Mortal Mischief (34 page)

'And what of Gruner?' asked Professor Freud.

'I don't know,' said Liebermann. 'I haven't seen him since he threatened to dismiss me.'

'It would seem, then, that you have been favoured by the god of healing.' Freud tapped the head of a small bronze figure seated on a primitive square throne. 'You will be able to continue your work with the English governess after all.'

'Well, for a few more weeks, perhaps. Until Gruner returns.'

'
If
he returns,' said Freud, exhaling a voluminous cloud of cigar smoke and smiling wickedly.

'I'm sure Professor Gruner has some very influential friends too,' said Liebermann.

Freud shrugged his shoulders and continued to toy with the bronze figure on his desk. It was a new acquisition and, typically, he seemed unable to leave it alone.

'Imhotep,' said Freud, suddenly aware of Liebermann observing him.

Liebermann's blank expression invited an explanation.

'He was identified during classical times with the Greek god of healing – Asklepios.'

'Ahh,' said Liebermann.

Freud pushed the bronze figure back into its space among the ancient statuettes and suddenly picked up the thread of their original conversation.

'The case you describe is extremely interesting, Max. But I have some reservations concerning your technique and interpretation.'

Liebermann raised his eyebrows.

'As you know,' continued Freud, 'I have abandoned hypnosis in favour of free association – encouraging the patient to say whatever comes to mind, without censorship. The analyst listens, and learns not only from what is said but also from its character and form: the silences, the hesitations, the changes of volume and direction. Hypnosis is fraught with problems . . . for example, not all patients are susceptible to the trance state. I remember, when I visited Nancy a few years ago, that Liébeault was perfectly happy to acknowledge this. Bernheim had greater success but, from my experience, true somnambulism is achievable in far fewer cases than Bernheim's reports would lead us to expect. Be that as it may, in my estimation the most significant problem associated with hypnosis is that one can never be entirely sure whether or not the phenomena under observation are genuine. The hypnotic trance renders the patient uniquely suggestible . . . I think it no coincidence that conditions such as multiple personality emerge more frequently in those clinics where hypnosis is practised.' Liebermann's disappointment was clearly evident, and the older man was moved to soften the blow of his critique with a modest qualification. 'Naturally, I cannot comment on the clinical authenticity of your governess – but it is something to bear in mind, Max.'

'Of course,' said Liebermann respectfully. Then, steeling himself for more disapprobation, he added tentatively, 'And you also had some reservations about my . . . interpretation?'

Freud stubbed out his cigar and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and linking his hands.

'You assume that your governess's symptoms are the direct result of traumata – the ostensibly offensive sexual overtures of her relative. But what if . . . what if your governess is ambivalent? What if she is attracted, albeit unconsciously, to this man? Perhaps her symptoms are not a defence as such against him, but a defence against her own powerful desire to reciprocate.'

Liebermann's brow was creased by a pronounced frown line.

'Ahh . . .' said Freud. 'I can see that you do not find such an explanation plausible – but you should not underestimate the significance of erotic life in the etiology of hysterical symptoms. I had a similar case a few years ago – an eighteen-year-old woman with
tussis nervosa
and aphonia. She too had been importuned by a family friend; however, it transpired that her symptoms were the result not of his transgressions but rather of the repression of her own libido. The entire case history is somewhat complicated and the conclusion unsatisfactory. But I wrote up my notes last year and the article was accepted for publication in the
Monatsschrift für Psychiatrie und Neurologie
by one of the editors – a chap called Ziehen.'

'Well, I look forward to reading it,' said Liebermann. Nonetheless, he was a little troubled by the professor's customary insistence on the importance of repressed sexual desire. Freud had a reputation for being dogmatic in this respect, and Liebermann could not believe that Amelia Lydgate harboured a secret wish to be intimate with a man like Herr Schelling.

Freud offered Liebermann another cigar.

Liebermann hesitated.

'Go on,' said Freud. 'These are far too good to pass over.'

As Liebermann took a cigar from the box, Freud asked: 'Do you know Stekel?'

'Wilhelm Stekel?'

'Yes.'

'Not personally.'

'He's a general practitioner, but he's extremely interested in my work. He wrote a very enthusiastic review of my dream book for the
Neues Wiener Tagblatt.'

'Yes, I remember reading it.'

'Well, we met in The Imperial a few days ago, and he made a splendid suggestion. He proposed that we should hold a meeting – about once a week – to discuss cases and ideas. Perhaps we could start in the autumn. There are a few other people interested: Kahane, Reitler, and you must know Adler. How would Wednesday evenings suit you?'

'Wednesday . . .' Although Liebermann greatly respected Freud, the younger man was not sure whether he was ready to become a fully fledged disciple.

'Is there a problem?'

'I currently have a fencing lesson on Wednesdays – with Signor Barbasetti – but . . .' Liebermann decided that it would be ungraceful not to accept Freud's invitation. 'I'm sure I can change that.'

'Good,' said Freud. 'I'll keep you informed.'

The two men lit their cigars, and wreaths of blue smoke thickened the already dense atmosphere.

'How is your book on jokes progressing, Herr Professor?' asked Liebermann – struggling to get an even burn on his cigar's tip.

Freud sat back in his chair, taking Liebermann's enquiry as an opportunity to perform: 'The matchmaker goes to discuss the bride, and he's brought his assistant to support his suit. She's built like a fir tree, says the matchmaker.
Like a fir tree
, the assistant repeats. And what eyes she has – you've got to see them!
Oh and what eyes
, says the assistant.
Beautiful.
And as for education, there's no one like her.
No one like her!
comes the echo. But there is
one
thing, the matchmaker concedes: she does have a hump.
But such a hump!'

Against his better judgement, Liebermann found himself laughing.

Part Four
The Last Seance

53

'S
O, WHAT DO YOU
think Uberhorst meant?' asked Rheinhardt.

A street-cleaning wagon with a man on top swinging a hose indiscriminately came towards the two men. They both had to step back to avoid the splashes.

'He meant to inform the police that Fräulein Löwenstein was pregnant,' Liebermann replied.

'Yes – that's what I thought, too. Fräulein von Rath had a very different opinion, of course.'

'Oh?'

'She believed that Uberhorst was aiding Fräulein Löwenstein in her ambition to enslave a demonic power – and that he had wanted to know whether he should seek guidance from a cabal of black magicians.'

Liebermann shook his head: 'You are still quite certain that Uberhorst could not have been Charlotte Löwenstein's lover?'

'Absolutely.'

'In which case Fräulein Löwenstein simply confided in him – I wonder why?'

'Well, given her predicament, she could hardly expect sympathy from Braun.'

A lacquered black carriage, its curtains drawn, sped past.

'The pregnancy has still not been reported in the newspapers.'

'No – and as far as we know Braun hasn't spoken to any journalists.'

'So, none of the others are aware that she was pregnant.'

'That's correct. Only Braun.'

Two Ursuline nuns, with heads bowed, crossed their path.

'Did you notice the odd collection of equipment in Uberhorst's workshop?' said Liebermann. 'The syringe, the magnets . . . I strongly suspect that he was trying to work out how the illusion of the locked door was accomplished. He was an obsessional and I imagine that he would have succeeded, given time. Who else, apart from Záborszky, had visited Uberhorst's shop?'

'Herr Hölderlin had been there to collect a book on Friday afternoon.'

'What kind of book?'

'Something by Madame Blavatsky. Fräu Hölderlin had lent it to the locksmith a month or so earlier.'

'So both Hölderlin and Záborszky might have reached a similar conclusion. What about Braun?'

'He says that he's never been to Uberhorst's shop.'

'Where was he on Friday night?'

'He says he was alone in his room – having drunk too much.'

Three cavalry officers turned along the road ahead of them. Their spurs jangled like the strumming of a distant guitar.

'How can you be sure that Braun will be there this evening?' asked Liebermann.

'Haussmann has been with him all day,' said Rheinhardt, 'and will escort Herr Braun to Madame de Rougemont's should he demur.'

'That was a very sensible precaution, Oskar.'

'Indeed. He didn't want to come tonight. He didn't want to see any of them again. Not because he was feeling any remorse but because he thought we might have told them about his trickery – he was worried about them confronting him and asking him for their money back.'

'Did you tell Cosima von Rath that they'd all been duped?' asked Liebermann.

'No.'

'What does she know about Braun's suspicious disappearance?'

'I told Fräulein von Rath that he had been called to Salzburg in order to attend an ailing aunt. Braun knows what to say, should anyone ask any difficult questions. I dare say they'll learn the truth in due course.'

The two men followed the fenestrated cliff face of the Hoffburg Palace towards Josefplatz. As the light failed, a lamplighter went about his business on the other side of the road.

'You know, Max, I was quite surprised that you agreed to accompany me this evening.'

'Why?'

'Because you think seances are ridiculous.'

'They are.'

'Then why were you so eager to attend this one?'

'Isn't it obvious?'

'Not really.'

'This will probably be the last time Fräulein Löwenstein's circle meet. I'll never get another opportunity like this – it'll be extremely interesting to see them all together.'

They walked past an equestrian statue of the second Emperor Josef, set in the middle of an imposing square of white baroque façades.

'Aren't you even a little curious about Madame de Rougemont?' asked Rheinhardt, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

'No.'

'She's supposed to be genuine.'

'Oskar, there's no such thing as a genuine medium.'

'She's helped the
Sûreté
on many occasions.'

'Who told you that?'

'Inspector Laurent – he sent me a complete record of her accomplishments.'

'Well – the man must be . . .'

'What?'

'Credulous.'

Liebermann examined his friend. He was wearing a hard bowler hat, a fine English suit, and the ends of his moustache had been waxed and precisely tapered. He looked curiously stiff and uncomfortable.

'Max – I admit that my decision to seek Madame de Rougemont's assistance in this matter is indeed irregular. However, on Monday morning I had to face Commissioner Brügel again. Needless to say, the discovery of Herr Uberhorst's corpse has made him no less impatient.'

They entered a long tunnel-like archway that spanned the road.

'But to consult a medium, Oskar?' Liebermann's voice sounded glum.

'Are you familiar with Shakespeare, Max?'

'Reasonably.'

'Then you will recall
Hamlet: "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio—
"'

'"
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy
",' Liebermann cut in. 'Well, Oskar, I will endeavour to keep an open mind – but I very much doubt that I shall be converted to spiritualism by this evening's—' He paused before adding, 'Entertainment.'

Exiting the tunnel, they veered off in a north-easterly direction, eventually crossing the Graben and entering a narrower street leading to the Peterskirche. Its large green dome and two towers dominated the view. Outside the church several fiacres were parked, waiting for fares. Beyond the Peterskirche they found Madame de Rougemont's address – a ground-floor apartment in a well-maintained block.