The wanton princess rb-8

by Dennis Wheatley

  'You wrong me, Excellence,' Roger protested with a frown. 'I would never make myself a party to assassination.'

  'In that I believe you. I should have said in plotting his removal from power. I have much information on that affair and it seems that the original intention was only to place the Czar under restraint. I also know that an Englishman was among those who forced their way into Paul's room. From the description I have had of him I've now not a doubt that he was yourself. Can you deny it?'

  Roger shrugged, 'Since Your Excellency is convinced of ‘ that I have no means by which I can alter your opinion.'

  'I would have wagered a fortune that you could not.' Talleyrand's deep voice had taken on a harsh note. 'And so we have the true picture. Long since I suspected you of being an English secret agent. In '98 I charged you with it, but you assured me that you were no longer working for Mr. Pitt and intended to carve out for yourself a career in France. Still only half-convinced of your sincerity I nullified your pros­pects of sending information back from Paris to London by insisting that your duty lay in accompanying Bonaparte on his expedition to Egypt. On his return you played a valuable part in the coup d'etat of Brumaire and, your prospects of advancement being so good, it seemed to me that you had everything to gain by remaining loyal to France. With a skill that one can but admire you have since led me to believe that my suspicions of you were entirely groundless. Napoleon, myself and many others have made you privy to our most secret intentions and you deceived us all. Now, it is revealed that for all these years we have been nurturing a viper in our bosoms.

  'For your activities while in Russia there can be only one explanation. Mad as the Czar Paul may have been, we had made him the friend of France, so it was in our interest that he should retain his throne; whereas the interests of England lay in his removal from it. Taking advantage of the indefinite leave granted you to recover from your wound, I haven't a doubt that you went to London and that there your real master discussed with you the situation in Russia. He would have told you that the Czar had many enemies but that they were a cowardly, woolly-minded, irresolute lot. You are the very antithesis of that, and he sent you to persuade, urge, bully, bribe them into taking action. History will not record the part you played but it will the result of your mission. You temporarily altered the balance of power in favour of your country. That was a great achievement, Mr. Brook. But it is your last. You have deceived us far too long and will deceive us no more. You must know, too, the penalty for a spy who has been found out. It is death.'

  Never before had Roger seen Talleyrand in such a mood, nor thought him even capable of displaying-such harshness. Gone was the urbane, charming friend and another person­ality had emerged; a ruthless intriguer who had had his cherished plans brought to naught and for that meant to exact vengeance.

  Roger had gone slightly pale. The knuckles of his hands showed white as, with rising tension, he clasped them on his knee. He had always thought that if he ever slipped up badly he could count on Talleyrand to get him out; but such a hope was now obviously vain. The very fact that they had been such close friends was, he realized, the clue to the Minister's rancour; for he prided himself on his astuteness, and to learn that he had been fooled by a man with whom he had been intimate for years must have roused in him intense resent­ment. In a low voice Roger said:

  'Your Excellency has made a case and I am in no position to refute your charges. I have performed many services for France but my first loyalty has always been to England, and will be so until I die.'

  'That is a brave declaration. Many men in your present position would have sought to save themselves by offering to use their contacts in England to work in future for France.'

  'Monsieur le Ministre, if you mean that as a suggestion I can take it only as an insult.'

  Talleyrand raised an eyebrow, 'Spies form a class apart. As their profession largely consists of betraying confidences they are regarded as persons without honour, so cannot be insulted. But let that pass. We have worked together so often and for so long that I would have liked to find a means by which you could escape the fate you have brought upon yourself. Can you suggest one?'

  'No, I fear not,' Roger shook his head. 'What alternative is there? Only an appeal to you that you should allow me to go free and return to England. But, being so well informed as I am of French affairs, that would be too much to expect. Our countries are at war. You know me now to be a danger to yours; so you could not with a clear conscience allow me to continue to give assistance to France's enemies. My only regret is that it should be you who has found me out, and so be inflicted with what must be the unpleasant duty of sending me to face a firing squad.'

  Regarding him curiously, Talleyrand said, 'I admire your scruples in refraining from appealing to my personal feelings for you; although in your circumstances I would not have them. However, there remain the services you have rendered France, and they are considerable. I can at least ensure that they are given full prominence at your trial with a strong recommendation to mercy.'

  Roger gave a pale smile, 'I thank Your Excellency for your good intentions; but I'd as lief you allowed matters to take their course. Mercy in this case could mean retaining my life only at the price of spending many years imprisoned in a fortress. I have had a wonderful life and a long run for my money. But I've always anticipated that, sooner or later, I would be called on to pay for that and I'd much prefer to settle the bill in one lump sum.'

  'Are you not then afraid to die?'

  'I am of being executed. Contrary to popular belief I am, physically, the veriest coward. But I've no fear of death itself, nor any great regret at being deprived of a continuance of my present existence. Pauline Borghese is the most lovely creature; but she has gone to Rome and, to be honest, drawn though I was to her like an iron filing to a magnet, at rock bottom 1 had no deep feeling for her—nor she for me, else she would not have married Borghese while I was in Bruges. So that is finished. From my teens onwards until some fifteen months ago I had an abiding passion for an English lady who returned my love. But that, too, alas, is over, and for good. So I have nothing much now to live for.'

  'Yet you would surely rather live than die?'

  'Naturally. Even with no special inducement to survive, life still holds many pleasures and interests. Not least to learn how the war between our countries will end.'

  Opening a drawer in his desk, Talleyrand took from it a dog-cared piece of thin pasteboard on which the writing was almost illegible. Pushing it across to Roger he asked, 'Do you recognize this?'

  Picking it up, Roger looked at it for a moment then exclaimed, 'Why, yes! It is the passport that I fooled Danton into giving me for you, so that you could escape from France to England at the height of the Terror.'

  Talleyrand nodded, 'It saved me from the guillotine. And, although people rate me guilty of many things, no one has ever accused me of not having a good memory.'

  From the drawer he then produced a clean, new oblong of pasteboard and added, 'Here is another. It will take you via the Netherlands into Germany, and from a port there you should have no difficulty in finding a ship that will carry you to England.'

  Roger had needed all his fortitude both to remain calm and resist the temptation to plead for his life. What he had said of Pauline and Georgina was true but, in spite of that, he was far from ready to die. He had made a pretence of resignation only because he felt that by doing so he would stand a better chance of taking Talleyrand by surprise, snatching up a heavy candle-stick from the desk, rendering him unconscious by a blow over the head and walking calmly out of the Palace before he could be arrested.

  Now tears started to his eyes, and he stammered, 'You ... you really mean that... that despite all I know of French affairs you did not mean even to put me in prison, but... but allow me to leave the country? That is indeed generous and I thank you from my heart.'

  Talleyrand was now smiling, 'Can you suppose that if I had ever had any other intention I would ha
ve been quite so big a fool as to remain here alone with such a resourceful and desperate fellow as Mr. Roger Brook?'

  For the first time in years Roger found himself blushing, 'Well,' he laughed. 'I do confess that I had it in mind to hit you over the head, then make with all speed for the coast.'

  'A very natural reaction, cher ami. But 1 could not resist this temptation to enjoy your discomfiture at my having found you out. I have, of course, given that very serious consideration and it is my opinion that, even if I allowed you to remain here as a free citizen, the ill you could do to France would, except in some quite exceptional circumstance which is unlikely to arise, be outweighed by your usefulness to me here. You and I have always been at one in believing that no permanent peace and prosperity can be maintained in Europe unless our two great countries sink their differences. You have considerable influence with many important people here, and a quick and subtle mind; so for my secret endeavours to bring about a lasting settlement I could have no better lieutenant than yourself.'

  After taking snuff again, the Minister added, 'But now it is my intention to use you as my secret emissary to England.'

  Roger stiffened slightly, 'I thought I had made it clear that...'

  Talleyrand made an impatient gesture, 'You did. And when giving you that passport I made no conditions. Do you wish it you may proceed freely to England and never return. But I have hopes that you will agree to give me your help in a matter that will in no way conflict with your conscience. A while back you said that you would never become a party to an assassination. May I take it that implies that you would prevent any attempt at assassination if you could?'

  'Certainly. However much one may hate an enemy, to kill him in fair fight is one thing, but to take him off his guard and stab him in the back is quite another.'

  ‘I agree, yet across the Channel there is a plot to assas­sinate Napoleon.'

  'You imply that the English are engaged in such a plot. Greatly as they loathe him, I do not believe it.'

  'No. I dc not believe that the King's Ministers would lend themselves to such despicable measures, but I have evidence that several of their subordinates are encouraging the designs of the embittered Royalist refugees. For one, a Mr. Ham­mond who is the Permanent Under Secretary at the Foreign Office. And there are others of whom I will tell you. One, Hyde de Neuville is the Royalist leader and it has come to my knowledge that he and his right-hand man, Mehee dc la Touche, have been several times recently in Paris spying out the land. These extremists believe that if only they could put Napoleon out of the way, rather than be plunged again into civil strife, the French people would prefer to receive back the Comtc de Provence as King Louis XVIII. But these out-at-elbows plotters art. a cowardly lot and, instead of risking their own skins, they plan to use Georges Cadoudal, the Breton peasant leader.'

  'You surprise me.' Roger put in, 'Cadoudal is a brave fellow, and by his skilful resistance has won the admiration even of his enemies I would not have thought him the type of man to agree to become an assassin '

  'Nor I But one must remember that he is a fanatic. In August last he landed secretly at Biville, near Dieppe, and proceeded to Munich, where he conferred with Mehee de la Touche and Mr. Drake, the British agent. Do you perchance know Drake?

  'No,' Roger shook his head, T have heard of but never met him. I owe my long immunity to the fact that, as far as circumstances permitted, I have held no communication with any other British agent.'

  'How wise of you,’ Talleyrand smiled. 'However, there it is. I have particulars of the conversations they held. It was agreed that some time during this winter Cadoudal should enter France again with a band of resolute adherents and make an attempt to eliminate Napoleon. You know as well as I do that, as things stand, the people of France would never accept the restoration of a Bourbon to the throne. It follows that the death of Napoleon could lead only to anarchy and a renewal of the Terror. While I believe Drake to be acting on his own initiative, and that the British Government plays no part in this, they must have knowledge of the centres in which Royalist plots are bred. You have the entree to highly placed persons in England so could find out where those centres are and, perhaps, penetrate them. Should you succeed in that you could then return here and furnish me with particulars of the plotters' intentions. Then I would be able to take due precautions. Let us be clear. I do not ask your aid in anything that would be harmful to England; only your help in preventing an assassination which would further embitter the relations between our countries. Now; what say you?’

  'I agree,' Roger replied without hesitation. ‘We have many times worked together for what we believed to be good ends. Should Napoleon be assassinated it would be attributed to the English, and since he has become the idol of the French people, there would then be no hope of seeing peace in our life-time. This vile conspiracy must be thwarted at all costs, and I'll spare no effort to aid you in nipping it in the bud.'

  'Well said!' Talleyrand stood up and clasped his hand, 'But the matter has become urgent; so I will tell Napoleon that I have temporarily deprived him of you for a special service in which his own safety is concerned, in order that you can leave France without delay.'

  The following day Roger set out for England.

  21

  The Double Agent

  Roger had no need of the passport with which Talleyrand had provided him and did not proceed via Holland into Germany; neither, in view of the war situation, did he go to Calais. Instead he took the road to Dieppe and, in a fishing village not far from it, sought out a smuggler who on two previous occasions had put him across the Channel. There, to his distress, he learned that his old friend had, a few months earlier, been killed in an affray with the English. Having made the man's widow a present of a sum of money, he rode the thirty-five miles down the coast to Fecamp and there he proved luckier. Another smuggler, to whom the widow had sent him, intended to sail two days later and agreed to run him over; although he had to pay twice the sum that he had when he had last crossed two years earlier.

  This was owing to the threat of invasion that now menaced England. While Napoleon had been mustering his vast army the British had been far from idle. Lord Keith commanded a squadron in the North Sea covering the Dutch ports and Lord Cornwallis another blockading Brest, while the narrows between Kent and the Pas dc Calais swarmed with sloops and gunboats, the latter largely manned by the Sea Fencibles, as volunteers for local sea services were called.

  In consequence, as Roger had assumed, smuggling from either side across the narrows had become such a hazardous venture that it had almost ceased. But the demand in Britain for French wines and cognac was as great as ever, while the French, despite Napoleon's interdicts, were still eager to secure English cloth and Nottingham lace; so the illicit traffic continued but had to be by longer sea passages to the west, and even on the Dorset and Devonshire coasts the risk of capture had increased considerably.

  Early in the morning of December 12th, the wind being favourable, they set sail; but, instead of running out into the open sea, they spent the whole day crossing the Bay of the Seine until, late at night, they reached the tip of the Cher­bourg peninsula. There they lay to until the following after­noon and only then again set sail on a northerly course across the Channel.

  Towards evening the weather worsened and it was Roger's misfortune that when about half way across they were hit by a sou'wester. Stripped of her canvas the little ship bucked most horribly and he was dreadfully sick. When morning came she was many miles off her course and that day went in getting her back to a position from which she could make her run in; so it was not until an hour before dawn on the 15th that, still pale and ill, he was put ashore a few miles west of Christchurch at the foot of a deserted gorse-covered chine which, many years later, was to form part of Bournemouth.

  Carrying his valise he trudged unhappily to Christchurch; but the walk did him good and, as he had not eaten for the past two days, restored his appetite. After breakfasting at
the best inn, feeling more his own man, he hired a postchaise and drove through Lymington to Walhampton Park with the intention of visiting his father before proceeding to London.

  There he was received by Sir William Burrard, with whom his father had gone to live in the spring of 1800. After greeting him cordially but a little awkwardly the Baronet broke it to him that his father had died the previous winter.

  Roger was not greatly surprised as, after his retirement from the Navy, the Admiral's health had deteriorated and when Roger had last seen him he had been far from well. Neither did he feel any great sense of loss, as during his youth fear of his father had brought him near to hating him and it was not until later years, during which they had seen one another only at long intervals, that they had become good friends.

  Sir William pressed him to stay as long as he wished at Walhampton and Roger gladly accepted for a few nights; then, tired out from his journey, went straight up to bed. That night over supper his host gave him particulars of his father and told him that Mr. Drummond to whom the Admiral had let Grove Place was still occupying it pending some arrangement with the Admiral's heir; although the three-year tenancy had come to an end in the previous March.

  Next day Roger rode into Lymington, spent a few minutes standing silently at the foot of his parents' grave, then went to see the family solicitor, a Mr. Blatch. As he expected, his father had left everything to him except for an annuity to his faithful servant Jim Button and a few personal possessions to old friends. The solicitor estimated the inheritance to amount to something over forty thousand pounds, mainly acquired in prize money from ships taken by the Admiral while serving in the Navy. As an executor and trustee he had invested it in the Funds, and Roger was content to leave it there for the time being. With the carefulness inherited from his Scottish mother he had, during the past fifteen years, put by the greater part of the money he had made while occupying several lucrative posts and, invested with the shrewd advice of Droopy Ned, his own small fortune amounted to a considerably greater sum; so he now reckoned himself to be worth well over a hundred thousand pounds.