The Rape Of Venice

Chapter 21

The Wrong Side of the Fence

Roger was twenty-​eight. During the past thirteen years he had loved half-​a-​dozen women. Had their lovely faces been represented in an arch, Georgina’s would have formed its keystone. With her, he shared an affinity that went to the depths of both their beings; in her single person, she combined for him the roles of sister, mistress, mother and friend, filling each part according to his need, as he, in turn, played that of brother, lover, father and friend to her. It was she who had made a man of him while still a boy and he had no doubt that his last thought would be of her when his time came to die.

Then all through his later 'teens, he had suffered the agonies that only the young can feel when stricken with a hopeless passion; for it had never seemed remotely possible that Athenais de Rochambeau could be his. Yet, years later, after she had married, had children, and was in peril of the guillotine, they had, for a few brief months, known great happiness. To his wife, Natalia Andreovna, he had been attracted by a brief violent passion. She had made no secret of her habitual immorality, and had delighted to gratify her desires with all the abandon of her fierce Russian nature. But he had soon learnt that she was vicious, treacherous and incapable of any decent emotion. The cynical old Empress Catherine had forced him to marry her as the alternative to losing his life; and at her death he had felt only relief.

His affaire with the dark-​browed Isabella d'Aranda had begun only as a flirtation and grown with propinquity, during their long journey together through France and Italy. Her education and intelligence had been much superior to those of most women, so added greatly to the attraction, of her typically Spanish beauty. But she was by nature a prude, and it was cumulative frustration, more than anything else, which had led to his becoming obsessed with desire for her. In the end, as in the case of Athenais, it was after she was married that she had given him, as a wife, what she had refused him as a maid.

For his second wife, Amanda, he had never been subject to any desperate craving. It had amused him to take her away from George Gunston and, after a while, he had become slightly bewitched by her delightful vagueness, happy, generous disposition and merry laughter. It was Georgina who had insisted that the time had come for him to settle down and that Amanda would make the perfect wife for him. He had allowed himself to be persuaded, and never regretted it. They had, at times, had tiffs, and one serious breach, but their marriage had been a much happier one than most. There had grown up between them that serene companionship, and very deep affection, which are the better parts of love, and it had taken him a long time to get over her loss.

But Clarissa had given him something that none of the others could. He had first met her at his marriage to Amanda. She had then been an awkward, gawky, schoolroom miss. He had watched her grow up into a slim-​limbed young goddess; then, under the magic of his own caresses, she had flowered into a divinely beautiful woman. She had thought with love of no man before she met him; cared for no other, even for a brief period, of the many who had pursued her while he was still married to Amanda; faced the hardships of a stowaway in the hope of becoming his mistress, been undaunted by his refusals and even entered on a distasteful mockery of a marriage that she might bind him to his promise to become her lover afterwards. She had given her whole life to her love for him.

She had kept secret her forebodings that, in time, she was certain to lose him to another woman, and such a thought had never crossed his mind. On the contrary, it had been full of plans for their future. He had been waiting only for the Court case with Winters over the marriage settlement to be decided before taking her back to England. The money from that, with which she had insisted on dowering him, together with his own now comfortable fortune, would have made them richer than many people who had quite large estates. He had travelled enough to last him a lifetime, so had meant to settle down in earnest. Instead of appearing to little Susan as an occasional visitor, who always brought presents, he could have become a real father to her. And Clarissa had been determined to give him a son. He would have liked a son. A son of theirs could not have been other than strong-​limbed, handsome, blue-​eyed, gay and courageous. He had already begun to make half-​formed mental pictures of the boy. But now, although barely twenty, the warm loveliness that was to have formed the beating heart round which this new life of contentment was to centre lay cold, rigid, dead.

The Begum, Angus McCloud, Rai-​ul-​daula, Philip Laker and his officers, all did their utmost to comfort him. But after a few hours he asked them to spare him further marks of their sympathy, and it became clear that his mind was set on one thought to pursue and be revenged upon Malderini.

As a first move, late that afternoon, he discussed the matter with Rai-​ul-​daula and Philip Laker. The former told him that the Venetian had already extracted his wife's inheritance from Jawahir-​ul-​daula, so his purpose in coming to India had been fulfilled. Therefore, as he had disclosed to Clarissa his ambition to become Doge of Venice, it was a hundred to one that he was on his way back there.

He would certainly not have gone down to Calcutta, as the risk of being caught and brought to book there, before he could get a ship, would have been far too great. Besides, as Rai-​ul-​daula pointed out, it was only the people who lived on the borders of the great ocean English, Portuguese, Dutch and French who habitually used the long sea route to India. Arab, Greek, Levantine, Venetian and Genoese merchants had for centuries accomplished a great part of the journey overland, always entering India by her western ports, or by way of Persia. In some parts, such travellers had to risk attack by brigands; but, in the main, they could count on the protection of the native Princes, and were welcomed at their courts. It was known that Malderini had arrived at Bahna from the interior, and there could be little doubt that he was now on his way back through it.

Roger felt that there should be no great difficulty in tracing the Venetian and that, though he had a week's start, by hard there would be a good chance of catching him up about a fortnight hence Laker promptly offered a troop of his hussars participate in this man-​hunt; but the cross-​eyed Rajah shook his head.

He said to rely solely on horses at all would be a great mistake, as the stages between towns with good inns were often more than one day's journey, and to be benighted on horseback meant having nowhere to sleep; whereas a palanquin served also as a bedroom. Moreover, in many places it was impossible to get remounts, but relays of ryots could be hired at every village to carry palanquins at a trot to the next; so, if one was prepared to put up with the jolting by night as well as by day, one could cover great distances each twenty-​four hours. He added that, to make the most of his start and get well clear of the British, Malderini would probably have travelled at top speed like that for the first few days; so that even on horseback, without remounts, it would now prove impossible to catch up with him.

Much disappointed, Roger had to resign himself to the thought of a long chase across India and perhaps right back to Europe; so he refused Laker's offer of a troop, but gladly accepted Rai-​ul daula's offer to take Mahmud Ali as his guide. There remained only the question of money for the journey, and Roger asked the Rajah if he would change some of his bills on London for gold. The last thing he had meant to do was to invite a further gift, but Rai-​ul-​daula said at once that he should have all the gold he needed, and that, if he was so lacking in delicacy as to produce paper in payment, it should be burnt before his eyes.

That Saturday night he wrote a long letter to Hickey, telling him of all that had happened and stating that he did not intend to return to Calcutta. He had always been averse to trading on Clarissa's marriage to extract money from Winters but, as that unpleasant young man had accused Clarissa and himself of being a pair of incestuous crooks, he felt that, having come into a fortune, Winters should at least be made to disgorge a moderate sum, somewhat larger than the contemplated costs of the case. Accordingly he made over his rights to Hickey, suggesting that he should settle the matter out of court while Winters was still unaware that neither Clarissa nor himself would now appear at the hearing. Winters, he felt sure, would jump at the chance of settling for a few thousand pounds, a portion of which could be used to pay off the servants and other liabilities of the Brook household, while the greater part would both cover legal expenses and provide a handsome acknowledgement to Hickey of his many friendly services.

This missive Roger sent off by fast messenger the following day. Another, his report to Sir John Shore he held over to be taken by the officer whose troop was to escort the belated payment of the twelve lakhs of rupees down to Calcutta. In it he informed the Governor that urgent personal affairs necessitated his return to Europe; so he was handing over his responsibilities as the Company's agent to Captain Philip Laker.

Having despatched his letter to Hickey, Roger went to make his last farewells to Clarissa, as her funeral was to take place that morning. Her bandaged face was peaceful and, although now very thin, the ravages of the disease had passed from it. After kneeling by her silently for a while, he left the pavilion. Outside, in its garden, he found the Begum waiting for him; holding out a large handsome casket, she said:

'I was told you were here; so I came to give you this. It is your lady's hair. She wished you to have it.'

Thanking the Begum gravely, Roger took the casket and opened it. Inside, there was a thick two-​foot-​long coil of pale gold tresses, still shimmering with life. He guessed that Clarissa had intended only a lock to be cut off and given him to put in a locket, or wear in a mourning ring, as was the fashion of the times; but, evidently, she had been misunderstood, so they had shaved her head. Many Indians wore beautifully plaited, gold-​adorned, bracelets of human hair, and that gave him an idea.

'I should like,' he said, 'to wear it. Could Your Highness have it made up into a rope for me?'

She looked a little surprised, but nodded. If you wish. But there is a lot of it. Unless it is to be very thick, such a rope would be nearly as long as you are tall.'

'That is as I would like it. I leave tomorrow morning, though. Could it be done by then?'

'Yes; I will summon my jewellers at once, and set them to work on it.'

Having handed her back the casket and thanked her, he walked through the palace to Laker's quarters to settle final arrangements about the funeral. He had naturally intended to have Clarissa buried in the normal way, but that could be done only outside the city, and Surgeon Pomfrett had persuaded him against it on the grounds that the grave would almost certainly be violated by robbers hoping to find jewels; so he had agreed that, like those of a Hindu lady of high caste, Clarissa's remains should be burnt.

With Laker, he went out to inspect the funeral pyre that had been built in one of the courtyards, and soon afterwards the squadron began to form up in it. All the nobles of the court collected there; then Rai-​ul-​daula arrived in stately procession with his guards. To the beating of muffled drums, Clarissa's body, draped in gorgeous silks, was borne into the court on a litter carried by sixteen bearers and placed reverently on the incense-​scattered pyre. Surgeon Pomfrett read the Church of England service for the burial of the dead, the fire was lit, and so, with all the pomp appropriate to a Princess, the loveliness that had been Clarissa Marsham ascended in perfumed smoke towards the eternal gods.

That night her hair was brought to Roger, now as a plaited cord, half-​an-​inch thick and secured at its ends in jewelled tassels. Undoing his cravat, he put it loosely twice round his neck, then tucked the ends in under his shirt, so that the whole of it was next to his skin.

Next morning he went to take leave of the Begum, then of his good friends, Rai-​ul-​daula. Philip Laker and Angus McCloud. Then the other officers of the squadron, and many of the Rajah's people assembled to see him off. On March 25th he had been brought into Bahna as a prisoner; now, on April 12th, he left it with every mark of honour that its ruler could pay him, but with a heart of lead.

Rai-​ul-​daula had provided him with two palanquins; in one he was to travel with Mahmud Ali the other was to carry a cook, paraphernalia for camping and stores. At night he would sleep in one and the two natives in the other. As there was virtually no hope of catching Malderini in the early stages of the journey, he had decided not to martyr himself by nightly joltings but to camp each evening; and this made it possible to trail two chargers on long leads behind the rear palanquin, so that he and Mahmud Ali could break the monotony of the daily trek by riding part of the time.

The best road led south-​westward through Singhbhum to Saranda and Jharsuguda. Enquiries in the villages through which they passed confirmed that Malderini had taken that way and, as Rai-​ul-​daula had supposed, was halting only to purchase food and have meals cooked; so, in this first stage, he had gained a further three days on them. But that did not now unduly trouble Roger as, in the long journey back to Europe his enemy might meet with many unavoidable delays which would bring them up with him.

From Jharsuguda the main artery for traffic, ran due west through the heart of the Maratha country to the city of Raipur, then on to Nagpur, the great metropolis of central India. Day after day the palanquins lumbered on, sometimes through dense jungle and at others through low pastures along the banks of rivers. Frequently, among the bearers who trotted them from village to village, there were men who had helped carry Malderini's palanquins, and after reaching Raipur they learned that he had dropped to a slower pace, halting to sleep at nights; but by then he was a fortnight ahead of them.

On most nights they camped beside a river, so that after the long day Roger could refresh himself with a dip but he soon decided to give up shaving. Now and then, Mahmud Ali shot a buck, but generally they did not dare to venture far from their camp for fear of wild animals, and sometimes they had to build a ring of fires as protection against them.

Their pace varied greatly. There were days when over flat country they covered as much as forty miles between dawn and dusk but, on others, hills and rough going slowed them down to fifteen and, at times, they lost the greater part of a day owing to the armed retainers of local potentates insisting on taking them before their masters. Sometimes they were received with veiled hostility, and forced to pay a tribute before being allowed to proceed; at others, they were treated with great politeness and, to avoid giving offence, Roger had to allow himself to be entertained for the night. None of these petty Princes could understand his anxiety to push on, and it was only by the exercise of great tact that he could resume his journey after a break of anything from twelve to eighteen hours.

In no way could he have better seen the teeming life of India and the splendid evidence of its ancient civilisation. Behind the walls of each city, narrow streets seethed with jostling multitudes. Richly curtained palanquins borne by slaves lumbered their way through crowds of hucksters, beggars, shouting naked children, and soberly robed women carrying water jars on their heads. At every street corner there was a juggler, holy man, snake charmer or brothel tout. In the villages the evidences of poverty were shocking to behold. Goats and cattle shared the flimsy habitations, and rickety, scrofulous youngsters fought over pieces of water-​melon. By contrast, every twenty miles or so, they came upon temples carved with superb artistry and served by dignified, shaven priests, or fairy-​like palaces with fountains playing in their courts, carefully tended gardens, and domes and turrets that stood out as though carved from ivory against the azure sky.

It was after leaving Nagpur that they lost track of Malderini, but that did not greatly worry Roger, as it could now hardly be doubted that the Venetian was heading for a western port on his way back to Venice; so they pushed on through the great state of Badndara to Badnera, and thence to another great city, Malkapur.

There, Roger decided to sell the palanquins and horses and take to the great water highway formed by the rivers Sonala and Tapti, which flowed right down to the Indian Ocean. The transfer to a big gaily-​painted barge with sixteen rowers proved advantageous in more ways than one. Overland they had averaged only a little more than twenty miles a day, whereas by water they were doing nearer thirty. At nights Roger had the barge moored well out from the river banks which kept them much freer from the myriads of flies, mosquitoes and other pests that had plagued them unmercifully during the past seven weeks. The heat, too, with the advance of summer had become almost unbearable, and on the water he felt it slightly less. All the same, it was heartfelt relief that he breathed in the sea breeze at Surat when they arrived there on May 26th.

Having financed the return to Bahna of the invaluable Mahmud Ali and his cook, and made them both handsome presents, Roger went in search of a ship. His enquiries led him to an Arab vessel that was loading for Berbera and due to sail in three days' time. He made an arrangement with her captain for himself and a servant. In the latter capacity he engaged, on the recommendation of a banker with whom he had changed money, a merry-​looking rascal named Hassan Abu ben Oman.

It was, too, on the banker's advice that he decided to make himself less conspicuous on the next stages of his journey by wearing Arab garments. The Sheiks of the Red Sea lands, and the Turkish government in Egypt, were not openly hostile to Europeans, but in strictly Mohammedan countries there was always a risk that some fanatical mullah might raise a mob against an obvious Christian; so the change was a sound precaution. His ten months in the tropics had made him very bronzed and, during the past seven weeks, he had grown a good beard so, when he had dyed it black and put on robes and turban, he was able to pass easily as a fair-​skinned Arab.

While in Zanzibar he had picked up a smattering of Arabic, and as soon as they sailed he began to practise speaking it regularly with his new servant. From Surat they had a most fortunate passage and docked at Berbera in the Gulf of Aden on June 12th.

There he was held up for only two days before Hassan Abu found for them another ship which was about to sail up the Red Sea for Suez; but, in this part of Roger's journey, luck was against him. The vessel was not only dirty and uncomfortable, but proved much slower than the one in which he had spent fourteen days between Surat and Berbera. Worse still, four days north of the straits of Bab-​el-​Mandeb she became becalmed for a whole week.

The heat was intolerable. It had been bad enough during the middle of the day when crossing central India but, hot as that had been, it was no more than a gentle warmth compared to this. The sails hung slack, the sun blazed down, thinning the stagnant air into a degree at which it lacked all reviving properties when breathed in and, instead, felt like a draught of molten copper. The deck was so hot that even the hardened feet of the Arab sailors would have blistered had they crossed it and the only moving things in the vessel for hours on end were the hordes of flies, which enjoyed a happy immunity because their victims were too exhausted by the heat to drive them off.

At last a light breeze enabled the ship to make headway again, but their progress continued to be slow, and the heat so sweltering that Roger reckoned he must have lost a stone in weight during the best part of the month it took him to journey up the Red Sea.

After a night in Suez. Hassan Abu secured camels for them and they joined the daily caravan that was about to set out for Cairo. Again, it proved a slow and uncomfortable method of travelling, so, after an hour or so, Roger suggested to Hassan that they should let their ungainly beasts trot and press on alone. But the young Arab would not hear of it, insisting that, if they left the protection provided by the caravan, desert robbers would certainly capture and hold them to ransom if not kill them. In consequence, the journey took them three gruelling days and it was not until July 10th that they reached Cairo.

On arriving in that fabulous city, Roger was torn between the desire to remain there a while, so that he could see some of its marvels, and the urge to settle his account with Malderini. It was now over three months since Clarissa had died, so his mind was no longer numb with the ache of losing her; but he still wore the rope of her hair round his neck and had vowed not to take it off until he had killed the fiend who, by his abominable rites, had brought about her death.

The question was decided for him by a most unpleasant bout of stomach upset that laid him out entirely for twenty-​four hours. After it he was so exhausted that he felt it would be foolish not to allow himself a few days to recover. During them, by carefully observing and following the behaviour of the Mohammedans, he was able to mingle unsuspected with the crowds of worshippers in several of the great mosques and so see their beautiful interiors. He also made an excursion out to the Pyramids and another down the Nile to Memphis, the ancient capital of the Pharaohs.

As the Delta was highly populated, there was little fear of two travellers being attacked by robbers while riding through it; and, having had more than enough of the discomfort of travelling by camel, Roger bought two horses on which, on the 16th, they set out for Alexandria. Two nights later they reached that splendid city by the sea, and next morning, having at last exhausted the gold that Rai-​ul-​daula had pressed upon him, he went to a Greek banker named Sarodopulous to change one of his bills on London.

A clerk took the bill into an inner office and the banker himself came out holding it. He was a handsome middle-​aged man, with a greying beard. Giving Roger a suspicious glance he asked him how it had come into his possession.

'It was issued to me by Messrs. Hoare's bank in London against my own account,' Roger replied. Then, knowing that most educated Greeks were multi-​lingual, he added in English, 'I may not look it at the moment, but I am an Englishman.'

'Forgive me, Sir,' Sarodopulous bowed, 'but until you spoke I would not have known it. And it is unusual for Arabs to present bills drawn on London. I thought perhaps…'

'No,' Roger smiled, 'it's not stolen. I am wearing these clothes only because I have travelled up from Berbera. Now that I am once more in a cosmopolitan city, I must get myself something more in keeping with my nationality.'

'Perhaps I can be of service to you?' offered the Greek.

Roger thanked him, and went on to compliment the banker on the exceptionally fluent way in which he spoke English.

'For that there is a simple explanation.' Sarodopulous showed two rows of fine white teeth in a quick laugh. 'My wife is English.' Then, after a moment's hesitation, he added, 'There is nothing she enjoys more than conversing with her countrymen, and I should be honoured if you would care to dine with us.'

Having gladly accepted, that afternoon Roger presented himself at a large white villa, set among palm trees and having a fine view over the lovely bay. Mrs. Emily Sarodopulous proved to be a woman of about forty who evidently had been very good-​looking, but she was now enormously fat. Judging by the richness of the dinner she provided, and the way she tucked into it herself, the reason for her bulk was not far to seek; but she had retained an active mind and a passionate attachment to the country of her birth.

Roger soon learned that she was a Suffolk woman, and the daughter of a sea-​captain. Some twenty years earlier her father had taken her with him on a voyage and their ship had been wrecked off the coast of Libya. Sarodopulous's firm had been the agents for the ship's owners and, while taking care of her survivors, the young Alexandrian Greek had fallen in love with the pretty English castaway. Their attitude to one another showed that neither had ever regretted it.

As Roger was ten months behind with events in Europe, he naturally plied his host and hostess with many eager questions; and, owing to Sarodopulous's banking connections all over the Mediterranean, he could not have found a better man in Alexandria to bring him up to date.

In October the Archduke Charles had severely defeated the French armies on the Rhine, and this had enabled him to send strong reinforcements down to Italy in the hope of relieving General Würmser, who was besieged in Mantua by General Buonaparte. But the new Austrian Commander-​in-​Chief, General Alvintzy, had not proved equal to the task.

Early in November Buonaparte, by a series of swift unexpected moves, had tempted Alvintzy into giving battle in an unfavourable position. Würmser, in a sortie from Mantua, and General Davidovich, with a third Austrian army, had both attempted to come to the assistance of their Commander-​in-​Chief, but the youthful Corsican had outgeneralled all three old men. There had been three days of desperate fighting at the bridge and across the dykes at Arcola, resulting in a great French victory.

In the depths of winter, Alvintzy had made another bid to relieve Mantua by a strong feint across the lower Adige and attacking with, his main force farther north-​west at Rivoli. This led to complete disaster for the Austrians. Having utterly shattered their main army on January 13th, Buonaparte did a lightning swing which compelled the surrender of the lesser. On February 2nd, Würmser surrendered Mantau with a further 18,000 men 315 cannon and an immense quantity of munitions.

Meanwhile, stung into open hostility by the outrageous demands of France's atheist Government, the Pope had sent his army marching northwards. Having dealt with the Austrians, Buonaparte turned upon it. At the sight of the French bayonets, the Papal forces fled. On February 19th. His Holiness had been forced to buy peace by the payment of a heavy indemnity and the giving up of many of his finest art treasures.

During these months, too. the French agents had been looting all the great cities of Italy of pictures, statues, manuscripts and plate, and sending hundreds of wagonloads of them back to Paris; so that after the surrender of the Pope, Buonaparte had been able to write to the Directory that his victories would yield to France 'almost every fine thing in Italy, except a few objects at Turin and Naples'.

After Alvintzy's defeat at Rivoli, the Archduke Charles had taken over from him, but even his ability and prestige could not restore Austria's fortunes. Hoche's final pacification of La Vendee the preceding autumn had enabled large reinforcements to be sent to Buonaparte, so he now commanded an army of 70,000 men, led by many of the brilliant soldiers who were to be his future Marshals-​among them Berthier, Massena, Augereau, Serurier, Lannes, Marmont and Bernadotte. With the confidence imbued by the many victories in which they had participated under their young commander, they swept irresistibly forward, driving the Austrians before them out of the Venetian lands and right round the head of the Adriatic.

By the end of March, they had penetrated both the Tyrol and Carinthia. On the 30th of that month, Buonaparte drove the Archduke out of Klagenfurt and established his headquarters there, while his spearheads were advancing through Austria. By April 7th he had pushed on to Judenburg, barely a hundred miles from Vienna.

But by then his army was almost as exhausted as that of the Archduke's; so they agreed to a week's truce. Had the French armies on the Rhine been able to play their part in Buonaparte's great plan, and join him in the Tyrol, there could be no doubt that he would have dictated peace in the Austrian capital; but they had failed him lamentably. Rather than risk defeat at the very end of his brilliant campaign, without deigning to consult his nominal masters in Paris, he had on April 18th signed peace preliminaries with Austria at Leoben.

When the Greek had concluded his account of Buonaparte's victories, Roger asked if negotiations were in progress for a general peace; and on learning that they were not, he said glumly, 'Hard pressed as Austria was, one would have expected the Emperor to make some effort towards that end before abandoning the alliance. We could long since have made peace had we not stuck out for the return to him of his Belgian lands; and now we're left to fight the French on our own.'

'The Austrians excuse themselves by maintaining that the British abandoned them. No doubt you will not have heard it; but the Fleet was withdrawn from the Mediterranean last November.'

'Hell's bells!' Roger exclaimed in dismay. 'Then things are come to a pretty pass. What caused this pusillanimous decision?'

'We count Admiral Hotham mainly to blame,' Mrs. Sarodopulous told him. 'He had numerous chances to smash the French while they were still weak, but failed to take them. Then the entry of Spain into the war gave our enemies a big superiority in ships, if not in their fighting power. Admiral Jervis superseded Hotham, and might have retrieved the situation, but Admiral Mann, who commanded the supporting squadron, and was to join him off Corsica, arrived there without stores, so had to return to Gibraltar. There he lost his nerve, and was chased home by the Spaniards. Jervis was by then so heavily outnumbered that he had no option but to take his fleet out into the Atlantic'

'At least, my dear,' put in her husband, 'we can cheer Mr. Brook a little by telling him of Admiral Jervis's splendid victory over the Spaniards off Cape St. Vincent, last February. With fifteen ships, he defeated twenty-​five Spaniards so severely that the Spanish fleet will not dare another encounter for a long time yet. I'm told he's been made Earl St. Vincent for it, though half the glory should go to his second in command, little Commodore Nelson, for having boldly left station at a critical moment of the battle and broken right through the Spanish line.'

'Thank God for that.' Roger sighed. 'Such a crippling blow to the Spanish Fleet makes the invasion of England somewhat less likely.'

'I'd not be sure of that.' the Greek replied soberly. 'There is great discontent in Ireland, and last December the French attempted an invasion of that country, counting upon being well received there, and hoping to make it a base for an attack on England. A fleet of forty-​five vessels was despatched from Brest under Admiral Morad de Galles. with General Hoche in command of the troops they carried. They dodged Lord Bridport's fleet and got clear away into the Atlantic. But God intervened. Only some half of the French ships reached Bantry Bay; the rest, and among them that carrying Hoche, the Irish leader Wolf Tone, the money and the plans, were dispersed by a great storm. Many were wrecked; the rest crept back into Brest during January.'

Roger nodded. That was truly a merciful deliverance. What a pity though that, with so many troops on board, our Channel Fleet failed to catch them.'

Mrs. Sarodopulous gave him a troubled glance. "All has been far from well with the Channel Fleet. In April, on returning to Spithead, it mutinied.'

'At that I am not altogether surprised," Roger said after a moment; 'an outbreak of the kind has long threatened. My father is a Rear Admiral, and he has often told me of the inhumanity with which the common seamen are treated. When the pay of the troops was raised, theirs was not; should they become incapacitated from wounds, they are frequently turned off to starve; the food given them is often scarcely fit for animals; many Captains treat their men with great brutality; and such major punishments as a flogging round the fleet are little less than murder. Their grievances are many and well founded. Yet, with Britain's fortunes at so low an ebb. this could hardly have happened at a worse time.'

'On both counts you are right.' agreed the Greek. 'And, alas, from my latest intelligence, things have become worse instead of better. In May, the mutiny spread to the Nore and some crews there, having put their officers ashore, even went to the length of running up the red flag. Yet more alarming still is Britain's financial state. Her shipments of gold in recent years to her allies on the Continent have so impoverished her that last February there were fears for the solvency of the Bank of England, For some days, Mr. Pitt was faced with the worst financial crisis London has known for many years. He has temporarily restored the situation by the issue of a Patriotic Loan, to which there was a fine response: but all over Europe the confidence of bankers in Britain's stability has been badly shaken.'

After listening to all this news of defeat and disaster. Roger felt that, short of collapse, he could not have returned to find his country in a worse mess. Shying away from this depressing thought, when they had left the dining-​room and settled themselves on a terrace to enjoy the sea-​breeze after the long hoc day he asked:

'What part, if any. has the Serene Republic played in these events?'

Sarodopulous shrugged. 'None. Who could have expected otherwise? The Venetians of old were a great and proud people, but for a century past they have been unworthy of their ancestors. Too much money from great estates on the mainland which they have long neglected, gambling, women, music, the playhouse, dabbling with the occult; all these have drained away their courage, patriotism and pride. At General Buonaparte's bidding the Serenissima handed over all its strong places and disbanded its famous Slavonian levies. But they have since paid the price for their poltroonery.'

The fools might have known from Buonaparte's treatment of the people of Milan that licking his boots would not save them.' Roger gave a short, hard laugh. 'Can one imagine that Corsican brigand refraining from despoiling so fabulously rich a city once it had opened its gates to him? I'll wager there is hardly a Titian, Tintoretto or Bellini left in it by now.'

'His hand fell on them far more heavily than that,' remarked Mrs. Sarodopulous quickly. 'He abolished the Serenissima

'What say you, Madame?' Roger stared at her in amazement. 'I'd not have thought that even he would go to such lengths. The Serene Republic has lasted a thousand years. It was as much a permanent feature of Europe as Portugal, the Netherlands or Sweden. Surely you cannot mean that, even subject to his will, it no longer has a government?'

'There is no longer a Doge; the Senate is no more. Instead, General Buonaparte has given the city a Municipality on the French lines, made up of criminals and atheists.' On what excuse did he do this terrible thing?'

'The people on the mainland were driven to desperation by pillaging and raping by his troops. On Easter Monday the men of Verona rose and massacred the French garrison. The rising was, of course, swiftly put down; but General Buonaparte charged the Senate with having inspired it. Rather than take up arms while they still had them, they agreed to his demand that the ancient State should commit suicide by voting themselves out of existence.'

'When was this?'

'In mid May. Since then the city has been ruled by its Municipals, dancing to the tune of their French masters; and all the Venetian lands west of the Adriatic have been split up into Communes on the French model.'

'This suits me ill,' Roger said thoughtfully. 'I am on my way to Venice, and now the French control the place for me to enter it as an Englishman would be to invite arrest.'

'Why, then, not go there as an Arab?' Sarodopulous suggested.

Roger passed his hand over the beard that he had not yet had an opportunity to shave off. 'Perhaps; but no! 1 wish to avoid notice as much as possible. As an Arab, in a European city, I should be much too conspicuous.'

'Not in Venice,' countered the Greek. 'The Queen of the Adriatic has for so many centuries been the gateway into Europe from the East that its population is more mixed than that of any other city. As slaves, seamen, or traders, as many coloured men have found their way there as there are Europeans in Alexandria. If you took a cargo of some sort with you, and arrived as an Arab merchant, the port officials would not give you a second glance.'

'I am no merchant,' Roger smiled, 'and I would, at least, have to make a pretence of disposing of the goods I had brought. I fear my fumbling efforts to do so would soon arouse the suspicions of the Venetian merchants to whom I tried to sell them.'

Sarodopulous remained silent for a moment; then he said, 'I have it. You could go as a perfume seller. Such a cargo would take little space and Eastern perfumes always find a ready sale in Europe, so you might even make a handsome profit on your investment. You would stand no risk of dickering with Venetian merchants, either; for you could dispose of your wares by making a round of the palaces and selling them direct to ladies of fashion.'

Roger's eyes lit up. 'You've hit upon the very thing! I will adopt your idea and could not be more grateful for it.'

They then discussed possible ways for Roger to proceed on his journey, and Sarodopulous said that, rather than wait, perhaps a week or more, for a ship sailing to Brindisi or Naples, and thence travelling overland to Venice, he thought it would be quicker to take a local Greek trader across to Crete, where it should be easy to pick up a Venetian vessel homeward bound. On Roger's accepting this advice, the banker promised to make all arrangements, and his wife suggested that, until a trader could be found to take Roger to Crete, he might prefer to stay with them instead of at an inn. He at once expressed his delight at her kindness; so a servant was sent to fetch his few belongings and Hassan.

The next two days passed all too quickly, as for the past three months he had spoken hardly a word of English, and had suffered great loneliness from having no one to whom he could talk as an equal. To be able to do so again, freely, and in his own tongue, proved a wonderful tonic for him; so it was with real regret that on July 21st he parted from his kind host and hostess to go aboard a Greek trader.

She was quite a small ship, and one of several that plied regularly between Alexandria and Crete, carrying corn one way and olive oil the other. He was still wearing the costume of a respectable Arab and had with him a hundred pounds' worth of scent that Sarodopulous had got for him from the Alexandria muski at trade rates; but Hassan he had paid off with a suitable gift before leaving.

This stage of his journey proved ill-​starred. On the first night out. they were caught in a violent storm which abated as suddenly as it had arisen but, even so, the crossing took eight days instead of the usual four or five.

Crete had belonged to Venice for over four hundred years and, even after it had fallen 10 the Turks in 1669, the Venetians had been allowed to retain two fortified ports there to within living memory; so its people still had strong ties with the Serene Republic, which continued to carry most of the island's trade. In consequence, on arriving on Candia Roger had no difficulty in finding a captain, one Gulio Battista, who was sailing in a few days and would take him direct to Venice.

Battista was a fine-​looking, bearded, middle-​aged seaman, and Roger would have found him a most pleasant companion had he not been so depressed by the fate that had overtaken his country. From him, as the ship ploughed her way through the Ionian sea, Roger learned the full story of the fall of the Serenissima.

In Battista's opinion, the ancient oligarchy had, to a large extent, brought its troubles on itself. Although they ruled the greater part of north-​east Italy and territories that extended right down the Dalmatian coast of the Adriatic, they had always reused the people of these lands any share in the government. Only nobles of the city itself, the names of whose families were inscribed in the Golden Book, could be elected to the Senate. Not unnaturally, both the nobility and the cities of the mainland had long resented this, and Buonaparte had used them as his cat's-​paw.

Already, in the previous October, he had sponsored the creation of one new state, the Cispadane Republic which had been formed from the Duchy of Modena together with the Papal territories of Bologna and Ferrara and during the spring there had been talk of turning the Duchy of Milan into another Republic, also modelled on that of France. The western frontier of Venetia ran with the Milanese and a large area on the Venetian side was mainly populated by Lombards. These, having no reason for loyalty to the Serenissima, had promptly begun to agitate for inclusion with their fellow Lombards of the Milanese in the new Republic. In mid-​March, incited by Buonaparte's agents, the inhabitants of Bergamo, Brescia and Salo had revolted and proclaimed themselves independent municipalities, upon which the French garrisons had prevented the Venetian authorities from suppressing these revolts, then driven them out.

The Senate had appealed to Buonaparte, who had hypocritically declared that it was not for him to interfere in the domestic affairs of a neutral but. if the Serene Republic would become the ally of France, he would then bring the revolted cities back to their duty. But, having fresh in mind the way in which he had dealt with the Milanese when they became his allies, the Senate had nervously declined his invitation.

To goad the Serenissima further, towards the end of the month a body of French cavalry entered the city of Crema by a trick, disarmed the garrison and declared the place a free municipality. This time, matters were taken out of the supine Senate's hands. By their rapacious exactions and brutal lawlessness, the French soldiery had already earned themselves the bitter hatred of the peasantry throughout all northern Italy. Those in the Crema territory rushed down from their mountains, attacked Buonaparte's troops and killed a number of them. This was just the sort of thing the unscrupulous Corsican had been angling for. It enabled him to pretend that his army was in danger from the whole country rising behind it. He dictated a violent diatribe against the Senate, in which he accused them of conspiring against him, and declared that all the Venetian provinces must be delivered from their tyranny; then he despatched his chief aide-​de-​camp, Junot, to read it to them.

On April 15th Junot had done so. On the 17th had come the rising in Verona. For three days the population of the city and its surrounding district massacred every Frenchman they could lay hands on, including the wounded in the hospital. Only those in the fortress survived, and they added to the carnage by turning its guns on the town.

On the 19th fuel was added to the flames by yet another incident, this time in Venice herself. It was an age-​old law that no foreign armed vessel should be allowed to enter the harbour. A small French warship defied the ban and ignored an order to leave. The forts then opened fire, killing several of her crew.

Buonaparte now had all the ammunition he wanted. With a great show of righteous anger, he declared war on the Serene Republic. Rather than fight, the Senate humbly agreed to accept his terms. On May 4th, they handed over their three senior Inquisitors and the Commander of the Port to big Commissioners, and disarmed and sent back to Dalmatia their trusty Slavonian troops. In the meantime, the French Charge d’ Affaires, Villetard, had been intensely active in forming a party of so called 'patriots' on the traditional revolutionary lines.

Ten days later, the final scenes of degradation took place. ln the vain hope that Buonaparte might treat Venice better as a democracy than as an oligarchy, the Grand Council voted, by 512 against only 20, its own abolition, and the transfer of its authority to a Municipality selected by Villetard. The aged Doge, Manin, fell in a dead faint from shame as he took off his bonnet of office. This, his other insignia, and the Golden Book, were publicly burnt, Trees of Liberty were set up in the Square of St. Mark, the Venetian fleet was handed over, and a ghastly pretence was made of welcoming the French troops into the city as the bringers of liberty.

Roger was deeply sensible of the terrible distress that these happenings must have caused Captain Battista, and many other Venetians like him, who would willingly have fought for their country; but it was inescapable that enervating luxury had rendered the Venetian nobility rotten to the core, and that this, coupled with cowardly inaction, or rather lack of a demand for it, on the part of the majority of the citizens, was responsible for the fall of the ancient Republic.

The voyage up the Adriatic proved a pleasant one, and on August 15th they entered the thirty mile long lagoon, with its many islands. For two hours, Roger enjoyed the spectacle of the beautiful city rising from the sea, with the lofty campanile and the domes of Sta Giorgio Maggiore, Sta Maria del Salute, and those of a score of other great churches, gradually coming nearer.

They docked at the Zattere allo Spirito Santo and, after Roger had paid the dues on his scents, Battista took him to an auberge in a narrow street just behind the church of that name, that catered for eastern merchants. After arranging for his accommodation, they parted on most friendly terms, and Roger, pretending deafness so as to avoid talking with the landlord and other lodgers at the place, took up his abode in a small, but clean, apartment on the second floor.

To reach Venice from Bahna had taken him four and a half months and, for the greater part of the six thousand miles between them, he had suffered loneliness and great discomfort. But, had he gone back to Calcutta, returned from there by ship to England, or even to Gibraltar, and then done the last stage through the western Mediterranean, it could well have taken him much longer; and, by the route he had followed, with its many hazards of delay by weather or waiting for ships to sail, there had always been the chance that he might catch up with Malderini.

Roger would not have been surprised if it turned out that he had by-​passed his enemy and arrived first; but he thought that unlikely. In any case, Malderini had no reason to hide his return, and it would soon become widely known because he was a prominent citizen of Venice. That also meant, though, that it would be far from easy to kill him without arousing a big hue and cry and, while Roger was determined to have his life, he had no intention of paying for it with his own, if that could possibly be avoided. He therefore decided that, whether or not Malderini had yet arrived, he would do well to spend his first few days in Venice familiarising himself with the city.

During the long August evening and all the following day, on foot and by gondola, he explored the maze of canals crossed by scores of little bridges and a labyrinth of narrow streets, alleys and small squares that make Venice so unlike any other city. By night, while drinking coffee at a cafe in the crowded Piazza San Marco and listening to the band of a French Chasseur regiment, he delighted in the fairy like beauty of the Byzantine Cathedral. Filling one end of the huge open space, its innumerable coloured marble pillars, lit by the hundreds of lamps in the arcades along the other three sides, and its five cupolas standing out against the deep blue starlit sky, gave it the appearance of a painted back-​drop on some gargantuan stage. By day, he admired the great square Palace of the Doges, the world famous Rialto Bridge and the scores of stately Palaces on the Grand Canal.

That afternoon, he learned by tactful enquiries that, on the fall of the Serenissima, the British Ambassador, Sir Richard Worsley, Bart., had demanded his papers and left Venice; but that the Consul, Mr. John Watson, had remained on as charge d’Affaires, and lived in the Calle del Sansovino, just behind the Dario Palace.

Next morning he went there in the guise of a perfume seller, supporting by a strap round his neck a box like covered tray, holding a score of small square glass bottles, each containing a different scent. Although not large, like nearly all the houses in the better quarters of Venice that of the Consul had a handsome pillared doorway of carved stone, and the windows of its ground-​floor rooms were protected by iron grilles, wrought by a craftsman. Roger pulled down the long iron bell-​pull, and waited.

The door was opened by a footman in undress livery, who had the dark eyes and complexion of a typical Italian. Immediately he saw that Roger was a huckster he made to close it again; but speaking in broken Italian Roger said quickly:

'Scent, very special, for your master. Scent from London. English Lavender. You tell him, English Lavender. He very pleased with you, English Lavender.' And, as he was speaking, he swiftly thrust a sequin into the servant's hand.

The man hesitated a moment, then, evidently reluctant to return such a handsome bribe, nodded and shut the door. Five minutes later he returned and let Roger into a small stone-​flagged hall with a row of four pillars at its far end. Between two of them, a tall thin man of about fifty was standing. He had blue eyes and was wearing his own hair which had been a fiery red, but was now streaked with grey.

Roger had no doubt that he was Mr. Watson. After making a grave salaam, he went forward muttering his Italian patter, repeating 'English Lavender' and lifting the lid of the box of perfumes. The Consul made a pretence of looking at them and smelt the back of his hand on which Roger had smeared the wet stopper of one of the little bottles. As soon as the servant had disappeared, he said:

This is not lavender.'

'No,' Roger replied in a low voice. 'But I am English. When can I see you on private business? I have a letter from Mr. Pitt.'

After a surprised lift of his thick eyebrows, the Consul whispered back: 'There is a side door in the wall to the left. Be there at eleven o'clock tonight and give three sharp knocks.' Then, talking loudly in Italian again, he led Roger back across the hall and let him out.

A little over twelve hours later, he let him in by the side door. It gave onto a small court, having in it a single old magnolia tree, some tubs of flowers, and a marble table with an inlaid top upon which were an oil-​lamp and some papers. The August night was very sultry and evidently the Consul had been working out there. Motioning Roger to an iron garden chair, he said at once:

I never expected to be honoured by a letter from the Prime Minister, but…'

'Forgive me,' Roger interrupted. 'I fear I misled you. The letter is to myself; and I wished to show it you only as evidence of my bona fides. Here it is.'

Ah well!' Mr. Watson hid his disappointment with a little shrug, took the letter that Colonel Wesley had delivered to Roger in Calcutta, read it through by the light of the lamp, and said: 'This makes it clear that you are in the Prime Minister's confidence, Mr. Brook. In what way can I be of service to you?'

Roger bowed. 'I thank you. Sir in the first place, do you know anything of a signor Rinaldo Malderini?'

'Yes. He is, I think, the sole survivor of a noble Venetian family, and married to an Indian Princess. His is not an attractive personality and he is said to dabble in the Black Art. He is reputed to be rich and is interested in theatrical productions, acting frequently as backer for them. But he had also, at times, been employed by the government. He went on a mission to London for the Serenissima last summer; an unfortunate choice for us, as his sympathies are pro-​French. He has since been absent from Venice for many months; but where, I do not know. He reappeared here about three weeks ago.'

'Ah!' exclaimed Roger. 'He is back, then. Where does he live?'

'He has a palace on the Grand Canal on the corner where the Canal San Barnaba runs into it. Anyone will point it out to you. If your business with him is secret, though, have a care of the gondolier who takes you there. Under the old regime, all gondoliers had to report nightly to the police on the trips they made and any conversations of interest between their passengers that they had overheard. That was one of the principal ways in which the Inquisitors were kept informed of everyone's doings, and the French have been quick to avail them; selves of it.'

'I thank you for the warning. It must be, though, one of the few things which have not changed with the coming of the French.'

Alas, yes. Venice was a delightful city. Provided one did not meddle in politics, there was no city in which greater liberty was enjoyed. I have been Consul here since '91 and had hoped never to be transferred to another post. Whether I shall be allowed to remain depends now on how Venice is disposed of in the peace treaty.'

'Since the preliminaries were agreed last April, I find it surprising the final terms have not yet been settled!'

It is the Austrians who have held things up. They are playing a waiting game, in the hope that events in Paris will enable them to exact better terms from General Buonaparte.

I have been long abroad, Sir,' Roger informed his companion. 'In fact, to India and back; so I am completely out of touch. Pray tell me how matters stand in Paris now?'

Mr. Watson sat back and crossed his long legs. 'The Directory still rules the roost and is as corrupt as ever. But it is having a hard fight to hold it down. Of the five, Rewbell, Barras and Larewelliere-​Lepeaux are all rabid revolutionaries; Carnot and Barthelemy, who replaced Letourneur last March, are moderates. As Rewbell and Co. are in the majority, they are able to out-​vote the other two on every measure; so the proscription of émigrés and the persecution of priests continues unchanged, although the vast majority of the French people would gladly see an end to the state of things they have inherited from the Terror.

'That this is so was clearly shown by the first re-​election of the Corps Legislatif, which was held last March. Of the two hundred and sixteen members from the old Terrorist Convention who had to offer themselves for re-​election, only eleven were returned. They were replaced almost entirely by Deputies who favour a restitution of the Constitution of '91. Few, if any, of them desire a King, of course; but they would like to see real liberty restored under just laws and religious toleration. Yet, with the Directory as it is still constituted, they are powerless.

'In January there was a Royalist conspiracy led by the Abbe Brottier. It was badly handled, so swiftly suppressed. But I don't doubt that, seeing the general state of France, the Austrians are procrastinating in the hope of another which will prove successful. Buonaparte and the Directory now form an uneasy partnership. His victories have so increased his stature that they are now frightened of him. On the other hand, he was Barras's protégé and is tarred with the same brush; so the overthrow of the Directory might lead to his recall, or anyway weaken his hand to an extent that would enable the Austrians to get better terms from him.'

'So that's how things stand,' Roger nodded. 'The fact that the Austrians are making peace at all, though, throws the whole burden of the war onto us, and our situation was bad enough already. Knowing how anxious Mr. Pitt was to obtain peace, before I left England last summer I wonder greatly that he, too, is not endeavouring to negotiate a settlement with the French.'

'He did so endeavour, by sending my Lord Malmesbury to Paris last December. But at that time, of course, he was still bound by our understanding with the Austrians that their Belgian lands should be returned to them, and the French would not hear of it. They put a pistol to his Lordship's head, and told him to accept their own terms in full or quit Paris within forty-​eight hours. Our Ambassador here, Sir Richard Worsley, when placing our affairs in my hands before he left, told me that the French Constitutional party are actually eager for peace, but the Directory regards Britain as the most implacable of all its enemies. They showed it by their insulting treatment of my Lord Malmesbury, and no doubt Mr. Pitt feels that, while they remain in power, to go hat in hand to them again would be too great a humiliation. Like the Austrians, he must be hoping for their downfall.'

I'd not count on it,' Roger remarked, with a shake of his head 'If they do fall, it will mean the dry guillotine for them a one-​way trip to Cayenne so they'll fight to the last ditch. Besides, I greatly doubt if their overthrow would bring about any permanent change to our advantage. I am well acquainted with General Buonaparte. Unless I much misjudge the man, now he has proved himself by such a tale of victories he would march on Paris, throw the whole Chamber of Deputies into prison and restore the Directory; or something very like it. No. To my mind, instead of banking on such flimsy hopes, Mr. Pitt would be better advised to endeavour to rebuild the Coalition.'

How can he, with Spain and Holland gone over to the enemy, Italy overrun, and Austria about to sign a peace?'

'There is still Prussia; she might be drawn in again. And Sweden and Russia. What of the last? A year ago the old Empress Catherine was on the verge of making an alliance with us. Is she still havering?'

'We'll get no help there. She died last November,

'The Devil she did!' exclaimed Roger. 'Well, God rest her soul. She once played me a scurvy trick by forcing me to take a hell-​cat as my wife. But she was a great woman for all that. Who has succeeded her?'

'Her son, as Paul I. He so hated his mother that he has reversed all her policies, good or bad, as though he hoped to spite her in her grave.'

I'm not surprised by that. He is a weak-​kneed imbecile.'

At all events, he has become pro-​French. Prussia is still occupied in holding down her share of Poland's carcase, and, since King Gustavus's assassination, there has been little hope of persuading the Swedes to fight.'

Roger sighed. Tis a plaguey poor look out for Britain, then. I doubt, though, if Austria will accept as final this setback she has sustained. She has a mighty reservoir of men and. can we but hang on, after she has licked her wounds a while she might come in with us again. I pray only that her diplomats will succeed in securing a peace that will leave her comparatively strong. Have you any idea of the terms under discussion?'

'I know those agreed in the preliminaries at Leoben, Austria was to surrender all rights to her Belgian territories and the Duchy of Milan and receive in compensation the Venetian lands in Dalmatia, Istria and on this side of the Adriatic as far south as the river Po. She was also to recognise the French frontiers as proclaimed by the Republic. Venice was to be compensated, if you can call it that, by receiving the Papal States of Romagna, Ferrara and Bologna.'

'The last would mean Buonaparte's committing infanticide on his young Cispadane Republic'

Mr. Watson smiled. 'As you have admitted, Mr. Brook, you are behind the times. He did so a month ago, but at its own request. In July he founded another Republic, the Cisalpine, formed from the Duchy of Milan, and the Cispadanes begged so hard for union with this more powerful young sister that he let them have their way.'

'Surely that makes it even less likely that he would now tear a large limb from it to please Venice?'

'I agree. But remember the preliminaries of Leoben were settled before he quarrelled openly with the Serene Republic.'

'True. So it looks now as if Venice will not possess any mainland territories in the future.'

'I think it likely; but she has only herself to blame. Sir Richard Worsley did his utmost to get the Serenissima to fight and, had he succeeded, what a different picture there might be. They had 13,000 devoted Slavonian troops here in the city alone. They could have armed the Veronese and others loyal to the Republic, called on the Tyrolese and Croats for help and launched a formidable army in Buonaparte's rear while he was at death grips with the Austrians up in the Syrian Alps. His supplies would have been cut off and by now, instead of his being the master of all Italy, his whole campaign might have been brought to ruin.'

Roger nodded. 'That I know was Mr. Pitt's hope. And even if she had failed, the Serene Republic would have made an end worthy of her. But I felt convinced from the beginning that the Serenissima would not have the guts to fight. What now, though? Do you think Buonaparte will leave the city its independence?'

'I certainly hope so; and so does our Government at home.'

'In that I disagree,' Roger said firmly. 'I would like to see it given to Austria. So rich and populous a city would prove a great asset under firm rule. Should there be a resumption of the war, the possession of such a place could make a vast difference.'

'Buonaparte must know that, so, although the Austrians may press for it, I greatly doubt if he will let them have it.'

They fell silent for a minute, then Roger said, 'Given that they are allowed to retain their independence, I take it that when the French have withdrawn there is a possibility that the Municipality may be overthrown and the Serenissima revived? If it was your ambition to become Doge in such a new government, how would you set about it?'

Without a second's hesitation, the Consul replied, 'I should become a leader in the resistance movement which has already started, and hope to make a name for myself by some shrewd blow against the French.'

'I see,' said Roger thoughtfully. 'There are then still a few Venetians left who have some stomach for a fight.'

'Yes; and the man you enquired about has, since his return, become their leader.'

'What!' cried Roger, springing up. 'Malderini! But I thought you said he was pro-​French?'

'He was, a year ago; but he has now changed his tune. I much dislike the man but needs must collaborate with him. Only a few days ago I received instructions from the Foreign Office to render these conspirators all the aid in my power.'

Roger suddenly hit the table with his fist. Ten thousand devils! What a plaguey twist of fate! To think that, now I've run my most deadly enemy to earth, I should find him on my side of the fence!'