The Sultan's Daughter

Having given orders for a horse for himself, and a half-troop of Guides as escort, to be got ready at once, he hurried back to his lodging, still almost exploding with pent-up fury. He had long since come to the conclusion that the embraces of women were like olives out of a bottle; the first could be got only with difficulty but the rest came easily. From the moment he had been woken he had begun to look forward with intense delight to the second night that he would spend with Zanthe. Now that this mission had been thrust upon him it would be more than a week before he could hope to possess her again.

Arrived at the house he called loudly for Marbois and, when the young Provencal came hurrying from the back premises, Roger gave him his orders in a succession of swift, staccato sentences. ^'1 have been ordered away on a mission. I expect to be away for at least a week. You will remain here and consider yourself as confined to barracks. In short, you will not leave the house. Have the servants buy anything the lady upstairs may ask for. But you will take up her meals yourself, and she is to be kept under lock and key. Neither the servants nor anyone else are to be allowed to communicate with her. If she asks you to take any message or letter for her you will accept it but not deliver it. Keep it until my return. Is that clear? '

'Yes, Monsieur le Colonel,' replied Marbois, drawing himself up. 'I understand your wishes perfectly.'

'Good,' said Roger. Then, thrusting some money to cover expenses into the young soldier's hand, he wheeled about and hurried back to headquarters.

Even by taking the short cut from Rahmaniyeh across the desert, the journey from Cairo to Alexandria was the best part of a hundred and fifty miles. The roads were no more than tracks, the heat was almost unbearable and, as no remounts were available en route, the strength of the horses had to be husbanded. So, although Roger left Cairo on July 27th and made the best speed possible, it was not till the morning of August 1st that he reached Alexandria. He had rested his troop the previous night at Damanhur, and had done half of the last thirty miles before daylight; so after five days of most exhausting travel he was very tired. Even so, he decided to accomplish his mission that day, sleep the night in Alexandria and set off on his return journey early the following morning.

After a talk with that tough veteran General Kleber, to give him the latest news, and having learned that the Fleet had not yet sailed, Roger secured a new mount and, in spite of the midday heat, rode on to Aboukir. There he found the line of three-deckers at anchor in a long, shallow bay with rocks and an island at its far end. A boat took him off to the mighty L'Orient and, when the Officer of the Watch had sent his name to the Admiral, Brueys at once received him.

Having handed over his despatch Roger gave the Admiral Bonaparte's verbal message, upon which Brueys replied with a nod, 'I am well aware of the General-in-Chief's view of the matter. It was originally planned that I should take the Fleet into the harbour of Alexandria, where it would have been safe from attack; but it was found that the harbour mouth was too shallow for my largest ships to enter. He then urged me to make for Corfu. But what sort of a Frenchman would I have been to turn my back on him at such a time?

' We all know that he has unshakable faith in his star; but had things gone wrong and our Army been defeated, its plight, marooned here in a strange land without either reinforcements or supplies, would have been too terrible to think upon. I could not possibly reconcile myself to any other course than to remain here, so that, did the worst happen, I might take off what remained of the Army and so save it from complete destruction.'

Roger smiled. * Pray accept my compliments on your decision, Monsieur I'Amiral. It was in the highest traditions of your Service, and thousands of us soldiers might well owe our lives to you. But now the Mamelukes have been signally defeated, their remnants scattered and the General-in-Chief is firmly established in Cairo; the situation is very different.'

^' Indeed, yes; and I thank God for it. Yet we are desperately short of supplies, for we have been supplying General Kleber this past month instead of he us. We'll still have to secure a sufficiency of food and water, but once that it done I'll feel no scruples in setting sail for Malta. I see, though, Colonel, that you have obviously ridden hard and need rest and refreshment. It is just on our dinner hour. You must join us and afterwards I'll have a cabin prepared for you so that you can spend the night on board.'

'I thank you, Admiral,' Roger replied. ^'1 should be most happy to dine, but I am promised to sup with General Kleber and intend to start back for Cairo in the cool of the early morning.'

By now his appearance was very different from the gallant figure he had cut in Paris. His fine uniform had become sadly stained during the campaign and after his recent journey he looked like a scarecrow. He was covered with dust from head to foot, his hair was a bush and his face begrimed. But a marine was detailed to brush his clothes while he had a good wash and a quarter of an hour later, when he was conducted to the spacious stern cabin, he looked fairly presentable.

With the Admiral now were Commodore Casabianca, the Captain of L'Orient, and a number of other officers. When Roger had been presented to those he had not met on the voyage out they sat down at the big oval table to dine. During the early part of the meal Brueys and the others asked him many questions about the campaign, and listened eagerly to his accounts of the desert march, the Battle of the Pyramids and fabulous Cairo. But soon after two o'clock this pleasant party was suddenly interrupted. The door burst open and a young Lieutenant tumbled into the room, shouting:

' Les Anglais! Monsieur I'AmiraU Les Anglais!' It then transpired that Nelson's Fleet had just been sighted and was bearing down upon them.

Chairs were thrust back, and with Brueys leading, they all rushed up on deck. There a hundred eyes were glued to telescopes. Roger followed the Admiral up to the poop and shaded his eyes with his hand to cut out the glare of the brilliant sunlight. Even without a glass he could make out, just above the distant horizon, the tips of more topmasts than he could count. It was no false alarm. After his ten-week fruitless search back and forth across the length and breadth of the Mediterranean Nelson had, at last, run the enemy to earth.

Roger stood there, cursing himself. If only he had started an hour earlier from Damanhur that morning. If only he had ridden straight on to Aboukir, instead of stopping in Alexandria to talk with Kleber. If only he had refused Brueys's invitation to dinner. Had he done any of those things he would be safely back on shore by now. But here he was, in the French flagship, with battle imminent; and, above all, a battle against his own countrymen. To ask to be put ashore now would look like rank cowardice. Yet he considered it, Perhaps it would not appear too bad if he said that it was imperative that he should rejoin the General-in-Chief with the least possible delay. But he was not taking back any despatch, so such an excuse for turning tail would not be looked on as valid. While his mind was still racked with awful indecision, Brueys settled the matter for him by saying:

^' Of course, Colonel, you will now wish to remain with us, to share our dangers and our glory. I shall be happy to count you as a military member of my personal Staff.'

The Battle of the Nile

Rarely had Roger spent a more miserable afternoon. There had been no possible reply to Brueys other than 'I am honoured, Monsieur I'Amiral, and will do my utmost to be of service.' After that there was nothing for him, as a landlubber, to do but await the battle, and he had a horror of such desperate encounters.

It was not that he lacked courage. At Sherborne he had several times fought George Gunston, the bully of the school, although each time he knew he would get a licking. He had fought duels with sword and pistol, taken part in many affrays and would not have hesitated to fight anyone on any grounds that justified a resort to weapons. It was the terribly impersonal nature of battles that he hated: to be one of a group of men firing at and being fired at by another, without the faintest knowledge of the man you might wound or be wounded by; or to be cut in half by a bounding cannon ball, fired by an artilleryman whom you could not even see and who, if you had met him, might have proved to be the most charming fellow. Indeed although every Frenchman was technically his enemy, he counted many friends among them and there were several to whose rescue he would have gone at the peril of his life. He would have been the last man to suggest that his country should not go to war in defence of her liberty and rights, but that did not make the indiscriminate slaughter involved any the less horrifying to him.

He had been lucky in the present campaign, as Bonaparte and his Staff had come under fire only during the brief skirmish at Chebreiss and had not even participated personally in the great Battle of the Pyramids. But now he was fated to spend several terrifying hours and, perhaps, meet his death in a head-on clash between some twenty thousand men, the majority of whom passionately hated each other's country and were thirsting for one another's blood.

And it was not even as if it were to be a land battle. Roger would have defended a post to the last if he had been charged with doing so; but, as a general principle, he was a great believer in the old adage, ^' He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day.' In a conflict on land one could at least add to the chance of survival by using judgment about when to lie down and when to stand up. If things went badly, it was generally possible, by keeping one's wits about one, to avoid getting mixed up with any mass of routed infantry that would attract the enemy's artillery fire or pursuing cavalry. It was also possible to sham dead and lie in a ditch until the coming of night enabled one to creep away from the battlefield.

But none of these ruses to save oneself was possible in a naval battle. A man was just as liable to be wounded or killed whether he stood up or lay down. And it was not only the enemy's cannon balls that were to be feared. A falling mast or yard might shatter his head like an eggshell and, as the shot crashed through bulwarks and decks, great splinters of jagged wood, which could cause the most ghastly wounds, whizzed through the air to right, left and centre. Last but not least, if the ship he was in got the worst of the action there cculd be no galloping away from her, and it was pointless to lie in the scuppers pretending to be dead. If badly holed below the waterline she would sink, carrying him down with her to Davy Jones's Locker, or, if she had been set on fire, blow up. In either case there would be no morning after.

Roger knew the composition of the French Fleet without having to run his eye down the line of ships. Apart from four frigates and other smaller craft, Brueys had L'Orient, the mightiest ship afloat, with one hundred and twenty guns, three eighties and nine seventy-fours. That made a total of over one thousand guns, in comparison with which the one hundred and seventy-four pieces of artillery that Bonaparte had brought for his land battles were a mere pittance. Roger thought it reasonable to assume that Nelson's Fleet carried about the same number as the French. That means that as soon as battle was joined some two thousand cannon would be blazing away as fast as men could load them. Even at only twenty rounds per gun, forty thousand murderous lumps of iron—not to mention innumerable bullets from muskets —would be flying in all directions; and he was in the flagship, to which it was certain that the enthusiastic British would give their very special attention.

He would have felt even gloomier about his chances of survival could he have known of Nelson's declaration to his Captains, When we do come up with the enemy I'll not be content with victory. It must be annihilation.'

During the afternoon there was nothing he could do but watch, while officers, marines and sailors bustled about the decks preparing for action. Had Brueys's Squadron been caught while transporting the Army, it could not possibly have driven off the enemy. Despite the Admiral's protests, such a mass of equipment —field guns, wagons, crates of saddles for the dismounted cavalry, officers' baggage, ammunition and other stores—had been stacked on the decks that it would have proved next to impossible for his ships to run out and fight their guns.

In consequence, it had been decided that if the British came upon the armada the French should endeavour to close with and board them, as all Brueys's ships-of-the-line had at least three hundred and fifty troops packed like sardines in them; it was hoped that they, by sheer weight of numbers, would overwhelm the enemy.

Now, there were no soldiers in the ships; but at least they had been disembarrassed of a great part of their strangling top-hamper, so they could have put to sea and met the British in a battle of manoeuvre. For some while Brueys discussed the possibility with his senior Captains; but the prevailing opinion was that they would do better to remain where they were because the seamanship of the men was so indifferent, and they had neither food nor water aboard for a cruise of more than a few hours.

The northern end of Aboukir Bay, in which the French lay, ended in a hook, on the point of which stood a small castle. From the point a shoal ran out to Aboukir Island and some way beyond it. Brueys's ships were anchored in a long line behind this protection and, moreover, in the bay itself there were many other shoals and shallows. It was thought most unlikely, therefore, that Nelson would risk bringing his ships into such dangerous waters after dark and, although they had been steadily approaching all through the long, hot afternoon, they still had some distance to cover.

Nevertheless, preparations for action went ahead. Bulkheads were taken down, cannon balls and powder charges brought up, buckets of water placed beside the guns, hoses coupled to pumps ready for fire-fighting, and all the supplies, crates, bales and boxes that remained on deck shifted to the landward sides of the ships because it was taken for granted that no sane Admiral would risk sending his ships into the shallows that lay between the French Fleet and the shore.

As the British rounded the distant point it became possible to assess their strength accurately. There were eleven seventy-fours, one fifty-gun ship and a brig. Then, to the delight of the French, it was seen that one of the seventy-fours had gone aground on the hidden sandspit beyond Aboukir Island, thus making the odds—by this reduced to less than nine hundred guns against over a thousand—still further in their favour.

At about five-thirty the British began to form line of battle, showing that, although twilight would soon be falling, they did intend to attack that night. Majestically, under full sail, they came on in an irregular line, Captain Sam Hood in Zealous and Captain Foley in Goliath striving to out-distance one another for the honour of being the first to enter the battle.

Goliath won and, to Brueys's horror, came up on the inshore side of his vanguard, followed by four other British seventy-fours. Nelson and his leading Captains had swiftly realized that, as the French ships lay to the wind, there must be at least their own length of water deep enough to keep them afloat when, still at anchor, they swung with their sterns to the shore. Where one seventy-four could swing another could pass without running aground. As the guns of the French ships on the shoreward side lay under piles of impedimenta, they could not be fired.

After firing a broadside into Guerrier, the ship at the head of the French line, Goliath overshot her and came to anchor opposite the second French ship, Conquerant. But Zealous anchored opposite Guerrier, while Orion, Theseus and Audacious sailed on, pouring broadsides into Guerrier and Conquerant as they passed, then concentrating their fire on the next in line; Spartiate, Aquilon and Peuple Souverain.

Nelson's orders had been to attack the French van and centre, and now he came up in his flagship Vanguard with the remaining six British ships on the seaward side of the French line. Caught between two fires as the sun sank below the horizon, the five enemy ships first to be attacked suffered terrible damage.

The French line was nearly two miles long, and L'Orient was stationed exactly in the centre of its thirteen ships; so little could be seen from her during the first part of the action except dense clouds of smoke. But by seven o'clock it was fully dark and every minute the smoke pall was stabbed by the bright flashes from hundreds of guns. Slowly but inexorably, like a vast burning taper, the smoke and fire spread along the line as ship after ship came into action.

Vanguard was the first ship to anchor outside the enemy line, and Nelson had her brought to within pistol shot of Spartiate, which was being attacked by Theseus on her other side. Even so, the flagship was hard pressed until Minotaur came up and drew the fire of Aquilon, which had also been engaging Vanguard. Meanwhile, losing station owing to the smoke and darkness, Majestic and Bellerophon had got too far ahead. The latter, finding herself opposite L'Orient, took on alone this mighty ship-of-war which had nearly double her own gun-power.

Now, after some five hours of dread anticipation, Roger experienced all the horrors of a great naval battle. While the French Fleet had been convoying Bonaparte's Fleet of transports to Egypt, Brueys and a number of his senior officers had feared that, discipline being so bad, many of the pressed sailors might, if attacked, refuse to fight at all and seek a false security by hiding themselves below decks. But now those fears were proved ill-founded, largely perhaps because the men realized that their Admiral had a superiority in ships and an even larger superiority in guns and also because the victories of the Army on land had made them feel that they must not digrace the flag to which their comrades had brought so much glory.

The seamen in all the French ships so far attacked had shown admirable courage, and those in L'Orient proved no exception. With shouts and cheers they laboured at the guns, greatly encouraged by the fact that their part in the battle appeared to be only a single-ship duel with a much inferior enemy. This eager handling of their guns, and L'Orient's weight of metal, soon began to tell. At the price of comparatively few casualties all three of Bellerophon s masts were shot away and, to the cheers of the French, she drifted, helpless, out of the battle.

Meanwhile Majestic had attacked Heureux, still further down the line, and had run her jib-boom into the French ship's rigging. She was also exposed to the fire of Tonnant. Her Captain was killed and she suffered terrible casualties. But her First Lieutenant succeeded in getting her free and continued to fight her with great gallantry, attacking, unsupported, Mercure, the fourth ship from the French rear.

Unable to see what was happening, except in his immediate vicinity by the orange flashes of the guns, Roger now had depression added to his personal fears; for he could judge the progress of the battle only by the crushing defeat of Bellerophon. He would have been even more depressed had he known that at about eight o'clock. Nelson had been struck on the head just above his old wound by a piece of the chain shot used by the French to cut through enemy ships' sails and rigging. The metal cut the Admiral's forehead to the bone, causing a long flap of flesh and a stream of blood to come down over his good eye and blind him completely. Believing that he had received a mortal wound, he sent last messages to his wife and several of his Captains.

Plunged into total darkness, he could not be persuaded, even by his Principal Surgeon, that the wound was only superficial. Yet if he had died then it would have been as he had always wished, for he had hardly been taken to the cockpit when news that victory was assured was brought to him. The ships in the French van, dismasted and with huge, gaping holes in them, had been reduced to corpse-littered hulks. Conquerant had been the first to strike her flag, Guerrier followed at eight-thirty, Aquilon soon after. Spartiate had ceased to fire and Peuple Souverain, having broken from her moorings, had drifted ashore in flames. The French centre—Franklin, L'Orient, Tonnant and Heureux—were now surrounded by a superior concentration of British ships that was pouring broadside after broadside into them and, as the night wore on, must be pounded into surrender.

UOrient had Alexander on one side of her and Swiftsure on the other. White to the gills, Roger remained on the poop of the flagship, expecting every moment that a cannon ball would cut him in half or take off his head. In the heat of battle Brueys had found no use for him; so he could only stand there with his eyes smarting and half choked by the acrid fumes from the gunpowder. Through gaps in the smoke he caught glimpses of the deck. In places the bulwarks had been shot away; here and there cannon had been overturned. Broken spars and cut ropes fallen from aloft were inextricably mixed with scores of dead and dying. The screams of the wounded rent the air every moment, making the night hideous. There was blood everywhere.

At a little before nine o'clock a longboat not far from Roger caught fire. He had b$en helping to bandage a wounded sailor. The man suddenly jerked his head forward, spewed blood and died; so Roger let the body fall back. Running to the burning boat, he helped several other men cut her away. When he returned to the poop someone told him that the gallant Brueys had been killed by a cannon ball. Audacious had now joined in the attack on VOrient', so broadsides from three ships were raking her, while musket balls fired by marines in their fighting tops came whistling down at a sharp angle to take their toll of the exposed French sailors. Her upper decks were now a shambles, nearly all the guns on them having been put out of action, but the greater part of those on her lower decks continued to fire and her surviving officers had no thought of surrender.

Two more of her boats were set alight and extinguished, the fire then started on the poop. While lying inactive in the bay she had been painting ship, and much of the paint on her stern was still wet. The flames caught it and ran quickly up the tarred rigging. An attempt was made to put out the fire, but British cannon balls had destroyed the nearest fire-fighting appliances and rows of water-buckets and were crashing through the stern rails every moment. By half past nine the after part of the poop was well ablaze, lighting up a scene of most appalling carnage and confusion. In the lurid glare of the flames Roger caught sight of Commodore Casabianca. He was lying wounded and near him the deck was burning but his ten-year-old son, who had come on the voyage as a cabin-boy, was clinging to his hand, refusing to leave him.

Suddenly Roger took a decision. Two-thirds of the ship's company were now either dead or wounded. By a miracle, as it seemed to him, he was one of the remaining third. But his immunity could not last much longer. With Brueys dead and no one knowing any more what his neighbour was doing, why should he remain to be slaughtered? Better to go over the side and take his chance in the water. Stumbling through the blinding smoke, he found one of the poop ladders and slithered down it into the well of the ship.

Tripping over a legless corpse, he was thrown against an overturned gun. Beyond it was a great rent in the bulwark, where the gunport had been. Heaving himself up, he lurched towards it. At that moment a thought struck him. Bonaparte's despatch!

During the five and a half months since he had left England he had been unable to send home a single report or piece of intelligence of any value. Perhaps even worse in Mr. Pitt's view, instead of carrying out his instructions to do anything he could to hamper Bonaparte's success and rise to power he had, in small ways, rendered him many useful services. Here was a chance to make good his apparent negligence and to serve his country to some purpose. It was very probable that in the despatch Bonaparte had not only described his occupation of Cairo but had also informed the Directors of his future intentions.

Swinging round, Roger stepped over the legless body, jumped another, slipped in a pool of blood, fell, picked himself up and made for the entrance under the poop that led to the dead Admiral's cabin. The passage was in darkness, except for the flickering light of the still-thundering guns. He groped his way along it and into the great stern cabin where, eight hours before, he had been laughing and talking with Brueys and his officers round the big dining table. It was bright as day inside the cabin, for the fire had already caught the woodwork of the stern galley outside the semi-circle of tall, sloping windows.

Adjacent to the big cabin was a smaller one that Brueys used as an office and in which he had received Roger. As Roger thrust open the door he heard a sudden movement, then saw that a terrified man was crouching in one of the far corners.

He was dressed as a civilian, so Roger guessed him to be either Brueys's secretary or a super-cargo. The one thing he could not afford was for a Frenchman to be able to identify him afterwards and state that he had made off with the despatch, and there was just a possibility that this man might survive the battle. His own life might be forfeit if he let the man live; so he pulled a pistol from his sash, intending to kill him.

^' What . . . what are you about to do, monsieur? ' gasped the trembling wretch.

The idea of pistolling a defenceless man in cold blood went horribly against the grain with Roger and a way of making his theft appear a commendable action suddenly occurred to him. With a frown he said, ^' For lurking here like a coward I ought to shoot you. But I fear L'Orient must soon surrender, so I have come here to prevent a despatch that I delivered to Admiral Brueys this afternoon from falling into the hands of the English.' Then, turning his pistol on the lock of a stout cabinet in which he had seen Brueys put the despatch, he fired it.

The lock was shattered and after a sharp pull the doors of the cabinet came open. Inside there were rows of pigeon-holes filled with papers. Roger soon recognized the despatch from its size and unbroken seals. Quickly he undid his tunic, thrust the despatch inside and, without another glance at the poor devil he had spared, left the cabin.

Out on the open deck the scene was even more ghastly than when he had left it, for during the past five minutes the fire on the poop had trebled in size and now had the mizzenmast, with its yards and gear, burning like a huge candle. The fierce light of the flames lit a much greater area of the ship and the writhing figures half obscured by smoke might well have been in Dante's Inferno. But Roger's only thought now was to save himself.

Noticing a rope that led out through a gap in the bulwarks, he grabbed it with both hands, gave a quick look to make certain there was no wreckage in the sea below the gap, then sat down, turned on his stomach and thrust himself outward. The rope, having been cut, was not secured to anything on board. In consequence instead of his being able, as he had hoped, to clamber down it, he went hurtling down, hit the bulge of the ship's side with a most frightful thump, bounced off it and landed with a great splash in the sea.

For what seemed an age he went down, down, down, until he thought that his lungs would burst. But at last he began to rise and surfaced, gasping and gulping. As soon as he had shaken the water from his eyes, he got his bearings. There, within twenty feet of him, towered the gargantuan L'Orient, many of her lower guns still belching fire and smoke, but her stern now ablaze. Turning, he struck out for the nearest British ship.

She was no great distance away, and he was a strong swimmer. In spite of being weighed down by his sodden clothes, he reached her after ten minutes of steady effort. But it was another matter to get aboard her. Had he had the voice of ten men and shouted himself hoarse he would still have been unable to make himself heard above the deafening thunder of the guns. Even if he had, her crew, giving every thought to their duties at their action stations, would not have left them to throw him a rope.

After swimming half round the ship he found himself facing her anchor chain. Gratefully, he grasped and clung to it, praying that, until some chance arose of his getting into the ship, he would not be hit by a stray bullet or flying piece of debris. Fortunately, as it was the height of summer, the sea was warm; so he stood no risk of having to let go the chain from numbed limbs and hands.

For the next half-hour, from sea-level, he watched the battle. The British ships continued to fire relentlessly on their foe. Fewer and fewer guns from L'Orient replied, and the whole of her stern became a raging furnace. Soon after ten it was evident that orders had been given to abandon ship, as those of her crew who still survived began to jump into the water. At ten-fifteen the flames reached her main magazine and she blew up. The explosion was so terrific that it was heard as far away as Alexandria. Masses of burning debris were shot hundreds of feet into the air, to descend on the decks of the British ships that had brought doom upon her, or to hiss fiercely in the water.

The blast and a great tidal wave wrenched Roger from his hold on the cable. He was again submerged and had to fight his way to the surface. When he came up it was pitch dark and utterly silent. The magnitude of the explosion had so shaken the combatants on both sides that they spontaneously ceased to serve the guns. It was not until nearly ten minutes later that a French ship resumed the battle by again opening fire.

Had L'Orient not blown up she would have proved the most valuable prize ever taken by the British, for in her hold she carried £600,000 in ingots of gold looted from the new Swiss and Roman Republics and, in addition, the huge treasure in gold and gems that Bonaparte had stolen from the Knights of Malta. These were to have been his treasure chest for the conquest of the East; so it was a shattering blow to him that the whole of this great wealth should have gone down with L'Orient to the bottom of Aboukir Bay.

But Roger was thinking only of his own survival. Swimming round and round in the darkness he again, at length, hit the anchor cable and clung on to it. Soon after, fires ignited by the flaming debris falling on to British ships, and a renewal of the firing, intermittently lit the scene.

Some three hundred of the survivors in L'Orient had jumped into the sea before she blew up; upon which Audacious, to the cable of which ship Roger later earned he had been clinging, put out several boats to pick up as many as they could. Seeing this, Roger swam to the nearest boat and, to his immense relief, was hauled aboard. A quarter of an hour later he and a number of others who had been rescued were hoisted in through the lower ports of Audacious, herded to one end of her tier deck and, under guard, kept there for the remainder of the night.

The battle continued sporadically until 3 a.m., and was resumed for a while after dawn. Vice-Admiral Villeneuve in his flagship, Guillaume Tell, one other ship-of-the-line, Genereux, and a frigate, made sail and got away. It was later said that they would not have escaped had Nelson not been temporarily incapacitated by his wound, and so unable to direct the later stages of the battle. As it was, despite Zealous's crippled state, gallant Sam Hood gave chase, but no other British ship was in a condition to support him; so he was recalled.

Daylight revealed the fruits of victory. Eleven of the thirteen French ships-of-the-line had been captured or destroyed. Out of some eight thousand French sailors, over five thousand were dead and the majority of the remainder were prisoners. It was possibly the most bloody sea battle ever fought and the greatest triumph for British sea power since the defeat of the Spanish Armada. It made the Mediterranean henceforth, for over a century, a British lake; and the French Navy was so completely shattered that seven years elapsed before, in combination with a large Spanish Fleet, it again dared challenge Nelson at Trafalgar.

During that night Roger had no inkling of all this, apart from the knowledge that his countrymen had proved victorious. He had mounted his horse long before dawn that morning at Damanhur, ridden thirty miles to Alexandria, talked with Kleber, ridden on to Aboukir, gone aboard the flagship, delivered his despatch to Brueys, sustained over five hours of appalling anxiety and a further three of hideous battle.

When going overboard he had hurt himself badly and the exertion of swimming and clinging to the cable had drained away his last reserves of strength. He was hardly able any longer to think coherently, yet sufficiently able to realize that he was in some danger: for in no circumstances, while he remained among the French prisoners, must he give away the fact that he was English. Wondering vaguely what new problems and perils he might have to face next day, he slumped down on the hard deck, utterly exhausted, and, almost instantly, was asleep.

The One Who Got Away

The personnel of Audacious were so fully occupied preparing the dead for burial, tending their wounded, clearing away wreckage, and stopping holes torn in the side of the ship by French cannon balls, that it was mid-morning before they had time to give any attention to their prisoners. Roger was roused by movement all round him and found that half a dozen Jack-tars, supervised by a Lieutenant, were serving out a ration of ship's biscuits and a drink of water, dipped from buckets.

He eagerly swallowed the few mouthfuls of brackish water, but was not sufficiently hungry to tackle the biscuits. It was very cold down there on the tier deck; so his clothes had not yet dried out, and his right arm and hip, with which he had hit the bulge of L'Orient when going overboard, were stiff and painful.

Looking about him he saw in the dim light some fifty officers and men in the same wretched state as himself: their clothes torn and sodden, their faces begrimed and their hair in rats'-tails. With some twenty others, who had been picked up and taken to other ships, they were the only survivors of the eight hundred men who the day before had manned the mighty L'Orient.

When the ration had been served the Lieutenant sat himself down on an upturned barrel and, using a crate for a table, produced some sheets of paper. A Petty Officer then marshalled the prisoners into a queue for examination. The Lieutenant spoke little French, but all he asked each man was his name, rank and ship; then he wrote them down. When Roger's turn came he drew himself to his full height and replied in French:

'Breuc, Colonel on the Staff of French Army headquarters, Cairo, and aide-de-camp to the General-in-Chief.'

193

The Lieutenant gave him a surprised look, took down what he had said and put a large cross against his name, then told him to stand aside with another French officer who had been singled out from the ratings. By the time all the names had been taken, the group of officers numbered five, with one Midshipman. A Sergeant of Marines beckoned them to follow him and took them to the bread-room, where they were locked in.

There, while agreeing that they were lucky to be alive, they commiserated with one another on the defeat their Fleet had sustained and speculated gloomily about their future as prisoners-of-war. Roger produced his share of apparent despondency, but inwardly he was now in excellent spirits. Apart from his right arm and side being badly bruised and aching, he had come through the terrible night unscathed and rosy prospects lay ahead of him.

He had known that he had to do no more than say he was one of Bonaparte's aides-de-camp to ensure his being brought before a senior officer for questioning. From that it should be only a step to securing a private interview with Admiral Nelson, to whom alone he was prepared to disclose his true identity. None of the prisoners had so far been searched, presumably because it was thought that they would have only small, private possessions on them. He still had the despatch concealed under his tunic and even should it be taken from him before he got to the Admiral that would not prevent it from being sent to Nelson with him. All he had to do was guard against anyone, French or British, finding out that he was an Englishman, and that should present no great difficulty.

Then, once he had had his interview with the Admiral, good-bye to Egypt. Kleber would report that he had left Alexandria to deliver the despatch to Brueys on the afternoon that the British Fleet had been sighted. Bonaparte would assume that he had been either killed or captured during the battle, and what more perfect explanation could there be for not returning to him? Now that he had captured Cairo and had virtually subdued Egypt, it was certain that he would proceed with his ambitious schemes. The Directory had ordered him to occupy the Red Sea ports, and it was highly probable that, having secured them, he would use them as bases for a descent on India. Alternatively, he might first turn north to conquer Syria. But, whichever he did, India would be his ultimate objective, and to conquer the whole of the East must take him several years.

Roger had had more than enough of deserts and battles, and now he could get Nelson to send him home, either as an important prisoner who would be well treated, or under another name in a merchant ship. Even if at a later date he wished to return to France he would still be able to do so with a clean bill as a Frenchman, because _# he could say that he had been held as a prisoner in England. Even Talleyrand could have no reason to suspect that his capture had not been genuine.

One thought only marred his delight at chance having provided him with a way to escape further service in the East: that was of Zanthe. There she was—the most breathtaking beauty he had seen for years, lovely to look at, lovely to touch and, with her rich, deep voice, lovely to listen to—his captive in Cairo. Not to return to her seemed the height of ingratitude to those generous, joy-loving gods of Olympus who had sent her to him. To have done so, then immediately to have placed him in a position where every other interest demanded that he should sacrifice her, was harsh indeed. But one of the reasons why Roger had survived so many perilous situations was his ability to face facts squarely and weigh their pros and cons.

To return to Zanthe might bring him delirious happiness, but for how long? At the best for a few months, while Bonaparte fully established a new administration throughout Egypt. He was such a dynamic worker that it was quite possible that, having set the pattern, after a few weeks, he would leave someone else to do the administering and himself march on to new conquests. Still worse, as Roger spoke Arabic, his master might any day take it into his head to pack him off on some mission to a desert Sheik or the Red Sea ports, and he would not be able to take Zanthe with him.

There was, too, the most potent reason of all for not returning to Cairo. It was most unlikely that any opportunity such as this to get back to England would occur again, so he would be tying himself to Bonaparte for an indefinite period. And now the French Fleet had been destroyed, the Army was cut off. This meant that should disaster befall the adventurous Corsican he would be unable to take his Army back to France. He and all those with him would become slaves of some Eastern potentate or perish.

On the other hand, there beckoned England, Home and Beauty in the form of his beloved Georgina and, however passionately he might be attracted to other women, he always had loved and always would love her above all, for she was his true female counterpart in heart and mind as well as body.

Regretfully, but without hesitation, he put from him the lure of Zanthe.

Early in the afternoon the Sergeant of Marines unlocked the door and beckoned Roger out. With a gloomy grimace for the benefit of his fellow-prisoners, he stepped into the passage, then followed the Sergeant up on deck, happily confident that he was about to take the first fence that would put him on the way to England.

The Captain of Audacious, telescope under arm, was pacing his quarter-deck, while keeping an eye on the working parties labouring on the most urgent repairs to spars and rigging. Roger was marched up to him, then halted and made a graceful bow. The Captain returned it courteously and asked in poor French:

^' Is it true that you are one of General Bonaparte's aides-de-camp? '

Roger bowed again. ' Oui, Monsieur le Capitaine*

^' How long is it since you left the General? '

^' Six days. I am, as you say, direct from Cairo and became mixed in battle,* Roger replied with a strong accent and deliberately distorting his English.

The Captain nodded and spoke in English himself. ^' In that case I feel sure Sir Horatio Nelson would like to speak with you. I have ordered a boat and am sending you across to his flagship.'

^' It is great honour.' Roger bowed once more, now with a smile at having achieved his object without even having to use the bait he had prepared to get himself sent to the Admiral.

A well-grown Midshipman, who was standing by, was given a message about Roger for the Officer of the Watch in Vanguard. Roger was then taken to the ship's side, where a rope ladder led down to the waiting boat.

It was then that he had his first sight of the destruction wrought by the battle. Twenty-five ships lay at anchor scattered about the long, shallow bay. Culloden alone among them showed no sign of damage. Despite herculean efforts, and hours of cursing by her unfortunate Captain, Troubridge, who was one of Nelson's most able officers, it had proved impossible to get her off the sandspit beyond Aboukir Island, where she had run aground while still out of range of the enemy. There was hardly another ship that had not lost a mast, and several had had all three shot away. Most of the French ships had been reduced to no more than floating hulks and two, having been burnt out and sunk, had disappeared. From the masts still standing in the British ships many of the sails still sagged in tatters. For miles round the gently heaving sea was .strewn with wreckage, barrels, crates and hundreds of bobbing corpses, while scores of boats went to and fro among them picking up anything that appeared worth salvaging.

Through this watery charnel-house Roger was rowed to Vanguard. On board her the ^' Middy' gave his message and, after a wait of ten minutes out on the deck, Roger was taken in under the poop to Berry, Nelson's Flag Captain.

After greeting him courteously, Berry said in French, 'Since you have come from Cairo it is to be assumed that your Army has captured that city.'

'Yes,' Roger replied in the same language. 'On the 25th General Bonaparte took possession of the capital, after inflicting a crushing defeat on the Mamelukes four days earlier on the left bank of the Nile.'

' We picked up a rumour,' Berry said, ' that there had been a battle in which your Army was victorious, but we have had no particulars. Would you be agreeable, Colonel, to describing these events to my Admiral? '

Roger drew himself up and put his hand on his heart. ' You will appreciate, Captain, that it would not be in keeping with the honour of a soldier of France to disclose the strength of our forces, or their situation with regard to supplies. But I should be happy to describe to your Admiral the actions in which the Army has been engaged.'

Berry bowed. 'I thank you, Colonel. Sir Horatio has been wounded, although, thank God, not seriously; and he is at present much occupied. But I feel certain he would wish to hear an eyewitness account of these events. Be good enough to wait here.'

The Flag Captain left him and returned after a few minutes to take him along to a larger cabin. Nelson was seated behind a desk littered with papers. Roger had heard a great deal about this quite junior Admiral whose heroic exploits had already led the British people to take him to their hearts, but he had never before seen him.

Nelson had still two months to go before his fortieth birthday, but the pain he had suffered from severe wounds had made him look much older and had turned his hair grey. Roger was surprised, too, at the Admiral's frailty. With his thin, lined face and small body he looked a mere wisp of a man, and the loss of his right arm at the shoulder, with the sleeve pinned tightly across his chest, made him look even smaller. His head was bandaged and he was not wearing a shade over his misty eye, the sight of which he had lost during the taking of Corsica, but his ^' bright' eye gleamed as alert and purposeful as ever.

After the Peace of '83 he had taken six months' leave to go to France, with the intention of learning the French language, because few officers then spoke it and while in the West Indies, he had found it frustrating to have to rely on indifferent interpreters when questioning the personnel of French prizes he had taken. He had no gift for languages, so had never succeeded in fully mastering French, but he spoke sufficient of it to greet Roger in that tongue.

Politely coming to his feet, he said, ^' Colonel, may I offer you my commiserations on having become a prisoner-of-war; but be assured that we shall treat you with the respect to which your rank entitles you. Pray take a chair and tell me all that you feel you can in honour disclose about the remarkable prowess of your Army.'

Roger bowed and replied, 'Monsieur I'Amiral, the prowess of your Fleet equals, if not exceeds, that of our Army. I am greatly honoured that you should receive me. Since I must be conveyed to England as a prisoner there is one favour I would ask. Would you be so kind to inform Sir Christopher Brook of it? ' Then he calmly accepted the invitation to sit down, and crossed his long legs comfortably.

^'Chris Brook! ' exclaimed Nelson. ^' Why, he is an old friend. I served under him in the Indies. How comes it that you are acquainted with him? '

Roger cast a glance at Berry, who was standing in the doorway, and replied, ^' Our association was of a distinctly private nature; but if I had your ear alone . . .*

^' You intrigue me greatly,' said Nelson. Then he added to

Berry, 'I know you have much to do. Get on with it and leave me with the Colonel for a while.'

As Berry hesitated, the little Admiral pulled open a drawer in his desk, took a small pistol from it and pressed one of the triggers, upon which a miniature bayonet shot out from below the barrel. With a smile he said to Berry, ' Dear friend, I can see you fear that if you leave me alone with the Colonel he may do me an injury. Put your mind at rest. He is unarmed and, big fellow as he is, should he attack me I will stick him full of holes with this.'

When the Flag Captain had reluctantly withdrawn, Roger said in a low voice in English, ^' Sir, I have spent much of my life in France, and it is true that I am one of General Bonaparte's aides-de-camp. In France I am accepted as a Frenchman who has some English blood, and a number of people there believe me to be a cousin of one Roger Brook. The fact is that I am Roger Brook, son to Admiral Brook, and for the past ten years I have served my country in secret as an agent of Mr. Pitt.'

^' What's that you say! ' cried the Admiral. ^' That you are a Staff Officer of Bonaparte's, yet an Englishman and Chris Brook's son! I can scarce believe it.'

^' Here is the proof,' smiled Roger, undoing his tunic and producing the despatch. ^' General Bonaparte charged me to deliver this to Admiral Brueys for forwarding to the Directory. I did so yesterday afternoon, then could not escape remaining in L*Orient for the battle. After Admiral Brueys had been killed and the ship took fire, I went to his cabin, retrieved the despatch from a cabinet in which he had locked it and went overboard in the hope of bringing it to you. Under God's protection, I have succeeded.'

His good eye glittering with excitement, Nelson took the despatch and ripped it open. After a glance at the closely written pages he threw them back to Roger and said quickly, ^' Your French must be far better than mine, Mr. Brook. Pray translate it for me.'

To Roger the request presented no difficulty. For the next five minutes, pausing only now and then to render the sense exactly, he gave a version in English of the despatch. In a series of the abrupt, dogmatic statements that were typical of Bonaparte's address, either in speech or writing, it gave an account of his occupation of Cairo and his intention when he had fully subdued Egypt to march north and conquer Syria.

^' Shiver my timbers! ' Nelson exclaimed, when Roger had done. ^' This is indeed valuable intelligence, Mr. Brook. In obtaining it for us you have been of as much service to your country as an extra frigate would have been to me these past two months. Twas only the lack of sufficient of those eyes of the Fleet that prevented me from receiving intelligence of the whereabouts of the French weeks ago and coming up with them to destroy them utterly. Owing to your courageous conduct, we now know Syria to be the next victim on this horrible young Corsican's list.'

Roger shook his head. ^' Permit me to remark, sir, that General Bonaparte does not merit the opprobrium of the word ^'' horrible He is, like all the French who have risen to power since the Revolution, a thief on a grand scale. He is, moreover, completely unscrupulous. Daily he makes promises that he has no intention of keeping and, at any time, to gain his ends he will tell a barefaced lie.

^' Yet, as a person, he possesses great powers of attraction. At times he falls into ungovernable rages, but they are brief and the smiling amends he makes afterwards, if his fury has had small justification, leave their victim more devoted to him than before. He is extremely generous to those who have served him well, and particularly to his family who have done little to deserve it. He has no thought of amassing a fortune for himself, which he could so easily do, but seizes treasure only to fill the empty coffers of his country.

^' He is most loyal to his friends, invariably treats women with great courtesy, has an excellent sense of humour and delights in simple games. When I was living at the Court he formed in Italy, after the Armistice of Leoben, he would partake in the evenings, like any schoolboy, in charades with his family and friends, and in other pastimes, too, in which, at times, he willingly made himself a laughing stock.

^' And he has yet other sides. Although not trained to law, he is a great administrator. Although not schooled in science, he can hold his own with the finest intellects and his thirst for knowledge is insatiable. He has brought with him to Egypt more than a hundred distinguished civilians—archaeologists, architects, artists and others—for the purpose of revealing to the world the truth about the country's ancient civilization. No, sir, I assure you the word " horrible" is not applicable. I am even of the opinion that if given peace and power he would become a great and just ruler, bringing to France a new era of true liberty, toleration and prosperity.'

Nelson shook his head. ^' Indeed, Mr. Brook, I find this personal account by one who knows Bonaparte well of the greatest interest, and you have made out a good case for him. But it is the duty of both of us to do our, utmost to destroy him and all the other blasphemous atheists who now make the French race anathema to us. My most earnest prayer is that I may be permitted to continue helping in God's work and live to see this done. Please tell me now of your hazardous landing, the desert march and the great battle outside Cairo.'

For half an hour Roger described the scenes through which he had lived during the past month, Nelson interrupting him only occasionally to ask swift, shrewd questions. When he had clone the Admiral said:

^' And now, what of your future plans? '

Roger laughed. ^' Why, sir, I could not have a happier outlook. Being captured gives me the perfect excuse for returning to England, and I am counting on your good offices to have me conveyed thither.'

Nelson looked thoughtful, then he said, ^' But did you not tell me that you are employed by Mr. Pitt? '

^' Not in the ordinary sense, sir. I have undertaken certain special missions for him, but I remain my own master. When I last saw him I was not charged with any specific task. I volunteered only to return to France and do my best to keep him informed of the future intentions of the Directory. I will not trouble you with particulars of the event which led to my accompanying General Bonaparte to Egypt. It suffices to say that I had no wish to do so, but was compelled to it, lest suspicion fall upon me of my intentions in France.'

^' Yet coming to Egypt enabled you to provide us with an invaluable piece of intelligence—this despatch. Your position as an Englishman on Bonaparte's Staff is unique. If you remain here similar opportunities may well arise. Moreover you were previously cut off from sending regular reports, whereas now that the French Fleet is destroyed I shall blockade the coast. There will be British ships constantly patrolling these waters. We could arrange for boats to be sent ashore to lonely places at certain times to pick up anything you could send. Even a general outline once a month of what is going forward at Bonaparte's headquarters would be worth its weight in diamonds to us.'

Roger gave the Admiral an uneasy look. 'There is much in what you say, sir. But Cairo is all of five days' ride distant, and I could not leave my post at will. It would be near impossible to find a safe hand by which to send such reports to the coast and, did one go astray, it would cost me my life.'

'I appreciate that; but even so I think you should remain. Leaving aside the question of regular reports, you might well become privy to some major decisions by Bonaparte which could mean the success or failure of an entire campaign. It would then be worth while for you to leave your headquarters without permission in order to inform us of it.'

As Roger listened, black misery descended on him. It now looked as though his happy dreams of the morning were to be shattered completely. Suddenly revolting against the course the Admiral was seeking to force upon him, he exclaimed:

^' But damme, sir! I've already done enough to justify my request for a passage home. Owing to your great victory, the French are now cut off. Even should Bonaparte wish to take his Army back to France he cannot. So maybe for years to come I'd be stranded in the East.'

Nelson's thin, lined face grew stern. ^' Must I remind you, Mr. Brook, that our country is at war? On that account many of my brave men gave their lives this past night; whereas you are called on only to return to Cairo, and by so doing may render a service far greater than lay in the power of any one of them to perform.'

Roger suppressed a groan, then shook his head. 'I cry you mercy, sir! I am no coward. Time and again, during these past ten years, I've risked my life; but there's a limit beyond which-'

^' Mr. Brook! ' the Admiral cut in, ^' there is no limit to the duty we owe our King and country. And in these very special circumstances I do not consider it consonant with mine to find you a passage home.'

With fury in his heart, Roger stared at the frail, tense figure on the far side of the desk, then burst out, ^' If you think the last would deter me, you have misjudged your man. Had I a mind to it, I would unaided reach China or Peru. Aye, or still in the guise of a French Colonel break prison and, despite your damned blockade, reach home.'

A smile twitched at Nelson's lips and he said quietly, ^' You are wrong, Mr. Brook. I have not misjudged my man. There spoke the son of my old comrade-in-arms. You could not have proved better to me that you are a real chip off the old block and a true Englishman. And that is why you will return to Cairo.'

Roger slumped back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Then, suddenly, he smiled. ' I had meant to, sir, to give you joy of your great victory. Now I give you joy of two, although the latter is a very minor one. I give you best, and will do as you wish.'

' Well said! I felt assured you would.' The Admiral's bright eye now beamed with approval. 'With my next despatch I'll enclose a letter for your father's eye only, thus giving him the joy of reporting to Mr. Pitt the fine service rendered by his son. And now, how shall we set about returning you to Bonaparte? '

This was no simple matter; for the thunder of the cannonade had brought hundreds of Arabs to the beach, and since dawn they had been murdering and stripping such French sailors as had managed to swim ashore. Even if it had been safe for Roger to land he could not be provided with a horse and it was over ten miles to Alexandria. Then, since he insisted that none of Nelson's men should be allowed into his secret, they must continue to believe him French, yet some way must be devised by which he could escape.

After ten minutes' thought and discussion a way was found. Nelson recalled his Flag Captain and said to him, ' Berry, the Colonel is a most sensible man. Naturally he dreads the possibility of being held a prisoner for several years. Therefore, in return for a certain service—although I could not allow him to return to Bonaparte—I have agreed that we will put him ashore as a free man in Crete, Italy or Sicily, as may prove convenient. The service he will render us is to go in a boat with you to the outskirts of Alexandria and point out to you the position of certain concealed batteries the French have mounted along the coast. As the Colonel has not yet broken his fast, be good enough to take him to your cabin, have a meal and a bottle of Marsala sent there and then, while he eats, return to me.'

Berry gave Roger a look that barely disguised his contempt for such a traitor, then beckoned him to follow. He bowed his farewell to the little Admiral, with the faintest hint of a wink, and ten minutes later was hungrily disposing of a meal of salt pork washed down by good wine in the Flag Captain's cabin.

When Berry returned to his Admiral, Nelson said, ' Don't be deceived, my dear fellow, by our Colonel. He is no traitor, but a brave man and a slippery customer. I feel certain that he suggested this betrayal of the batteries outside Alexandria because he knows that twilight will be falling by the time a boat can take him there, and that it will have to go close inshore. Fd wager a guinea to a penny that he means to jump out and swim for it.'

' Should he attempt it,' Berry growled, ^' I'll put a pistol bullet through his head.'

The Admiral laughed. ^' Nay, nay; you'll do nothing of the kind. He gave the impression that he was talking very freely, and so did I. In short, I trust that I matched his cunning with my own. I've given him a main-sail full of false information and I wish him to convey it to that scoundrel Bonaparte. A mile or two before you come opposite Alexandria have the boat pull close inshore. Should I prove right, and he jump for it, let him. And beforehand you must give orders to the boat's crew that they should fire after him but in no circumstances hit him. Is that clear? '

^' Aye, aye, sir,' Berry grinned. ^' What a good jest, to use him to deceive the Frog-eaters.'

Roger had no sooner finished his meal than the Flag Captain escorted him down to a longboat, the crew of which had already received their instructions. Again he looked from side to side at the scene of terrible devastation and, as the sailors bent to their oars, the boat nosed its way between wreckage of all kinds and bloated corpses.

Half an hour's strenuous pulling brought them to seaward of Aboukir Island and, passing over the sandspit, they rounded the promontory. After another hour and a half, that seemed far longer to the anxious Roger, they were within a few miles of Alexandria. By then it was half past six and the sun was sinking low on the horizon. The boat was no more than a hundred yards from the shore and Roger felt that the time had come for him to make his breakaway.

In the stern of the boat Berry was sitting on the landward side of the coxswain and Roger on the seaward side. Praying that Nelson had given his instructions clearly, and that they would be obeyed to the letter, Roger pointed to a mound at no great distance from the beach, and said:

^' Regardez, Monsieur le Capitaine la premiere redoute . . Then, jumping up, as Berry turned to look shoreward, he gave him a sharp push sideways and leapt over the gunwale into the water.

As his head came up he heard shouts and oaths. Ducking swiftly, he swam a dozen yards under water. When he came up a second time he heard shots and several pistol bullets sang over his head. Swimming strongly he got halfway to the shore, then looked back. The coxswain was yelling at the crew of the boat and turning her to come after him. Berry was standing up in the stern, reloading his pistol. The shelving shore was shallow. Next moment Roger's feet and knees struck sand. Half wading, half swimming, he floundered on, looked back again and saw that the boat had run aground.

Two more pistols cracked. Fearful that he might yet be hit by a bullet, he stood up and splashed his way ashore. By the time his boots wpre squelching on dry sand the firing had ceased and two of the boat's crew, having poled their oars, were endeavouring to push the boat off into deeper water. He covered another hundred yards at a lurching run, then flopped down behind the nearest of a group of palm trees.

The only rest he had had since setting out from Damanhur, nearly forty hours earlier, had been his sleep of exhaustion on the hard tier deck of Audacious. He would have given a great deal to scoop out a hole for his hip in the warm sand and spend the night where he was. But he dare not, in case marauding Arabs came upon and killed him. After twenty minutes to recover from his exertions, he got to his feet and set out on the two-mile trudge to Alexandria.

By the time he reached the most advanced French picket it was fully dark and, when challenged, as he did not know the password, he could only shout that he was a French officer who had escaped from the English. Giving him the benefit of the doubt the sentry called his Sergeant and, as soon as the N.C.O. was satisfied, he could not have been more helpful. From somewhere he produced an Arab with a donkey cart and Roger was driven in it to Kleber's headquarters.

There he told his story to the General, who had already heard of the disaster to the French Fleet but was anxious to have a full account of it. Roger did his best to oblige him for some twenty minutes, then declared that he was so exhausted that he must go to bed. Kleber, loudly commending him for the wit and courage he had displayed in fooling ^' those pigs of English' and making his escape, took him up to a bedroom, and a quarter of an hour later he was fast asleep.

In the morning he woke with his bruised arm and side still very sore and, anxious though he now was to get back to Cairo, he decided that it would be foolish to set out on the long journey without having taken at least twenty-four hours to become in better shape. He took his time in getting up, washing and cleaning himself, while one of the Guides he had brought as escort sponged and pressed his now faded and tattered uniform.

Shortly before midday he went to Sarodopulous's office and asked the banker if he might spend the rest of the day and a night at his villa. The bearded Greek was delighted and told his handsome nephew, Achilles, to accompany Roger out to the villa and see that he had every comfort.

Roger spent a lazy afternoon on the terrace overlooking the bay. Shortly before dusk his host joined him and gave him the bits of news that he had received from correspondents in several countries, or had picked up from merchant captains who put in at Alexandria. Most of the news was months old, but it often took many weeks for happenings in Western Europe to become known in Egypt.

In May, Count Cobenzl had replaced the less urbane Baron Thugut as Austrian Foreign Minister, and a defensive Treaty had been signed between Austria and Naples.

Towards the end of May there had been a rebellion in Ireland. Disappointed of French support, but encouraged by the London Corresponding Society, some thirty thousand United Irishmen had taken up arms in Kildare and Westmeath. But the plot had been leaked, a number of the leaders had been arrested in Dublin just before the signal for the rising had been given and, after a limited amount of fighting, the revolt had been suppressed.

The most astounding news to Roger was that his real master had fought a duel. Apparently an Irish Member of Parliament, named Tierney, had so consistently sought to thwart him on questions of defence that in the House Mr. Pitt had publicly denounced him as a traitor and had refused to withdraw his words. Tierney had thereupon challenged him and, although frail ^' Billy' Pitt had never fired a shot in anger, he had at once accepted. On Whit Sunday, May 27th, they fought with pistols on Wimbledon Common. In the first discharge neither was hit. In the second Pitt fired into the air, and Tierney then refrained from firing, declaring himself satisfied. But that the brilliant, high-minded Prime Minister—the very soul of all that was best in Britain and the keystone of her resistance—should have felt in honour bound to expQse himself to possible death at the hands of a cantankerous, unpatriotic bully had profoundly shocked all decent people.

One other piece of news gave Roger pleasure. The personally charming but utterly irresponsible Charles Fox, wedded with the years ever more closely to the principles of the French revolutionaries, had, at a birthday dinner given in his honour, argued that two thousand good men might do as much in Britain as Washington had done in America, and later proposed the toast, ^' To our Sovereign, His Majesty the People \ For that the King had struck Fox's name from the members of the Privy Council.

Sarodopulous then asked Roger how he was placed for funds. Roger thanked him and replied that he had sufficient for his immediate needs and could obtain more from the Paymaster-General in Cairo.

Sarodopulous smiled at him. 'Perhaps that may not be as easy as you think now that L'Orient has gone down with the treasure that was to pay the French Army. Do not look surprised at my knowing about that, or of your capture and courageous escape, although you made no mention to me of it. As a banker it is my business to be well informed on such matters. All I wish to say is that owing to your introduction I have made a great deal of money, even though charging only the normal rate of exchange. Therefore should you at any time find yourself short, you have only to draw upon me and I shall be happy to honour your draft.'

Roger thanked him heartily and said that, while he hoped it would not be necessary, he would avail himself of the banker's generous offer should he find himself embarrassed for funds.

The Greek then drew from his pocket a little sack made of soft leather. Opening it, he tipped into his hand a finely worked gold neck-chain which had a single medium-sized but very fine blue diamond hanging from it. Handing it to Roger, he said :

'This at least I insist that you accept as an immediate token of my gratitude. In France a man like yourself must know some lady whom it would not be unfitting to adorn.'

When arranging for Sarodopulous to become financial agent to the French Army in Alexandria, Roger's only thought had been to make a return for the banker's past kindness. However he was well aware that not only in France, where there was now no limit to corruption, but also in England it was still general practice to receive a suitable present for such a service. In consequence, having expressed his delight at this beautiful jewel, he willingly accepted it, thinking meanwhile how well it would look between the breasts of his beautiful Zanthe.

Roger enjoyed an excellent meal with the banker, his sister-in-law and Achilles, then went early to bed, for he had ordered his escort of Guides to report at the villa at four o'clock the following morning; so that by an early start he might cover the thirty miles back to Damanhur before the great heat of the day.

It was on August 'th that he set out for Cairo. Having resigned himself to accept Nelson's arguments, he did so without reluctance. However uncertain and dubious the future to which he was again committed, for the moment he was more than consoled by the thought of the immediate joys that lay ahead of him. Fate had decreed that he would not, after all, have to sacrifice the delight of having the beautiful Zanthe for his mistress.

He felt no regrets for the way in which he had taken her. Any young woman in a country that had been invaded, who fell into the hands of its conquerors, would have been amazed had she been treated in any other way. The best she could hope for was that an officer would find her attractive and become her protector. To his mind, Zanthe had been exceptionally fortunate. Not only had she been saved from most brutal usage, by being bought by a man who was in a position to keep her in safety and comfort, but this man was one whom Roger—never having been given to false modesty—considered with some justification to be as fine a fellow as any she could have found in Cairo.

Her resistance, as it had transpired, had not been on account of any personal repugnance to him, or because he was one of the invaders of her country, or because she was in love with someone else; for, clearly, there had been no love between her and her husband, and Eastern women of good standing were given no opportunity to carry on love-affairs outside their homes. It had been due simply to the normal fears of any girl lacking all experience and about to be taken by a man whom she had known for little more than an hour. Had he realized that, he would have refrained from pressing her and given several days to wooing her into willing submission.

Yet, on consideration, he felt that it was just as well that things had happened as they had. After all she was not a young girl in the accepted sense, nor frigid from some inhibition, but a fully grown woman, capable, of intense passion, as he had soon discovered. Moreover in addition to her devastating physical attractions, she was obviously a cultured woman and spoke French fluently. That promised many hours of delightful conversation in which he would not have the labour of translating his thoughts into Arabic. Knowing the fatalism that was such a strong feature of all Eastern minds, he was in good hopes that when he got back to her she would receive him without rancour, having decided to accept her new situation. If she did still harbour resentment, when he presented her with the beautiful jewel that Sarodopulous had given him she could hardly fail to be pleased with such a splendid peace offering. But the more he thought about it the more confident he became that, having had close on a fortnight to ponder what would have been her fate had he not rescued her, she would have realized how fortunate she was and now be anxious to show her gratitude.

Eager as he was to behold her again, his bruised arm still pained him and he did not make any better speed than he had on his outward journey; but during the five days that it took him to get back to Cairo visions of Zanthe filled his mind to the exclusion of all else. He had to tell himself repeatedly that he must not let her make a slave of him, yet he knew that he was more passionately in love than he had been for a very long time.

Late in the afternoon of the 8th he entered Cairo and, in duty bound, rode straight to Bonaparte's headquarters to report his arrival. News of the annihilation of the French Fleet had reached the capital from Kleber by fast courier three days earlier, so the first shock and sense of despair felt by Bonaparte's Staff on learning that there could be no return to France had worn off. But when Roger entered the General-in-Chief's ante-room he was surprised to find that his own escape had been reported by another courier the previous day.

His fellow aides-de-camp and his old friend Junot, now a

General, who happened to be there, all hailed him with delight, crowding round to embrace and congratulate him. He was even more surprised when he heard the account they had received of his escape. It was believed that when being taken from one ship to another in a boat he had fallen upon the officer-in-charge, snatched both his pistols, shot him with one and the coxswain with the other, then dived overboard and swum through a hail of musket balls to the shore.

It was not uncommon for acts of bravery to be magnified in this way by inaccurate information and, as no one could prove to the contrary, Roger decided not to disillusion his admiring companions. It tickled his sense of humour that he should be acclaimed a hero for an exploit he had planned himself and carried out at little risk, and it was also pleasing to know that it would add considerably to the already high regard that Bonaparte had for him.

A few minutes later the General-in-Chief received him with great cordiality, patted him on his bruised arm, tweaked the lobe of his ear painfully—a favourite, if peculiar, way he had of showing his approval of those who had performed brave deeds—then made Roger sit down and give him a description of the battle, as he had so far had reports of it only from people who had not been present.

Bonaparte was still furious with Brueys for having failed to obey his instructions to seek safety under the guns of either Malta or Corfu, and thus losing his Fleet; but he did not seem at all dismayed at his Army now being cut off in Egypt, and he was intensely interested in the tactics used by the British Fleet.

Anxious as Roger was to get to Zanthe, it was over an hour before his master, giving Roger's ear another sharp tweak, allowed him to depart.

As he reached the door Bonaparte called after him, ^' You have returned just in time to accompany me on an expedition. That crafty old rogue, Ibrahim Bey, is still lurking, with several thousand Mamelukes, two or three days' march east of Cairo. Reynier, whose Division I sent in pursuit, does not appear able to overcome him, so I must go myself to drive him out of Egypt. We leave at four o'clock tomorrow morning.'

Roger's breath caught in his throat. Turning, he stared at Bonaparte's back, his face a picture of dismay. His first delight in Zanthe had been all too brief. Now he was to be torn from her arms in the middle of the night and might not see her again for weeks. To protest at an order of Bonaparte's could bring on one of those furious rages and even lead to dismissal. Yet he felt he must risk it. After a moment he said:

' Mon General. You know well that I would willingly go with you anywhere at any time. But should I collapse, I would only be a burden to you. During the past fourteen days I have had little sleep and in getting clear of the burning L'Orient my arm and side were bruised black and blue. One more day in the saddle and I fear I'd fall from it from sheer exhaustion.'

Bonaparte was already busy with some papers. He did not turn his head, but said, 'I had temporarily forgotten what you have been through. Get to bed, then, and I'll see you on my return.'

Nearly overcome with relief, Roger thanked him and stumbled from the room. On leaving the headquarters he almost ran the short distance to his little house. The door was standing open. Hurrying inside he noticed that, although the fountain was still playing in the small open court, the piles of cushions had been removed from the corners. Vaguely he wondered why. Running upstairs, he found the door of the principal bedroom also open. There was not a stick of furniture in it. Frantically, he yelled for Marbois. There came no reply. The house was empty, and Zanthe gone.

The Loves of the Exiled

Scarcely able to believe his eyes, Roger stared about him. Empty of furniture, the room seemed larger than when he had last been in it. For an instant he thought that he might have entered the wrong house; but he had not. He recognized the intricate pattern of the lace-like woodwork of the enclosed balcony that protruded over the narrow street.

Swinging on his heel, he again yelled for Marbois, then for the Arab servants. The echo of his voice came back to him, but no other sound broke the stillness. Pounding down the stairs three at a time he rushed through to the kitchen quarters. There was no one there, the fire was out, the cooking pots had gone and the cupboards stood open. Only some decaying vegetables and a little spilled fat on a stone slab, both now black with flies, showed that the place had ever been occupied.

Still he could hardly credit that he was not suffering from an appalling nightmare. The mental pictures he had been conjuring up of his return to Zanthe were still so clear in his mind that it fought desperately against accepting the fact that he had lost her. After a few minutes he persuaded himself that she would not have fled from him deliberately, and that there must be some other explanation for her disappearance.

Although already subconsciously aware of it, the thought that Marbois had also disappeared suddenly became uppermost in his mind; and Marbois must know what had happened. Next moment Roger was out in the street and running hard in the direction of a Flamam in which his servant's Company had been quartered. On reaching it he controlled himself with an effort, broke into a swift walk and strode inside.

There, amid a splendour of Moorish arches, tiled walls and bathing pools, some fifty soldiers were lounging, playing cards, polishing their equipment or simply dozing on straw-filled palliasses.

Marbois was among them. On seeing Roger enter, he stood up then, suddenly white-faced and apprehensive, came hesitantly towards him.

'What are you doing here? ' Roger demanded. ^'1 ordered you to remain in the house until my return.'

^'1 ... I left it only because it was empty, Monsieur le Colonel' stammered the young Provencal.

'Empty! ' cried Roger. ^'What the hell do you mean? Who emptied it? Explain yourself this instant! '

^' The people who owned the house,' replied the trembling Marbois. ^' They came back two days after you left Cairo. A father and three younger men that I took to be his sons. They talked for some time with the Arab servants, then went away. That night they came back with carts and carried all the furniture out to them. . . .'

^' And you let them? ' Roger blazed. ^' You, a soldier of France, allowed these people to render my lodging uninhabitable and put you out into the gutter! '

^' Monsieur, I was one and they were many. They set on me and tied me up, then emptied the house and left me there. It was morning before I managed to free myself and report what had happened.'

^' To whom did you report? '

^' To the Commander of my Company, Captain Lestrange.'

^' Very well. Get back to the house. Beg, borrow or steal something for me to sleep on tonight and food for the morning.' Abruptly, Roger turned on his heel and, followed by the amused glances of a score of soldiers who had listened in silence to his outburst, stalked from the baths.

It took him an hour to run Lestrange to earth and when he did he received scant satisfaction. The Captain agreed that an assault on a French soldier was punishable by death, but pointed out that justice could not be done on the culprits when their identity was unknown.

Roger angrily demanded why he had neglected to find out the name of the owner of the house and have him searched for. Lestrange excused himself by saying that it was not as though

Marbois had been murdered; he had many other duties to attend to, and surely now that Roger had returned to Cairo he could easily find himself another comfortable lodging.

Roger did not care a fig about having been left with an empty house. It was the loss of Zanthe that was driving him almost berserk. But nothing could be gained by telling the Captain about her, and what had occurred was already clear to him. Like hundreds of other well-to-do citizens of Cairo, the owner of the house had fled owing to the riots that had followed the Battle of the Pyramids. Some days later, learning that Bonaparte had restored order in the city, he had returned to resume possession. Finding that it had been taken over by a French officer, and realizing that he had no hope of turning him out, he had decided to make sure that he was at least not robbed of his belongings. So he had removed everything and had taken Zanthe with him.

Hurrying back to the house Roger questioned the people who lived on either side of it. At first they denied all knowledge of their neighbour, but eventually admitted that his name was Hassan ben-Jussif and that he was a dealer in precious stones. However, neither threats nor offers of money would induce them to give any information about his relatives, or suggest where he had gone.

By then it was dusk, but Roger would not yet give up. He spent another hour and a half seeking out the Provost Marshal. Having described what had taken place, he asked that an intensive search be set on foot for both Hassan ben-Jussif and Zanthe. But he had been able to secure only a very vague description of the former, and when he attempted to give a word picture of Zanthe that would make her identifiable he found it far from easy.

To his intense annoyance he now realized that he had not troubled to ask her full name or that of her dead husband. He could only say that she was about seventeen, of medium height, dark-haired but fair-skinned, had a well-developed figure and a beautiful face, with tawny eyes, eyebrows that turned up at the ends, a full mouth and gleaming white teeth.

The Provost Marshal shook his head and said, ^' I'll do what I can, my dear fellow, but I cannot hold out much hope of tracing these people. Cairo has a population of near half a million and there are a thousand streets and alleys in it. As ten days have elapsed since this occurrence, any trail they may have left has gone cold by now. There are hundreds of places in which this man ben-Jussif might remain concealed for months without my police obtaining word of him. As for the girl, she will have been put in some harem or other and is unlikely to emerge again. Besides, the fact that you bought her from some soldiers for a hundred louis gives you not a jot of title to her under Mohammedan law. And you must know the orders that the General-in-Chief has given. He is so anxious to woo these people that it has been made a crime to molest them in any way. He allowed the troops a limited licence for those first few nights in Cairo, but now my instructions are that even street women must be treated with reasonable decency.'

With this cold comfort, and now ready to drop with fatigue, Roger once more returned to the house. Marbois had, meanwhile, made him up a shake-down in the big bedroom. Gazing round its echoing emptiness with lack-lustre eyes, he thought bitterly of the scene that during the past few days he had so consistently envisaged as taking place there; then he threw off his clothes and, almost crying with distress, fell asleep.

Next morning he gave Marbois money to buy new pots and pans and told him to engage a houseman and a cook. Then he went out himself and bought divans, cushions, handwoven rugs and other items, sufficient to furnish about one-third of the house, which was all he intended to occupy. Having completed his purchases he went to headquarters and sought out Bourrienne, in order to learn from him what had been taking place recently in Cairo.

Industrious as the Chef de Cabinet was by nature, his master's departure from Cairo had eased the pressure of business; so he was pleased to see and talk with his one-time assistant. He said that during the fortnight that the General-in-Chief had spent in the Egyptian capital he had displayed more than ever his extraordinary ability to tackle scores of problems with sound judgment and despatch.

General Bon, with his Division, had been permanently installed in the great Citadel outside the city, to overawe such groups of malcontents as remained in it, and, as a warning to possible trouble-makers, Bonaparte still had the heads of half a dozen men who were guilty of small offences cut off publicly in the streets every evening. On the other hand, he had been greatly impressed with the bravery of the Mamelukes, so was now forming those taken prisoner into Companies, to be incorporated into the French Army and, as a mark of his confidence in them he had taken two, Roustan and Ibrahim, into his personal service.

Without waiting a day he had appointed nine prominent Sheiks to form a Divan, invested with authority to keep order in the city. Two days later he established four similar Divans in the provinces of Alexandria, Rosetta, Ghizeh and Kelyoub. Thus he gave the inhabitants the illusion that they were to be governed by men of their own race, while in reality he kept local control himself and vested it in the provinces in Kleber, Menou, Belliard and Murat. He had also appointed Intendants, to collect for him all taxes formerly paid to the Mamelukes, had done much by a series of proclamations to get the wheels of commerce turning normally again and had given an order that wherever the victorious Tricolour of France was flown, the Crescent of Islam should be hoisted to fly beside it.

He had, too, lost no time in informing the Directory of his immediate needs to convert Egypt into a pleasant and thriving French colony, and Bourrienne showed Roger a copy of the list he had sent. It read: a company of actors, a company of dancers, four marionette shows, a hundred Frenchwomen, the wives of all the married men in the Army, twenty surgeons, thirty apothecaries, ten physicians, some founders, some distillers and dealers in liquor, fifty gardeners and their families and seeds of every kind of vegetable, a hundred thousand litres of brandy, thirty thousand ells of blue and scarlet cloth and a supply of soap and oil.

Roger thought the priorities somewhat strange but, as he handed the list back, his only comment was, ^'1 fear it will be a long time now before we see either the marionettes or the whores.'

Bourrienne gave a wry smile. ^' Yes. This, of course, was sent off before we heard about the destruction of our Fleet. That is a terrible blow to us. When I received the despatch our little man was out in the desert, and I sent it on to him. Temporarily, I think, he was quite shattered, but he has remarkable resilience. In no time, he was going about saying such things as, ^'' This is the moment when characters of a superior order assert themselves. The English have compelled us to do greater things than we expected " and ^'' We must now die in this country or come out of it as great as the Ancients."'

The last sums up our situation in a nut-shell,' remarked Roger gloomily.

^' But think of the countries we shall see, if we survive. Having secured our rear by conquering Syria, we shall descend the Red Sea, invade and subdue India, turn north-west through Persia, overrun Turkey and arrive home by way of a crushed Austro-Hungary.'

'Heavens above! C^n you mean this? *

' Not seriously,' Bourrienne smiled, ^' but at times that is the way our master talks. Personally, I think the duration of our ordeals in the East depends upon events in France. Although he fancies himself in the role of another Alexander, it is upon France that his eyes are really fixed. By leaving the stage there he has given the Directors enough rope to hang themselves, and as soon as they are ripe to swing he will somehow manage to return.'

^'What! And leave us in some damned jungle to be eaten by cannibals? '

Bourrienne laughed. ^'1 don't think he would leave me, but he would have to leave a lot of other people and, perhaps, you would be among them.'

^' Enough! ' Roger cried, standing up. ^' I've ample to depress me without listening to prognostications of so black a future.' And, leaving his friend, he went back to his lodging to superintend the installation of the new furniture he had bought.

During Bonaparte's absence the gallant Desaix had been left in command in Cairo. Roger, in an attempt to take his mind off the loss of Zanthe, attached himself temporarily to him. As Desaix had his own aides-de-camp, Rapp and Savary, Roger was given no special tasks, but he attended the General on an interesting inspection of the Citadel. There was a magnificent collection of armour in it, taken from the Crusaders. Some of the helmets hung outside one of the great interior gates of the fortress and, although they had been there for six hundred years, owing to the dry climate of Egypt they showed little sign of deterioration.

He also rode out with Desaix and some hundred others to the Pyramids. There they marvelled at those vast monuments formed from great blocks of stone, so perfectly aligned that one could not put even the blade of a dagger between them. With a dozen or so of the younger officers, Savary and Roger climbed to the top of the Great Pyramid. It was a most exhausting exploit; but when they reached the summit they found that the apex of marble casing had been torn away, so there was plenty of room to sit down and enjoy the stupendous view.

Yet these distractions failed to keep Roger's thoughts for long from Zanthe. Every morning he harried the Provost Marshal with fruitless enquiries for news of ben-Jussif. Whenever he walked the streets he peered at the face of each woman, however poorly dressed, hoping that above her yashmak he might recognize the lovely, tawny eyes that still haunted his daydreams.

After a week's absence Bonaparte returned. On August 11th he had met and defeated Ibrahim Bey's force at Salahiyeh and had driven the remnants of it back to the Syrian frontier.

On the 18th the Nile was declared to have risen to the maximum height it could reach that year and Bonaparte, desirous of gaining the goodwill of the people, joined with his Staff in the annual rejoicing. Two days later there fell the great festival of the Birth of the Prophet. The Sheiks and Imams, now anxious to propitiate the weedy little Corsican who had been clever enough to endow them with a semblance of power and before whom they now bowed low, addressing him as 'The Exalted One', invited him to attend the celebrations.

Accordingly, accompanied by several Generals and the principal members of his Staff, he went to the house of the Sheik El Bekri. Like the hundred or more Sheiks assembled there, they sat down on carpets, with their legs crossed. The Sheiks then recited many verses from the Koran recording the life of the Prophet and, as they uttered their sing-song litany, swayed their bodies to and fro rhythmically. Afterwards a great supper was served of foods, mostly very highly spiced, and an abundance of sweetmeats. Everyone used his fingers to eat with, which surprised most of the French guests; but Roger, having travelled in the East, was used to this custom.

Through his interpreter, Bonaparte made it clear that he thought more highly of the Mohammedan than the Christian religion; so he was pressed by the Imams to become a convert to their faith. With his usual duplicity he led them on by saying that he would like to do so, but did not feel that he could submit to circumcision or give up wine, which was a necessity to people who had been reared in a cold country.

His objections gave the Imams much to wrangle over during the months that followed. They eventually agreed that circumcision could be dispensed with and that wine might be drunk in proportion to the good works accomplished by the drinker. But by that time Bonaparte had other fish to fry and, in any case, he had never had the least intention of antagonizing the millions of convinced Christians in Europe by becoming a Muslim.

The nearest he ever got to that was to have a Turkish costume made for himself and appear in it one morning at breakfast, to amuse his officers; but he soon found it so uncomfortable that, having had his joke, he threw it off.

On August 22nd he founded the Institute of Egypt on the model of the famous lnstitut de France. It had four Sections—Mathematics, Physics, Political Economy, and Literature and Art. Monge was made President, Bonaparte modestly reserving for himself the Vice-Presidency. Berthollet, Denon and all the other intellectuals who had accompanied him to Egypt made up the membership. Also included was a number of his officers, selected by him in this instance only on their standard of education. Caffarelli —his one-legged, highly gifted Chief Engineer—was among them, and Bourrienne; also Roger, on account of the many languages that he spoke and the fact that his general knowledge far surpassed that of his courageous brother aides-de-camp.

At the very first meeting of the Institute Bonaparte requested its members to deliberate and report on: how to improve the baking ovens of the Army; could any substitute for hops be found for making beer; were there any means of purifying the waters of the Nile; would windmills or watermills prove more serviceable in Cairo; could saltpetre be found in Egypt, or some other ingredient that would enable gunpowder to be made locally. He also charged the Institute to examine measures for improving the education of the natives and to bring out a newspaper every ten days, in French, to be called ' Decade Egyptienne'.

The Institute was housed in a palace of one of the Beys. All the machines and technical instruments brought from France were set up in it, a big laboratory for chemical experiments was installed and soon a number of rooms began to be filled with objects of interest dug up by the archaeologists. Some of them measured the Pyramids and the Sphinx, others made drawings of temples, statues and mummies. Others again set themselves the colossal task of translating the hieroglyphics.

Meanwhile Bonaparte set up scores of small factories—a mint, foundries, distilleries, gunsmiths, shoemakers, clothiers, saddlers, ropemakers and others—in which he employed all the tradesmen of his Army. Rarely, if ever, has so much been accomplished with so little by one man in so short a time.

Yet, after a month in Cairo, the Army was seething with discontent. Both officers and men found Egypt far from being, as had been depicted to them, the fabled land of the Ptolemies. Food was short and monotonous. No man might go out alone in the streets at night or wander far from a camp in the desert without risk of being set upon and killed. They were not even allowed the consolation of robbing the native traders and making free with their women. Wine was unobtainable, and strong liquor far beyond the price they could afford. Above all, they were now cut off from their homes and beginning to fear that they would never see them again.

The resentment of some of the senior officers at Bonaparte having got them into this situation was still more bitter than that of their juniors, for many of them had made fortunes during the Italian campaign and now they saw no prospect of ever getting back to France to enjoy them. Even Generals such as Lannes, Bessieres and Murat, who owed everything to Bonaparte, criticized him openly in his presence until, on one occasion, he was stung into rounding on them and snapping at the huge mulatto, Dumas:

'Enough of your seditious parleys! Take care that I do not perform my duty. Your six feet of stature shall not save you from being shot.*

Very few officers were prepared to stand up for their General-in-Chief, but among them was the faithful Junot, whom he had picked out when a Seargeant at Toulon and made his very first aide-de-camp. Junot heard one of his brother Generals, Lanusse, make some disparaging remarks about their master and promptly joined issue with him. Murat was also present and, wishing to reconcile them, invited them both to dine with him that day. Bessieres, Lannes, Lavalette, Leclerc, Roger and several other officers were also invited. After dinner they sat down to cards. Junot was the biggest winner and after a time had a pile of gold pieces in front of him. Lanusse, having lost heavily, asked him for the loan of ten louis, upon which Junot replied, ' I'll not lend money to a traitor like you.'

Instantly everyone was on his feet. Lanusse retorted that Junot was a scoundrel. The others endeavoured to pacify them, but it was useless. Although duels were forbidden they insisted on fighting at once, and that it should be a duel to the death.

Lanusse, being the challenged party, had the choice of weapons and chose pistols. It was an insane choice because Junot was the best pistol-shot in the Army and at twenty-five paces could cut a bullet in two on the blade of a knife. With great generosity he refused to fight with pistols and, despite the protests of his friends, insisted that it should be swords.

The palace occupied by Murat had a pleasant garden sloping down to the Nile, and they trooped out there. By then it was nine o'clock and darkness had fallen; so their host tried to stop the duel on the pretext that they could not see well enough for it to be a fair fight. But Lanusse shouted some offensive expressions about Bonaparte, and Lannes cried with an oath, 'Hold your tongue! You're going to cut one another's throats. Isn't that enough? '

Torches were fetched and by their light the two Generals threw off their coats, then sparks flew from their sabres as each tried to cut down the other. The impetuous Junot delivered a stroke that would have killed Lanusse had he not been wearing his hat. As it was, the hat saved his head and the point of the blade laid open only his cheek. In delivering the blow, Junot had exposed himself and, Lanusse being the better swordsman, brought his sabre round in a back-hander that inflicted a terrible wound eight inches long right across Junot's stomach.

It fell to Roger, the following morning, to break to his master the news of the affair and that Junot was lying at death's door. Bonaparte's first words were,^' My poor Junot! Wounded for me! But the idiot; why did he not fight with pistols? ' Then, seized by one of his terrible rages, he cried:

^' Why am I cursed with such Generals? Have they not enough to do with the Mamelukes and the Arabs, that they must go into the reeds of the Nile and cut each other's throats among the crocodiles? For this Junot deserves putting under arrest for a month as soon as he gets well.'

Another General who was constantly whining to get home was Berthier. While in Rome, the ugly little man had fallen in love with the beautiful Madame Visconti. So consumed with passion for her was he that during the campaign his Staff-work had gone all to pieces, and Bourrienne had actually come upon him in his tent, kneeling on the ground and praying before a portrait of his lovely mistress.

Roger could sympathize with him, as his own craving for Zanthe continued unabated. The Provost Marshal's police had completely failed to trace ben-Jussif; but towards the end of August chance led to Roger's seeing her again.

Among Bonaparte's endeavours to render the garrison of Cairo more content had been the organizing of the Tivoli Garden. A number of cafes had been opened there, at which officers and men could drink, play cards and discuss the news that came in from the Divisions that were still carrying on a guerilla warfare in the desert. It was also frequented by the few Frenchwomen who had succeeded in smuggling themselves on to the ships of the armada, or had since managed to reach Egypt on other vessels, the wives and daughters of the European merchants established in Cairo and of those wealthy Copts who were not, like the Moslem ladies, confined to harems.

In the cool of the evenings, except that it was graced with palms instead of chestnut trees, it had become more or less a replica of the garden of the Palais Royal in Paris. Zanthe was half French, and Roger had a faint hope that one evening she might come to the garden; so he often frequented it; but it was not there that he was destined to meet her.

Other diversions instituted by Bonaparte were duck-shoots in the early morning in the marshes of the Nile, and boating parties on the river later in the day. One afternoon Roger, Duroc and Lavalette decided to go on a boating expedition, so went down to one of the wharves. Two handsome palanquins had been set down on it. They obviously belonged to someone of importance, for not only were there negro bearers lounging beside them but also an escort of Turkish Janissaries.

While Roger and his fellow aides-de-camp were waiting for a boat, a beautiful gilded barge pulled in to the wharf. Two more Janissaries sprang out of it and proceeded to help ashore half a dozen Muslim ladies. All of them were wrapped in voluminous robes of silk and wore yashmaks which concealed the lower parts of their faces. The first of the group was obviously elderly and, as she passed the French officers, she lowered her eyes to the ground; but the second gave them a quick glance and Roger caught it. He would have known those wonderful tawny eyes anywhere.

^' Zanthe! ' he cried, springing forward.

The startled look in her eyes showed that she had already recognized him but, instantly, she switched her glance away and hurried after the leader of the group towards the more richly decorated of the two palanquins. At Roger's cry, the Janissaries gave him an angry stare and closed round the ladies. Duroc, meanwhile, had grabbed him by the arm, pulled him back and demanded:

^' What are you about? '

^' That lady . . .' Roger stammered. ^'1 know her! Let me go! I must speak with her.'

Stiil gripping his arm, Duroc exclaimed, ^' You cannot! Are you mad? You know the General-in-Chief's orders. These people are Turks, and of high standing. They are our allies, and he'll have your head off if you interfere with one of their women.'

^'She's not a Turk; she's French! Or half French, anyway,' Roger protested. But Duroc continued to cling to him, while the six women mounted into the palanquins and were borne away.

For a further few minutes Roger and Duroc wrangled, then, on Roger's giving his word that he would do nothing rash, Duroc let him go. Hurriedly he set off after his beloved until he came up to within a dozen paces of the rear palanquin, and he followed it at a slower pace. For a quarter of an hour the little cavalcade wound its way through the tortuous streets of the old city, then entered the courtyard of a large palace that Roger instantly recognized. It was that of the Sultan's Viceroy, who had fled, and it had since been occupied by the Pasha whom he had left behind as his deputy.

Far from being elated at having at last discovered where Zanthe now lived, Roger was cast into further depths of misery. Violent jealousy was now added to the torment of his loss, for it seemed obvious that Zanthe, having lost her husband, had been taken as a concubine by the powerful Pasha. The thought of her in the arms of that grossly fat, cunning Oriental, whom he had seen on several occasions, nearly drove Roger into a frenzy. Blinded by rage he stalked the streets, heedless of where he was going, and it was over an hour before he had cooled down sufficiently to think clearly.

Returning to the palace, he made a careful reconnaissance. In his fervid imagination he was now visualizing himself breaking in and rescuing Zanthe from the horrible fate that he felt certain must have been forced upon her by her family. The entrance to the courtyard was guarded by Janissaries and on either side it was flanked by other palaces; so he walked through several narrow, zigzagging alleys until he judged that he had got behind it. Some minutes elapsed before he was able to make quite certain of his bearings; but at length he satisfied himself that a long, eighteen-foot-high wall, with iron spikes on top and the fronds of palm trees showing above them, must screen from sight the bottom of the spacious garden of the palace.

In the wall there was a single, low doorway of stout wood bound with iron. It was barred on the inside, and one glance at it was sufficient to tell him that it would be difficult to force short of blowing it open with gunpowder. It reminded him of a similar door that he had blown open in India, also with the intention of rescuing a lovely lady from a harem.

But the circumstances had then been very different. He had had British troops to aid him, the girl inside had been English and, in all but name, his wife; for they had planned to marry as soon as they could get home. Now, even if he procured a bag of gunpowder and blew in the door, how could he hope to overcome single-handed the score or more of Janissaries that the Pasha retained as a bodyguard?

A further thought then cooled his ardour. Could he even count on Zanthe being willing to let him carry her off? It was possible that, as an Eastern woman, brought up in the Mohammedan traditions, she had never expected to have a young and handsome husband. As the daughter of an Arab merchant she might even count herself lucky to have become—as her beauty would ensure —the pampered favourite in a wealthy nobleman's seraglio.

Loath to give up his wild idea of regaining possession of Zanthe by force, he spoke to a man who was sitting in a doorway of one of the houses facing the wall. On the flimsy excuse that he was feeling faint from lack of air, he offered the man a piece of money to be allowed to go up and sit for a while on the roof of his house. The man, who was a leather merchant, readily agreed and led him through his shop, up two flights of rickety stairs on to the roof. Like nearly all the roofs in Cairo it was flat and, the house being a two-storey one, only a few feet above the level of the wall opposite.

From there Roger could see, two hundred yards away, the upper storeys of the back of the palace and the domes of its roof, but his hopes of seing into the garden were disappointed. Immediately inside the wall a double row of palm trees had been planted, so that their interlaced fronds rose for another dozen feet above the wall, thus securing the privacy of the garden from the gaze of the occupants of the dwellings outside it. If he came and sat there for hours every day, there still would be no chance of even catching a glimpse of his divinity.

Returning to his house he refused the meal that had been prepared for him and spent a miserable evening thinking of plans to get speech with Zanthe, only to reject them. Had she been living in the house of her former husband, he might have got into it by disguising himself as an Arab pedlar of silks, fans or perfumes, or he could have kept observation on it until, as sooner or later must prove the case, she would be carried from it in a litter to visit friends or go shopping in the bazaar. But, even if he could get into the palace, he knew that he would never be allowed into the seraglio, and any attempt to waylay her when she left would be equally hopeless, as it was certain that she would be accompanied by a guard of Janissaries.

Next day, almost ill with longing for her, he resumed his duties. But he was not the only one mooching round headquarters in a state of sullen depression, although the others had different reasons. The situation of the Army was going from bad to worse. Many of the men had become victims of venereal disease, contracted from the coloured street-women, and several hundred were suffering from acute ophthalmia, caught while bathing in the polluted waters of the Nile. Food was becoming scarcer than ever and from Alexandria and Rosetta Kleber and Menou both reported actual famine; because Nelson, realizing how short the French were of supplies, had deliberately put ashore the three thousand sailors he had captured at Aboukir, to deplete further their scant reserves.

In spite, too, of all Bonaparte's blandishments, the half-million population of Cairo were becoming increasingly restless. They were finding, as had other people whose countries he had occupied, that^' liberation ' by the French had to be paid for in no uncertain manner. Not only were taxes exacted as heavy as they had had to pay under the brutal oppression of the Mamelukes, but the French, having lost their own treasure in L'Orient, were now seizing hoards of gold wherever they could find them, in order to pay their troops. The number of French soldiers murdered increased weekly, and even the Turkish officials would no longer co-operate with their ^' allies' except when practically forced to do so.

Bonaparte continued to work like a demon and showed no lack of confidence in the future. But at about this time he received a terrible personal blow, about which Roger heard from Bourrienne.

The letters that now got through from France were very few, but one had reached Junot. Among other news, it stated that Josephine was being unfaithful to her husband and that her infidelities were so flagrant that they were the talk of Paris. Junot, who regarded Bonaparte as a god, could not endure the thought that his wife should betray him. He became so enraged that he committed the shocking indiscretion of showing the letter to his beloved master.

Bonaparte had good cause to suspect that Josephine had already been unfaithful to him within a few weeks of their marriage. He had had to leave her in Paris after a single night's honeymoon to set off on his Italian campaign and, despite his passionate appeals by letter to her, many months had elapsed before he could persuade her to join him in Italy. Now that he was convinced of her infidelity his rage and despair knew no bounds.

Some days later, in the hope of getting Josephine out of his mind, he ordered Duroc to arrange an entertainment for himself and his Staff at which he could inspect a number of Eastern beauties. Duroc, being puritanical by nature, was not the man to have been charged with this commission, and he bungled matters badly, probably by simply ordering an Arab slave-dealer to select the beauties for him. In any case, those produced at the Haman where the party was held were to the Arab and not the European taste. They were quite young, but had been specially fattened by a regime of idleness and gorging great quantities of sweetmeats. Their breasts were huge and their bottoms enormous. In vain they sang a monotonous chant in shrill voices, twanged their lyres and wagged their naked stomachs in a Nautch dance. Bonaparte looked on sourly for a while, then stood up and stalked out in disgust.

Yet, a few days later, his interest was really caught, and by a Frenchwoman he chanced to see in the Tivoli Garden. Roger, who happened to be with him, was promptly charged to find out who she was. As Roger had once before played ponce, in the service of his country, to Bonaparte, he had no objection to doing so again in the hope of cheering up the unhappy little Corsican and rendering the atmosphere at headquarters slightly less sultry.

The following evening he was able to report that the lady's name was Marguerite Pauline Foures, and that she was the wife of a Lieutenant in the 22nd Infantry of the Line. They had married only just before the expedition had sailed for Egypt and were so loath to part that, disguised in the uniform of a soldier, she had accompanied her husband on the voyage. Bonaparte then told Roger to arrange a little dinner party, at which the lady would be present.

Using General Dupuy, who was then Commander of the Cairo garrison, as his willing stalking horse, Roger arranged for the party to be held at the General's house. He then got together half a dozen other senior officers whose wives had, in one way or another, succeeded in reaching Cairo, and had an invitation sent to Madame Foures, which did not include her husband. In spite of that the lady, doubtless flattered by this attention from the High Command and even, perhaps, hoping to advance her husband's prospects, accepted.

After dinner the General-in-Chief dropped in. With his usual directness he stared at Marguerite Pauline as though he meant to eat her, and nobody could deny that she was worth staring at. She was small, had a lovely figure, big violet eyes and such an abundance of fair, golden hair that it was said that it would make a cloak for her whole body. To these personal charms were added great vitality, a bubbling sense of humour, a silvery laugh and a voice which would have enabled her to earn her living as a professional singer.

That evening Bonaparte attempted nothing, but told Roger that he must arrange another dinner party, and soon. Roger obliged and, before hand, received his master's instructions. This time the General-in-Chief attended the dinner, sitting on one side of Pauline while Roger sat on the other. The meal had hardly started when Roger, carrying out his orders, clumsily spilt his soup into Pauline's lap. His master jumped to his feet, abused him roundly and, taking Pauline by the arm, hurried her off into another room to help her repair the damage. To the considerable embarrassment of the rest of the party they were away for two hours.

The next move was to get rid of Pauline's husband. Bonaparte sent for him and said that he had heard such excellent reports of him that he had decided to do him a signal honour. Handing him a bulky despatch, he told him to return to France and deliver it to the Directory. The astonished Lieutenant, believing that his fortune was made, hurried off to Alexandria and went aboard a merchant ship. As the wily Corsican had expected, the ship and Lieutenant Four&s were promptly captured by the English.

By then, Bonaparte had installed the gay and charming La Belilotte, as Pauline was nicknamed, in his own palace and, with the utmost cheerfulness, was parading her about Cairo openly as his mistress. The British had many spies in Cairo and the Commodore in charge of the blockade had learned of the French General-in-Chief's infatuation; so he decided to play him a scurvy trick. He told the gullible Foures that his ship had been ordered to the Pacific and that it would be inconvenient to have a prisoner on board for many months. Then he courteously put him ashore.

Foures hurried back to Cairo, was amazed to find his wife absent from their lodging and, after receiving many evasive replies from people whom he questioned, at last learned what had happened. Against everyone's advice he forced his way into her apartment and a stormy scene followed. But Pauline was far too honest and much too pleased with her good fortune to beat about the bush. She sent him packing. Next day, on the orders of the General-in-Chief, the Commissary-General of the Army pronounced the Foures divorced, and the Lieutenant passed from the pages of history.

Glamorous, amusing, kind-hearted Pauline then settled down to enjoy herself thoroughly. She was beloved by everyone and in the afternoons, when she drove round the city in a carriage and pair, always escorted by two of her lover's aides-de-camp, the troops all greeted her with cries of ^' Good luck to you, Cleopatra! ' and 'Long live the little General! '

The only person who disapproved of the arrangement was seventeen-year-old Eugene de Beauharnais who, much as he admired his step-father, had the boldness to protest at this infidelity to his mother. But the young man had not a leg to stand on, and the only satisfaction he got was to be relieved of his turns at escorting La Belilotte on her afternoon drives.

Throughout September, in all else things went no better for Bonaparte. He was still doing his utmost to persuade the Turks that he had taken over Egypt in the interests of their master the Sultan. In the hope of furthering this policy he despatched a letter in most cordial terms to Djezzar, the Pasha of Acre. This Pasha had a most unpleasant reputation for craft and extreme cruelty; but he ruled all Syria and, although nominally the Sultan's Viceroy, had made himself virtually independent, so he would have proved a powerful ally. But he contemptuously ignored Bonaparte's overture.

In mid-October good news came in from the south. Desaix had been despatched, with some three thousand men, up the Nile to deal with about the same number of Mamelukes, who were still under arms with Murad Bey and continued to menace the peaceful settlement of the country. On the 7th Desaix had inflicted a severe defeat upon them, which rendered them incapable of doing further serious harm.

But Cairo was growing ever more restless and, unrealized by the French, the Imams who went up to the minarets every evening to call the Faithful to prayer had begun instead to call upon the whole country to revolt and massacre the invader. Bands of armed men were being secretly organized in the city, Bedouin Sheiks were mustering their forces outside it, and the Turks were turning a blind eye to these preparations for a Holy War.

The signal for the outbreak was the massacre of a convoy of French wounded who were being brought up from Salahiyeh. When news of it was received on the night of October 20th the word was given by the Muslim ringleaders for the revolt. In the early hours of the 21st, thousands of turbaned fanatics streamed out into the streets and set about killing every Frenchman they could find.

Roused by the clamour, Roger and Marbois hastily pulled on their clothes and ran outside. At the entrance to the main street a group of half a dozen Muslims rushed at them, screaming ' Death to the Unbelievers.' Roger halted, took careful aim with his pistol, fired and dropped their leader dead in his tracks. The others, being no braver than the average slum rat out for easy plunder, halted, gave back and took refuge under an archway. But the shouting from nearby streets, and that such a rabble should have dared to attack him, was quite sufficient warning for Roger. Turning, he grabbed Marbois by the arm and together they ran at the best pace they could make to headquarters.

Bonaparte had just come downstairs. No one knew what was happening. News came in that General Dupuy had been killed in the street by a lance, then that a company of Bedouin Arabs were endeavouring to force their way into the city by the Bab-el-Nasser gate. Bonaparte told Sulkowsky to take half a company of Guides and reinforce it. Sulkowsky was a good friend of Roger's; so when Roger heard this he went to the General-in-Chief and reminded him that Sulkowsky had only just recovered from a wound he had received in August in the battle at Salahiyeh. Then he asked to be allowed to relieve his brother aide-de-camp.

^' Very well,' said Bonaparte. ^' Take another fifteen Guides, follow and send him back with an escort, then take charge of the gate yourself.'

When Roger reached the gate it had already been broken open and, to his great distress, he found Sulkowsky dead. But his men had poured a murderous fire into the Arabs and they had fled.

Suddenly it dawned on Roger that this great disturbance in the city was the very thing he had unconsciously been waiting for. Swiftly he had the gate firmly secured, then, placed a Lieutenant of Guides in charge of it, leaving him sixty men. Ordering the rest to follow him, he set off for the Pasha's palace.

On the way they had several skirmishes with the insurgents, but a volley of musketry scattered them on each occasion and Roger lost only two men. A quarter of an hour later they reached the little door in the great wall at the end of the palace garden. A score of musket balls aimed at the hinges weakened it considerably; a battering with musket butts did the rest. In ten minutes they had forced it back far enough to squeeze through.

As they approached the palace through the garden, one of the Janissaries gave the alarm. There ensued a short, sharp conflict, but the Turks were soon worsted by the veteran French. Six or more Turks fell, killed or wounded; the remainder fled.

When the firing had ceased, the corpulent Pasha, accompanied by several of his civilian staff, came out on to a terrace at the back of the palace and waved a white cloth in token of surrender. Wasting no time, Roger ordered him to lead the way to his seraglio. The Pasha broke into violent protests. Roger jabbed a pistol barrel into his stomach and told him that if he wished to live he had better not argue.

The sweating Pasha gave in and led Roger, followed by his men, along a tiled corridor to a series of arcaded rooms that opened on to the garden and were plentifully furnished with colourful divans. In one lofty room some two dozen women were assembled, most of them huddled together in a corner, some clutching children and others staring over their yashmaks with big, frightened eyes at the French soldiers.

At the first glance Roger identified Zanthe. She was not among the group, but was seated on a divan beside the elderly woman who had come off the barge in front of her, whom he assumed to be the Pasha's principal wife. Bowing to them he said:

' Ladies, I apologize for this intrusion but, as you must know, the population of Cairp is in revolt. As was the case when that last happened, the mob may break into the palaces and do their inmates grievous injury. Have no fear. I am here to protect you. However, as it appears that the Turkish authorities have taken no steps to suppress the insurrection, they must have countenanced it. Therefore it is my duty to take two hostages.' After pausing a moment he waved a hand towards Zanthe and added, ' They will be His Excellency the Pasha and this lady.'

At that moment a hoarse voice exclaimed behind him, ' Why, blow me, if she ain't yer old love, the Sultan's daughter.'

Swinging round, Roger recognized the Sergeant who had sold Zanthe to him. Scowling, he demanded, ^' What the devil are you doing here? '

'No offence, Colonel,' replied the veteran with a grin. 'I was among the guard at the Bab-el-Nasser gate. Seein' you had taken over and left it secure, I thought it would be more interestin' and there'd be a bit of loot, perhaps, if instead of staying there I came along to give you a hand.'

Meanwhile Zanth£ had come to her feet. Her splendid eyes flashing, she cried in French, 'How dare you pursue me! This is an outrage! I refuse to become your hostage.'

Roger ignored her and counted up his men. He found that they numbered twenty-two, including a Lieutenant, the Sergeant, Marbois—who had been with him throughout—and two Corporals. He ordered the Lieutenant, with one Corporal and nine men, to remain there and, with the help of the surviving Janissaries, to protect the seraglio. The other Corporal he told to act as escort to the Pasha. Then, turning to the Sergeant and motioning to Zanth£, he said:

'Sergeant, you have taken charge of this lady before. This time you will be more gentle with her; but, even should she struggle, you will persuade her to accompany us.'

Realizing that it would be futile to put up a fight, Zanthe, angry-eyed but passive, allowed the Sergeant to take her by the arm, and the terrified Pasha offered no resistance. Surrounded by the remaining half of his men, Roger led the way from the palace across the garden, out through the wall gate and round to his little house. There he again divided the party. He could not possibly take Zanthe back to headquarters; but he was already convinced that the rising was only a matter of dangerous mobs which could be put down by disciplined soldiers in a matter of hours. His small house was, therefore, very unlikely to be attacked, provided it was suitably garrisoned.

When they reached it, he had Zanthe taken up to the bedroom and locked in. He had decided to leave the Sergeant there, with the Corporal, Marbois and three men. To the Sergeant he said:

^' My servant will provide the lady with anything she may require. You will remain here and, should the house be attacked, defend it to the last bullet. But I think it improbable that you will be called on to do more than sit here for, perhaps, twenty-four hours. One warning I must give you. Get no ideas with regard to the lady. When I return, should I learn that you have so much as laid a finger on her I'll cut off your ears and stuff them your throat.'

The Sergeant grinned and touched his forelock. 'That's the sort of orders I like to hear, mon Colonel. Shows you're made of the right stuff and worthy to be on the Staff of the " Little Corporal".'

Roger would have given practically anything to be able to spend the next half-hour simply talking to Zanthe and endeavouring to persuade her that he had acted as he had only because of his intense love for her. But he dare not delay reporting back to the General-in-Chief.

Followed by the remaining five men, who escorted the Pasha between them, he made his way back to headquarters. There he learned that the General-in-Chief had wisely decided not to expose his troops to street fighting, during which they would be shot at from roof-tops, and that all French forces were being withdrawn to the Citadel.

Three-quarters of an hour later he reported Sulkowsky's death to his master, and informed him that he had brought in the Turkish acting Viceroy as a hostage. Bonaparte had been greatly attached to his Polish aide-de-camp; so he was very distressed at Roger's news. But regarding the Pasha, he said:

^' You have anticipated my wishes, Breuc. These Turkish officials have shown themselves to be untrustworthy; so I have already issued orders for the arrest of the principal ones among them. But we must not treat them harshly, and must still endeavour to win their goodwill, otherwise the Sultan might declare against us and that would make the establishment of a colony here far more difficult.'

For two days, from the heights above Cairo, Bonaparte rained cannon balls and grage-shot upon the city. His principal target was the Great Mosque which was believed to be the headquarters of the rebellion. This cannonade completely quelled the ill-organized attempt to dispossess the conquerors. Forty-eight hours after the trouble had started the streets were silent and the French began to infiltrate back, unopposed, to the barracks and palaces they had previously occupied

Accompanied by a squad of dismounted Guides, Roger hastened down to his house and found all well there. The small garrison had suffered only from a shortage of food. Having sent some of them out to procure supplies, Roger went upstairs, unlocked the door of the room in which Zanthe had been confined and confronted her.

She was sitting on his bed, her eyes cast down. Throwing himself on his knees before her, he seized her hands and cried, ^' My beautiful Zanthe, I deplore these past two days in which you must have suffered much discomfort. It was through no fault of mine. Now that the trouble is over I swear to you that I will leave nothing undone that will make you happy.'

After a moment, her eyes still cast down, she replied,^'1 am your captive. You are strong and virile. If you force me again I shall not be able to resist you. But how can a woman feel love for any man who behaves in that way towards her? For what you did to me, I hate you. And should you repeat it, given the least chance I will kill you.'

Her bitter words dissipated all Roger's hopes that, having once submitted to him, she would accept his further love-making without resistance and, perhaps, with pleasure. He realized now that his only hope of softening her heart was to woo her, if need be for several weeks. He had no hesitation in deciding to do so, because he felt that such a glorious prize would be well worth any restraint he would have to put upon himself.

With his usual practicability, he stood up and said with a wry smile, ^' Well, at least we will dine together and discuss the matter further.' Then, realizing that there was nothing fit to eat in the house, he left her, collected Marbois and went out with him to see what delicacies could be procured in the market, which had opened again after being closed for two days.

Only a limited number of stalls displayed goods for sale, and those they had to offer were, for the most part, very indifferent. Roger spent over an hour hunting round before he found a fresh-killed duck, zucchini, green almonds, lemon curd and a rose-scented Rahat Lacoum, that he felt were adequate for setting before Zanthe at their first meal together.

When he arrived back at the house, he was very surprised to find Duroc in the little fountain-court and Zanthe down there with him, sitting cross-legged on one of the piles of cushions. With an unhappy look on his sanctimonious face, the Aide-de-Camp-in-Chief drew Roger aside and said in a low voice:

^' Breuc, how could you be such a fool? I warned you when we saw this woman at the landing stage not to interfere with her. The Pasha complained that you had carried off a lady from his seraglio, and I felt sure that I would find her here. In spite of the treachery of these Turks you must know that our master is still anxious to propitiate them. He is furious with you. I have been ordered to escort the lady back to the Pasha's palace and place you under close arrest.'

Pastures New

Roger stared aghast at Duroc. It took nearly a minute before he realized, as seen through other eyes, the enormity of the thing he had done. His passion for Zanthe had blinded him to all else than the craving to have her again in his keeping. He had ignored the fact that she had recently become the concubine, or perhaps even a junior wife, of the most important Turkish official south of Constantinople. He had ignored this in spite of Bonaparte's declaration that everything possible must be done to keep the Turks from openly siding with France's enemies.

Had Zanthe still been the lone widow of a merchant he might possibly have justified taking her under his protection, to save her from molestation while the city was in a state of riot. But he had left a garrison in the Pasha's palace to protect the other women in the seraglio; so he had no excuse for having removed her from it.

His brief conversation with her an hour earlier flashed back into his mind. She had then made plain her intense resentment at his having carried her off; so it was not even as though he could plead that a mutual passion had made her a willing accomplice in his act and that he had rescued her from a situation that she detested. There was nothing for it but to pay the price for the rashness into which his obsession had led him.

Drawing a sharp breath he unhooked his sword, handed it to Duroc with a bow and said, ^' Monsieur, I surrender myself your prisoner.'

Duroc returned his bow, took the sword and replied,^' Monsieur, I have to escort this lady back to the Pasha's palace. Be good enough to proceed to headquarters and await my return there.'

Roger gave one quick look at Zanthe. Her yashmak masked her mouth, but her tawny eyes held a mocking smile. He made her a formal bow and said, * Madame, my love for you is the only excuse that I can offer for such inconvenience as I have caused you. It seems that I am about to pay heavily for it; but let me assure you that I am unrepentant. Given another chance, I would do the same again for an hour in your company.'

The smile left her eyes and astonishment took its place, but she made no reply. Turning on his heel, he marched out of the house.

Half an hour later Duroc joined him at their old headquarters and there condoled with him on the result of his folly. It then transpired that the General-in-Chief had expressed no wish to see him immediately; so they went upstairs together. Roger was allotted an attic room in the palace where, being under close arrest, he was to remain until sent for. Duroc said that he would arrange for Marbois to bring Roger's things round and look after him. His meals would be sent up from the mess. Duroc also promised that later in the day he would bring up some books; he then left Roger to his extremely distressing reflections.

To start with, he had lost his beautiful Zanthe—this time, as it seemed, for good. That was bad enough in all conscience, but very far from being the end of the matter. If a Turkish gallant had carried her off the outraged Pasha would, no doubt, have insisted on having his head brought to him on a charger; so if Bonaparte wished to retain this Oriental potentate's goodwill he would have to demonstrate publicly his extreme displeasure by taking some really drastic action against the culprit.

Roger did not think it likely that his master would go to the length of having him put in prison. On the other hand, it seemed improbable that open arrest for a month or more would be thought sufficient to meet the case. In Italy, in one of his ungovernable rages, Bonaparte had, on the spot, reduced a General to the ranks because he had allowed the Austrians to push him out of the castle of Castiglione; so Roger did think it possible that he might shortly find himself drilling with a musket and being cursed by a Sergeant-Major. In any case, it seemed certain that he would be deprived of his aide-de-campship, which would put an end to the prospects, so enthusiastically envisaged by Admiral Nelson, of further serving his country by passing on some vital piece of information about Bonaparte's future intentions.

Later in the morning Marbois arrived with the prisoner's personal belongings and in the afternoon Duroc brought him half a dozen books; but his mind was too agitated by dismal speculations about his future for him to do more than glance at them. Evening came without his being sent for to face the wrathful Corsican, then ensued a night of troubled sleep. By midday next day still no summons had come; so he sent Marbois round to the house to fetch some of his wine and some cushions with which to make the attic somewhat more comfortable. Then, by hard concentration, he succeeded in interesting himself in the Abbe Prevost's romance Matron Lescaut.

It proved as well that he had books and wine to solace his solitary confinement, for it was not until October 27th, the fourth day after his arrest, that Duroc came for him. Having escorted him downstairs and announced him to the General-in-Chief the aide-de-camp hastily withdrew to avoid becoming involved in the expected tempest.

Bonaparte was pacing up and down the big room, his hands behind his back. Halting suddenly, he swung round. His dark eyes flashed angrily and he demanded:

^' Well, what have you to say for yourself? ' ^' Say! ' Roger cried indignantly. ^' Mon Dieu, I have a lot to say! You do some strange things at times, but I have always stood up for you. I tell people that you are a genius—not an ordinary man, but one inspired by God—sent to us to restore the glory of France. I say that they must make allowances for your follies and take no notice of the small, silly things you sometimes do, because your mind is always occupied by far greater matters that will alter the fate of nations. And what is my reward? What is my reward? To have my property stolen and to be shut up for four

days like a criminal. I will not be-'

The thin little Corsican, his enormously broad jaw thrust out, stared at him in amazement then shouted, ^'Stop! What in thunder do you mean? '

^'1 mean,' Roger stormed, ^' that I will not be treated like a pickpocket. Because your mind is set on conquering half the world you cannot with impunity jump on the faces of your loyal servants. I, for one, will serve you no longer. You already have my sword. Take my rank badges and my sash. I have no further use for them. I will become a waiter or a brothel-keeper, since you seem to think I am fit for naught else. Do with me what you please! You have the power! Abuse it as you will! But understand one thing. After the scurvy way in which you have treated me I am finished with you.'

For a moment Bonaparte was silent, then he said harshly, ^' Have you gone mad? I have the right to demand an explanation from you, yet you have the insolence to pretend that it is you who are aggrieved. A clever move, but one which will not serve you.'

^'1 did not expect it to. You are too wrapped up in your own daydreams to care what happens to others.'

^' That is untrue! I am the father of my soldiers.'

^' Of your soldiers, yes. But not of your friends. Why, you had not even the decency to visit poor Junot in hospital after he had had himself half killed out of love for you.'

^' Discipline must be maintained.'

^' And who maintained it for you except loyal friends like Junot and myself—we who are prepared to draw our swords even upon our seniors when they openly proclaim you to be a madman? '

^' Enough! Enough! All this is beside the point. In defiance of every instruction I have issued you violated the seraglio of the acting Viceroy and made off with one of his women.'

^' And why not? She was not his, but mine. I had bought and paid for her.'

^' You had bought her from him? I do not believe it. To lie in this fashion can only make your case worse.'

^' Do not judge others by yourself,' Roger snapped back. ^' You needs must-'

^' How dare you! ' roared the Corsican, his normally pale face turning dead white. ^' I'll not be spoken to like this! I . . . I . . . I'll . . .' He choked and looked as though he were about to have an apoplectic fit.

^' You needs must lie for political reasons,' cut in Roger, finishing the sentence he had begun. ^' But I do not have to. As for saying to you what I have—do not think that because others lack the courage to tell you the truth about yourself that applies also to me. You cannot do worse than have me shot, and I'll say to you what I damn well please.'

He knew that he was taking a desperate gamble; but he had had four days in which to decide on the way in which he would meet his master's accusations. Tame acknowledgement of his guilt could have led only to dismissal and punishment. In the past he had defied people greater than Bonaparte had yet become, and he felt that his one hope of saving himself lay in using the Corsican's own favourite tactics of violent, relentless attack.

Taking a quick breath he hurried on, ^'1 tell you I bought this woman. The fact is that I came upon her in the street, the night after we entered Cairo, surrounded by half a dozen soldiers. They were about to drag her into a house and rape her. To save her, I bought her from them /or a hundred louis.'

Still trembling with fury, Bonaparte stared at him and muttered, 'Is this the truth? Do you swear it? '

^' Indeed I do, and should you still doubt me you have only to have her questioned. It was my misfortune that the very next day you sent me with a despatch to Alexandria. On my return I found that the owner of the house in which I had installed myself had emptied it of its furniture and taken her away with him. The Provost Marshal has been hunting her on my behalf for weeks, but without success. Then, four days ago, while the revolt was at its height, I seized the Pasha for you as a hostage. In his palace I found her. She was mine by right of purchase; so naturally I took her away with me. What else would you expect me to have done? '

By one of the extraordinarily swift changes of mood to which Bonaparte was subject he had, while Roger was speaking, become quite calm. Resuming his pacing up and down, he said:

^' Breuc, I have a considerable esteem for you, because you are as brave as any of my beaux sabreurs, yet, unlike most of them, you have the wit and temerity to defend yourself when accused. But this will not do. Had you paid ten thousand gold louis for this woman that would still give you no title to her. She is no slave-girl but a lady of high birth and breeding.'

Roger refrained from contradicting this assertion. Secretly, he was now greatly elated at his success in having manoeuvred his master from pronouncing summary judgment on him and having persuaded him to a discussion of his case. With a shrug he said: ^' She is beautiful enough to be a Sultan's daughter, but she has no claim to nobility. She is half French and told me herself that she had recently lost her husband, who was no more than a merchant.'

Bonaparte swung round upon him. 'Then she deliberately deceived you, probably because she feared that if you knew the truth you would have demanded a great sum for her ransom. She is no merchant's relict, but a widow of the Commander of the Turkish garrison. He was killed in the battle of Embabeh.'

It was Roger's turn to stare. After a moment he said, ^'1 understand now, mon General, why you look on my action with such displeasure. I naturally supposed that the Pasha had taken her as one of his concubines; so I felt that my right to her, as her previous owner, was better than his. But if, as you say, she is of noble birth I take it he must have made her one of his wives.'

^' She is neither the Pasha's wife nor his concubine,' Bonaparte replied testily. ^' It is simply that, having been widowed and with the city in a state of unrest, she took refuge in the Pasha's seraglio; just as a woman of our own race, in similar circumstances, might seek refuge in our Embassy. But that makes what you have done no less reprehensible. You, one of my personal aides-de-camp, forcibly abducted this woman and all Cairo knows about it.'

^' It distresses me greatly to have caused you embarrassment in this way,' Roger said with apparent contrition.

^' Apologies are not enough.' Bonaparte's voice became harsh again. ^' In Muslim eyes it is a most heinous crime to break into a seraglio. It is not to be wondered at that the old Pasha is calling for your blood. Apart from that, you have given me cause to deal severely with you. You seem to think you had a right to carry off this woman. Had she in fact been only a merchant's wife—a woman of no particular account—whom, by some trick, you could have lured to a rendezvous and so secured her again, I would not have held it against you. But by openly using violence you showed a flagrant disregard for my expressed wishes regarding our treatment of the population. As matters are, I've no alternative other than to make a public example of you.'

Roger shrugged. ^' If your prestige will be enhanced by so doing I willingly accept anything you may decree.'

^' In the circumstances I cannot possibly retain you as one of my aides-de-camp.'

^'1 understand that, mon General. All the same I find it regrettable; because I think in that capacity I have been of some value to you, whereas I can be of little use in any other.'

^' You mean that you have never served as an officer in a regiment or even been trained as a soldier.'

^' Exactly. I know next to nothing of military evolutions or procedure. Doubtless after a few months I would have picked up enough to be capable of commanding a Company. But what then? I'd still not be worth as much to you as hundreds of others who have had years of experience.'

^' Yes, yes, I realize that,' Bonaparte replied impatiently, ' and in other ways you are a man of exceptional abilities. I find it difficult to contain my anger at the thought that through your folly I shall have to deprive myself of your services. Yet I see no alternative.'

^' Is that really so ? Could you not appease the Turk by cashiering me, then, as a civilian, making me Bourrienne's assistant? '

Bonaparte shook his head violently.^' That is out of the question. It would be known at once that I had slapped you on one cheek and kissed you on the other.'

Roger had felt it certain that his suggestion would be rejected, and he had made it only to lead up to another. Now, his heart beating a little faster, he introduced the bold and subtle idea that had come to him during his confinement by asking:

' How long is it since you have had authentic news of what has been happening in Paris? '

As he expected, his question provoked a new explosion. Stamping his foot, the little Corsican cried angrily, ^' Paris! It might be as distant as the moon for all I know of what goes on there. It is now months since I had a despatch from those miserable Directors. Some despatches may have been intercepted by the English, but that could not apply to all did they write to me regularly. Having, as they think, got me out of the way, they are deliberately keeping me in ignorance. No doubt they fear that if things were not going well there, and I knew it, I'd return and pitchfork them out of the Luxembourg into the gutter. And so I will, should an occasion arise when it suits me to do so. But this has naught to do with my future employment of you.'

Drawing a deep breath, Roger launched his project. ^' It might, if you have a mind to make the best possible use of me. Why not

send me back there to-'

Again Bonaparte stopped his pacing, swung on his heel and repeated, ^' Send you back there? '

^' Yes,' Roger hurried on.^' To find out for you what those fellows are up to. Since I can pass as an Englishman I'll have no difficulty in getting through the blockade. With luck I could be in Paris in a month. Talleyrand is your friend and has been mine for many years. He misses nothing and in an hour could give me a correct appraisal of how matters are going with both your friends and your enemies. I could return as easily as I went, and be back here soon after Christmas with a mass of information that you could obtain in no other way.'

^' Ventre du Diable; this is an inspiration! * The Corsican's dark eyes lit up, he gave a sudden laugh and, stepping up to Roger, slapped him on the shoulder. ^' Breuc, I have always said you would be worth a Division to me. I would have been mad to have turned you into a cavalryman. If I march against Syria, as is my present intention, 111 not start towards the end of January. Unless the weather proves most unfavourable you should be able to rejoin me before that. Then on what you have to report I can form a decision whether to adhere to my plan or ... or adopt some other.'

Roger beamed. ^' You may rely upon me, mon General, to use the utmost despatch. When do you wish me to start? '

^'1 would say this instant, but you must carry letters for me to Talleyrand and to my brother Joseph. I shall give out, of course, that I have dismissed you, and sent you to kick your heels on garrison duty in some small fort on the coast. Go now. See Duroc. Pull a long face and tell him that, then say I have authorized him to return your sword to you. Bourrienne alone will be in our secret. Collect my letters from him at four o'clock and be ready to set out immediately afterwards.'

^' These letters,' Roger said. ^' Making the voyage to Italy or Spain as an Englishman it is unlikely that I shall be searched, but it would be wise to guard against that hazard. I suggest they should be written on thin paper, so that I can conceal them in the lining of a coat.'

^' You are right. Bourrienne keeps some special paper and fine pens for such missives. I will tell him to use these.' Bonaparte stretched out a hand and gave Roger's ear a swift tweak. ^' Go now and good luck to you.'

During the hours that followed Roger found it extremely hard to conceal the delight he felt at having succeeded in his great coup; but he did his best, when saying good-bye to Duroc and his other friends, to pretend disgust at the way in which his master was sacrificing him to the Pasha. They all condoled with him and tried to cheer him by saying they felt sure that Bonaparte, having made the gesture, would soon recall him, and the lovely, violet-eyed little La Bellilotte, touched at the thought that he had lost his post on account of a love-affair, said she would do her utmost to soften the heart of her all-powerful lover.

Roger drew his pay to date, had Marbois pack his few belongings, arranged for an escort and at four o'clock went to Bourri-enne's office. The Chef de Cabinet greeted him with a smile, then said enviously:

^' My compliments, mon vieux. After such outrageous behaviour you should by now be Trooper Breuc and sweating in some fatigue party. Instead you've won the boon of leaving this devilish country. In a few weeks you'll be back in our beloved France.'

Roger grinned at him. ^' Better to be born lucky than rich.'

^' Luck alone is not enough. One must have the brains to use it. And you are as clever a devil as ever wore a pair of field-boots.'

^' Nay. It's our little man who is clever. He saw on the instant that to dismiss me would be only cutting off his nose to spite his face. Have you any personal commissions that I can carry out for you? '

Bourrienne nodded and produced three letters. ^' Here are the despatches for Talleyrand and Brother Joseph. The third is for my wife, if you would be so kind.'

^' With pleasure.' Roger pocketed the three flimsies. He had asked for the letters to be on thin paper only because it would look well to do so, for he had no intention of going to France and delivering them. But he was determined to have Bourrienne's letter forwarded somehow. He then took leave of his friend, left the building and set out on his journey.

The first stage was uneventful and he reached Alexandria early on the morning of November 2nd. Leaving his escort there, with orders to start back to Cairo on the following day, he rode straight on to Sarodopulous's villa, arriving in time to join the banker and his nephew for breakfast.

Over the meal Roger told them that he had been ordered to return to France and intended to pass the blockade by posing as an Englishman. He then asked their help in securing a passage in any merchant ship shortly sailing westward and in acquiring an outfit of civilian clothes. The banker willingly promised to arrange matters and said how pleased he would be to have Roger as his guest while he was waiting for a ship.

Roger spent a lazy day at the Villa recovering from the fatigue of his journey. After the siesta hour handsome young Achilles Sarodopulous returned, accompanied by a trader with a collection of European clothes. Only second-hand garments were available and it was an odd assortment. However, there were items among them good enough for a passenger who did not wish to appear ostentatious and Madame Sarodopulous said she would have those selected by Roger disinfected by baking them in the fierce sunshine.

That evening when the banker got home he told Roger that, as the war had seriously interfered with merchant shipping, he had provisionally booked a passage for him in a local grain boat which was leaving for Crete in four days' time. It was in this way that Roger had sailed from Egypt the previous year on his return from India, and he felt confident that he would have no difficulty at Candia in picking up a neutral ship sailing for one of the Italian ports; so he asked his host to confirm the booking.

After dinner they had a long talk about international affairs. The big news, that had not yet filtered through to Cairo, was that the Sultan had declared war on France over a month ago. This caused Roger to smile wryly, for, had Bonaparte known of it, he would certainly never have sacrificed one of his aides-de-camp to the Turkish Pasha. But, on balance, Roger felt he had no cause for regret that the news had not reached Cairo earlier. Although he had lost his beautiful Zanthe, he was finished with deserts sunburn, snakes, mosquitoes and the danger of being knifed in the street one night on his way home.

Continuing, Sarodopulous told him that, at long last, towards the end of August, a French force under General Humbert had landed in Ireland to give the malcontents there a stiffening of regular troops. Believing the French to be in much greater numbers than they were, the United Irish had again risen. But Humbert had barely a thousand men; so the Marquis of Corn-wallis, who had been sent to take command in Ireland, had soon routed the rebels and forced the small French contingent to surrender.

The French had now gained control over all but the more mountainous parts of Switzerland. In those districts bands of peasants were still fighting to the death to defend their liberties and religion. The terrorist Director Rewbell had sent his brother-in-law, Rapinat, as Chief Commissioner to the newly formed Helvetic Republic and, by massacres, rapine and burning churches filled with men, women and children, this unspeakable brute was endeavouring to crush all resistance.

The same ghastly scenes were being enacted in Piedmont. Backed by the French, a rabble from Genoa had invaded the King of Sardinia's mainland territories. Behind them as they advanced they left a chain of village churches in flames, with their pastors and congregations locked inside them.

In Bonaparte's pet creation, the Cisalpine Republic, everything had fallen into hopeless disorder. Owing to his wholesale looting of the treasuries of the cities the finances were in a state of chaos. General Brune had succeeded Berthier there and could keep the people down only by overawing them with displays of force. The pay of his troops was months in arrears; so he had to turn a blind eye to the beating, torturing and murdering of Italians by his officers and men, in an effort to extract money from them. Throughout all Italy everything connected with France had become a symbol for hatred and it was reported that the masses were only awaiting a signal from some bold hand to rise and slit the throat of every French robber in the peninsula.

On November 6th, having enjoyed four days of blissful relaxation, Roger took leave of his good Greek friends. After clearing the port of Alexandria the grain ship, by arrangement between Sarodopulous and her Captain, dropped round into the bay and Roger went off to her in a dhow. An hour later she was challenged by a British sloop-of-war and boarded by a small party, commanded by a Midshipman.

As the grain ship traded regularly to Crete, returning with cargoes of olive oil, the vessel was searched only perfunctorily. Roger, when questioned, said his name was Robert MacElfic, that he had represented a firm of Scottish merchants in Alexandria and that the French occupation had ruined his firm's trade with Egypt; so he had decided to return home. His mother had been a MacElfic and had always retained something of her Highland accent; so he had never had difficulty in imitating it. He soon convinced the ^' Middy ' of his bona fides.

Roger knew, from his previous voyage, that the food and accommodation in a grain ship would be very primitive; so he had brought with him a supply of provisions. Philosophically, he resigned himself to possibly a week or more of considerable discomfort; but the weather and winds proved favourable, the crossing took only five days and he landed at Candia on the 11th.

He had decided on Naples as the next stage in his journey, as it had now become the principal British naval base in the

Mediterranean. He was certain that there he would be able to find a ship to carry him home, and it was home that he meant to go. Even Admiral Nelson, he felt, could not now consider him unpatriotic for deciding to give up his dangerous role as a secret agent. It would have been pointless to remain in Egypt as a cavalry officer. As it was he had come away with two further despatches from Bonaparte which, having read them within a few hours of receiving them, he knew would prove of considerable value. Moreover, he was in a position to give a far more detailed account of the French Army's situation and resources in Egypt than the British Government could possibly receive from other agents.

In the squalid little Turkish-ruled town of Candia he had to wait six days before he could get a passage to Naples, and then it was on a Turkish brigantine manned by Greek sailors. Again he took aboard a store of provisions, but they ran out long before he reached his destination. After leaving Crete the ship sailed smoothly up the Greek coast for four days, but on the fifth she was hit by one of the fierce storms that are apt to arise suddenly in the Mediterranean during winter. The Greeks, being good sailors, handled the brigantine well in the circumstances, but she lost her foremast and, despite all their efforts, was driven right off her course far up into the Adriatic.

Roger, as usual in bad weather, was wretchedly ill and spent three days of utter misery, unable to keep down even a few mouthfuls of biscuit. The thought of returning to England via Gibraltar, and probably having to endure another such prolonged nightmare while crossing the Bay of Biscay in December, caused him to alter his plans. He decided that he would instead travel up Italy and go home by way of France. With this in view, he asked the Captain to land him at Bari.

To his intense annoyance, the Captain refused to oblige him. Neither could he be bribed by a sum which Roger felt was as large as he was prepared to offer, since he could go home overland from Naples as easily as from Bari. He would now be losing only a little time, and time was now of no great importance to him.

Better weather came again, enabling the brigantine to beat round the heel of Italy and up through the Straits of Messina to Naples, where Roger landed on Monday, December 3rd.

In September, '95, he had been sent by Mr. Pitt on a mission to the Prince de Conde, who commanded the Royalist Army, and to General Pichegru, who commanded the Republican Army, both of which were on the Rhine. It was then that he had decided to assume a third identity as a non-existent nephew of his mother's, for which he took the name of Robert MacElfic; for he feared that, if he went to Conde as Roger Brook and to Pichegru as Citizen Representative Breuc, his two identities might become linked. Previous to that mission, while crossing the Atlantic, he had let his beard g^ow; so to fit himself for the part he had retained this slight alteration to his appearance.

The situation in Naples would, he knew, be very different from what it was when he had last visited the city early in the autumn of '89. Then, the doctrines of the French Revolution and Bonaparte's descent on a land of peace and plenty had not disrupted life throughout the peninsula. Now, although the Court of Naples was fanatically anti-French, many of the nobility and a large part of the bourgeoisie were said to hold strong Republican views. Numbers of them would have travelled in France; besides which it was certain that the French Embassy would be employing scores of secret agents in the city. Thus Naples had become another no man's land in which Brook might be linked with Breuc, and it was this which had decided Roger again to become MacElfic. Since leaving Egypt he had, therefore, again allowed his beard to grow; so after four weeks his cheeks and chin were now covered with short, crisp, slightly curly, brown hair.

On landing, he secured a carozza and told the driver to take him to Crocielle's Hotel. They had hardly set off along the waterfront before he saw that all the buildings were decorated with flags; so he called up to the man, asking the reason for this gay display. Turning on his box the driver replied cheerfully:

^' Have you not heard, signor? We are celebrating our victory over those pigs the French. Tidings arrived yesterday that our good King Ferdinand entered Rome in triumph four days ago.'

This was surprising news indeed to Roger and he was even more surprised when he learned that the Neapolitan Army had invaded the Roman States only six days before it had captured Rome. Either the Italians must have shown most unusual dash or the French had suddenly gone to pieces.

At the hotel Roger learned further particulars of this new war that had broken out only while he was being desperately seasick in the Adriatic. Britain was said to be supporting it enthusiastically and Nelson was the hero of the hour. He had sailed on

November 22nd—the day before war had been declared—for Leghorn, with five thousand Neapolitan troops on board, to support the Grand Duke of Tuscany, a nephew of the Queen of Naples, in an attempt to throw the French out of his dominions. Austria, on the other hand, having only a defensive alliance with the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies—of which Naples was the capital—had not yet come in, although the Emperor—another nephew and also son-in-law of the Queen—had sent on loan his veteran General Mack to command the Neapolitan Army.

While eating the first enjoyable meal he had had for a month, Roger considered this entirely new situation which suddenly appeared to threaten the dominance of the French in Italy. He would have been delighted by it had he not had distinct misgivings about the outcome.

Admittedly the French forces were stretched to the limit, garrisoning Holland, Belgium, the ex-German provinces west of the Rhine, Switzerland, all northern and central Italy, Corsica, Corfu, Majorca and Malta, in addition to which their greatest General and finest regiments were marooned in Egypt. But, even so, how could a second-class Power like the Two Sicilies possibly hope, unsupported by any other nation, to defeat the mighty Republic?

It was, too, only in recent years that the Sicilies had ranked even as a second-class Power. The kingdom was theoretically a fief of Spain. The Bourbon King of Spain, Philip V, had given it to his second son, Carlos, and had won the goodwill of the Neapolitans by a promise that the two crowns should never be united. In 1759 Carlos had succeeded his father as King of Spain, so had resigned Naples and Sicily to his son, the present King Ferdinand, who was then only eight years old.

During the boy's minority a Tuscan Minister, Bernardo Tenucci, had ruled in his name at the dictation of the Court of Spain; but at the age of seventeen Ferdinand was married to Caroline, the eldest daughter of the Empress Maria-Theresa of Austria, and from that moment the influence of Spain had begun to wane.

The young couple could hardly have been more ill-matched. Ferdinand was a boisterous, easy-going fellow, with no interests other than outdoor pursuits. What very little brain he possessed had been criminally restricted in its development by Tenucci, who had seen to it that his education should be rudimentary so that when he grew up he would be incapable of interfering in politics. Caroline, on the other hand, had an ungovernable temper, was well-educated, religious and inordinately ambitious.

Although the masses in both the Kingdom of Naples and the island of Sicily lived in the direst poverty and under the severe repression of corrupt officials, they never blamed this on King Ferdinand. On the contrary they adored him, because his simple pleasures brought him into intimate contact with them. Dressed in a jersey, woollen cap, coarse trousers and seaboots, he often spent the night fishing. In the morning he would sell his catch in the market, haggling like any other huckster for the best price he could get for each fish from a crowd of laughing housewives. Then he gave away the money he received. But the strongest hold he had acquired over the riff-raff of Naples was through having accepted the office of Master of the Guild of the Lazzaroni. This Guild consisted of literally thousands of professional beggars and petty criminals, who made a living by preying in a hundred ways on the better-off part of the population. Ferdinand encouraged and protected them and delighted in the nickname the people gave him of ' II Re dei Lazzaroni \

His other main interest he termed ' hunting \ It consisted only of standing in a stone sentry-box, while hundreds of beasts and birds were driven past him. With an indefatigable lust for slaughter he stood there hour after hour, shooting them down. He was also a great practical joker and from time to time found it most amusing suddenly to decree that some staid visitor to his Court should be tossed in a blanket.

While this young moron was harmlessly enjoying himself, or bellowing with laughter at his sadistic pranks, Queen Caroline had been intriguing without pause to get the Government of the country into her own hands. Whenever Ferdinand put up the least opposition to her proposals for innovations she flew into such violent tempers that he was only too glad to escape from her at the price of giving way. Even when at table she screeched at him like an angry eagle, and on one occasion actually bit him. In due course she had succeeded in getting rid of Tenucci and replacing him with a Minister of her own choice.

This was General Sir John Acton, the son of an English physician who had settled in France. At an early age Acton had joined the French Army, but later left it for the Court of Tuscany. In '75 he had greatly distinguished himself while commanding a

Tuscan frigate in an expedition to suppress the pirates of Algiers. Four years later Queen Caroline had persuaded the Grand Duke to let her have Acton to reorganize the little Neapolitan Army.

The newcomer had at once set about building a Fleet out of all proportion to the resources of the country. To secure enough money for this he had to be made Minister of Finance, as well as of Marine. To these posts he had soon added that of Minister of War and, finally, Prime Minister. He was now sixty-three and for the past twenty years he and the Queen had run the country. Naples now had a Fleet of one hundred and twenty ships and, on paper, an Army of sixty thousand men, so had become a Power of some importance. But the effort had virtually bankrupted the country.

On the credit side, as Roger naturally regarded the matter, Acton was the firm friend of Sir William Hamilton, who had been British Ambassador in Naples for the past thirty-five years; while an even stronger tie existed between Sir William's wife, the beautiful Emma, and Queen Caroline. Working hand in glove, these four had weaned the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies away from Spain and France into the orbit of Austrian, and British influence. Above all, the triumph of Sir William's long career had been the securing for Britain of the magnificent harbour of Naples as a naval base, from which her sea power could command the Mediterranean.

Having finished his meal Roger decided to lose no time in calling on Sir William. He took a carozza up the hill to the beautiful Palazzo Sessa, which housed the British Embassy. Giving his name to the footman as Robert MacElfic, he added that he was a cousin of the Earl of Kildonan and that he would be grateful if the Ambassador could spare him a few minutes on urgent business.

He was kept waiting in the big marble hall only long enough for him to admire some of the ancient statues which formed a small part of the priceless collection of Roman remains that the Ambassador had acquired during his long residence in Naples; then the footman returned and showed him into the splendid library.

The elderly Ambassador rose courteously from behind a big desk to receive him, shook hands and waved him to a chair. He then raised his quizzing glass, looked at Roger again and said,

Your face is vaguely familiar to me, Mr. MacElfic. Surely we have met somewhere before? '

¹ Indeed we have, sir,' Roger replied with a smile. ¹1 had the pleasure of being your guest here for a week in the autumn of '89. But you knew me then by my real name, Roger Brook.'

'Then why use any other?' Sir William asked. 'And why make free with that of my Lord Kildonan? '

'Since His Lordshig lives much in Rome, I thought it fairly certain that Your Excellency would know him and that might induce you to see me without delay.'

' That was a shrewd move,' Sir William remarked. ' I do know him slightly and it is to that you owe my prompt reception of you.'

Roger smiled. ' He is in fact my cousin, although I have never met him. My mother's family were all fanatical Jacobites. When she ran away with my father, who is a loyal servant of the Hanoverian line, they cut her off from them entirely. But to come to the point of my visit—you may perhaps recall that when I was last in Naples it was on behalf of Queen Marie Antoinette. I came to enquire if Queen Caroline would give her nephew the Dauphin asylum here, should the safety of the Royal Family in France become threatened by the revolutionary movement.'

' I do recall the matter. Queen Caroline and King Ferdinand agreed to receive the boy, but that poor, woolly-minded man Louis XVI later conceived the notion that his son belonged to the people; so he would not allow him to leave France.'

'Alas, yes. And now what I have to add is for Your Excellency's ear alone. On that occasion there was no reason against my using my own name. But since then I have spent long periods in France as an agent of Mr. Pitt, and I am known there as Colonel Breuc. I am, moreover, one of General Bonaparte's

aides-de-camp, and-'

' What's this you say! ' exclaimed the Ambassador. ' Surprising as it may sound, it is the truth,' Roger laughed,' and only this morning I landed here from Egypt. With me I have brought two despatches that General Bonaparte charged me to deliver in Paris. May I request that you have copies of them made by a safe hand and despatch them at the earliest opportunity to London? '

'Indeed I will! ' Sir William cried enthusiastically. 'And a copy for our dear Admiral, Sir Horatio Nelson, as I've not a doubt but that the contents of these despatches will be of value to him, too. But about yourself—this feat of yours is of surprising interest. Pray tell me more, and of what that terrible young Corsican bandit is up to in Egypt.'

For the next half-hour the Ambassador sat enthralled, while Roger gave him an account of his doings since leaving England. Then he said, ^' From all this you will appreciate why I arrived here as Robert MacElfic. As Roger Brook I might well have been identified as Colonel Breuc by some Frenchman, or by some Neapolitan who sympathizes with the Revolution and who, having been in France, might have met me there.'

^' It was a wise precaution. And, alas, it is true enough that many Neapolitan intellectuals have allowed themselves to be contaminated by these pernicious doctrines. But now that Naples is at war with France Queen Caroline will soon take steps to deal with such traitors.'

^' On landing I was very surprised to hear that Naples had challenged the Republic, and of the first splendid successes of her Army.'

Sir William smiled. ^' The news could not be better. But we expected it. When General Mack inspected the Army before leading it against our enemies he said that he had never seen a finer body of men.'

^'1 seem to recall hearing, sir, that when young you were an officer of the Foot Guards. May I ask if that was also your opinion? '

^' Well, er . . . I could hardly say that. One must allow for the fact that the majority of them are peasants only recently called up. But their enthusiasm for a war against those atheists and robbers was unbounded.'

^' Do you then count enthusiasm enough? I am no soldier, but I have seen enough of war to know how greatly experience of being shot at matters. Every French battalion has its leaven of old soldiers; not only men who fought under Bonaparte in Italy, but also under Dumouriez, Kellermann, Moreau, Jourdan, Pichegru, Hoche and other Generals during the long years of the Revolutionary Wars. At the Battle of the Pyramids, had there not been many such to show an example of calmness to the conscripts it is certain that the sight alone of the Mamelukes' ferocious onslaught would have been sufficient to cause the squares to break, and every man in them would have been massacred. Brave fellows as the Neapolitan levies may be, have you no fear that when the French have had time to concentrate their forces King Ferdinand's Army may suffer a terrible reverse? '

^' Not with General Mack to plan their dispositions. He has had many years' experience of war, and is as wily an old fox as ever put on a uniform.'

Roger shook his head. ^' Old, yes. Too old, in my opinion, and set in the military tradition of the past. Such Generals, who wait to strike until an opportunity arises for them to engage in set-piece battles on ground favourable to themselves, can stand little chance in the new wars of swift manoeuvre that Bonaparte has initiated. If Austria had sent the Archduke Charles I'd regard King Ferdinand's chances of continued victory as far better.'

The Ambassador nodded. ^' You may be right in that. He is certainly their best General. I imagine that the Emperor is reserving him to lead his own forces.'

^' You think, then, that Austria will come in? '

^' We feel confident of it. Mr. Pitt is doing his utmost to form a Second Coalition against the French. Turkey, as you will know, is already in. The Czar Paul has accepted the Grand Mastership of the Knights and, outraged by the French seizure of Malta, is sending a Fleet into the Mediterranean. Naples, although a comparatively weak Power, has had the courage to lead the way. It is unthinkable that Austria should not follow.'

^' We must certainly hope for that. But would it not have been sounder policy to ensure first that before Naples challenged the might of the Republic she could rely on Austria's support? I cannot help feeling that the Court of Naples has acted with great rashness and I was very surprised to learn, if rumour be true, that the British Government encouraged her to it.'

For a moment Sir William hummed and hawed, then he replied, ^' Between ourselves, Mr. Brook, Whitehall did urge caution on us. But I received the despatch only after the die was cast. Admiral Nelson, as you no doubt know, regards the French as devils out of hell who, for the salvation of Europe, must be utterly destroyed. In fact, he looks upon himself as a weapon forged by God to bring about that end. He holds that we should strike at them continuously and relentlessly, anywhere and everywhere, without thought of how great may be the odds against us. His views coincide with those of Queen Caroline,

General Acton and, for that matter, myself. It was largely Admiral Nelson's optimism and unbounded enthusiasm which launched Naples against France. He pointed out to us that after his great victory at the Nile he was free to give us the entire support of his splendid Fleet, and also how thinly the French are spread in Italy now that their Army has to hold down so many conquered peoples. We all felt that his arguments were unanswerable, and now we can only pray that his optimism was justified.'

^'1 wholeheartedly echo that prayer,' Roger said seriously. ^' He may well be right, for he is a born leader. The assurance with which he sailed in and annihilated the French Fleet at the Battle of the Nile could not have been surpassed even by Drake. And his personal magnetism and charm are amazing. As I have told you, although I felt no obligation to go back into Egypt and to do so was against my will, he persuaded me to it.'

Sir William nodded. ^' That brings us to the present. What have you in mind to do now? '

^' Why,' Roger laughed, ^' having pulled the chestnuts out of the fire a second time, to go home.'

^'1 assumed as much. Well, in the course of the week a frigate will be sailing for Gibraltar and from there you should have no difficulty in securing a passage to England. I will arrange for accommodation in the frigate to be reserved for you.'

Roger shook his head. ^'1 thank Your Excellency. Let the frigate carry copies of the despatches, also a full report that I must write for Mr. Pitt which I will let you have tomorrow; but I have no mind to voyage in her. I am the worst sailor that ever was and the very thought of the weather which a ship may meet with in the Bay of Biscay makes my poor stomach turn over. I intend to travel overland up Italy and through France, becoming again Colonel Breuc when the need arises; then I shall get a smuggler to run me across the Channel.'

The Ambassador held up a slim hand in protest. ^' No, no! I implore you not to attempt that. As a lone traveller without escort the odds on your coming to grief would be a hundred to one. The whole peninsula is now in ferment. No laws can any longer give you a shadow of protection. Swarms of French deserters and Italian bandits infest every highway. It is said that there are over a hundred thousand of them. No matter whether you travelled as Englishman, Frenchman or Turk it is a certainty that one of these bands would waylay, rob and murder you.'

It would have been the height of folly to ignore such advice; so Roger was forced to reconsider the matter. After a moment he said, ^' If King Ferdinand succeeds in continuing his advance and the Tuscan revolt against the French proves successful, so that they join forces above Rome, a few weeks may see the country more or less pacified, at least as far as communications from Naples to the north are" concerned. I should then be able to get through without undue risk.'

^' That is a possibility,' Sir William agreed. ^' But even given complete victory over the French a considerable time must elapse before these bands can be suppressed and travel becomes reasonably safe again. After all, what are a few days of seasickness? Since you wish to get home, surely it would be better to face the possibility of bad weather and sail in the frigate? '

Roger's mouth set in a hard line. His memories of his frightful sufferings in the Adriatic were so recent that he could not bring himself to agree to Sir William's suggestion. ^' No,' he said after a moment, ^'1 prefer to remain here for a while and see how the war develops.'

It was a decision that before he was much older he was bitterly to regret.

The Looker-on sees most of the Game

Sir william Hamilton urged Roger to become his guest, but he regretfully declined. It was only just over ten years since the Young Pretender had died and a number of the Jacobite nobles who had made up his little Court-in-Exile in Rome still had apartments there. As Roger pointed out, although he might pay his respects to British Ambassadors when in foreign countries, it would not be in keeping for him, while he remained a MacElfic, to stay at the Embassy of the Hanoverian King.

It was agreed, therefore, that he should deliver his despatch late the following night and come again to the Embassy only once a week, to the Ambassador's official reception, as long as he chose to stay in Naples.

Returning to his hotel he procured ink, paper, quills and sand, and took them up to his room. There he spent several hours covering page after page with fine writing, giving Mr. Pitt every particular he could think of concerning the situation in Egypt.

Next morning he went out to renew his acquaintance with the city which, after Paris, was the largest in Europe. Superficially he found it unchanged. The waterfront spread along the northern end of the vast bay which ran out westward to the peninsula of Pozzuoli. Beyond the point lay the islands of Procida and Ischia. Inland from the centre of the bay the great cone of Vesuvius, with its plume of smoke, towered up against the blue sky. In the distance to the south the other arm of the bay curved seaward, forming the twenty-mile-long peninsula of Sorrento. A

256

few miles beyond its tip could be seen the island of Capri. Under a wintry sun the prospect was as beautiful as ever, and the narrow, smelly streets behind the waterfront still teemed with bronze-skinned men and sloe-eyed women.

Yet before the day was out he found that the atmosphere and spirit of Naples had become utterly different. His memories of the week he had spent there in '89 had always caused him to think of it as a Paracjise on earth. That, perhaps, was largely due to his having found there again the beautiful Isabella d'Aranda, who had refused him her favours as a maid but, as a neglected wife, had given herself to him willingly. He had stayed with Sir William, who had proved the perfect host; and who had nicknamed his Embassy ^' The Royal Arms', in token of the fact that he liked his constant stream of guests to regard themselves as absolutely free to take their meals there only when they wished and to come and go at any hour they liked. That had enabled Roger to spend the greater part of each night with Isabella, and a good part of each day as well.

But it was not only this love-affair that had made the week pass for him in such a haze of happiness. Isabella had introduced him to many of her friends among the Spanish-Neapolitan nobility. All of them owned charming villas outside the city and every day they made up parties of pleasure to drive out and dine at one or other of them, then spend the long afternoons strolling or love-making in enchanted gardens made beautiful with grottoes, arbours, fountains, waterfalls and ancient statues. The only things they thought about were making love, acting charades, reading poetry and carrying on their love-affairs at dances or the opera.

Even the masses in the poorer parts of the city had radiated cheerfulness. They had little money and most of them were dressed in rags, but there was an abundance of fish, fruit and vegetables which could be bought for a few coppers. For the greater part of the year they were warmed by the sun; frequent saints' days provided an excuse for idling and jollification; and wherever one went they were always to be seen laughing and cracking bawdy jokes.

Now they were ominously quiet and sullen. Sir William might be right about the deeply religious peasantry having marched off full of enthusiasm to fight the atheist French; but great numbers of the city-dwellers had been taken too. Their families were anxious for them and in thousands of cases had been deprived of their breadwinners. The price of fish had never been so high, because the fishermen had been pressed to man the Fleet. The supplies of vegetables coming in from the country had also been greatly reduced. In the old days scores of gaming houses and brothels had done a roaring trade; now, owing to the lack of money, two-thirds of them were closed, so that hundreds of pimps and prostitutes were starving.

Roger also found that the carefree social world of Naples had ceased to exist. At his hotel and in the cafes whoever he spoke to would now converse only on two subjects—the war and politics. Elated as the Neapolitans were at their King having entered Rome, many of them expressed dark forebodings about the future. For years past they had heard accounts of French victories and the way in which the French viciously despoiled the territories they conquered. Alone in Italy, the Kingdom of Naples had so far escaped. But could it continue to do so if the French succeeded in concentrating a great Army north of Rome and marched south? Roger found too that, as he had supposed, a large section of the population had become obsessed with revolutionary ideas.

Although they spoke guardedly at first quite a number of them, on learning that he was British, said how greatly they wished that Naples might become a limited Monarchy like that of England, with the final say being with the elected representatives. They added that this was impossible to hope for under their own King, so their country could be saved from disaster only by making it a Republic.

From these conversations he learned that Queen Caroline and her Minister, Acton, were universally hated. All through the '90s the poison of the Revolution had been filtering down through Italy, and the Government had used ferocious measures in a futile attempt to check it. Scores of lawyers, doctors and intellectuals had abandoned their old interests to write about and preach ^' The Rights of Man'. Many of the nobility had encouraged them and had striven in vain to bring about long-overdue reforms. One after another they had been seized and thrown into prison without trial. Hundreds of these idealists, among them many of the most respected men in Naples, were now rotting in prison.

Sorry as Roger was for them as individuals, he could not sympathize with the attitude of mind that had brought upon them such a fate. Having lived through the Revolution in Paris, he knew only too well the course taken by such political upheavals. Had those Neapolitan Liberals ever succeeded in getting control of the Government, within a year they would have been replaced by extremists and all the horrors of mob rule would have ensued. Even as things were they had helped, by preaching revolution, to reduce Naples from a city of delight to its present miserable state; although the buffoon of a King and his tyrannous Queen had been as much to "blame, for neglecting the welfare of their poorer subjects and failing to make use of the talented men who could have brought a greater prosperity to their country.

At midnight Roger went to the Palazzo Sessa. This time he was shown into one of the small drawing rooms, and there he found Sir William with his beautiful wife Emma.

She had started life as a nursemaid, then had become an artists' model and the mistress of several gay bloods in London. Sir William had acquired her from his nephew, although when she accepted an invitation for herself and her mother to come out and winter in Naples as the guest of the already-elderly Ambassador she was not aware that he had bought the right to attempt to make her his mistress. Her mother, Mrs. Cardogan, had been given the post of housekeeper and, although Emma was still in love with the nephew, when the truth was gently conveyed to her she had offered little resistance to the charming uncle's advances. The whole affair had been conducted most decorously. Emma took up painting and dancing with considerable success. When, in due course, she was presented to Queen Caroline the Queen had taken an immediate liking to her. That liking had soon become such a passionate attachment that hardly a day passed without their seeing one another and, in addition, exchanging gushing letters, sometimes as often as three times a day.

When Roger had visited Naples in '89 Emma, although already established as the hostess at the Embassy, was not then married; but for the past seven years she had been Lady Hamilton. She was now thirty-three, a Junoesque beauty with chestnut curls, a cupid's-bow mouth and big, blue eyes. Her attraction lay in her brilliant colouring, great vivacity and kindness of disposition, but Roger personally preferred ladies with a more moderate size in limbs.

Finding her with Sir William caused him considerable annoyance, for coming upon her in private like this made it awkward for him to pretend that he had never met her; nor was he any better pleased when the Ambassador said:

' Mr. Brook, you will remember my wife. I have been telling her of the fine service you have rendered us and something of your adventures. But when you come to our receptions she will, of course, receive you as Mr. MacElfic and you need have no fears that your secret will not be safe with her. She is in all our secrets.'

Roger was not surprised to hear that; but he would have much preferred for her not to be let into this, as he knew her to be a born gossip. Although she might be discreet about important matters he thought it certain that she would talk to her crony the Queen about him, if to no one else.

However, the damage was now done and nothing was to be gained by looking sour about it; so when making his bow he gave her his most charming smile. Rising from a stately curtsey, she swayed gracefully forward, took both his hands and exclaimed theatrically:

^' Mr. Brook, the despatches you have brought, writ by the infamous Bonaparte, will prove invaluable to our brave Admiral. It is God's work that you have done, for Sir Horatio is His instrument, and God will reward you.'

Roger had not seen matters in quite that light, although he had already gathered that in Naples Admiral Nelson had more or less taken the place of God, at least in Court circles. Bowing over the statuesque Emma's hands, he raised the right one to his lips and murmured, 'The small service I have rendered is as nothing compared to those of Your Ladyship. I am told that it was entirely due to you that our Fleet was allowed to victual and water at Naples, although it was then a neutral port, and that, had it not been permitted to, then there could have been no Battle of the Nile.'

Emma turned her big blue eyes up to heaven. ^' Indeed, sir, too much has been made of that. It was my privilege to cast myself at the feet of our sweet Queen Caroline. She is an angel and, knowing our sainted Admiral's dire need, assented to the prayers of his handmaiden.'

These civilities having been exchanged, Roger produced his report for Mr. Pitt and handed it to Sir William. Pouring him a glass of Marsala, the Ambassador said, ^'1 am told that a British sloop will be sailing for Gibraltar in three days' time. Bonaparte's despatches and this report will go with it in the Embassy bag. I propose, however, to have it copied by a safe hand for our paladin, Sir Horatio; for it is certain that he will find much of interest in it.'

'By all means, sir,' Roger agreed. ^'1 must ask, though, that you will return General Bonaparte's originals to me. As a precaution against the copies being lost at sea I intend to carry the originals myself to London.'

'Certainly you shall have them. But are you still determined to travel overland? '

^'1 am. Having got off copies of the despatches and my report, there is no urgent reason for me to start for home. Rather than go by sea, I'll dally here awhile in the hope that in another few weeks it may become less dangerous to travel up the peninsula.'

Sir William nodded. ^'1 trust your hopes may be fulfilled. In any case the decision lies with you. Reverting to your despatches, one of them was addressed to Talleyrand. Did you know that last July he was deprived of his post as Minister of Foreign Affairs? ' Roger raised his eyebrows.^' No, I did not. Has Your Excellency information as to why he was deprived of his portfolio? '

^'1 have indeed,' the Ambassador smiled. ^' The Directory and sycophants who serve it are the most venal crowd unhung. One could not have supposed that any one of them could possibly have over-reached himself; yet that blackguard Talleyrand did. He demanded of an American delegation so huge a bribe to favour a new commercial agreement with the United States that, rather than pay it, they complained to the Directory. And the Directors threw him out.'

'That is bad news,' Roger commented seriously. 'I know de Talleyrand intimately, and I can assure you that secretly he is a

friend of Britain. Were he allowed to have his way-'

' I cannot believe it,' Emma broke in impetuously. ' He was a priest, a Bishop even. Yet he has denied his vows and willingly serves the spawn of hell that now rule France. He has covered himself with infamy, and is a declared atheist. How could he possibly be the friend of a God-fearing people? '