Hunting for Silence

18. Memorable Moments

'I have to admit, his opera looks better than yours. Did you skimp on decorations?'

Mr Ambrose gave me a cool look, then turned back to the massive building in front of us. I had spoken the truth. It did look better than Mr Ambrose's opera house—if you measured beauty in pomp and luxury. But at a second glance, you could see where Dalgliesh's architect had used just a little bit too much decoration, just a little bit too much gilding and glitter. There might be less pomp at Mr Ambrose's building, but there also was a lot more style.

And fewer murderous plots, probably, as well.

'Well?' I asked, slipping my arm into Mr Ambrose's and smiling up at him. 'Shall we go give His Lordship a nice surprise?'

'We shall. Let's go.'

'Yes, let's!' came an excited voice from behind us. 'Oh, sis is going to fun!'

Followed by Claudette, Mr Ambrose and I climbed the front steps to the arched entryway. The doorman at this place looked a whole lot bigger and more intimidating than the one Mr Ambrose had had the misfortune to employ.

'Des billets, s'il vous plait?'

'Do you speak English?'

'Yes, but—'

'Read this.'

Mr Ambrose held out the king's note.

'Sat is not a ticket, Monsieur.'

'Read it.'

Frowning, the doorman unfolded the note and started to skim it—when his face suddenly paled.

'Mon dieu! Monsieur, you are truly here—'

'—on the personal invitation of His Majesty King Louis Philippe? Yes. I am afraid his invitation arrived at too short a notice to procure tickets for ourselves. We can, of course, come back another time, if you would be so kind as to give His Majesty our apologies and explain to him why we could not—'

'Oh, no! No, Monsieur! I wouldn't dream of it. Please, come in. Guests of 'is Majesty the king are always welcome. He 'as the best box to himself, after all, and can do with it as he sees fit.'

'Adequate.' Tugging the royal note from the doorman's motionless hands, Mr Ambrose pocketed it and strode inside. 'We'll find our own way.'

When we were inside and out of hearing distance, I squeezed his arm and beamed up at him.

'I'm proud of you.'

'Indeed?'

'Yes. Even on a deadly mission with the fate of the entire world at stake, you still find time to cheat your enemies out of the price of three tickets. That's what I call staying true to yourself.'

Claudette gave the two of us a look and shook her head. 'One sing is for sure. Nobody will ever write an opera about se two of you. Nobody in the audience would be able to figure out when you're flirting and when you're insulting each other.'

'We do both at the same time,' I told her, grinning up at Mr Ambrose. 'Knowledge is power is time is money, right?'

I felt his fingers give my arms a gentle squeeze.

'Indeed.'

The entrance hall was brightly lit and filled with excited chatter—about tonight's performance, and much more besides. Apparently, we weren't the only ones to know that His Royal Majesty the King would be present tonight. Gentlemen were walking extra stiffly and correctly, and ladies were checking and re-checking their hair and clothes in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors