g-going on. I’d like to take a look.’
When they’d driven past the Ghoul’s men, Senka straightened up again. ‘A look’s not very likely, but you could have a listen.’
And he led Erast Petrovich to the house through the back alleys.
The barrel that Senka had rolled up to the window was still standing where he left it.
‘Can you get through there?’ Senka asked, pointing to the half-open window of the water closet.
Mr Nameless jumped straight up on to the barrel from where he was standing, without any run-up, then he jumped again, pulled himself up with his hands and wormed his way through the small square opening, without any real effort. His heels disappeared inside. Senka climbed in too – not as nimbly, but even so he was in the privy soon enough.
‘A strange way of g-getting in to see a lady’, Erast Petrovich whispered, helping Senka to climb down. ‘What is behind the d-door?’
‘The room,’ Senka gasped. ‘The sitting room, that is. We could open the door a crack, quiet like, only just a little bit.’
‘Hmm, I see you have already p-patented this method of observation.’
And that was the end of the conversation.
Erast Petrovich opened the door a little bit, just a hair’s breadth, and put his eye to the crack. Senka tried arranging himself this way and that way (he was interested too) and eventually found the right position: he squatted down on his haunches and pressed himself against Mr Nameless’s hip, with his forehead against the doorpost. That is, he took a seat in the stalls.
He couldn’t believe his eyes – there had to be something wrong with them!
Death and the Ghoul were standing in the middle of the room with their arms round each other, and that greasy-haired slug was stroking her shoulder!
Senka either sobbed or sniffed – he couldn’t tell which it was himself – and he got a quick slap round the back of the head from Mr Nameless.
‘Ah, my lovely’ the Ghoul purred in a slimy voice. ‘Now that’s real consolation, that sweetens life up a bit. Of course, I’m not the Prince, I can’t give you gemstones, but I’ll bring you a silk scarf, from India. Incredibly beautiful, it is!’
‘Give it to your moll,’ said Death, backing off.
He grinned. ‘Jealous? My Manka’s not jealous. I’m in here with you, and she’s round the corner, keeping watch.’
‘Then give it to her, for her trouble. I don’t want your presents. That’s not what I love you for.’
‘What is it, then?’ the Ghoul asked, smiling even more broadly (Senka winced – his teeth were all yellow and rotten). ‘The Prince is a real wild one, but I’m better, am I?’
She gave a short, unpleasant laugh. ‘No one’s better than you in my mind.’
The Ghoul stared at her and screwed his eyes up. ‘I can’t understand you . . . But then, no one has enough nous to understand you women.’
He grabbed her by the shoulders and started kissing her. In his despair Senka hit his head against the wooden door – loudly. Erast Petrovich smacked him round the head again, but it was too late.
The Ghoul swung round sharply and pulled out his revolver. ‘Who’ve you got in there?’
‘Well, aren’t you the nervous one, and you a businessman too,’ said Death, wiping her lips in disgust. ‘It’s the draught blowing through the house, slamming the doors.’
There was a sudden whistle. And from close by too – inside the hallway, was it?
A hoarse voice (that was Beak, the one with the collapsed nose) said: ‘Manka’s given the shout – the superintendent’s on his way from Podkolokolny. With flowers. Maybe he’s coming here?’
‘Walking through Khitrovka, on his own?’ the Ghoul asked, surprised. ‘With no coppers? That takes guts.’
‘Boxman’s with him.’
The Ghoul disappeared like a shot. Then he shouted – probably from the hallway: ‘All right, darling, we’ll talk later. Give my regards to the Prince – that stag has big horns!’
The door slammed and it went quiet.
Death poured some brown water out of a carafe (Senka knew it was Jamaica rum) and took a sip, but she didn’t drink it, just rinsed out her mouth and spat it back into the glass. Then she took a piece of paper out of her pocket, unfolded it and held it up to her nose. After she’d breathed in the white powder, she relaxed a little bit and started sighing.
But Senka didn’t have any cocaine, so he just sat there numb, as if he’d turned into a block of ice. So