Evil in a Mask

by Dennis Wheatley

  Roger nodded. ‘So there is now no King of Spain; but Godoy gets his Kingdom of the Algarve after all.’

  ‘By no means. He, too, becomes a permanent exile, and Bonaparte has come out in his true colours. He does not intend to partition Portugal, but keep it for himself.’

  Canning took a pinch of snuff, then went on, ‘But Spain has now become our major concern. The Spanish people took great umbrage some while since at a proposal by Bonaparte that Spain should be deprived of the Balearic Isles, so that he could give them in exchange for Sicily. His treatment of the Spanish royal family has further incensed them, and to such a degree that on May 2nd there were bloody riots in Madrid. Now, I gather, the whole country is seething with hatred of the French. Having told you all this, I should like to have your opinion. Do you think there is any chance at all of the people rising en masse and driving the French out of Spain?’

  ‘ ’Tis hard to say, Sir,’ Roger replied. ‘I took a poor view of the nobility that I met when in Madrid; but the people are tough, courageous and deeply religious. If their priests inflamed them further against their oppressors, they might succeed in forcing the French to retire into their fortresses. But Napoleon would still hold Spain, unless … yes, unless we could send an expeditionary force with ample artillery to support the insurgents.’

  ‘Ah!’ exclaimed Canning. ‘That is the very thing I have in mind. But we dare not take such a risk unless we have sound reason to believe that the Spanish people will fully commit themselves. And now a thought has come to me. I am, of course, aware that, since the death of our dear friend, Billy, disgusted with the Government that succeeded him you refused to accept further missions abroad. Would you consider re-entering the Service as my special agent? Having been a member of Bonaparte’s staff, you are in a unique position to find out how the French view their chances of holding down a widespread rebellion. Such knowledge would be invaluable to me. Will you go to Spain on my behalf?’

  22

  Back into the Battle

  After hesitating for a moment, Roger smiled and said, ‘It so happens that I came here today to ask if you would aid me to get to Lisbon. I recently married the daughter of the late Marquis de Pombal. She has inherited a great property there, and is anxious to go to Lisbon so that she can claim it. Knowing that British ships of war are constantly patrolling the coast of Portugal, it occurred to me that you might be good enough to secure for my wife and me a passage in one, and enable us to be put ashore on a dark night in some secluded bay.’

  ‘My congratulations, Mr. Brook. I shall be happy to arrange matters as you wish. May I take it you will then go on for me to Madrid?’

  ‘I thank you, Sir. But to proceed to Madrid may not be necessary. Do you know who now commands in Lisbon?’

  ‘Yes, General Junot. At least, he did so up until a week ago; and, as he has occupied that post ever since the Braganzas fled, there is little likelihood of his having been superseded.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Roger smiled again. ‘He is one of my oldest friends, and it is certain that he will be well informed about how matters are shaping in Spain. If the frigate that lands us can return after a week or so, and send in a boat, I’d be able to transmit to you by her a sound appreciation of the situation.’

  ‘An admirable idea. That could save us weeks in learning what our prospects are should we send an army into the Peninsula.’

  They parted most cordially, Canning having promised to let Roger know when a frigate was sailing to relieve another in the fleet that was blockading Portugal.

  Two days elapsed; then, late at night on May 25th, a note arrived for Roger from Canning, to let him know that Gadfly, a sloop-of-war which was lying off Greenwich, would be sailing the following noon with despatches for the Admiral commanding the British squadron blockading Lisbon; and that her Captain had been given orders respecting Mr. and Mrs. Brook.

  Next morning Lisala threw one of her fits of temper when Roger told her that she must leave behind all the pretty clothes she had bought, because they were to make a secret landing, so could take only what they could carry. To his insistence she had to give way and, when they went downstairs, her face had its usual angelic expression.

  Droopy conveyed them down to Greenwich in his coach; Caroline and Judith came too, to see them off. The ladies exchanged tearful farewells and the Brooks went aboard Gadfly, to be received by a young Lieutenant named Higgins. He apologised for the narrowness of the quarters in the sloop, but gallantly gave up his own cabin to them. It was a sunny afternoon when they dropped down the Thames and the weather proved clement for the remainder of their voyage. On the night of May 30th, he put them ashore in a small cove some ten miles north of Lisbon.

  Roger would have preferred to face the long walk to the city, rather than risk giving themselves away by seeking transport; but Lisala would not hear of it, and showed at her best in dealing with the situation. She knocked up the people at the nearest farmhouse, boldly told them who she was and, without giving any explanation of their presence in such a lonely spot in the middle of the night, demanded to be driven into Lisbon.

  The Portuguese peasants being accustomed to obeying orders from the nobility without question, the farmer harnessed two mules to his wagon, put some bundles of straw in it for them to sit on, and they set off.

  As they entered the city, the early summer dawn was breaking. Already they had planned what they intended to do. Having been twice to the de Pombal mansion as an Englishman, Roger feared that, if a pro-French servant recognised him, that might cause him considerable inconvenience. So Lisala was to leave him near the Leão d’ouro, and proceed to her home on her own. Then, later in the day, he would get in touch with her.

  At the inn the servants were just starting the daily round. Roger sent one of them to rouse the landlord, who came downstairs in a chamber robe and night-cap. On seeing Roger, he exclaimed:

  ‘Senhor Brook! Where have you been all this time? You disappeared without giving me a word of notice. But no matter. By returning to Lisbon you have run your head into a hornets’ nest. If the accursed French learn of your presence here, it will be the worse for you.’

  Roger laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. But what of my baggage? Is it still here, or have you disposed of it as payment for what I owe you?’

  ‘No, Senhor. Expecting you would return in a week or so, I had your things put up in the attic. Then, to tell the truth, I forgot all about them.’

  ‘Praise be for that! Please give me a room, have them brought down to it, and hot water sent up so that I may bathe myself.’

  An hour later, Roger came downstairs. He had shaved off his side-whiskers and was dressed in the resplendent uniform of a French Staff Colonel, that he had had made for him in Madrid.

  At the sight of this metamorphosis the landlord’s eyes opened wide. Roger quickly put a finger to his lips and said in a low voice, ‘I had this uniform made secretly when I was here last November, intending to don it when the French arrived and to pass myself off as one of them. Most unfortunately, I was aboard a ship when the tempest arose and was carried off to Brazil. I am only just returned but, I trust, not too late to be of service to my country in this guise.’

  The landlord began to laugh until his big paunch wobbled. Bending towards Roger, he whispered huskily, ‘Be easy, Senhor. No one here will say a word of this. And may God prosper your activities against the accursed French.’

  After giving the man several pieces of gold to settle what he owed, Roger sat down to a hearty breakfast; then returned to his room and slept for a few hours.

  At four o’clock he ordered a carriage and now, as a high-ranking officer of the occupying Power with nothing to fear, he had himself driven out to the de Pombal mansion.

  While discussing with Lisala his reappearance in Lisbon they had been faced with the fact that, on seeing him again, most of the de Pombal servants would recognise him as Mr. Brook; but there were others who had accompanied the Marquis to Persi
a, so if Roger arrived clean shaven and wearing French uniform, they would tell their companions that he was the Chevalier de Breuc who had paid court to Lisala in Isfahan.

  He therefore presented himself in this role and said to the footman who opened the door to him: ‘There is a rumour in the city that the Senhorita de Pombal has returned home. If that is so, I should much like to pay my respects to her, as I made her acquaintance while she was in Persia.’

  A major-domo showed Roger up to the big salon and left him there for a short while, then returned to usher in Lisala. With apparent surprise and evident delight, she greeted Roger, exclaiming how pleased she was to see him again after many months.

  No sooner had the servant left the room than they burst into laughter and embraced. Then Roger said, ‘All has gone well, my love. The landlord at the Leão d’ouro now believes me to be an English spy, and can be relied on to keep his mouth shut. Now that we are established in the eyes of your servants as old friends, they will feel no surprise if I visit you here frequently. In the meantime, you must see your attorney and urge him speedily to make good your title to your inheritance. I will see General Junot and, if any difficulties arise, seek his influence to brush them aside. And, now, fatigued by your night’s adventure, you must to bed, lest the roses in your lovely cheeks become faded.’

  Roger marched out of the house as he had entered it—a master in yet another land which had become subject to his all-powerful Emperor. That evening he went to the Palace which Junot had taken over, and sent up his name. The Duc d’Abrantes had him brought up, flung his arms round him, kissed him on both cheeks and cried:

  ‘Mon vieux! Mon vieux! Mon cher Breuc! Where have you been? What have you been doing all this time, and what brings you to this God-forsaken country?’

  Roger returned the hug and kisses. ‘Mon cher Androché, it is a long story. The Emperor sent me with General Gardane’s mission to Turkey and Persia. Later my travels were extended further than he intended. I was here when the Braganzas left and aboard one of their ships. A storm rose, and I could not get ashore. To my fury I was carried off with them to Brazil. From there I have only just returned. I fear the Emperor will be exceeding angry with me, owing to my long absence. As you know, he is capable of venting his displeasure in no mean manner on those who have failed to carry out his wishes.’

  ‘Do I not?’ Junot angrily slapped his thigh. ‘Regard my own case. You were there at the siege of Toulon when, as an officer of little significance, he promoted me to be his first A.D.C. When he was still poor, I housed him and lent him money. I have accompanied him on all his campaigns and many times been wounded in his service. Who, if not I, when he distributed his batons, deserved to be a Marshal of the Empire? Yet he ignored me, and fobbed me off with a dukedom, which means nothing to a soldier.

  ‘Last autumn, he promised to promote me to Marshal, did I succeed in preventing the royal family from leaving Portugal. ’Tis true that he gave me thirty thousand men and a corps of Spanish auxiliaries. But he could have had no idea of the territory I had to cross. The rain descended in torrents, the rivers became near-unfordable, the peasants preferred death to yielding up to us the food they had hoarded for the winter. Believe me, it was a nightmare march. Two-thirds of the Spaniards perished and thousands of my own men fell by the wayside. I reached Lisbon with no more than fifteen hundred, and I was only one day too late. Yet, despite all my efforts, the Emperor turned on me and rent me because I had failed to prevent the departure of the Braganzas.’

  ‘He’ll make you a Marshal yet.’ Roger gave his old friend a consoling pat on the shoulder. ‘Meanwhile, you could be worse off than as the uncrowned King of Portugal.’

  ‘True. When I was here previously, as Ambassador, the Portuguese were so pro-English that they were frequently discourteous to Laure and myself. But now matters are very different. They shower us with presents and fight to kiss our hands.’

  ‘You were lucky to be sent here, instead of to Madrid.’

  ‘Indeed I was. Poor Murat was given a most unpleasant task. Our master refused to reveal to him his true intentions, telling him to keep both sides sweet; so he knew not which to back when Ferdinand forced his old father at gun point to abdicate, and whether to protect Godoy or allow the mob to hang him.’

  ‘I gather that scamp was very lucky to get away with his life.’

  ‘Yes. While the mob sacked his palace, he managed to hide; but, after twenty-four hours, became so plagued by thirst that he had to come out and, on asking a gendarme for a glass of water, was recognised. The mob gave him a most terrible beating and, before he could be saved by arrest, battered in his face. He would have been executed next day had not that lecherous old cow, Queen Maria, gone down on her knees and begged his life of her son. Ferdinand granted it, but is a veritable swine and kept him in prison for a month without even allowing him a doctor. The Emperor then ordered that he should be conveyed to Bayonne, and it was he who drew up the treaty that has put an end to Bourbon rule in Spain.’

  ‘What terms did the Emperor force these awful people to accept?’

  ‘Carlos handed over the Crowns of Spain and the Americas for an income of seven and a half million francs a year, with the estates of Compiègne and Chambord. Ferdinand signed away his rights for a castle and a pension.’

  ‘And now they are gone, who is to occupy the throne?’

  Junot laughed. ‘That question has been quite a comedy. As the Emperor had made his brothers Joseph, Lucien and Jerome Kings, Murat considered that, as brother-in-law, he had a good claim to the next vacant throne. Think, too, of the enjoyment he would have derived from designing for himself new costumes as King Achille I. But our master had other plans. He has been far from pleased at the way in which Louis has ignored many of his orders regarding Holland. ‘Tis said he wrote to him, saying that the air of the Low Countries was not good for his health, so he should have the Crown of Spain instead. Can you believe it, Louis refused it on the grounds that the Dutch people needed him and that he owed having become their King, not to his big brother, but to a call of God.’

  ‘Was there ever such a family as the Bonapartes?’ Roger raised his eyes to heaven. ‘But I’m not surprised. Louis has always been a neurotic and has now become a monomaniac. Who, then, is to have the throne of Spain?’

  ‘Joseph. And, in his case, without even being asked if he would like it. The Emperor simply ordered him to leave Naples and join him in Madrid, where he is at present. Murat is to replace Joseph as King of Naples; so, after all, our handsome swashbuckler has not come off too badly.’

  Roger nodded. ‘The eldest brother is by far the best of the hatch. But I don’t envy him his new Crown, from all I hear of the situation in Madrid.’

  ‘Mon Dieu, no! Spain is about to blow up about our ears.’

  ‘Do you really think that?’ Roger raised a sceptical eyebrow.

  ‘I’d wager my chances of yet getting a Marshal’s baton on it. The émeurt in Madrid on May 2nd sparked the trouble off. The news of it ran round Spain like wild-fire. The Spanish notables had been summoned by the Emperor to Bayonne, and accepted the Constitution he thrust at them; but the people rejected it with angry contempt. By the middle of the month the hardy mountaineers of the north began to arm themselves, on the 24th, their little province of Asturias actually declared war on France. A few days later, Galicia and Léon followed suit. My latest intelligence is that the south, too, is in a ferment. Andalusia, Mercia and Valencia may join the rebellion any day. Within a month there will be fighting throughout the whole Peninsula.’

  Roger shrugged. ‘What can such rabble do against our well-armed and well-disciplined troops?’

  ‘They can render the country near-untenable by raids and ambushes. No small body of French troops will be safe outside the cities, and in them they’ll no longer dare to go abroad at night, for fear of assassination. The odds are that we’ll be compelled to withdraw into the fortresses.’

  ‘But with them in his hands, the
Emperor will still hold Spain. They, at least, are impregnable, except from assault by a regular army with cannon.’

  ‘Of course. But what if the English take advantage of our difficulties to seize one of the ports? Given a base, they could supply the rebels with arms and ammunition, and land an army of their own. To provision our garrisons across a hostile countryside would, in any case, be far from easy. Supported by English regulars, the Spaniards could reduce them one by one.’

  Feigning anxiety and distress, Roger exclaimed, ‘Do you really fear then that we may be driven out of Spain?’

  ‘Not without a long and ghastly struggle. But if the English do land an army, it may well come to that.’

  Roger had his answer for Mr. Canning, and much more quickly than he had expected. His only regret now was that he had told the young Captain of the sloop not to return to the bay for a week.

  Over a bottle of wine, he told Junot about the awful voyage to Brazil, and of the state of squalor they had found in Rio; then of his marriage to Lisala and her inheritance. Having congratulated him, Junot asked, ‘But how did you succeed in getting back here?’

  With a laugh Roger replied, ‘How do you think? In a British ship, of course. As you know, I am bi-lingual. Before you reached Lisbon I was here on the Emperor’s business, posing as an Englishman. The Portuguese believed me to be one when I was carried off to Brazil and I succeeded in maintaining the fiction there until I could arrange with the Captain of a British frigate to give my wife and myself passage to England. After a short spell there I persuaded another British Captain to take us across to Algeciras. From thence we came overland.’

  Junot nodded. ‘Tell me now about your wife.’

  ‘Willingly. I had intended to. She is a most lovely creature but our present situation is a difficult one, and I would be grateful for your help.

  ‘Her father died recently, so she is heir to a great inheritance and has returned to Lisbon to claim it. Naturally I have accompanied her, but now that Portugal is subject to France I could not come here as the Englishman her people supposed me to be when I married her in Brazil. For the moment we are keeping our marriage a secret and have been compelled temporarily to separate. She has returned to her family mansion; I have secured quarters at the Leão d’ouro. There is naught to prevent my calling on her frequently as her servants are aware that I was previously acquainted with, and enamoured, of her when she was in Persia and I was there as a member of Gardane’s mission. We shall go about together and shortly let it be known that we intend to marry.’