The Curse of the Singing Wolf Read Online Free Page B

of the stairs.
    The little bell rang and it was
a return to seats.
    Though it cost an effort, the
Countess did not once glance in the direction of box 2, but her
curiosity screamed to be settled.
    “Which man is,” she paused and
cautioned herself from appearing too eager to learn which man was
Baron Reichenbach so she asked about the other, “Gustav von
Gunn?”
    “I thought you said you weren’t
after a husband?” teased the old aristocrat.
    “I’m just trying to put a name
to a face.”
    The Princess regarded her
sceptically over the top of her fan. “Gustav is the one with the
moustache like stunted stalks of golden stubble and a head like a
wheatfield after the harvest. He manufactures munitions or
armaments - or are they the same thing? Governments fall all over
themselves to get on his good side, though from what I’ve heard he
doesn’t actually have a good side. Despite my little joke, you
could do a lot worse than become the next Madame von Gunn. He owns
twelve castles – one for every month of the year.”
    “And the other one – what did
you say his name was?”
    “Frederik Reichenbach. He is
Prussian and descends from a famous military family. He has the
eyes to prove it – they are Prussian blue – ha-ha…quite mesmerizing
– and that leonine mane of white hair is extraordinary, n’est-ce
pas ?”
    “ Oui , he lives in
Switzerland?”
    “What makes you ask that?”
    “There is a place in
Switzerland called Reichenbach Falls, popular with hikers. I went
there when I was at finishing school,” she lied.
    “Oh, yes, the Thunder of
Reichenbach. He may have a chalet somewhere thereabouts but I
believe he has a castle in Swabia or Styria or someplace starting
with S. He doesn’t have the same wealth as Herr von Gunn but he has
an illustrious history that goes back to Charlemagne. You could do
a lot worse than become the next Baroness of S.”

3
A Night at the Casino
     
    The ominous storm that had been
marshalling forces all afternoon was now making rumbling
threatening noises much closer to home. Lurid flashes electrified
the darkness of heaven every now and again, though the claps of
thunder were delayed by several seconds, indicating that the enemy
would not attack until after midnight. Nevertheless, it was a long
queue for a fiacre for the short ride to the Bellevue Casino. The
Princess Roskovsky was partial to a flutter on the roulette wheel
which she said always reminded her of her favourite game.
    “I adore when the little wheel
spins one way and the little ball goes the other way and then the
tiny metallic click when the ball falls into place just like the
click of the barrel before one shoots one’s brains out!”
    “Do you think the Singing Wolf
will go to the casino?” asked the Countess who did not share the
same fondness for roulette or the same taste for gallows’ humour.
“Half these people are directing their coaches to the ballroom of
the Hotel du Palais.”
    “Trust me, Countess Varvara.
The Singing Wolf and her entourage will be at the casino. There she
goes now!” The Princess indicated a black and gold barouche pulled
by two black carriage horses.
    Of all the carriages in
existence, the barouche was the most elegant: lightly sprung so
that is seemed suspended on a cushion of air and sensuously curved,
imbuing those who sat inside with an aura of sensuousness to match.
The hood was folded down - a sign the occupants were unafraid of
the god of thunder and his invincible hammer.
    “You can see the two vassals
sitting vis-à-vis opposite their lady like doting minions –
men are such fools for love!” tittered the old aristocrat happily,
as the black and gold barouche floated past and they shuffled
closer to the front of the queue. “There goes Prince Orczy in the
landau with the two Mayflowers,” said the old Princess, who didn’t
seem to miss a trick despite her rheumy eyes and advancing age.
“They must be heading to the casino too for they are going the