“These are two of Ella’s colleagues from the household staff,” Shulgin explained. “They knew her as well as anyone.”

Ruzsky waited in vain for them to be introduced and then leaned forward to offer his hand to the man, who took it reluctantly. He seemed about to open his mouth when Shulgin intervened. “I don’t think there is any need for you to know their names.”

Ruzsky sat back down.

“For their own safety,” the colonel added.

“Of course.”

Ruzsky dug a notepad and pencil from his jacket pocket. He turned to the girl. “You knew Ella well?”

“Quite well, sir, yes.”

“You worked alongside her in the nursery?”

The girl glanced at Shulgin. Her vulnerability made her seem even prettier than she’d first appeared.

Shulgin nodded and she turned her anxious eyes back to Ruzsky. “Yes,” she said.

“Did you know her from Yalta, or from here in Petersburg?”

“Just here, sir. I’m from Moscow.”

“You’ve never been to Yalta?”

“No, sir.”

“How long have you worked at the palace?”

“About two years.”

“I served with her father,” Shulgin said. “Her background is second to none.”

Ruzsky ignored the interruption. “You both looked after the Tsarevich?” he asked. “You and Ella?”

“I worked with Ella,” the sailor said.

Ruzsky swung toward him. “You looked after the Tsarevich together?”

“Yes,” the man said.

“Did you know Ella before she came here?”

“No. I’m from Petrograd.”

“How long have you been working at the palace?”

“Three years. Before that, Kronstadt; before that, the Barents Sea.” It was said without pride, almost like a prisoner rattling off the length of his sentence.

“You liked Ella?”

“Of course. Everyone liked her.”

“You were lovers?”

Shulgin almost choked on his tea. “Investigator, I must warn you-”

“No,” the man said. His gaze was steady.

“Ella already had a lover?”

“So she said.”

“Did she say who?”

“I knew he was an American, someone she’d met at home.”

“What did she say about him?”

“Nothing. Not to me, anyway.”

“Nothing?”

The man shrugged. He had a wide, strong face and held himself well. His naval uniform was immaculately pressed.

“She was secretive?” Pavel asked, suddenly finding his voice.

“About him, yes.”

“What about other friends?” Pavel asked.

The sailor shook his head. “She went to see her mother on Sundays. She wrote letters. That was all. She led a quiet life and didn’t deserve to have it ended like that.”

“Few do,” Ruzsky said. He turned toward Shulgin. “Do you have any of her letters, or other belongings?”

The colonel shook his head.

“Did she ever talk about politics?” Ruzsky asked the sailor. He knew neither wished to be here, or to help their former colleague.

“Not to me.”

“Not to you, or not at all?”

“Not to me.” A muscle was flexing in the man’s cheek. Why was he so angry?

“To others?”

“I can’t say.” The sailor shook his head.

Ruzsky turned back to the girl. “And you, mademoiselle?”

“Not to me. No, of course not.”

“Why of course not?”

“This is the imperial household, Investigator,” Shulgin said.

“Did you ever hear her discussing politics with others?” Ruzsky asked the girl.

“No, sir.”

“Did you know that her American lover was a well-known revolutionary criminal?”

“No, sir.” Her shock was genuine.

Ruzsky addressed the sailor. “You?”

“No.”

“But you knew that she went to see Rasputin in Petersburg on her days off?”

It took Shulgin a few moments to react. “That is a confidential matter,” he said. “And no business of other members of staff.”

“But you knew?” Ruzsky asked the man.

“She had the good sense not to broadcast any relationship… friendship,” he corrected himself.

“Why do you call it good sense?” Ruzsky asked.

The sailor did not answer.

“This has no bearing on the investigation,” Shulgin said again. “I really must ask you-”

“Tell us about her last few days,” Pavel said.

The sailor leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and rubbing the palms of his hands together. “What do you want to know?”

“Was there anything different or unusual about her behavior?”

The sailor shook his head and then looked at the girl.

“No,” she said.

“She was very happy,” the sailor added.

Shulgin stood. “Chief Investigator, a word, please.”

As they stepped outside, Ruzsky said: “There is no point in allowing us to meet with these people if you are going to prevent us asking them any pertinent questions.”

“Remember where you are,” Shulgin whispered.

“I can see exactly.” Ruzsky looked down the corridor. “Now, do you want to find out who killed your girl or not?”

“We shall call the Okhrana,” Shulgin said.

“Be my guest, but they are utterly unsuited to anything that might require a modicum of patience to unravel.”

“You have your father’s arrogance.”

Ruzsky hesitated. “How well do you know my father?”

“He was in my year at the Corps des Pages.” Ruzsky realized that, despite his own lowly office, Shulgin had deliberately accorded him from the start the respect due someone of a similar background. “I can’t have you rampaging about in there-”

“They’re as stiff as boards.”

“They’re nervous.”

“That’s not the reason, and you know it. You want us to get to the bottom of this, or we’d not even have got through the door this morning. And so, by the sound of it, does the Empress. What is it? You don’t trust the Okhrana?”

“You have not served your cause well.”

“Did you telephone the police department after our first visit?”

Shulgin looked at him with incredulity.

“After we first came out here to see you, did you telephone the department to request that the investigation be dropped?”

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“We humble members of the city police,” Ruzsky said, “were led to believe that the Empress herself did not wish the investigation into Ella Kovyil’s death to proceed.”

“That’s preposterous. Who told you that?”

“Your friend Mr. Vasilyev.”

Shulgin glanced down the corridor in the direction Ruzsky had a moment before. A weary resignation seemed to replace his confused frown. He removed his monocle and tucked it into the pocket of his immaculately pressed uniform.

“It would be better if you were not there while we talk to them,” Ruzsky said.

“That’s out of the question.” Shulgin raised his arm to indicate that they should return.

Ruzsky resumed his seat and leaned forward. “A few final matters, if you would be so kind. Did she… did Ella talk about the American’s return?” He had been looking at the sailor, but now turned toward the girl. “Mademoiselle?”

“She was very happy that Robert… Mr. White had come back. She received the news that he would be, several months ago in a letter.”

“Did you ever meet Mr. White?”

The girl shook her head. “No, sir.”

Ruzsky looked at the sailor. “How did you find her over these past few months?” He made a conscious effort to soften his tone. “You must have seen her every day. Was there anything you noticed that would help us, anything unusual?”

“She was moodier. One minute very happy, the next withdrawn.”

“Did she give any hint as to why?”

“I thought it was… women’s matters.”

The girl nodded. “One minute she would… talk about it, I mean. She would say something like, ‘Natasha, he is coming, he really is.’ And then she would say, ‘Natasha, I don’t know what to do, but he is wonderful.’ When I asked her what she meant, she would say, ‘It is nothing.’ She received many letters, addressed by the same hand; one or two a week in the last months. They are placed on a table outside the kitchen. She would fall upon them and no matter how late she was, or what other duties awaited her, she would race up to her room and stay there for half an hour, sometimes more.”