The Prisoner in the Mask

by Dennis Wheatley

  The main interest of the students at St. Cyr now lay in Madagascar. The Hovás, who were the dominant race in this great island had accepted French protection during the Second Empire, and had again submitted to it in 1885, but recently they had been giving a lot of trouble; and Britain, owing to the activities of her missionaries, was well on the way to ousting French influence from the island. In consequence, General Duchesne had been despatched with a considerable expeditionary force, to overawe the Hová warriors and firmly establish France’s rights as the protecting power.

  The Hovás did not prove formidable antagonists, so Duchesne found little difficulty in penetrating to their capital, but Paris was much amused by the contretemps he had with their Queen when he got there. Having decided that the trouble was largely due to the pro-British Prime Minister, Duchesne exiled him and appointed a pro-French one. Unfortunately the new man was old, fat and ugly, which resulted in the Queen’s descending on the General in a fury. She had no objection to the change of policy, but she had to this change in advisers, as it was the custom of the country that the Queen should marry whoever she took as her Prime Minister, and her subjects would dethrone her if she refused to comply. The embarrassed Duchesne, called on to adjudicate, ruled that she must marry him but need not sleep with him.

  Only twenty French soldiers lost their lives in battle during Duchesne’s operations; but, owing to Mercier’s most reprehensible negligence in organising the expedition, over five thousand of them died from privation and disease. So ultimately it proved a costly failure, and eighteen months later the subjugation of the island had to be undertaken all over again.

  De Quesnoy continued to see Angela from time to time as, having in the past accepted Syveton’s pressing invitations to lunch and dine, he could not now, with decency, always refuse them. They sometimes met, too, at the houses of friends and, in view of this social relationship, it would have been churlish not to appear occasionally at her Thursdays. But they never embarked on an explanation of her having given him a rendezvous then sending a substitute to it.

  For some months, fearful that he might broach the subject, she took considerable care to avoid being left alone with him, even for a few moments; while he, conscious that he had come well out of the matter and that she must know it, generously refrained from taking any special steps to corner her. Gradually she became less nervous that one day he would suddenly take his revenge by twitting her about her futile trick; so they slipped back into their old relationship, except that he no longer made even mild love to her.

  Nevertheless, each was in secret still strongly attracted to the other. Although Angela continued to deplore Armand’s morals, she was slowly growing out of her inhibitions and, while she would not have admitted it to herself, she was now desperately jealous of Madeleine. Armand, in spite of the physical delight he took in his passionate French mistress, was still fascinated by Angela’s more perfect beauty, and he was convinced she was worth a dozen of the vivacious Marquise. But there the matter rested, and was fated to do so for some time.

  In the summer the Frontignacs went to Deauville and there had been a suggestion that de Quesnoy should join them there for his vacation; but Madeleine had not pressed it and Armand spoke vaguely of some family visits he ought to make. The fact was that the passion of both was cooling somewhat and he was spoiling for another spell in his spiritual home, Vienna.

  Once more he spent a hectic month with his Austrian friends and it was not until some two months after Madeleine had left Paris that he saw her again. During their separation each of them had been flagrantly unfaithful to the other, but their nine weeks apart and a number of amorous episodes which had meant little to either had the effect only of stimulating anew their desire for one another; so they happily resumed their affaire and continued it through the autumn, although with a more subdued pleasure in their meetings than had been the case in the early part of the year.

  That suited de Quesnoy admirably for, at his age and with his temperament, had he remained long without a mistress his mind would have become too much occupied with thoughts of securing a new one; and the last thing he wanted at this juncture was to have to employ it laying siege to some new charmer with all the attendant intrigue that would have involved. Now that he was in his final term at St. Cyr he was anxious to concentrate on his studies, and his pleasant relations with Madeleine enabled him to do so to the best advantage, as she was always pleased to see him yet, realising the importance he attached to doing well in his examinations, did not now press him to come into Paris so frequently as he had formerly.

  All the same, when the results of the examinations were made known he received an unpleasant shock. His instructors had backed him to pass out amongst the first three students of his year, but he came in fifteenth. However, this blow to his pride was greatly offset by the wise old Commandant’s telling him in private before he left that he had many qualities of value to a soldier which could not be assessed in any series of examination papers and was, in the opinion of his instructors, the most promising officer-cadet they had had at St. Cyr for some years.

  Towards the end of October yet another government had fallen. M. Ribot’s ministry was brought down by a vote of censure for having interfered with the course of justice through ordering certain judges to be changed in the middle of a trial.

  Owing to continual dissensions among the parties of the Right, ever since the seventies the Conservative elements in the Chamber had been gradually losing ground; and, now for the first time, a Cabinet entirely composed of Radicals took office. Its Premier was Léon Bourgeois and for his Minister of War he chose a civilian named Cavaignac.

  In December, lured by memories of the happy weeks that he had spent on the Riviera the previous winter, de Quesnoy again accepted an invitation from the de Frontignacs to accompany them to Cap Ferrat. Immediately after Christmas they all left with well-stocked picnic baskets, and other convenient utensils, on the long journey South; for the trains, although comfortable and luxuriously upholstered in the first-class compartments, as yet had no restaurant cars, corridors or lavatories. But de Quesnoy was still digesting a gala dinner to usher in the New Year of 1896, held at the Hôtel de Paris, Monte Carlo, under the auspices of Monsieur Fleury—then the most famous maître d’hôtel in the world—when he received a telegram cancelling his leave and ordering him to report to the War Office.

  The officer-cadets passing out of St. Cyr had all had to fill in forms stating any special qualifications they possessed, among them foreign languages. The Count had put himself down as speaking German fluently, a little colloquial Polish and Hungarian, some English but only as learned from text books, and Russian as his second native tongue. It was the last ability which was the cause of his being sent for.

  In 1891 a treaty of friendship had been signed by Russia and France; and this had been greatly strengthened two years later by a secret military convention. These diplomatic coups had led the French General Staff to reconsider the strategy which should be employed in the event of another war with Germany. With Russia even as a neutral friendly to France, Germany would not dare to denude her Russian frontier of troops, and with Russia as France’s active ally sufficient weight should be taken off France to enable her to open the war with an offensive. In consequence, as the Franco-Russian alliance became steadily more concrete the plans of the French were constantly being redrafted into bolder patterns, and the more the need was felt of keeping close contact with the Russian General Staff.

  De Boisdeffre was a great Russophil. It was he who in November ’94, during the most critical fortnight of the Dreyfus investigation, had gone to St. Petersburg to represent France at the funeral of the Czar Alexander III and to be present at the marriage of his successor, Nicholas II. And it was up to the anteroom of his office that de Quesnoy was taken after a brief interview with a Russian interpreter.

  Raoul François Charles Le Mouton de Boisdeffre, to give the Chief of Staff his full name, was a member of one of
the old families and he and de Quesnoy had already met socially. In consequence, when he had the young Count brought in to him he did not keep him standing at attention in front of his desk, as he would normally have done when addressing a junior officer, but shook him cordially by the hand and asked him to sit down.

  The General then spoke at some length about the Franco-Russian military alliance and disclosed the fact that it was to be still further strengthened during the course of the year by a State visit to Paris by the Czar Nicholas and his young bride. He added that in the French Army there were lamentably few officers who spoke Russian; that he was much handicapped by having no one of good social standing on his personal staff who could entertain for him Russian visiting officers whose French was poor; and that in view of the Czar’s forthcoming visit it was now more important than ever that he should have someone of the kind to attach to their Household. He ended by saying that he wished de Quesnoy to join his staff in an additional A.D.C.

  The Count was much surprised and far from pleased. To appoint an officer to such a post straight from St. Cyr, without his having had even a few months’ regimental experience, was an unheard-of thing although no doubt justified by the special circumstances—and anyway that was the General’s affair. But de Quesnoy was quick to see that his principal duties would consist of playing host on tours of Montmartre to little parties of Russians, who were notoriously heavy drinkers and apt to become quarrelsome when drunk, and also probably having to procure women for the older ones who did not care to go out on such sprees. It was not to be employed in such a manner that he had become a soldier, and he said so as tactfully as he could to the Chief-of-Staff. In the hope of giving greater point to his objections he added:

  ‘Since you have sent for me, Sir, I would like to take this opportunity of asking your good offices in connection with my posting to a regiment. I am aware that it is usual for officers on leaving St. Cyr to serve with one stationed in France for at least a year before being sent overseas; but I put in a special application to be sent at once on foreign service, and if you would arrange the matter for me I should take it as a great kindness.’

  It was the General’s turn to be surprised. The great majority of officers of good social standing not only preferred to serve in Metropolitan France, and if possible somewhere within easy reach of Paris; they actually looked down on those serving in the Colonies, much as the officers of the British regiments in those days considered their colleagues in the Indian Army to be of a slightly lower caste.

  ‘What an extraordinary request,’ he said, after a moment. ‘It is only poor devils who have nothing but their pay to live on who need to exile themselves for years in the deserts of North Africa or the jungles of Indo-China.’

  De Quesnoy smiled. ‘I have no wish to spend a great part of my life in either, mon Général; but at present that is the only way to see active service. And should another European war break out officers who have never done so will prove of far less use to their country.’

  ‘Yes, yes; you are right about that,’ de Boisdeffre replied a little impatiently, ‘and such sentiments are very laudable. But you have all your life before you and since you wish it can be given an opportunity later to serve abroad. Now, however, I require you here; and, if necessary, I must give you an order to comply with my wishes.’

  Discipline having been invoked, the Count stood up, clicked his heels and said: ‘In that case, Sir, I await your further instructions. I need hardly add that I shall serve you to the best of my ability.’

  ‘That’s better,’ nodded the General. ‘And now perhaps I can console you a little for your reluctance to accept this post that most young officers would have jumped at. The position you will occupy requires that you should have a certain military standing; so I intend to exercise the powers vested in me to make special promotions. I am sending your name in to be gazetted at the end of the week as a Captain.’

  De Quesnoy could hardly believe his ears. France having become a Republic, the days had long since gone when, owing to wealth or influence, youngsters were allowed to hold rank in her Army above their years. To be gazetted a Captain straight out of St. Cyr and while still only twenty was something of which he could not even have dreamed. For that he was prepared to drink any number of Russians under the table and, if need be, organise a special harem for their exclusive use. Having thanked his new master profusely, he retired extraordinarily elated by this piece of good fortune that had befallen him.

  After looking at several apartments he leased a very pleasant well-furnished one in the Rue de Lille. Then he paid a formal call on the Russian military attaché, a bearded Colonel with bright blue eyes who exuded a mixed aroma of Havana cigars and eau-de-Cologne. As soon as the Colonel learnt that his visitor’s mother had been a Princess Plackoff he treated him with the warmest regard and presented him to the Ambassador. Both of them then asked him to dinner and assured him that he would always be persona grata at the Embassy.

  But at the War Office, for the first month or so, he took his new duties cautiously, as he was anxious not to arouse the ill-will of the older officers in the department that ordinarily dealt with the foreign Military Missions. This, and the fact that de Boisdeffre was often away for two or three days at a stretch, meant that he had very little to do; but, temporarily, he did not mind that, as his leave had been cut short and after the hard work he had put in before taking his examinations at St. Cyr he felt that he had earned an easy time.

  Part of it he spent getting to know the Paris galleries and museums; then when he had a letter from Madeleine in which she mentioned that she had met a charming Spanish grandee whose financial interests necessitated his living for a good part of the year in Paris, he knew what that meant; so he began to look round for a new chère amie.

  He thought that he had found her in the flaxen-haired wife of a Danish diplomat, but she had no sense of humour and, on closer acquaintance, proved so disappointing that he soon tired of her, and turned his attentions to a lady considerably older than himself named Josephine Pollit who, as she was married to a banker, was of the haut bourgeoisie.

  Josephine was in her early thirties, but she had kept her looks and was gifted with an unusually high degree of intelligence. Not the least of her attractions for him, as he had recently become interested in painting, was her wide knowledge of art, and during the spring, with her fine critical appreciation, she opened a new world to him.

  On Madeleine’s return, by tacit consent, they made no attempt to renew their liaison. They had had a wonderful year together, but at its end had both been ready to seek pastures new; so they ceased to be lovers without heartache on either side and in the happy knowledge that their memories would always keep them cherished friends.

  That spring a more than usually violent battle raged in the Chamber. M. Doumer, the Finance Minister in Bourgeois’s Radical Government, endeavoured to bring in Income Tax. The Senate threw the bill out. Four times in five days Bourgeois had to ask for votes of confidence and got them only by the narrowest margins. In the meantime the nation had been aroused. Innumerable small shopkeepers might vote Left at the elections because they were anti-clerical or had theories about giving the under-dog a fair deal, but they were not standing for any nonsense about disclosing their incomes, much less paying a tax on them. On April 22nd Bourgeois’s government was forced to resign, and he was succeeded by Jules Méline, an old type Republican. Méline put into the War Office General Billot, a man of nearly seventy, who for the past twenty years had been a Senator, and War Minister once before for a short period in the early eighties.

  By this time de Quesnoy was becoming bored by having little to do except act as his Chief’s personal intermediary with the Russians, entertain them, and sometimes translate secret Russian documents; so one day he asked to be allowed to improve his future prospects by working as a part-time Staff learner in one of the departments. De Boisdeffre, having considered the matter for a moment, agreed and said that as his work w
as so nearly related to diplomacy the Statistical Section would prove the most profitable for him in which to spend his spare time, then wrote a chit for him to take to its chief.

  Since the Dreyfus trial there had been several changes in the personnel of the Section, the most important being that in the preceding June Colonel Sandherr had been retired on account of a paralytic stroke. Although Major Henry was still there, he had been passed over by the transfer of Picquart from the Third Bureau to the Section, as its new chief with the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel.

  Picquart had so far had a quite outstanding military career and was regarded as one of the most promising officers on the General Staff. He was a good-looking, cultured bachelor, and he and de Quesnoy soon took a liking to one another.

  For some time no mention was made between them of the Dreyfus case—which had now been forgotten by most people other than the unfortunate man’s family and those immediately concerned in it—but one day it cropped up, and Picquart revealed that although the case was officially closed certain members of the War Office staff were still not altogether happy about it.

  Having given de Quesnoy a resume of the inside story, as then known to himself, he went on to say that when he had taken over the Section de Boisdeffre had told him to follow up the case, as no plausible motive had ever been produced to account for Dreyfus’s treachery, and it was unsatisfactory that there should be no document containing convincing proof of his guilt.

  Picquart had never believed in Dreyfus’s innocence, but he obeyed the orders he had received and kept inquiries going. Nothing of importance had emerged, but he had been made uneasy by reports that staff papers were still being stolen. Then, only a few weeks before, among the material still being collected by Henry from Schwartzkoppen’s waste-paper basket, there had been found a petit bleu—as the flimsies used in Paris for delivery by special messenger were called. It had never been dispatched but instead torn up, and when pieced together it indicated that a Major Esterhazy had been in secret communication with the German military attaché.