, he'd be suspecting you, too!"

"I'm
surprised he allows a trifle like that to prevent him."

They
ascended three broad stairs to the south terrace. It was about
twenty feet square, planted with fruit trees and crisscrossed by
paved paths. At the back was a brick wall with a walkway at the top,
reached

by
a narrow flight of stone stairs. An archway in the centre of the
wall led behind the villa.

Julian
crossed to the archway. "Orfeo must have escaped this way. If
he'd left by the stairs at the front, he would have run straight into
Grimani's and Carlo's arms." He let his lantern play over the
archway and the ground on either side. "No telltale buttons or
scraps of cloth. And the night is too dry for him to have tracked
mud or grass stains on the paving stones."

"There's
no sense hunting about for clues at this hour of the night,"
said MacGregor. "I'm for bed. Are you coming?"

Common
sense drew Julian inside, toward rest and calm reflection. The
Italian night tugged back, and won. "Not yet. I think I'll go
for a walk."

"Why?"
MacGregor's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to?"