HS02 - Days of Atonement Read Online Free

attentively, that some telling comment was about to be heard which would successfully conclude the argument in his own favour.
    ‘You misunderstand me, Herr Stiffeniis,’ he said. ‘Or else you have a less informed view of Professor Kant than you would like me to believe. I tell you again, and I can prove to you, if necessary, that Kant was interested—passionately—in the nature of criminal behaviour a decade before that spate of murders in Königsberg led him to search out the doer with your assistance.’
    ‘And I say again, sir. You are wrong. You pretend to possess knowledge in fields in which you are probably a novice.’
    Helena placed her hand on mine, and whispered calming words in my ear, but I did not hear a thing she said.
    Lavedrine’s youthful companion stretched forward in his chair.
    ‘Be very careful, sir!’ he warned. ‘Colonel Lavedrine is a guest of this house, and this nation. I can hardly believe that any Prussian would be so foolhardy as to doubt his word. Every man in Paris has heard of his capacities. I see no reason why this Professor Kant of yours should not have heard of them, too.’
    Lavedrine sat back in his seat, a thin smile on his lips, stroking his chin with his thumb and forefinger. He seemed to be scrutinising me, curious to hear what my reply would be.
    ‘If Colonel Lavedrine can prove the truth of what he says,’ I returned, glancing between my accuser and the man I had accused, ‘I will apologise with all my heart. And if that apology does not satisfy him,’ I added, leaning back in my chair, shrugging my shoulders, ‘the prison cells are waiting for Prussians such as me, who are obliged to have guests such as you!’
    I suddenly realised that the room was silent.
    All eyes had turned towards our end of the long table. Not one knife or fork moved. Wine settled untasted in fifty goblets. The joys of the table were forgotten in the unexpected thrill of the moment.
    ‘Come, come,’ Colonel Lavedrine said gently, smiling warmly, standing up and taking his faithful friend by the arm. ‘If I have taken umbrage, Henri, I am old enough to settle my own scores! I assure you, I have taken no offence. My apologies to you, Herr Stiffeniis. Perhaps I have spoken of a subject which is close to your affections? I did not intend to belittle the memory of a man whom all the world admires. I simply meant to point out that even in the field of criminology, an activity in which Professor Kant was only marginally concerned, he was able to teach something to a man such as myself, who is interested in little else.’
    He raised his glass and held it up to the room.
    ‘To the memory of Immanuel Kant!’ he cried.
    All present lifted their glasses to the toast.
    I waited a moment longer. I wanted Lavedrine to understand that although I had not been taken in by his fine words, I was willing to accept the olive branch of peace that he was holding out to me. Helena’s hand tugged fitfully at my sleeve. I raised my glass, and added my voice to all the others.
    ‘Very well, Monsieur Lavedrine,’ I said, as the cheering died down, sitting back, resting my elbow on the table, as if I might be prepared to listen to whatever he wished to tell me. ‘I wonder what Immanuel Kant might have been able to teach to an expert such as yourself? Which door, exactly, did he open?’
    ‘The door marked “Affection”.’ Lavedrine’s eyes flashed, his voice was heavy, intense. ‘Love, if you like. All of us fight for the things we love most dearly. We fight, and we die, if necessary. Or we kill to defend them. Sometimes, too, we kill what we love.’
    He narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow, as if involved in a private process of the most serious reflection. ‘Professor Kant had something specific in mind, I think, because he asked me whether I had ever come across a crime that was motivated by sincere affection. He wanted to know what might be the
modus operandi
chosen by a person who kills for such a