After George had started the motor going again and they’d left the sheep far behind, the excitement of solving one of the riddles evaporated. The conversation, what there was of it, faltered.
“Not much farther,” George offered. They smiled at each other. Adi pretended to be more interested in the scenery than she was. George picked up the pace.
Past farm and field they flew. Barley and corn and oats, rapeseed and sunflower, still turned out in summer green. Across the valley they were headed toward a mountain range, serrated like a row of teeth, with one great fang rising in the center.
Winding through a small village, they scattered the churchgoers coming out of the front doors. “Sorry, sorry,” George said, after, though it only slowed him down for a moment. Adi, by turns terrified and distraught, tried to find something to hold on to.
Where were they going, anyway?
Young women picking cherries, in wide-brimmed straw hats, turned atop their tall ladders and waved as the automobile sped through the orchard.
George finally slowed down, turning onto an arching stone bridge. On the far side, an old sign, nearly covered in morning glory, appeared to read La Maison Chinoise. The Chinese House. What does that mean? she thought.
To their left, she spotted a gated driveway leading to a large, beautiful house with several outbuildings and a verdant lawn. She pointed.
“That’s the head gardener’s cottage,” George said. “We’re, umm, going over here.” As they came through the trees, he directed Adi’s attention to the other side of the road.
Built above the river, leading all the way up to the cliffs, was an amazing assemblage of structures. A huge central house with turrets and domes, elegant steep-pitched roofs, and windows beyond count. This branched off in all directions around cloisters and a campanile to a row of a dozen or so identical residences, the backs of which were right up against the sheer wall of the mountain. It was all surrounded by gardens and vast lawns. And that was only the part she could see; the whole of it, like a small city, was circled by an enormous, high stone wall.
She turned and looked at George. He just grinned.
They sped across the bridge and through towering wrought-iron gates, black with elaborate gold-painted adornments. They zoomed past horses and stables and an ancient, beautiful round brick chapel. Through another archway they pulled onto a cobblestone courtyard backed by an open garage large enough to hold a half dozen automobiles, which it did.
A man in overalls looked up from a shiny orange motorbike with which he was occupied.
“Samuel,” said George, killing the engine. “Tell me you haven’t been working on that since I saw you?”
“No, Your Grace,” he replied, wiping his hands on a rag. “Though it feels like it.” He pointed to the light mounted on the front. “The bike is perfect. But I would be grateful to you if you would run this thing over with your car.”
“I’m sure you’ll fix it, Sam.” Samuel didn’t look so sure.
Adi turned to George. What had that man called him?
But George was looking up toward the house, at a young man making a beeline toward them down the vast steps.
Slight, in a charcoal suit, with nearly white-blond hair, he looked pleasant enough, though as he got closer Adi could see there was a storm brewing under his brow. It darkened when he noticed that George was not alone.
George held the car door open for Adi. The young man planted himself before the couple.
“Your Grace. Mademoiselle,” he said, with a small bow in Adi’s direction.
“Thomas,” replied George.
“Your Grace.”
“Thomas.”
They stared at each other; Adi looked confused, though that had been her expression since they arrived.
Reaching an impasse, George folded first.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Thomas. I’m sorry, all right?”
“You promised, George!” said Thomas. “You only had to make it through the rest of the day!”
“I know, I know!” cried George, “I just couldn’t bring myself to face another hour of those pompous, condescending—uh, they have left, haven’t they?”
“Yes. Just. After I assured them that they would be informed in the event of your body being found.”
“That’s funny, Thomas.” He leaned to Adi. “Portuguese ambassador. Very unpleasant man.”
Back to Thomas, “Anyway, sorry. I know I put you in a bad spot. Augustin suggested we have a drink, to steel ourselves for the afternoon. It ended up being a drink in town.”
Thomas looked as though he had no trouble believing this. “And where has Monsieur Canclaux disappeared to?”
“No idea,” said George, vaguely. “There may have been a train station at some point.”
Utterly baffled, Adi looked back and forth between the two men, wondering what could possibly explain the seesawing nature of their relationship.
Evidently having resolved the issue, Thomas turned to Adi.
“Oh,” said George. “Thomas, Adi. Adi, Thomas Hast.”
Thomas bowed. “A pleasure, mademoiselle. Welcome to La Maison Chinoise.”
Adi managed a wan smile and waited for George to explain her lack of response.
“Oh, right. The young woman can’t talk. Well, at any rate, she isn’t talking.”
Thomas took this in, along with the young woman’s lack of footwear, with remarkable equanimity.
“And, unless I’m mistaken,” George continued, “it’s Sunday. It is Sunday, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
George said to Adi, “By the way. You’re having lunch with everyone. My, um, stepmother and such.”
Adi looked appropriately alarmed. Thomas appeared slightly pained, but said nothing.
“Don’t worry, she’ll do fine,” said George.
Suddenly he remembered more important things that needed considering. He said to Thomas, “I’ll fill you in on the particulars, but we’re going to need to get hold of—what’s his name? Lendt, to talk about a missing persons matter. Soon as you can get him here. In the meantime, Adi will be staying with us. For—?”
He looked to Adi. She was at a loss. “For a few days at least, perhaps longer. And, she’ll be needing—”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
They looked over to see two figures approaching.
“Speak of the devil,” said George.
A woman with a tiny dog on a leash and a strapping young man of about twenty in a swimming costume, a single rowing scull balanced on his shoulder, were coming up the stairs from the garden. Spotting George and a visitor, they changed direction and headed toward them.
“I’ll take care of it,” said Thomas. “If you’ll come with me, mademoiselle.” Adi looked back at George as Thomas led her away. Where was she going now?
“George,” said his stepmother as she approached. “Who is that young woman?”
“Hello, Mother. Halick.”
George’s stepbrother, Halick, wiped the sweat from his short cropped hair and watched as Thomas led the girl up the walk toward the house. The weight of his boat and oars didn’t appear to bother him in the slightest.
“Her name is Adi,” said George, turning to the duchess. “She’s a . . . cousin of Augustin.”
“But it appeared she had no shoes?”
“Yes. She has no shoes,” said George. Then reconsidering, he said, “Actually, I’ve no idea who she is.”
The duchess studied George from under her shadowed brow.
“She’s from India. I met her in town,” he said. “She’ll be staying for a few days. And joining us for lunch, if that’s all right.”
The duchess pulled up hard on the leash to keep the dog from wandering into the roses. “Bouton! Stop that!”
“She can’t speak, by the way,” said George.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Sweetheart,” she said, turning to Halick. “Put that thing away. It’s dripping all over the walk.”
“Yes, Mother,” said Halick. He watched as Thomas and the girl disappeared into the house and then he headed off.
The duchess leaned over to pick up the dog. “Come on, Bouton. Time for your bath,” she murmured as she walked away.