The Curse of the Singing Wolf Read Online Free Page A

appearance
tonight.”
    “I am reliably informed she is
very fond of Verdi.”
    The two women gave their
concentration over to the performance. The Imperial Warsaw Opera
was dear to the heart of the Countess for her birth mother, Miss
Irene Adler, had started her career with the Polish operatic
company. Box 2 remained disappointingly vacant throughout the first
act.
    During the first interval came
the chance to mingle. French champagne was being dispensed gratis
to opera patrons to celebrate the successful conclusion of the
French tour. The Princess Roskovsky managed to catch the eye of
Prince Orczy. He extricated himself from the Mayflowers and came
straight over, planting a trio of kisses on the crêpey cheeks of
the Russian Princess while running an appraising eye over the
Countess at the same time.
    “Let me introduce, Countess
Varvara Volodymyrovna,” said the Princess proudly.
    Prince Orczy recognized the
patronymic at once and made a great show of kissing her hand. “I
have fond memories of your step-papa, the Count of Odessos. I
stayed as a house-guest in the summer of 79. I remember a pretty
little girl in the cherry orchard and a basket brimming with
something ripe and juicy.”
    “I remember the cherry orchard
but I confess I have no memory of you, Prince Orczy.”
    His self-deprecating laugh was
deep and throaty. “Perhaps I can leave a greater impression this
time round.”
    “Perhaps you will,” said the
Countess coquettishly – for everything about the charmer from his
dancing eyes to the right royal tilt of his princely chin invited
flirtation, “We are apparently staying at the same hotel.”
    Blond brows arched with
mischievous interest. “Ah, that explains your presence in the
foyer…”
    The little bell rang,
signalling a return to seats.
    “ A bientôt ,” he promised
with a sharp click of his heels, cutting off his own
conjecture.
    As the lights dimmed, the
Countess noticed that box 2 was now occupied by three people - two
men and a woman. The female occupant was the same stunning lady she
had seen standing on the balcony of the Hotel Louve. Madly curious,
she nevertheless managed to wait until the curtain went up before
training her opera glass for a closer look.
    When she was a young girl
growing up in Odessa, the Countess possessed a book of fairy tales.
One of her favourite tales was Snow White. The striking woman
sitting opposite reminded her not of the insipid main character but
the unrepentantly defiant, vainglorious Queen. She had the same
widow’s peak and the same scandalous black hair, the same dark
flashing eyes and the same sharp raptor’s nose, the same dangerous
red mouth and the same queenly mien. She was, in a word,
magnificent.
    Next, the two consorts came in
for some undivided attention. They were both handsome men of
indeterminate age – a quaint euphemism for men who had passed the
age of forty. Both men possessed that indefinable quality that
tells the world they know their own worth down to the last shilling
and that it is substantial – arrogant, proud and rich was stamped
all over them.
    The Princess Roskovsky leaned
closer. “I see you have noticed the occupants of box 2.”
    “Who are the two men?”
    The Princess allowed for a
discrete interval before training her glass, and then another safe
interval before whispering behind her silk fan, “Baron Frederik
Reichenbach and Herr Gustav von Gunn.”
    Reichenbach! Now there was name
to make the blood run cold!
    When the next interval came the
Countess hurried to the mezzanine, heart beating to a staccato
drum, dragging the old Princess along by the elbow somewhat
unceremoniously, and ran straight into Prince Orczy and the two
Mayflowers – looking a little wilted though the night was still
young. Mama Mayflower gushed about the interior decoration of
Orthodox churches and it was impossible to get away. The Singing
Wolf did not make an appearance though her two consorts could be
seen enjoying a cigar at the top