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clear that hearing alone would not be enough — he would also have to call on his knowledge of German, for the conversation was conducted in the language of Schiller and Goethe. In his time as a grammar school boy, Fandorin had not greatly excelled in this art, and so the main focus in the overcoming of his own imperfections shifted quite naturally from the discomfort of his posture to intellectual effort. However, it is an ill wind… The sharp stone corner was miraculously forgotten.
    “You serve me badly, Fraulein Tolle,” a harsh baritone declared. “Of course, it is good that you came to your senses and did as you were ordered. But why did you have to be so obstinate and cause me such pointless nervous aggravation? I am not a machine, after all; I am a living human being.”
    “Oh, really?” Wanda’s voice replied derisively.
    “Really, just imagine. You carried out your assignment after all — and quite superbly. But why did I have to learn about it from a journalist I know, and not from you? Are you deliberately trying to anger me? I wouldn’t advise it!” The baritone acquired a steely ring. “Have you forgotten what I can do to you?”
    Wanda’s voice replied wearily: “No, I remember, Herr Knabe, I remember.”
    At this point Erast Petrovich cautiously leaned down and glanced into the room, but the mysterious Herr Knabe was standing with his back to the window. He took off his bowler hat, revealing a couple of minor details: smoothly combed hair (a third-degree blond with a slight reddish tinge, Fandorin ascertained, applying the special police terminology) and a thick red neck (which appeared to be at least size six).
    “All right, all right, I forgive you. Come on, don’t sulk.”
    The visitor patted his hostess’s cheek with his short-fingered hand and kissed her below the ear. Wanda’s face was in the light and Erast Petrovich saw her subtle features contort in a grimace of revulsion.
    Unfortunately, he was obliged to curtail his visual observation — one moment longer, and Fandorin would have gone crashing to the ground, which under the circumstances would have been most unfortunate.
    “Tell me all about it.” The man’s voice had assumed an ingratiating tone. “How did you do it? Did you use the substance that I gave you? Yes or no?”
    Silence.
    “Obviously not. The autopsy didn’t reveal any traces of poison — I know that. Who would have thought that things would go as far as an autopsy? Well, then, what actually did happen? Or were we lucky and he simply died on his own? Then that was surely the hand of Providence. God protects our Germany.” The baritone quavered in agitation. “Why do you not say anything?”
    Wanda said in a low, dull voice: “Go away. I can’t see you today.”
    “More feminine whimsy. How sick I am of it! All right, all right, don’t glare at me like that. A great deed has been accomplished, and that is the main thing. Well done, Fraulein Tolle; I’m leaving. But tomorrow you will tell me everything. I shall need it for my report.”
    There was the sound of a prolonged kiss and Erast Petrovich winced, recalling the look of revulsion on Wanda’s face. The door slammed.
    Herr Knabe whistled as he cut across the yard and disappeared.
    Fandorin dropped to the ground without a sound and stretched in relief, straightening his numbed limbs, before he set off in pursuit of Wanda’s acquaintance. This case was acquiring an entirely new complexion.

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FIVE
    In which Moscow is cast in the role of a jungle
     
    “And my p-proposals come down to the following,” said Fandorin, summing up his report. “Immediately place the German citizen Hans-Georg Knabe under secret observation and determine his range of contacts.”
    “Evgeny Osipovich, would it not be best to arrest the blackguard?” asked the governor-general, knitting his dyed eyebrows in an angry frown.
    “It is not possible to arrest him without any evidence,” the chief of police replied. “And