The Prisoner in the Mask

by Dennis Wheatley

  As so frequently occurred at that period Italian cavalry officers secured the first two places; so the young Prince’s achievement was a considerable one, and could be written up almost as though he had come first. For any Frenchman to have done so well would have delighted Paris and his being a direct descendant of Henri le Grand surrounded him with additional glamour.

  The monarchists controlled big secret funds, which meant that they could ensure a wide Press for their protégé, and once they had launched him as a public figure they saw to it that he was kept in the limelight. In view of the great wealth of his family and his upbringing in Spain where, as a cousin of King Alfonso, he could have lived the idle life of a grandee, much praise was bestowed on him for returning to claim his French citizenship, choosing the Army for a career and submitting himself to the rigorous regime of a student at St. Cyr. Accounts were given of his shaving in cold water in the morning and other imaginary hardships which he was said cheerfully to endure; while the clerical Press needed no urging to publicize his genuine piety.

  The cause, of which he was still the hidden pivot, was also gaining ground owing to Emile Combes’ ferocious attacks on Christianity. These had driven the Press of the Right into a frenzy of protest and abuse; but, more important, they had brought to the fore several new champions of conservatism, who possessed considerable ability.

  Charles Maurras was the greatest of these. He was by conviction a Pagan, so he did not seek particularly to defend the interests of the Church; but he believed intensely in autocracy as practised in the ancient civilisations. He openly advocated a return to monarchy as the only means of cleaning out the sink of iniquity which the government of France had become, and his writings were so lucid, consistent and sincere that he won many thousands of converts.

  Another was Léon Daudet, the son of a famous father and the husband of a granddaughter of Victor Hugo. He possessed a brilliant wit and a remarkable nose for the innumerable scandals in the venal administration; so his articles were very widely read, and he also enjoyed great influence in literary circles.

  As the autumn advanced the Faubourg St. Germain began openly to lionise de Vendôme. Ambitious mothers among the noblest families battled and intrigued to secure him as godfather to their children. Hardly a Sunday passed without his being the central figure at one of the elaborate pageants proper to such christenings in those times; and, as the custom was, afterwards throwing handfuls of sugared almonds from the church steps to the cheering crowds.

  His status at St. Cyr had also gradually altered. During his first eighteen months there, in accordance with the Republican tradition, his fellow students—apart from a very few who sought his friendship out of snobbery—had treated him as an equal. But since the Press had taken him up more and more of them began to show him deference, relieve him of his turn at unpleasant tasks, and look to him as a leader in many of their activities. Some of the junior instructors, too, took to showing him an unwarrantable degree of favour.

  This worried de Quesnoy and he did his best to counter it, both by reprimanding the instructors who were at fault and, now and then, giving the Prince some particularly hard row to hoe. In private he explained that he greatly regretted having to appear harsh to him, but it was the only way he could counter the growing tendency to regard him as royalty; which, if it came to the ears of the War Minister, might seriously jeopardize their plans for the future.

  De Vendôme said that he fully understood but there was little he could do to check the movement as so many of his fellow students were royalists and, whether it was due to a leak from the Committee, or simply an idea that had arisen spontaneously, quite a number of them were now speaking of him among themselves as their future King.

  All the Count could do was again to urge him to use the utmost discretion, and pray that conditions would make it possible to stage the coup d’état before the government began to regard the Prince as a serious menace. Otherwise there was the possibility that they might fake up some excuse for depriving him of his commission and sending him back to Spain.

  Combes, meanwhile, blinded by his fanaticism to any risk of a revolt against his government, was lavishly sowing the seeds calculated to ferment one. Heedless of honour, patriotism, or even loyalty to the men who had placed him in power, finding that his anti-clerical laws were alienating many of his Left Centre supporters he entered into a pact with the Socialists, and adopted measures which could have been conceived only by a cunning crook.

  To guard himself against being swept from power by a Chamber now having a majority hostile to him, he formed a body which was called the Délégation des Gauches. On this Committee were Deputies representing all groups from Radicals to Communists, and before each fresh move Combes drove a bargain with them. In this there was nothing particularly reprehensible, as it was no more than a method of securing support in anticipation instead of letting one government after another fall, then entering on the usual cut-throat auction to buy the backing of enough groups to form a new one.

  The iniquitous thing about it was that as soon as all the representatives of the groups had accepted their bribes to give Combes a free hand for another month or so, they turned themselves into an Inquisition. Each had to make certain of the votes of his group, and for this the most unscrupulous methods were employed. The rank and file in the groups were kept under observation by the police then, on information so obtained, were blackmailed by their representatives. As comparatively few of these professional politicians lacked skeletons in their cupboards the bringing to light of which would have caused their ruin, they had to toe the line and vote as desired by ‘papa’ Combes.

  In addition to this stranglehold on the centre of power the Prime Minister’s nefarious tentacles writhed out over the whole country. It had in the past been the practice of governments to fill vacancies among the Prefects with men of their own political colour but, once appointed, the Prefects had a free hand to put into the posts under them such men as they considered would serve their Departments with the greatest credit and efficiency.

  Combes was not content to follow this precedent. To the scandal of the nation he issued a circular to all Prefects warning them that in future State-paid posts must be given only to friends of the government. He then issued an order that in communes where the Mayor was a member of one of the Right or Centre parties, a prominent local Socialist should be empowered to go over the Mayor’s head in advising the Prefect about local appointments.

  These police-state measures coupled with the tyrannous old atheist’s war upon Christianity in all its forms naturally provoked violent reactions.

  With the approach of winter, riots and street fighting became of daily occurrence and it was obvious to the Committee that final plans for the coup d’état could now be entered upon.

  On several occasions General Laveriac sent for de Quesnoy to come to his private apartment, in order to inform him of decisions that had been taken. The Committee had excellent grounds for believing that the present agitation against the government, far from declining, would gather greater momentum during the next few months. Moreover, at the turn of the year a number of changes in postings in the War Department would take place, and it was important to get certain royalist officers firmly established in key positions before launching the coup d’etat; so it was provisionally timed for May.

  At the end of December de Vendôme would pass out of St. Cyr and it had been decided to gazette him to the Guard Republican. Then, when the time came, with the connivance of its colonel who was in the plot, he could take command of that famous regiment and be seen deploying its red-plumed horsemen in the Place de la Concorde and other great open spaces of the capital.

  But until the day, again with the connivance of the Colonel, his duties were to be nominal. A great mansion had been taken for him in the Avenue du Bois and he was to move in there at the end of January. The government could take no exception to such a step as, in the circumstances, there was nothing exceptional about it
. The Prince’s mother, the Condessa de Cordoba y Coralles, was coming to Paris to play hostess for him; and the immense funds of the Banco del Coralles amply justified the family’s enjoying palatial accommodation, and entertaining lavishly. This move was the final one to sustain the publicity campaign as, by it for a few months, de Vendôme would occupy in Parisian society the all but royal position that the Comte de Paris had forfeited in ’86 by the intrigue with Boulanger which had led to him being exiled.

  However, as the General pointed out, the part the Prince played in the affair, provided he did not make a fool of himself, was of little moment. The success or failure of the coup would depend on the smooth working of arrangements in the War Departments. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred troops could be counted on to obey their officers, and officers to obey the orders they received from above; therefore, no government could hope to resist for more than a few hours once the army was under the control of those making a new bid for power.

  The Chief of Staff was not privy to the conspiracy, but his known sympathies made it probable that at the last moment he could be brought over to it without much difficulty. If not Laveriac, who had a score of officers pledged to do his bidding without question, intended to deprive him of his functions, take over, and issue orders in his name.

  A similar situation existed in the other key point—the offices of the Military Governor of Paris. But there the little junta of trustworthy officers was not quite so strong; so although de Quesnoy’s appointment as a senior instructor at St. Cyr was for two years, it was decided that an excuse should be made to transfer him early in January to strengthen the group. Then, once the coup there had been achieved, he could rejoin his royal pupil and be on hand to advise him in the event of any emergency.

  For the rest, Combes, the War Minister, André and the other members of the Cabinet were to be arrested in their beds. Two senior police officials would hold the gendarmerie in check until the military had full control. Posts and telegraphs were to be seized and a general censorship of news temporarily enforced. The Camelots du Roi were to be given the task of smashing up the printing presses from which issued the newspapers of the Left, and it was hoped that within twelve hours, with very little bloodshed, the coup d’état would be accomplished.

  De Quesnoy felt that he could not have improved on these arrangements. The little Gascon was shrewd, efficient and bold; and as Assistant Chief of Staff he was already number two at the War Office. The Action Française was daily stimulating resistance to the government, the Camelots du Roi were constantly increasing in numbers, and when the time came Syveton could swing his great civilian army of the Ligue de la Patrie into action behind the spearheads. Unless some quite unforeseeable development took place in the next two or three months it did not seem that things could go wrong.

  It was thus that matters stood in mid-December. The students of de Vendôme’s year were now taking their final examinations and, it being important, for publicity reasons, that the Prince should pass out well above average, de Quesnoy had arranged to mark the papers of his group himself; so that if necessary he could do a little cooking of his charge’s marks.

  He was so employed one evening when de Vendôme came to the door of his study and asked if he might have a word with him. After accepting a seat, the Prince said:

  ‘I hope you won’t be annoyed about it; but as we are breaking up next week a number of my friends have arranged to give a farewell dinner in my honour. It is to be held at the Hôtel du Roi Soleil in Versailles on Monday next, the 19th.’

  The Count’s eyes showed a sudden uneasiness. ‘Do you mean they are planning some form of demonstration?’

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ the Prince admitted. ‘Raoul Dampierre, and one or two others, got hold of the truth from somewhere. After the new year they will all be posted to regiments scattered over France. He and his friends, unknown to me until this morning, have been organising a sort of secret society. The idea is that each member should sing my praises among his new brother officers wherever he is sent; then in a score or more of garrison towns there will be a little clique ready to declare for me when the news of the coup d’état reaches them.’

  ‘The idea is praiseworthy enough,’ the Count admitted, ‘but all the same I wish that Dampierre had never thought of it. The success or failure of the coup depends entirely on what happens here in Paris. The readiness of a few junior officers to shout your name in provincial cities will not influence the issue in the least; whereas this party might result in the authorities taking a most unwelcome interest in you.’

  ‘I realise that. It is why I came to tell you about it.’

  ‘That was very sensible of you.’ De Quesnoy fell silent for a minute, then he resumed: ‘The trouble is that I have no authority, or even an excuse, for forbidding a private party of this kind; and I don’t see, either, how you can very well refuse to accept such an invitation from your friends. In view of the monarchist slogans that the Camelots du Roi are shouting all over Paris in these days, I suppose it is unlikely that any serious notice will be taken of a gathering of officer-cadets that does the same thing. It wouldn’t matter in the least if it were not that you are to be present, and the possibility of allusions to a coup d’état in your favour being made in your hearing. It is that you must try to check, particularly while the waiters are in the room.’

  ‘I was wondering,’ said the Prince after a moment, ‘if it would be a good idea if I got them to ask you to come to this dinner.’

  The Count raised his eyebrows. ‘I hardly think they would welcome the suggestion, seeing that the part I have played for the past year must have led them all to believe me a staunch Republican.’

  ‘But that’s just it! Your being there would restrain them from getting out of hand and doing anything really silly. And politics apart, I know they would love to have you. Even if you have been a bit on the strict side it is recognised that you are the best instructor in the place; and you’re looked upon as a model of the sort of soldier they would all like to be.’

  ‘Thank you for the compliment,’ smiled de Quesnoy, ‘and I am happy to be able to return one. Your idea, mon Prince, has the ring of true statecraft. If, then, Dampierre and his friends care to ask me I shall accept with pleasure.’

  As a result of this conversation, on the evening of December 19th the Count joined the party at the Hôtel du Roi Soleil. It was held in a private suite on the first floor, which consisted of a cloakroom, an ante-room having big double doors, and beyond them a spacious dining-room with tall windows that looked out on an inner courtyard. There were some thirty young officers present but no other instructors. All of them had been working exceptionally hard until a few days before, but now their examinations were over and in forty-eight hours they would be leaving St. Cyr for good; so it was a merry, laughing crowd that, after drinking aperitifs in the ante-room, went in to dinner.

  All these young men belonged to the cavalry side; so they came from good families and had private means. In consequence no money had been spared in choosing the dinner and the wines to go with it. The Prince was placed at the head of the table and Raoul Dampierre took its foot with de Quesnoy on his right. The meal ran its course most pleasantly, differing in no way from an ordinary social occasion. Somewhat to the Count’s surprise, and much to his relief, there were no speeches. While the dessert plates were being cleared away an upright piano was carried in, then the waiters retired. An amiable young giant named Léon de Jassy, who had a gift for remembering catchy tunes, sat down at the piano and began to strum. Soon they had all gathered round him and were singing the old bawdy favourites at the tops of their voices.

  The time passed quickly and de Quesnoy was beginning to hope that the meeting would end without any open reference being made to the reason that lay behind it; but, at about ten past eleven, having stopped playing for a minute de Jassy, unheeding of shouted suggestions from those round him, began to hammer out the tune.

  It was the famous royalis
t song that the Garde du Corps had sung in the banqueting hall of the Palace, only half a mile away, on the last occasion that Louis XVI and Queen Marie Antoinette had accepted the homage of their loyal officers before, a few days later, being taken as prisoners to Paris by the mob.

  Instantly the tempo of the meeting changed. The laughter ceased; with serious faces but full-throated voices the song was sung as though it was an anthem. Evidently, too, de Jassy’s playing of it had been planned beforehand; for as the song finished several of the officers went to a side table, opened some more bottles of champagne and began to refill all the glasses, while Dampierre stood up on a chair and addressed the company in ringing tones.

  ‘Gentlemen! It was agreed that we should exchange no speeches this evening; but there is one toast that we all wish to drink before we leave this room. In a few minutes now we must do so, as it is still incumbent upon us to be back in barracks by midnight. But I have left just enough time for you to raise your glasses to the distinguished companion who has honoured us by being our guest.

  ‘Before doing so I should like to say what a pleasure it has been to have with us another guest, Colonel the Count de Quesnoy. I must, too, now remark that while his political opinions are no concern of ours, whatever they may be, we need no assurance from him, as a member of one of the greatest families of the ancien regime and our guest, that he will not disclose to anyone that we have met here tonight for the purpose of drinking this toast.

  ‘Lieutenant His Highness the Duke François de Vendôme has been one of our brotherhood. I will not dwell upon his qualities. It is enough to say that as our companion for two years, he has, by his simplicity, kindness and honest good fellowship, won the love of us all. I will not dwell either upon the sad state of France. A change must come. When, none of us can say. It may be in a few months; we may have to wait with what patience we can for several years. But when it does it will be upon him that we shall pin our hopes for the salvation of our beloved country. In his service we will if need be lay down our lives, and be proud to do so. May the day when we can acclaim him openly come soon.