The Prisoner in the Mask

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘But he cannot know personally more than one in a hundred of them,’ protested de Quesnoy, ‘and the fitness of officers for promotion cannot be judged entirely on written reports. How can one man, and a Minister at that, possibly find time to interview the scores of Lieutenants, Captains and Majors whose cases become due for consideration every week?’

  The General gave a bitter laugh. ‘He does not attempt to. He goes entirely on information supplied to him by his spies. In all but a very few regiments there is at least one officer who is an atheist and a socialist. A high proportion of such men are not beyond putting in confidential reports about the private lives of their brother officers, if by so doing they can earn promotion for themselves. Every ex-ranker Lieutenant has been secretly approached with an offer on those lines. Should one of these stool-pigeons have a grouse against his Major he has only to report that the Major goes to confession once a month to ensure the latter’s promotion being blocked for good—even if he is the most efficient officer in the battalion.’

  ‘And the Freemasons,’ added Syveton. ‘Do not forget them. Their network of espionage penetrates every stratum of society, and we know that their organisation is being used by André as a private information service. There are thousands of Freemasons in the ranks, others are Army Doctors, Army contractors, Civil Servants in garrison towns, and private servants in big houses frequented by senior officers. All of them are now under orders to report any conversations they may overhear in which the Government is disparaged, or respect shown for the Church. Such is the basis upon which our Minister of War decides whether a recommendation for promotion should be approved or not.’

  De Quesnoy raised his hands in horror. ‘What you tell me is almost unbelievable. Political favouritism in making special appointments is deplorable enough; but to employ it as a standard practice is no less than a betrayal of France. What would become of us if the Germans picked another quarrel with us, and all our best soldiers were on half-pay or in subordinate positions?’

  ‘We would hang André from a lamp-post,’ remarked Laveriac cynically, ‘but that would not save us from defeat.’

  ‘These methods that you suggest he employs,’ went on the Count. ‘Are you certain of your facts? Is it really true that any General of the Army of France could have sunk to such depths?’

  ‘Why should you doubt it, when the same General had no scruples about putting an innocent man in a head-mask and chains, solely to serve his political ends?’

  ‘Yes; I suppose this picture of his wider activities is in keeping. But how is it that you have escaped his attentions?’

  Laveriac shrugged. ‘Because I married a Protestant, and for the past year and a half have denied myself the satisfaction of practising my own religion. I regard it as more important that, if war comes, at least some of the key posts should still be occupied by officers who are competent to carry out their duties. That, too, is why I will not risk being purged through producing evidence of the nefarious practices by which André is running the Army—although I am prepared to vouch for them to you.’

  ‘If we could expose him, and show how his system of promotion based on secret denunciations and religious prejudice is endangering the safety of the country, surely popular indignation would drive him from office and result in the fall of the Government?’

  Both the General and the Deputy nodded.

  ‘To help in bringing those events to pass is my reason for returning to France,’ said de Quesnoy impressively. ‘My new identity is good cover, I am a free agent and have ample funds at my disposal. Tell me, Messieurs, how do you suggest that I should set about this patriotic undertaking?’

  21

  THE TREBLE LIFE OF M. LE COMTE DE QUESNOY

  For a few moments both the General and the Deputy remained in thoughtful silence, then the latter asked:

  ‘I suppose you are not, by any chance, a Freemason?’

  ‘Mort de Dieu! No!’ replied de Quesnoy in shocked surprise.

  ‘My apologies, Monsieur le Comte.’ Syveton gave a slightly nervous smile. ‘But many men get carried away in their youth by a desire to reform the world, and some, even of the aristocracy, are persuaded to become Masons. Later, of course, they realise that they have been snared into a secret society whose object is to bring about world-revolution, and cease to take any active part. I thought it just possible that—’

  ‘And had I been,’ the Count cut him short, ‘what then?’

  ‘You would still be one. Even those who come to disagree violently with the aims of Freemasonry and refuse all further participation in it are not allowed to resign. So had you ever been initiated you could return to the fold, and, perhaps, secure for us concrete evidence of the devil’s pact which has been entered into between the Masons and General André.’

  After considering for a moment, de Quesnoy said, ‘I imagine they take certain oaths and perform secret rites which would be anathema to my own beliefs. But for the purpose we have in mind I would be prepared to stomach that. I mean, of course, if it would be possible for you to arrange for my initiation.’

  Laveriac sat forward quickly. ‘I think I know a man who could. Syveton knows him too. I speak of the Deputy Guyot de Villeneuve. He was one of the earliest officers to be purged; so he bears a deadly hatred against André for ruining his military career. Not long ago I was dining with him and we were discussing Freemasonry. He told me then that, for the reasons Syveton has just given, as a young man he became an initiate, and that out of curiosity he still occasionally attends their meetings.’

  ‘Why then, if this information is obtainable, should he not get it for us?’ inquired the Count.

  ‘Because owing to his public utterances, now that he has become a Deputy of the Right, they no longer trust him. For that reason, too, it would defeat our object if it were he who proposed you. But he must be acquainted with other Masons. No doubt he could arrange for you to meet a few of the more important ones, as though casually, and simply introduce you as a Belgian acquaintance who has come to live in Paris. Then if you cultivate them independently of him you should be able to secure initiation under favourable auspices.’

  ‘It will take time,’ remarked Syveton, ‘even for the Count to get himself initiated. And it is certain that they will not trust a new brother with their secrets right away. Much patience will be needed before there can be any hope of obtaining the evidence we want.’

  De Quesnoy smiled. ‘I may be able to think of ways to hasten matters, but the initial stages will certainly take some weeks; so the sooner we set the ball rolling the better.’

  For a good while longer they discussed the general situation and two days later, as a result of their talk, Laveriac took the Count to see Guyot de Villeneuve, at the latter’s apartment in the Rue Jean Goujon.

  The Deputy was a distinguished looking man of middle age with a high forehead, an upturned moustache and a little imperial. When making the appointment, Laveriac had informed him of its purpose and after they had exchanged civilities he said to de Quesnoy:

  ‘Monsieur Dupont, no one could have a better will to aid you in this matter than myself. But it is only right that I should warn you first that, should you succeed in penetrating the secrets of the Freemasons and then betray them, you will be exposing yourself to considerable danger. It might even cost you your life.’

  De Quesnoy gave a tight-lipped smile. ‘I thank you, Monsieur, but by coming to Paris at all I have exposed myself to arrest and execution; so this additional risk will not deter me.’

  ‘I have made no mention of your circumstances,’ the General put in quickly.

  ‘Quite right, mon ami. The fewer people who are aware that I have returned to Paris the better; and I am sure Monsieur do Villeneuve will not press me for my real name. It is only that I wish him to know that I am in fact a Frenchman and, like himself, an ex-officer who has been forced out of the Army.’

  De Villeneuve at once shook him warmly by the hand. ‘I appreciate your trust, Mo
nsieur; and what you tell me makes me all the more eager to serve you. But since you have adopted a nom-de-guerre that will add to our difficulties. Had you really been a Belgian they would have had only to make inquiries through their people in the town from which you came to check up on your antecedents. As things are, it seems that there is no background with which you can provide them; and I am certain that they would never accept you as an initiate without one.’

  ‘I thought that would be the case,’ replied the Count; ‘so I have a suggestion which might enable this question of a checkup to be evaded. On my mother’s side I am Russian, and I speak that language fluently. If you passed me on to one or two of them as a Russian who had recently arrived in Paris, I would later disclose that I was an atheist and a revolutionary who had been sent into exile by the Czar.’

  ‘There are a number such, and the Masons would probably confront you with one or more of them.’

  ‘No matter. None of them would be able to detect that I am not a Russian born; and Russia is such a vast country that if I say that I come from some quite small town the odds are a hundred to one against their even knowing if a revolutionary cell exists in it.’

  ‘I think your plan a good one; and I happen to know a Past-Master who has a Russian wife. His name is Forain—Gustave Forain—and they used to dine two or three evenings a week at the Rotonde in Montparnasse. If they still do so we can pick him up there. But tell me, do you know anything about Masonry?’

  ‘Practically nothing,’ admitted de Quesnoy. ‘Only that in France it is a secret society composed of freethinkers and fanatics who would like to see Church and State overthrown everywhere.’

  ‘It is much more than that. Its membership runs into tens of thousands. All are sworn to promote such policies as are decided on by their superiors, and ninety-five per cent are slavishly obedient; with the result that it is a great hidden power. I am speaking now of Continental Masonry. The English variety is, I gather, non-political and mainly concerned with charity; but ours originated in Germany and was brought here by Illuminati in the middle of the eighteenth century. They were the founders of the Grand Lodge of the Orient which now has over five hundred branches in France alone. It brought about the great revolution of 1789 and all those bloody upheavals that overturned half-a-dozen European governments in 1848 and ’49. It is powerful enough to ferment such revolts at any time; but it will not do so here as long as the present government remains in office, because Combes’s policies, being retrograde and destructive, are doing its work for it.’

  De Quesnoy nodded. ‘And what do you think my chances are of being able to secure evidence that the Freemasons are now largely controlling, through General André, promotions and enforced retirements calculated seriously to decrease the efficiency of the Army?’

  ‘Far from certain,’ replied the Deputy, pulling at his little imperial. ‘In Masonry there are numerous grades. Many initiates, like myself, never advance farther than the lowest. By showing great keenness and making an intensive study of the rituals it is possible for one to get passed through the rest of the inferior degrees fairly quickly; by that I mean in a year or so. But even then I doubt if you would learn much of what goes on in the secret councils of the upper strata.’

  ‘Then it hardly seems worth while for me to devote so much time and trouble to such an unpromising line of investigation.’

  ‘That is for you to decide, Monsieur; but I think it might be. You see, once you have become an initiate you will meet any number of Masons. Even while still yourself of the lowest degree there will be nothing to stop your beginning to cultivate socially some of those who have passed the Chair. Being human, I don’t doubt that certain of them are subject to flattery and the temptation to boast to their juniors in the Masonic heirarchy of the powers they wield. So, although it seems to me unlikely that you will learn anything officially, if you play your cards skilfully there would at least be a chance of your picking up enough information through private sources to damn General André.’

  ‘To do that I shall find no trouble too much,’ said the Count more cheerfully; ‘so let us plan our campaign’.

  The upshot of their deliberations was that the following morning de Quesnoy visited a number of second-hand clothes shops and bought himself a modest wardrobe of items suitable to the rôle of a middle-class Russian business man. After a patient search, he also secured a large, round-lidded, cedarwood trunk that had some Russian labels on it. Returning to the Avenue Victor Hugo with his purchases, he changed into one of the suits and packed the rest of his new possessions into the trunk.

  After lunch he called at the Russian Consul-General’s and inquired about boarding-houses, preferably in the Montparnasse district, kept by Russians for people of moderate means. An obliging young clerk supplied him with a list of four and, having collected his trunk, he set off to inspect them.

  His choice fell on the Pension Smirnoff, which was run by a widow of that name; and, suitably enough, was situated in the Rue d’Odessa. Introducing himself by the undistinguished name of Vasili Petrovitch, he told her that he had only recently arrived from Russia; and that he had already found a job as a commercial traveller; so he would frequently be away from Paris for varying periods, but wanted a pied à terre in which to leave his things, and in which to live whenever he returned to the capital.

  As it was her custom to let rooms with full pension she at first demurred, but it happened that she had three rooms empty; so, on his offering to take one on the first floor and pay a month’s rent in advance, a compromise was reached. In this way he secured a suitable accommodation address and background without having to face the miserable prospect of actually living, perhaps for many weeks, in a dreary boarding-house. However, it was important that he should know enough of the place to be able to talk about it and, it being Saturday, he spent the weekend there.

  He had decided on taking a lodging in Montparnasse so that it would appear natural for him to frequent the Rotonde, and as this was a part of the Latin quarter he was by no means surprised to find that most of his fellow guests at the Pension were Russians who had come to Paris to study art. Madame Smirnoff turned out to be an easy-going, motherly body; so at mealtimes a cheerful Bohemianism reigned, and while de Quesnoy observed a deliberate reticence regarding his own affairs he was soon very well informed about those of his neighbours at table.

  On the Monday he returned to the elegant comfort of the Avenue Victor Hugo, but in the evening he met de Villeneuve and they went to the Rotonde together. They were unlucky; Monsieur Forain and his wife did not appear. But on the Tuesday they were more fortunate. In the late sunlight of the summer evening the Forains came walking arm-in-arm up the street. De Villeneuve, as had previously been agreed, pointed them out to de Quesnoy, then slipped away down a side street, leaving the rest to him.

  Having guarded against direct observation by going into one of the kiosk-like pissoirs which in those days were a feature of the streets of Paris, and from outside which the backs of gentlemen’s heads and feet could be seen by passers-by, the Count, peeping over his shoulder and across the top of the green-painted iron body-screen, watched the Forains go into the restaurant. A few minutes later he followed them in and sat down on the banquette at a table next to the one they had taken.

  While ordering his meal in fairly good French with a heavy accent, he ignored the faintly interested glances of the couple beside him; but when his first dish arrived, he deliberately, in taking up a fork, dropped it on the floor, then as he bent to pick it up gave vent to an apparently spontaneous exclamation of annoyance in Russian.

  The little trick worked like a charm. Madame Forain smiled at him and remarked, ‘I think you must be a compatriot of mine, Monsieur.’ He bowed gallantly, addressed her in Russian and told her his name. She did likewise and introduced her husband. From that moment the game was in de Quesnoy’s hands and, without showing undue eagerness, he was soon in pleasant conversation with his new acquaintances.

 
Kemenets Podolskiy being the nearest town to Jvanets, he told them that he was a native of that place; so that, should he later be confronted with anyone who came from the district, he could not possibly be faulted on it. He had, he said, been a prosperous dealer in agricultural implements, and now followed that trade in Paris; but no longer as his own master. He gave them no reason for his having left Russia, but mentioned casually that he had regretted having to give up his work as an official of the local Co-operative Society; because he knew, and he knew Forain would know, that the Co-ops in Russia were regularly used by the revolutionaries as the means of distributing to the masses their bulletins and subversive propaganda.

  Forain, who was a fair-haired, square-faced man of about forty-eight, disclosed for his part that he had been a master-printer and now owned his own printing works in the Rue de Rennes. He and his wife lived above the works. They had no children but seven nieces, ranging in age from seventeen to three, provided one of the major interests of their lives. Madame Forain was a great needlewoman and spent most of her spare time making these children pretty things: her husband worked long hours but, in the summer months, when he could get away from business, his great delight was to go rowing on the Seine.

  Next night the Forains did not come to the Rotonde, but they came again on the Thursday and went straight to the table they had occupied two evenings before. De Quesnoy had already installed himself, but deliberately chosen a table near the door, and he exchanged a polite bow with them as they came in. Then, when they were getting towards the end of their meal, he sent a waiter over to ask them if they would honour him by joining him for coffee and a liqueur.