The Prisoner in the Mask

by Dennis Wheatley

  All unsuspecting, the Colonel obeyed. He was already half mesmerised from his attempt to follow the constant flickering of those long pale fingers. Now, he lifted his eyes and met de Quesnoy’s grey ones. After a moment he tried to look away; but it was too late. His gaze was held by that unwinking stare. The yellow-flecked cat’s eyes of the Count seemed to him to grow larger and larger until he felt as though he was being engulfed in some gently shimmering grey sea. In his brain a soft voice said: ‘Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.’ His eyelids fluttered and closed; he thrust out his arms across the table and his head fell forward on to them; without a murmur he fell fast asleep.

  Standing up de Quesnoy put the cards back in his bag, then rolled the Colonel’s head over sideways, gently turned up one of his eyelids and gave a quick glance at the eyeball. Satisfied with what he saw, he let the head roll back, turned and walked into the cell.

  Angela had undone and thrown back her veil, and was sitting beside de Vendôme on the narrow bed. Overcome with emotion at her having come to him in the midst of his ordeal, the poor youth had broken down and, his head bowed, was weeping. She had an arm round his shoulders and was making the little soothing noises that a mother makes to a terrified child.

  At the sound of the Count’s footsteps he cried: ‘No, not again! Not again!’ and thrusting out his hands shrank away from the table on which the great leather helmet now reposed upside down. Then as he lifted his terrified eyes they took in the black-clad female figure in the doorway. After a moment, knowing his ex-Chief Instructor so well, he penetrated his disguise. Springing to his feet, he ran towards him, crying:

  ‘Grâce à Dieu! De Quesnoy! Oh, Monsieur le Comte, can it be that you are here to save me?’

  ‘Yes, my Prince,’ replied the Count. ‘But please try to calm yourself, and give me your complete attention. I am about to give you certain instructions which it is all important that you should follow when you are free.’ To Angela he added: ‘I have put Colonel Roux into a deep hypnotic sleep; but we cannot be too careful. Please go into the ante-room and keep watch on him. If he stirs a finger let me know instantly.’

  As she left them, he pushed the door to behind her. Turning back he saw that de Vendôme had picked up the helmet and was about to dash it to the ground. ‘Stop!’ he said sharply. ‘Give me that. I want to look at it.’

  The Prince handed it to him and he gave it a swift examination. It had evidently been modelled on the flat-topped saucepan-like type of heaume that many knights favoured in the late thirteenth century. The leather of which it was made was so thick as to be almost rigid, so it could not possibly be torn; and its edges were strengthened with small brass studs. It had been fashioned in two halves: front and back. On the right, hinges held the halves together. On the left, just below the level of the ear, was the lock. It had a grille on eye level to see through, and a slit like a pillar-box for conveying food and drink to the mouth. Inside it was padded where it rested on the top of the head and on the nape of the neck.

  Throwing it on the bed, de Quesnoy said: ‘Now we have to exchange clothes: and we have no time to lose.’

  Suiting the action to the word he began to strip off his female garments as quickly as he could; but de Vendôme had off all but his underclothes long before him, for the cell was very well heated and he had been wearing only his uniform trousers and a white shirt.

  As soon as the Count had the trousers and shirt on, he helped the Prince to arrange the bonnet, false curls and thick veil. It was not until he had done so that the still semi-hysterical young man suddenly gasped:

  ‘But you… ! But you, mon ami! If I am to go out in these things, what about yourself?’

  De Quesnoy gave him a grim smile. ‘I am not going out; at all events for the time being.’

  ‘If you stay here God knows what they will do to you.’

  ‘With luck, they will treat me no worse than they would have treated you.’

  ‘You … you mean to take my place?’

  ‘Yes. We are much of a height and build. They will have no reason to suppose that an exchange of prisoners has been effected, and once I have put on the mask—’

  ‘No, no! I cannot let you!’

  ‘You must. I insist upon it.’

  De Vendôme violently shook his head. ‘I cannot. It is too great a sacrifice to accept from anyone.’

  ‘From most people, yes. But not from me. I owe you this. It is through me that you are here.’

  ‘The dinner was no fault of yours. It was Dampierre who has brought us all to ruin. You did your utmost—’

  ‘No,’ the Count cut him short. ‘The dinner did no more than provide an opportunity for the police to catch you allowing yourself to be acclaimed as King. It was I who set you on that path.’

  ‘That is true. Even so—’

  ‘Say no more! My mind is made up. And if we waste further time arguing we shall all be caught. That would mean not only the mask for you and death for me but a long prison sentence for Madame Syveton.’

  ‘Oh God!’ groaned the Prince, his resistance overcome by de Quesnoy’s playing Angela as a trump card. ‘Very well, then. Tell me what I am to do?’

  ‘In a minute I shall rouse Colonel Roux from his hypnotic sleep. He will lock me in here, then see you and Madame Syveton to the entrance of the prison. A closed carriage is waiting there with General Laveriac acting as coachman. He will drive you to the Spanish Embassy. You know the Ambassador, of course?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who else do you know in the Spanish Embassy?’

  ‘The Military Attaché, and the First Secretary, Don Ramon d’Avila.’

  ‘They should prove as trustworthy as the Ambassador himself, I am worrying more about clerks, porters and other such people. Have you been to the Embassy much during your time at St. Cyr?’

  ‘No; only once to dinner, soon after I arrived, and to a big reception on King Alphonso’s birthday last May.’

  De Quesnoy gave a quick sigh of relief. ‘Then the servants there cannot know you well enough to recognise you when you enter it disguised as a woman. On their not doing so my life depends.’

  ‘In what way? I don’t understand.’

  ‘The Government have fathered the dinner at Versailles on to me. In the fight afterwards three policemen lost their lives. It is alleged that I shot two of them, and a big reward has been offered for my capture. If it becomes known that you have escaped they will immediately send to find out who has taken your place in prison, and once the mask has been taken from my head it will mean the signing of my death warrant.’

  ‘How can I let you run this awful risk for me!’ exclaimed the Prince in fresh distress.

  ‘There is no alternative.’

  ‘Sooner or later it is bound to get out that I am free.’

  ‘Yes. But if you and our other friends are careful it should be possible to keep the secret for several weeks, or even months. If you can gain me enough time I shall manage somehow to escape.’

  ‘Oh, I pray that you may. I will do everything in my power—’

  ‘I am sure of that. Now, this is what I suggest. You must tell the Spanish Ambassador everything and impress upon him that my life hangs on his concealing your identity. He has been warned to expect a distinguished guest travelling incognito. Leave it to him to provide you with a name, and to tell his staff that immediately on your arrival you were taken seriously ill. It means exchanging this prison for another but there will be little hardship in spending some days in a comfortable bedroom. As soon as he can he must arrange for you to travel, still disguised, with a diplomatic laissez-passer and accompanied by one of his staff, to Spain. But you must not go to Madrid. Choose some small place where you are unknown. Your mother must be in great grief about you. To alleviate her distress let her know that you are alive and well, but that she should tell only your step-father, and that if either of them breathes a word to anyone else it may bring about my death. To remain in hiding will mean a dreary time for you, but—’ />
  ‘What does that matter! There is nothing I would not do to shield you from discovery.’

  ‘Give me as long as you can, then. That is all I ask. My chance to escape will come when they transfer me to a fortress. Unless fortune has finished with me for good it won’t be very long before I can send a message to your mother that I am free, and that you can come out into the open. Now, I must have a final word with Madame Syveton.’

  Opening the cell door a few inches de Quesnoy called softly to Angela. As she came in she saw instantly that the two men had changed clothes. The blood drained from her face, and she gasped:

  ‘This was not our plan! What in Heaven’s name—?’

  De Quesnoy cut her short. ‘No, the one we arranged could never have worked. I’m afraid I deceived you from the beginning. I had to, otherwise you might have refused me your help; and that I had to have. I broke it to you partly just before we got here—that it was I who was to stay behind, not you. I could never have got the Prince out dressed in the extra things you brought, nor could I get out dressed in them myself after you have gone. For he and I to change clothes was the only way.’

  Angela’s mouth quivered. ‘You …you mean that you’re not going to attempt to get out at all?’

  ‘Not tonight, anyhow. I hope to escape later; perhaps when they transfer me to a fortress.’

  Suddenly her face brightened. ‘With all these confusing changes you’re forgetting how things stand. We can get you out tomorrow by the same means as we meant to use if I had stayed behind and the Colonel had detained me. With François free and safe in the Spanish Embassy, we can disclose the whole vile plot and force the government to release you.’

  ‘No, my dear.’ Sadly he shook his head. ‘That is the one thing you cannot do. They would have had nothing against you except the part you had played in this, and that would have made you a national heroine. I am wanted for murder; and you may be sure that they will find some of those policemen willing to swear that they saw me shoot down two of their comrades.’

  ‘Dear God!’ With a little cry of despair Angela put one hand up to her head. ‘Then …if Colonel Roux recognises you—’

  De Quesnoy pointed to the mask. ‘He won’t. That horrible thing can now be made to serve a useful purpose. My worst danger will be if it gets out that the Prince has escaped. He has agreed to remain in hiding both while at the Spanish Embassy and later for as long as he can. For the rest I must rely on you. Directly you have dropped the Prince at the Embassy, get Laveriac to bring you back to your own carriage. Collect your husband and tell both of them how things stand; and let Father Pierre know too. I’ll still have a chance as long as they all keep the secret that the Prince is free.’

  ‘But Armand! Every day, every hour, your life will be hanging by a thread.’

  ‘I know it; but there was no other way. You must go now. I will wake the Colonel to take you out.’

  ‘No!’ Angela threw out an arm barring his passage to the door.

  ‘You must! We have been here well over twenty minutes. Those two warders may already be wondering at the Colonel’s having allowed you to stay so long. If one of them looks in—’

  ‘No!’ she repeated and swung round to de Vendôme. ‘I wish to speak to Monsieur le Comte alone. Please leave us for a few moments.’

  Obediently the Prince slipped out of the cell and closed its door behind him. Then she said:

  ‘Armand. You are right that I would not have helped you in this had I known what you meant to do.’

  ‘Please!’ he begged. ‘If you delay longer you may ruin everything.’

  ‘I’ll risk that rather than leave you here. I can’t let you do this! I can’t! I can’t!’

  ‘There is no alternative.’

  ‘There is! The two of you must change clothes again.’

  ‘What, and leave him here?’

  ‘Yes. Since a choice has to be made I claim the right to make it. As a man, as a person, you are worth a hundred of him.’

  ‘I love to hear you say so; but that has nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Yes it has. And it was he who was arrested, not you. It will be terrible for him I know, but it is not fair that you should have to take his punishment on yourself.’

  ‘Ah, Angela, my love, that is where you are wrong. He had no wish to be made King. It was I who—’

  ‘I don’t care. The choice was his, and he was beginning to glory in the prospect. He knew that he was playing for high stakes. Now that he has lost why should you pay up for him?’

  ‘Because it is my debt. I have brought this on myself. For his own ends he would never have agreed to let us attempt to put him on the throne. By playing on his deep religious convictions I tricked him into it. The responsibility for his being here is mine, and no one else’s. I would feel dishonoured if I left him here when I had it in my power to take his place.’

  The tears were streaming down Angela’s face. Throwing back her veil she dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and sobbed: ‘Oh the chivalry and the folly of it! You are another Bayard; but such men are derided, not honoured, in modern times.’

  He shook his head. ‘Right thinking has no period, and one does not have to be born of noble blood to follow the dictates of conscience. No, my darling, you must go. Otherwise—’

  Suddenly she flung her arms round his neck, kissed him full upon the mouth and choked out: ‘Armand! Armand! Your life is dearer to me than your honour or my own. If François remains here, his life will be in no danger; but if you do yours will be. That is my justification for begging you to sacrifice your principles. I love you! I love you! I always have! No other man has ever really touched my heart. Do as I wish. What do I care if my name is dragged in the mud and I have to live as your mistress. Let us leave Paris tonight and start a new life together.’

  For a moment he crushed her to him so hard that the breath was driven out of her body. His mouth found hers again and hers opened wide to receive his passionate kiss. Then releasing his grip he raised his hands, seized her wrists, and in one swift movement broke her hold. Still grasping her wrists, but now on a level with his chest, he stared into her eyes and gasped:

  ‘Never … never in my life have I been so tempted. But if I succumbed this thing would always lie between us, and we’d hate each other before another year is out. I love you too! Desperately! You know that! Try to take comfort from having just given me a wonderful memory to live upon. Pray for me, and I’ll come back to you yet.’

  Distraught with grief she no longer resisted as, with an arm about her waist, he hurried her through into the ante-room. Colonel Roux still slept with his head upon his arms. De Vendôme, in the black dress, bonnet and shawl, his features obscured by the heavy veil, stood near him.

  De Quesnoy put his thumb on a nerve in the back of the Colonel’s neck, and said: ‘In thirty seconds you will wake. You will have no memory of your fortune being told or that you have been asleep; and you will ask no questions of these ladies as you escort them to the street.’

  Turning, without another look at Angela or the Prince, he walked back into the cell and pulled the door to after him. Picking up the mask he put it on. Then he lay down on the bed with his face turned to the wall, as though overcome with emotion on account of his recent interview; as indeed he was.

  He had hardly done so when, outside in the ante-room, Roux raised his head. For a moment he stared about him, then he stood up. Angela, now sobbing as though her heart would break, was being supported by de Vendôme, who had his arm about her shoulders. With a glance at her the gallant old Colonel murmured: ‘Pauvre petite Madame.’ Producing his keys he went into the cell and relocked the helmet, without the faintest suspicion that it had been transferred to de Quesnoy’s head, then he came out and locked the door behind him.

  Two minutes later the warders were once more installed in the ante-room, and Angela, the Colonel and the Prince were half-way down the long corridor.

  When they reached the angle in
it Angela, still sobbing, paused, laid her hand on Colonel Roux’s arm, and faltered: ‘Monsieur le Colonel, can you … can you tell me when they mean to take him away from here?’

  ‘Yes, Madame,’ he replied without hesitation. ‘Tomorrow. It was for that reason I arranged with Father Pierre for you to see him tonight. It was the last chance.’

  Persevering in her bid to obtain information which would be useful in an attempt to rescue the man she loved, she went on: ‘And where is he to be taken?’

  The old Colonel shook his head. ‘That I cannot tell you, Madame. But from the way the prisoner is being treated I think it unlikely that he will be released as long as France is a Republic, and wherever he is sent you may be sure that every possible precaution will be taken against his escaping; so I think you would be wise to endeavour to reconcile yourself to an indefinite separation.’

  The advice was meant kindly, but had he struck Angela the physical blow would have been less brutal; for she could not ignore the soundness of his view of the prisoner’s prospects. Leaning heavily upon the disguised de Vendôme, she stumbled out into the courtyard, half crazy with grief at the thought that she might never see Armand de Quesnoy again.

  18

  NIGHTMARE JOURNEY

  When de Quesnoy had told Angela and de Vendôme that an opportunity to escape was certain to arise while he was being transferred to a fortress, he had done so only to hearten them. The extraordinary precautions being taken in the Cherche-Midi were indication enough that when he was moved he would probably be manacled and certainly never for a moment let out of the sight of armed guards.

  Naturally he intended to watch like a hawk every move by his jailers and if a chance did come he was not the man to hesitate to take it; but, apart from some entirely unforeseen happening, his hopes lay in a relaxation of surveillance after he had been for some time in the place selected for his permanent captivity.