“That you should know it is all to the good,” nodded Roger. “Tonight the Queen will not be sleeping in her old room, but Madame de Lamballe will know where to find her. I suggest that you see Madame de Lamballe and explain to her all we have in mind, then ask her to collect the Royal Family and bring them up to her apartment. In the meantime I will provide a hackney coach, and the driver of it will be my own servant, who is entirely trustworthy. I will give you an hour’s start, which should be long enough for your pourparler with Madame de Lamballe, and for her to assemble the five people we propose to carry off. I shall then join you in her suite. In my rôle of sweep I will lead the way with the two children down to the street; I shall take them past the coach and along to the quay, where you can pick us up later. You will follow me at a distance with the two nuns and their servant. At that hour it is most unlikely that there will be any other coaches about, but should there be, you will easily be able to identify the right one from the fact that its coachman will be a middle-aged, bearded man of seafaring appearance, with gold rings in his ears. Does such a programme seem sound to you, or can you improve upon it?”
“It seems sound enough; but what if we succeed so far? Whither do you propose to convey them? That problem alarms me greatly, now we have come to it. To get out of Paris we must pass through one of its gates. There, and beyond, the party will be subjected to the scrutiny of innumerable enemies. Every village in France now has its Commune, a busybody member of which examines all travellers. Alas! I fear that this great coup is still no more than a dream. We would not cover a dozen leagues before our passengers were recognised and arrested.”
“You may set your mind at rest on that score,” Roger replied cheerfully. “At that hour the gates of Paris will be open, and to proceed less than a league beyond them will be enough to serve our purpose. I have already realised the dangers of an immediate flight to the frontier or the coast, and do not propose to attempt it. We will take them to a little house at Passy that has been placed at my disposal; they can lay low there until we can make arrangements to take them further afield in safety.”
“Sacré bleu! You seem to have thought of everything! When the escape becomes known every post-house for a hundred miles around Paris will be in a ferment, but nobody will suspect that the fugitives have gone no further than one of its suburbs. This house, though—we dare not trust the servants, and what excuse can you make to turn them out without warning? And its owner—he might return unexpectedly; is he to be trusted?”
“At present it is occupied only by an old butler, who is well known to me, and his wife. My friend is abroad, and he told me that except for these two and his valet, who is with him, he paid off his other servants before leaving.”
The friend to whom Roger referred was M. de Talleyrand. In offering the house the gallant Bishop had remarked lightly that it might serve as a discreet rendezvous to entertain ladies who combined a charming frailty with a desire to protect their reputations; but Roger had no doubt at all that the offer had been intended also to cover the use of the house for more serious purposes.
Barnave nodded. “Then it sounds most suitable. However, one final point: I realise that it is essential that you should remain incognito, lest the Queen’s confidence in the whole venture be shaken. But you propose to take charge of her children, and she is hardly likely to relinquish them, even for half an hour, unless it is to a person whom she feels that she can trust. How do you propose to get over that?”
“You can vouch for me to her; since we are now about to risk our necks together in this matter, I take it you would be prepared to do so?”
“Yes, readily; but she sets a higher value on her children than on her life, so it is certain that she will ask for particulars about you.”
For a moment Roger stared at the table, then he looked up. “Tell her that I am your foster-brother, and came with you from Grenoble. Then add that I was the man with the black eye who stood near her while the mob were threatening her this afternoon. I actually spoke to the Princesse de Lamballe, and I am certain the Queen noticed me. My conduct at that time will be sufficient guarantee of my loyalty.”
So the basis of the matter was settled. For a further half hour they discussed details, then paid their bill and went out into the night.
It had been agreed that Barnave should go straight to the Tuileries as soon as he had collected a portmanteau from his lodging and picked up in it the nuns’ garments from the Feuillants. By so doing he would be able to get into the Palace before its inmates had all settled down for the night, and so run less risk of being questioned than if he left his entry until the quieter hour of four o’clock. Roger, on the other hand, was not to make his entry until five, at which hour the servants would be rising and the arrival of a sweep would appear quite normal.
He considered going out to Passy to prepare de Talleyrand’s butler but decided against it. Old Antoine Velot was, he felt certain, entirely to be relied upon. It would take over an hour to get there, and to have roused him in the middle of the night in that quiet neighbourhood might have stirred up an interest in the house which it was of the utmost importance to avoid.
Owing to the intense excitement caused by the attack on the Palace the streets were much more crowded than usual and, although the half hour before midnight was chiming from the tower of St. Germain l’Auxerrois as he reached La Belle Étoile, the inn was still doing a roaring business. In all the lower rooms little groups, mainly composed of tradesmen and honest artisans, were heatedly denouncing the conduct of the mob, or relating experiences they had met with during the day; so it proved easier than Roger had expected to evade the eyes of the busy potmen and slip up the private staircase without being noticed.
Much relieved at having escaped recognition in his present squalid attire by any of the servants, and having thus preserved the secret of his present rôle, he reached his rooms to find Dan about to go to bed.
That worthy grinned from ear to ear at the sight of his master’s villainous appearance, but soon became serious when he was told the reason for it and of what was afoot. After setting forth the whole matter very fully and explaining the risk that would have to be run, Roger asked him if he was prepared to face another spell in the galleys, or worse, in an attempt to rescue the Royal Family.
“Why, blood me, Cap’n,” Dan said quickly, “ ’twas the Queen as gotten me out o’ they damned galleys, so I’s game to risk bein’ sent back to ’en, if so be there’s a chance to save the good lady from the likes o’ they villains what behaved so atrocious to Her Highness today.”
Roger slapped him on the shoulder. “Thou art a good fellow, Dan, and I am mightily pleased to have thee with me. Go now and fetch up our landlord. But mark me, not a word to him, or to anyone, of what we intend.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n!” Dan clattered away down the stairs, and returned a few moments later with Maître Blanchard. As the honest Norman entered the room his fair eyebrows shot up, but Roger said at once:
“Mon vieux, I counsel you to forget that you have ever seen me in this unsavoury condition, or in the even more repulsive state which I shall assume in a few hours’ time. Enough that my present urgent affairs necessitate it; but the less you know about them the better. Then, should you be questioned, you can honestly affirm that you know nothing of the business I am engaged upon. I need your help, though, and will pledge you my word that no one shall ever learn that you gave it me.”
Maître Blanchard bowed. “I appreciate Monsieur le Chevalier’s reasons for not confiding in me and, being a cautious man, prefer that matters should be left that way. As for my help, I will give it willingly. Monsieur has but to ask and anything it is in my power to do for him shall be done.”
Roger knew that the landlord kept in his stables several vehicles for hire, so he said he wanted a closed carriage—preferably a shabby one, provided it was sound—to be made ready with a good strong horse between its shafts at half-past four in the morning. He proposed that Dan sh
ould go down with Maître Blanchard now to see the horse and carriage selected, so that in the morning he could harness them up and drive the carriage straight out of the yard, thus avoiding the need for one of the stablemen to bring it round to the door. Then he asked for the loan of the brushes with which the inn’s chimneys were swept, and a couple of large soot sacks. Lastly, as he was anxious that both Dan and himself should get some sleep before setting out, he asked the landlord to be good enough to call them in person at four o’clock.
All his requests having been readily agreed to, as soon as he was alone he undressed and, without attempting to wash, got into bed. A quarter of an hour later Dan reappeared with the chimney-sweep’s things, and reported that he was perfectly satisfied about the horse and carriage; then he too turned in and they snuffed the candles.
At four o’clock the landlord woke them and Dan, after pulling on his clothes and sluicing his face in cold water, went down to the stables. Meanwhile, Roger, feeling much refreshed from four hours of sound sleep, was indulging in a little amateur chimney-sweeping. Having put the clothes and hat he had worn the previous day in the grate, he fetched down enough soot to thoroughly dirty them, then used some of it to blacken his face and hands.
As he did not wish to get to the Palace too early, he had told Dan not to bring the carriage round until a quarter to five. A couple of minutes before it was due he gave a last glance in the mirror, grinned at his reflection and was pleasurably surprised to see how white his teeth looked, then went quietly downstairs.
Maître Blanchard had already unbolted the door, and opened it a crack to peer out. As the church clock chimed the quarter Dan drove up. The landlord whispered, “Bonne chance, Monsieur!” and Roger slipped past him into the street. Paris was already waking to another sunny day, but few people were about as yet, and there was nobody near enough to take particular notice of him. Instead of entering the carriage, he clambered up on to its box as though he had cadged a lift, and murmured:
“Give way, Dan! It’s true we’re on a foreign shore, but all the same we’ll be pulling today for England, Home and Beauty!”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n!” replied the old salt, and as he tickled the horse with his whip they set off at a steady rumble down the cobbled street.
They approached the Tuileries by way of the Rue St. Nicaise, and just before they came in sight of the Palace, at a word from Roger, Dan pulled up. Before getting down from the box Roger described to his henchman exactly where he wished the carriage to wait, then he watched it drive away across the Place du Carrousel.
As soon as it had disappeared he put his brushes and sacks over his shoulder and slouched round the corner. Looking neither to right nor left he walked across the open space straight for the gates of the Cour Royale. With relief he saw that the broken half was still open and hanging twisted from its hinges. Just as he reached it, he gave a swift glance to his left to assure himself that Dan had carried out his instructions. The carriage was drawn up as he had planned, only thirty yards from the gate and facing the river. Whistling the ça ira with cheerful nonchalance, Roger slouched into the courtyard.
He had expected that three or four National Guards would be sitting about a brazier inside it, and his worst fear was that, having seen him go in, one of them would remember that he had been alone, so start asking awkward questions when he reappeared on his way out accompanied by a little apprentice. But, to his delight, he saw that the nearest guards were a good sixty yards away, lounging in the main doorway of the Palace. They gave the impression of being tired and bored, and were not even looking in his direction.
One glance round the court showed him that the Palace servants were already setting about their daily tasks. Three men with brooms were sweeping up the litter that the mob had left there the previous night. At the far end of it big earthenware crocks of milk were being delivered through a basement entrance from a country cart. A buxom woman was approaching with a string bag on her arm, evidently on her way to market.
As Roger turned towards the entrance at which the milk was being delivered, the woman smiled at him and blew him a kiss. For a second he was dumbfounded, then he remembered that he was posing as a sweep. Quickly recovering himself, he grinned at her and wished her good morning.
Resuming his whistling of the ça ira, he nodded to the milkman and entered the Palace. In the corridors on the lower floors he met several cleaners, a footman and one National Guard, but nobody questioned him. As he mounted the stairs he found that the upper floors appeared deserted; evidently the occupants of most of the rooms were still sleeping, and cleaning was not permitted there until a later hour. When he reached the door of the Princesse de Lamballe’s apartment he suddenly became conscious that his heart was beating with excitement like a sledge-hammer. He waited there for a moment in an attempt to still it, then rapped gently.
The door was instantly opened a crack, and someone peered at him through it. A second later Barnave pulled it open. Roger slipped past him into the ante-room and saw that it was empty. By the early morning light he noticed at once that his fellow conspirator’s thin face looked incredibly tired and haggard. His heart seemed to miss a beat as he asked in swift apprehension:
“Where are they? Did you fail to persuade them?”
Barnave shook his head. “No, but it was the very devil of a job. The King fears that if they are caught again they will all be murdered out of hand, instead of being brought back here. The Queen said that she was prepared to face any risk for a chance to get away; but that nothing would induce her to go without the King, and that it was her duty to leave the matter entirely to his judgment. I prevailed upon him to make the attempt only with the argument that if they remained here and the mob broke in again the Queen’s assassination was certain.”
Roger nodded towards the farther door. “Are they up here?”
“Yes, they are all in there, dressed in their disguises. They found some old clothes belonging to one of the pages for Madame Royale. We tore them to rags, and blacked them and her with soot from one of the chimneys. What are our prospects like outside?”
“There is many a slip, but they could hardly be better. There are no guards on the courtyard gate, below stairs the servants are moving about, and there are tradespeople coming and going freely.”
“God be thanked! All that remains to be done then is to get the Dauphin into one of your sacks.”
“Then let us get on with it. Our chances are as good as they ever will be at this moment, so there is nothing to be gained by waiting.”
With a quick intake of his breath, Barnave tiptoed across to the further door and disappeared through it for a moment. When he reappeared there were seven people with him—two women in nuns’ robes with white coifs that hid their faces from all but a direct glance; a burly man wearing a short cape with a hood, and across his big stomach a porter’s apron, who looked as if he must be a lay-brother in some religious institution; a ragged boyish figure with soot-streaked face and hands; the little Dauphin undisguised; and Mesdames de Lamballe and de Tourzel in ordinary morning robes.
Roger, as was fitting to his character as the son of Barnave’s nurse, made an awkward bow and touched his forelock as they came in.
The taller of the two nuns walked quickly up to him and said, “Monsieur, we are already greatly in your debt for having stood by us so bravely yesterday afternoon; and now I understand that we are to owe you a debt so great that it will be beyond our power to repay. But you may be certain that you will always enjoy our friendship and that we shall never forget you in our prayers.”
At the gracious words, the melodious voice now so near to tears, and the trusting glance, Roger’s impulse was to go down on one knee and exclaim, “Madame, I have never ceased to be your humble, obedient servant, and I would willingly shed the last drop of my blood for you.”
But he managed to keep control of himself, touched his forelock again, and muttered gruffly, “God bless Your Majesty; the little chap will be safe eno
ugh with me.”
She beckoned the Dauphin forward and said, “My son, this is our friend who is going to give you a piggy-back in his sack. You will not be frightened or cry out, will you?”
“No, mama,” came the childish treble in an amazingly adult reply. “I cannot think why the people hate us so much, but I understand the danger we are in, and could not shame you by being afraid.”
“That is well said, my son. Now thank our friend in advance for what he is about to do for us.”
The handsome little boy smiled at Roger and said, “I thank you, Monsieur. Some day I will make you a sergeant in my regiment.” It was the highest honour that his young but already well-formed mind could bestow.
“And I’ll make Your Highness a good one,” murmured Roger with a smile. “But we must be getting along to have a bite of breakfast. Step in now and I’ll give you your ride.”
As he spoke he spread out one of his sacks and held its mouth wide open, low down. The Dauphin had already put one foot into it when the King started forward and exclaimed:
“That man! I know him! He is not Barnave’s foster-brother, as we have been told!” Grasping the Queen’s arm with one hand he pointed accusingly at Roger with the other, and went on in an agitated voice, “He was often at Versailles! I would recognise those over-long little fingers of his anywhere. His name. . . . His name. . . . He is the Chevalier de Breuc!”
“De Breuc!” cried the Queen, snatching up the Dauphin in her arms. “That traitor and murderer! This is a trap! Oh, God, we are betrayed! I would not trust my son to him were he the last man on earth!”
CHAPTER VIII
A NEW IDENTITY
Roger sat in the bath in which, nineteen hours earlier, he had first seen the beautiful Adèle de Flahaut. The warm, scented water in which he was immersed up to the neck brought balm to his body, but his soul was still a tumult of rage and disappointment.
The Man who Killed the King Page 14