The Dark Secret of Josephine rb-5

by Dennis Wheatley

  "WelL strap me! I am more delighted than I can say. I must write to her in my first free hour; and will drive down to Stillwaters with gifts for my godson should time permit."

  "You are then already under orders to set out?"

  "Yes. I wait upon my lord Grenville tomorrow, and leave as soon after as a ship is available to carry me." Roger took a swig of wine, then added with a worried frown, "I would, though, that I had been called on to pit my wits against some people other than the French. So many of their leading men already have preconceived beliefs about me: the aristocrats that I am one of themselves but turned traitor, the ex-terrorists that I was a sans-culotte before becoming a member of that den of iniquity, the Paris Commune, and one at least of the latter knows me for what I am, an English spy. These tabs from the past that I must carry with me immeasurably increase the difficulties of my mission."

  "Then why carry them?" Droopy rubbed a finger along the side of his beaky nose. "That brown beard you grew upon your voyage may now prove a godsend. With it you should have little difficulty in assuming a new identity."

  "Egad; what an excellent thought!" Roger's blue eyes suddenly lit up. "Mr. Pitt scarce recognized me, and with a few other changes I could, sure enough, pass as a different person."

  When they had finished breakfast, Droopy summoned his valet, who also served him as his barber, and after an hour in the man's capable hands Roger's metamorphosis was completed. His eyebrows had been plucked to half their former thickness, his long eyelashes had been shortened by an eighth of an inch, and the ball of his chin shaven clean. The last operation did away with a suggestion of scruffiness that the new-grown beard had given him, and now put him in a new fashion for growing a moustache and pointed side-whiskers, which was beginning to be effected by a number of young cavalry officers.

  It remained only to invent a personality; and for that, lest anyone should think he was himself disguised, he decided to use the additional cover of a family resemblance by passing himself off as a non-existent cousin, and taking the name of Robert MacElfic.

  As he was now anxious not to provoke gossip about his changed appearance, this debarred him from going to his club or looking up such old friends of his who might have been in London at this com­paratively dead season; so he called only at Hoare's Bank, not to collect the Letter of Marque, as that would be useless now he had decided to take the name of MacElfic, but for some other papers identifying him as Citizen Commissioner Breuc, which, although out of date, might still, serve him when he had to make his way through the lines of the Republican Army to General Pichegru.

  In the afternoon he drove out to Richmond to assure himself that Thatched House Lodge was being properly taken care of, and it was decided that Dan, who had accompanied him, should remain there. That night he dined quietly at Amesbury House with Droopy, and gave him a full account of the perils through which he had passed on his way to Martinique and the happy months he had since spent there.

  Next morning he went to the Foreign Office. That stiff, unbending man, Lord Grenville, received him most courteously, and with the little affability of which he was capable, then handed him the letter from Mr. Pitt to Montgalliard. Having approved Roger's design to assume a new identity, he furnished him with a British Diplomatic passport on special thin paper, in the name of MacElfic, credentials to the Prince de Condé, a bag of gold in various currencies and open drafts for the much greater sums he might need for bribery on both a banker named Mayer Anselm Bauer in Frankfurt and a holder of British secret funds in Paris. He then announced that, subject to Roger's approval, he had already made arrangements for a Naval cutter to put him ashore, weather permitting, between Dunkirk and Ostend in the early hours of the following morning.

  If the vessel was to catch the tide this meant for Roger an almost immediate departure; but, having no reason to suggest a postponement, he agreed, and hastened back across St James s Park to Amesbury House. There he wrote letters to Amanda, Georgina and his father; then, accompanied by Droopy Ned, he drove down to Greenwich, where the cutter was lying in readiness to take him across the Channel.

  No sooner was he aboard than she cast off from her buoy and began to drop down river. Once more Roger waved good-bye to Droopy, who stood, a tall stooping figure, peering short-sightedly after him from the wharf. Then, as it was still not yet two o'clock, he settled himself comfortably to watch through the long afternoon the multi­farious activities of the shipping in the lower reaches of the Thames.

  When dusk fell the cutter was still in the estuary of the river; but soon afterwards she picked up a good south-westerly breeze, and at half-past four in the morning Mr. 'Robert MacElfic, now wearing a heavy multi-coloured coat, was landed without incident on a deserted beach only a few miles from Ostend.

  As a result of the long occupation of the Belgian Netherlands by Austria, much German was spoken in these parts as well as the local Flemish; but owing to the proximity of the French frontier, most of the better-class people also spoke some French. The French Repub­licans were, too, now the masters there; so Roger decided to use their language, and from the beginning pose as a French official, since to do so offered the best prospect of getting his wants promptly attended to.

  By six o'clock he was breakfasting at a good, but not pretentious, hotel in the town; and soon afterwards set out in a post-chaise he had hired from its landlord to take him to Brussels. He reached the city by two o'clock in the afternoon and there proceeded to make more elaborate arrangements for the continuance of his journey. As he was going into the war area he had to put down a considerable deposit to secure a light travelling coach, but that means of transport had the advantage over taking to horse that he could sleep in it, and so arrive at his destination more speedily and less fatigued. He then purchased a small valise, toilet gear, a change of linen, and a supply of food and wine; so that he need stop for a meal on the way only if he felt inclined. Having tucked away a good hot dinner, he had his things packed into the coach and at six o'clock, with two coachmen on its box to drive turn and turn about, took the road south-east to Namur.

  Mr. Pitt had given him roughly the dispositions of the armies, and he had, as far as possible, confirmed them while in Brussels." There were still considerable British forces in Hanover, and as the Prussians in their peace treaty with the French had guaranteed the neutrality of the -North German States, it was a sore point with Ministers that they remained tied up there to no purpose. But, out of pride, King George had refused to allow his German dominion to be denuded of troops; so to the French Army of the North, commanded by General Moreau, there was now no opposition, and it was employed only in garrisoning the fortresses of Belgium and Holland.

  Farther south the Army of the Sambre and Meuse, under General Jour dan, and the Army of the Rhine and Moselle, under General Pichegru, had been co-operating, with the evident intent of endeavour­ing to drive the two Austrian armies back on to the Danube. Jourdan had laid siege to Luxemburg and. with the assistance of Pichegru's left wing, to Mainz, but the sieges had gone slowly, owing to Carnot's no longer being at me Ministry of War, and the incompetence of his successors in furnishing the armies with adequate supplies. In June Luxemburg had at last surrendered; so Jourdan had then been able to push on. Throwing the bulk of his army across the Rhine at Dusseldorf, he had swung south down the right bank of the river, driving the Austrian General, Clerfayt, before him until he reached the Main.

  General Wurmser, with the other Austrian army, aided by the Prince de Conde's corps of emigrist which was still farther south, and based on Baden, had m the meantime been holding Pichegru. But in Brussels, Roger had learned that on the day he had reached London, September the 20th, Pichegru had captured Mannheim; so he too was across the Rhine and it now looked as if the two French armies were about to form a junction which might prove disastrous for the Austrians.

  It was this new move of Pichegru's, indicating so clearly that the last thing he had in mind at the moment was to march his army on Paris, th
at had determined Roger now to regard his mission as of the utmost urgency. Had this not been so he would have proceeded north, into Holland, then made a great detour through the still peaceful states well to the east of the Rhine, and so reached Baden without having to enter any area so far affected by the war, but that would have taken him the best part of a week. The alternative was to go via Namur, Luxemburg and Saarbrucken direct to the Upper Rhine opposite Baden and find some means to cross the river there. As the whole of the territory through which he must pass was in the hands of the French, that meant his having to chance some unfortunate encounter and, in the last phase, possibly being shot at as he attempted to cross the river; but as the journey could be accomplished by driving all out in two days, he felt that these risks were worth taking.

  He found it easy to slip back into the role of a Republican Com­missioner; and, by a combination of a confident, authoritative manner coupled with lavish tips to his two Belgian coachmen and the ostlers who changed the horses at the posting-houses, he kept the coach moving at a very satisfactory pace. On the second afternoon, as he neared the Rhine, he was several times challenged by patrols of French troops; but fortunately none of them knew that the Citizen Com­missioner Breuc had fled from Paris fourteen months before, and after a cursory glance at his old papers, they accepted his statement that he was on his way to General Pichegru's headquarters.

  Wissembourg, which lay on the-west bank of the Rhine, almost opposite Baden, had been used by Pichegru as his headquarters throughout the summer; so, although he had recently moved north, the town was still cluttered up with a large part of his baggage train and many officers of the administrative services. Seeing this as his coach entered the narrow streets, Roger decided to try to pick up as much information as he could about the progress of the new offensive before planning his attempt to cross the river that night.

  It was as well that he did so, for events had been moving fast during the past few days. Thanks to his impeccable French, some officers at an hotel at which he pulled up readily accepted his invitation to join him in a glass of wine, and proved eager to acquaint him with the latest news. Gaily they described how the capture of Mannheim had thrown the whole of south-west Germany into a panic, and how both the Landgrave of Darmstadt and the Margrave of Baden were reported to have fled from their capitals.

  If the last report were true, and Roger had to regard it as at least probable, it meant that the Prince de Cond6 would also have hurriedly evacuated Baden; so to attempt a clandestine crossing of the river there would now be to run a pointless risk. In these altered circum­stances, with the Prince's whereabouts no longer known to him, Roger felt that his best plan would be to take the road north into the area where both banks of the Rhine were held by the French; as, with luck, he might then be able to cross it openly in his coach, the retention of which would prove invaluable to him while searching for the Prince's new headquarters.

  Accordingly, he bade the officers a cheerful farewell, and collecting his two Belgian coachmen from the tap-room took them outside.

  They were employees of the owner of the coach and responsible to him for its safe return, but had contracted only to take Roger to the left bank of the Rhine, opposite Baden. He now put it to them that he wished to keep the coach on for two or three days, and that if they would continue with him, obeying his orders without question, and keeping their mouths shut whatever they might see or hear, he would reward them by giving them a letter which would enable them to claim the considerable deposit he had paid on the coach when they got back with it to Brussels.

  At first the men showed some hesitation, but on Roger's producing a purse full of gold coins and giving them ten thalers apiece as a bonus in hand, they agreed. So as dusk was falling the coach took the road that ran parallel with the river towards Mannheim.

  A three-hour drive brought it opposite to the city. There Roger learned that during the assault the stone bridge had been too severely damaged by cannon fire to be safe for vehicles; but the French Engineers had since succeeded in throwing a pontoon bridge across for military traffic. Again he told his story, that he had urgent business with General Pichegru, and once more, their suspicions lulled by this bold assertion, a guard who had halted the coach allowed it to proceed.

  Roger had been told by the guard that the General had installed himself in the Rathaus but, after crossing the bridge, instead of follow­ing the directions the guard had given him to find it, Roger told his coachmen to take the first turning they came to on the right, and to keep on going until they were clear of the city.

  All went well until they reached its outskirts. There a man in the middle of the road swinging a lantern called on them to halt, and from a barrier a few yards behind him a sergeant approached the coach.

  Before the N.C.O. had a chance to open his mouth, Roger thrust his head out of the window of the coach, and shouted: "I am a surgeon! General Pichegru's nephew has been wounded out in front there, and the General has despatched me to do my best for him. Open the barrier! Lose not a moment; the young man's life may depend upon it."

  The ruse got them through, and the coach had hardly halted before it was on the move again.

  Having reason to believe that the battle was still fluid, in which case no continuous line would yet have been formed in front of Mannheim, Roger now hoped that under cover of darkness he might make his way between the various French units, most of whom at this hour would be sleeping in their bivouacs, without further challenge; but in that he was disappointed.

  Some three miles from the city they were again called on to halt, and this time the N.C.O. in charge of the patrol did not swallow Roger's story so readily. He said that he knew of no units farther advanced than his own, and demanded to see the traveller's papers.

  Having committed himself, Roger's only possible course was to maintain his bluff and intensify it Sharply he told the man that when a valued life hung in the balance one did not wait for special papers before setting out to save it, and that if he could not tell a good French­man from a foreigner he did not deserve to serve under so great a soldier as General Pichegru; then he let forth a spate of filth and obscenity couched in the argot of the Paris gutters that he had picked up during the months when he had himself lived as one of the sans­culottes.

  Reeling under the impact, and with all his suspicions dissipated, the N.C.O. waved the coach on. Yet he did so shaking his head and muttering uneasily: "Have your own way then, Citizen; but I know of no units forward of us, and if you go on for more than a mile or two you'll like as not find yourself in the hands of the enemy."

  That was precisely what Roger hoped, and his hopes were fulfilled. Next time a call came for the coach to halt it was in a strange tongue, and a moment later it was surrounded by a vedette of Moravian Hussars. Finding it impossible to make himself fully understood, Roger fished out from under the thick turn-up of his cuff, the envelope containing his British passport, waved it beneath the sergeant's nose and pointed vigorously towards the rear of the Austrian position.

  The coach was then sent on under escort for a mile or more to a farmhouse, from which there emerged a haggard-looking officer who spoke a little German. Using such stilted phrases of that tongue as he could put together Roger asked to be taken to the nearest headquarters, and with its escort the coach moved on through the darkness.

  An hour later it drew up in front of a country house, in one of the ground floor rooms of which a light was burning. Roger was led inside and found the night-duty officer there to be a young exquisite dressed in a uniform of blue and silver with a sable-trimmed half cloak, and whiskers in the new fashion, very similar to his own.

  To him Roger presented his passport, which carried the name of MacElfic, and told him that he was en mission from his Prime Minister to the Prince de Cond6. The young man immediately became all politeness and offered to put him up for the night; but on Roger's replying that his mission was urgent, the Austrian promised to provide him with a guide, a change of
horses and a new escort; and, in the meantime, sent an orderly for food and wine.

  Three-quarters of an hour later, pleasantly fortified, Roger was on his way again; but the guide did not know the exact whereabouts of the Prince's new headquarters, only that they were somewhere in the neighbourhood of Heilbronn; so on reaching that area numerous enquiries had to be made, until they were at last located some five miles from the town in a castle to which a modern wing had been added.

  Roger arrived there at eight o'clock in the morning, on the fourth day after he had landed on the Belgian coast In seventy-six hours he had traversed some four hundred and fifty miles of roads which, as the time included all waits while changing horses, gave the highly satisfactory average of just under six miles an hour. But he had even more reason to be pleased that after his quarry's flight from Baden he had had the good luck to get safely through the battle zone and locate him again with so little delay.

  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he climbed stiffly out of the coach, walked past a sentry up to the main entrance to the Schloss and asked the servant who was on duty in its porch to ask his master to receive a messenger who had arrived with urgent despatches for him from England. The footman gave his dirty, travel-stained figure one supercilious glance, and replied haughtily:

  ''His Royal Highness does not receive couriers. At the east door you will find someone who will accept delivery of your despatch, and doubtless it will be placed before His Royal Highness by the proper person when His Royal Highness returns from the hunt"

  Roger's blue eyes suddenly blazed with anger. It was bad enough that at this crisis in the war the Commander of the Royalist Army should have gone out hunting, but to be subjected to insolence from his servants was intolerable. Lifting his jack-booted right foot, Roger brought its heel down with all his force on the footman's toes, and snarled: