The Wanton Princess

Yet fate decreed that their liaison should shortly be brought to an abrupt termination. One night near the middle of November, when Aimee took him up to Pauline's room he found her in the depths of depression. Borghese had for some time tired of Paris and wanted to return to his own palace in Rome. Pauline had told him to go if he wished but that she had no intention of accompanying liim. Loath to leave her behind, Borghesc had spoken to Napoleon and he had written to her from Boulogne. In his letter he said that she must go with her husband and at once, as otherwise snow would make the Alps impassable. There had followed injunctions to 'love her husband, be respectful to his relatives, conform to the customs of the country, admire everything, never say "in Paris we have better than that", show attachment to the Holy Father, receive only people of unblemished reputation and never the English, etc., etc., and above all not to be wanton or capricious.' The lecture ended by pointing out that she was twenty-four so ought now to be mature and sensible. In fact she was barely twenty-three, but that did not make the letter less an order that must be obeyed.

Packing had started, the house was already upside down and arrangements had been made for the Borgheses to set out for Italy in three days' time. Roger did his best to console Pauline, but he was able to make her forget that she was being driven into exile only for the duration of a last long passionate embrace. Then they took a sad farewell of one another.

Had Roger not learned of Pauline's infidelity he would have felt their parting much more grievously; but his love affair with her had lasted, with only the two-month interval he had spent at Bruges, for very nearly a year, so the edge had already been taken off their physical desire. Even so, her going left a sad gap in his life and he continued to think of her with longing. Then, early in December, he was given a far more serious matter to think about.

Somewhat to his surprise he received a politely worded letter from Talleyrand, not inviting him to supper but requesting him to come the following evening to St. Cloud to discuss a certain matter. Having ridden out through the Bois to the Palace in its well-wooded grounds on the far bank of the Seine. Roger enquired for the Foreign Minister and was shown up to a magnificent apartment.

The tall windows were now screened by curtains of blue satin embroidered with the golden eagles and bees that Napo­leon had already taken as his emblems. The furniture was of gilt and marble embellished with sphinx's heads and winged griffons which was to become known to posterity as 'Empire'. Talleyrand was seated there behind a vast desk, as impeccably dressed and smiling as ever. As Roger bowed to him, he said:

'Cher ami, I must apologize for having brought you all the way from Paris, but our little man has now insisted that I should spend a certain amount of my time here. At least he has had the decency to provide me with a pleasant setting for me to take my naps between attending to tiresome business. Do you approve it?'

Roger glanced round and smiled, 'Your Excellency was born of a princely family and even a Prince could not com­plain about having to work in such luxurious surroundings.'

'True, true, cher Colonel. But alas, work I must to justify these trappings. And I need your advice. Your mother, I recall, was a Scottish lady.'

'Yes,' replied Roger, somewhat surprised. 'She was a McElfic and a daughter of the then Earl of Kildonan.'

'Then my memory has not failed me. And he was a Jacobite, was he not?'

'Yes. He led his clan in the rising of '45, which sought to place Prince Charles Edward on the throne of his Stuart ancestors. After its failure the Earl was heavily penalized and all but a small part of his lands were confiscated. Naturally he became embittered on that account and remained a staunch Jacobite. He would have followed the Pretender to Rome had his health permitted. As things were, you can imagine the antagonism with which he would have regarded a match between his daughter and my father, Admiral Sir Christopher Brook, who was a staunch Hanoverian. In con­sequence, they eloped and married without his consent; so my contact with my Scottish relatives has always been exceed­ingly slender.'

Talleyrand nodded, 'That is unfortunate, because it was information on the present feeling of Jacobites in Scotland that I sought from you. Ireland, of course, has long been a thorn in Britain's side, and by stirring up trouble there we have several times made good use of it. But it has now occurred to our master that when the invasion of England takes place we might also create a valuable diversion by making a landing in Scotland and rousing the Jacobites there against their Hanoverian King. What think you of the prospects of such a project?'

Roger shook his head, 'Far from good. The rebellion of '45 took place nearly sixty years ago. The Hanoverian Kings have since then ruled Scotland wisely, on a light rein, and won over the greater part of the country's inhabitants. Only a few die-hards would again take up arms against King George and most of those, like my cousin the present Earl, are powerless to raise their clans because they have for long lived abroad, to begin with as exiles at the Court of the Pretender in Rome and since his death cither there or at other places on the Continent.'

With a quiet smile Talleyrand said, 'That is much as I supposed. It seems though that you are not aware that your cousin died above a year ago.'

Suddenly an alarm bell began to ring in Roger's brain. After a slight hesitation he said, 'No. I did not know that. And I am sorry to hear it, for he was the last of his line and the peerage has become extinct upon his death.'

Talleyrand took snuff, flicked the fallen grains from his lace cravat and remarked with, for him, unusual gravity, 'Enquiries through our Ambassador in Rome about these Jacobite nobles has led to my receiving certain authentic information about them. Over three years ago your cousin was knocked down by a runaway horse. The injuries he sustained were so serious that he was never afterwards able to do more than limp about the apartment that he occupied. He met his death when his crutch slipped on a polished floor­board and he fell down the stairs, breaking his neck. It is, therefore, obvious that it could not have been he whom Duroc mistook for you when in St. Petersburg. What have you to say about that?'

20

Poised on the Precipice

The alarm bell that had begun to tinkle in Roger's brain a few minutes earlier suddenly increased to a shrill clangour. He knew Talleyrand far too well not to realize now why he had been sent for. It was not to get his opinion on the chances of stirring up a Jacobite rising in Scotland. That had been only his devious lead in—the sort of cat and mouse game that he loved—before resurrecting this dangerous question of the identity of the man Duroc had met in Moscow.

Masking his perturbation with a shrug, Roger replied, 'Then since it could not have been my cousin it must have been some other person who closely resembles me.'

Talleyrand had ceased to smile as he asked, 'And who could be so near a twin to yourself as that English Admiral's son, Mr. Roger Brook?'

Roger had rarely felt less like laughing; but he threw back his head, chuckled and said, 'Oh come. Excellence! To you it has been no secret since we first met that he and I are one and the same person. But you will recall that within a fort­night of Duroc's having imagined that he saw me in St. Petersburg I attended a reception you gave in the Rue du Bac. For me to have made such a journey in so short a time would have been utterly impossible.'

'I wonder,' the Minister picked up an ivory paper-knife and began to twirl it between his elegant hands. 'Impossible I grant you to all but a very few exceptionally determined men capable of great endurance... such as yourself.'

'You flatter me mightily by the comparison.' Roger made a little bow. 'But I do protest. After being wounded at Marengo I could not possibly have travelled at such speed over a distance of seventeen hundred miles.'

Still unsmiling, Talleyrand returned the bow, 'I congratu­late you on your knowledge of geography. It must be con­siderable to be able to give the distance between the two capitals without reference to a map.'

Silently Roger cursed himself for having made such a slip, while the deep melodious voice went on, 'As to your wound, a year had elapsed since Marengo; ample time for your health to have been fully restored. Yet, I recall, you arrived at my reception so exhausted that you could hardly stand and I sent you off to bed. Your explanation was that you had just returned from recuperating at your chateau in the south of France, that to test your recovery you had ridden thirty leagues that day, and it had proved too much for you. Might the fact not have been that you had fully recovered and were exhausted from having ridden fifty leagues?'

That was indeed the distance Roger had ridden. Intensely anxious now about the outcome of this interview, he could only hope that Talleyrand was simply fishing and had no definite information to support his evident suspicions. Rais­ing a smile, he said in as light a tone as he could manage:

'That is a hundred and fifty English miles; and even before Marengo I could ne'er have done it. For the life of me I cannot imagine what could have put such an idea into Your Excellency's head.'

Talleyrand ceased toying with the paper-knife, laid it down and said with cold deliberation, 'Then I will tell you. Reluctant as I have ever been to give my mind to business, I much enjoy allowing it to roam in idle speculation. From the first Duroc's report intrigued me and, knowing your antecedents, I wondered if it could possibly have been you that he met in St. Petersburg. The alibi you produced appeared indestructible; but when some weeks ago I received a report about the Jacobite nobles living in exile in Rome and learned that it could not possibly have been the Lord Kildonan that Duroc saw, I once more began to speculate upon the matter. So intrigued was I that I went further. I instructed my agents to make certain enquiries.'

Pausing, the Minister continued to hold Roger's gaze steadily while taking a pinch of snuff. Roger, meanwhile, felt his heart beginning to pound so that he had difficulty in keeping his breathing even. He knew now that the cat and mouse game was over and the cat was coming in for the kill.

Flicking away the grains of snuff from the satin lapels of his coat the elegant human cat went on, 'Having been given the relevant dates my agents reported to me that during the first half of 1801 you did not at any time occupy your chateau at St. Maxime and that the register of post services chargeable to the Army shows that on June 6th a Colonel Brcuc was furnished with a mount in Frankfurt, lay in Verdun for a few hours the following night and arrived in Paris on the 8th, the evening of my reception.' Suddenly Talleyrand leaned for­ward and pointed an accusing finger:

'Touchc, Mistair Brook; et touche encore'

With a sigh Roger put up both his hands palms outward, ‘I admit it. I might have known that although I could fool Duroc I could not fool you. That is if it occurred to you to go into the matter; but I saw no reason why you should.'

Talleyrand smiled but his smile had no humour in it, 'The gamble you took was a good one. It would have corns off had I not learned of Lord Kildonan's accident and its having made it impossible for him to leave Rome during the last years of his life. 'Tis upon just such slender chances that the fate of empires hang. In this case it is your own. Now, Mr. Brook, be good enough to inform me of your reason for going to St. Petersburg.'

'I spent some time there in '87 and, having become bored by my long convalescence after Marengo, I thought it would be interesting to pay another visit to the city.'

'Indeed!' The Minister's mobile mouth curved into a sneer. 'And, no doubt, you found a swift cure for your boredom in plotting the murder of the Czar?'

'You wrong me, Excellence,' Roger protested with a frown. 'I would never make myself a party to assassination.'

'In that I believe you. I should have said in plotting his removal from power. I have much information on that affair and it seems that the original intention was only to place the Czar under restraint. I also know that an Englishman was among those who forced their way into Paul's room. From the description I have had of him I've now not a doubt that he was yourself. Can you deny it?'

Roger shrugged, 'Since Your Excellency is convinced of ‘ that I have no means by which I can alter your opinion.'

'I would have wagered a fortune that you could not.' Talleyrand's deep voice had taken on a harsh note. 'And so we have the true picture. Long since I suspected you of being an English secret agent. In '98 I charged you with it, but you assured me that you were no longer working for Mr. Pitt and intended to carve out for yourself a career in France. Still only half-convinced of your sincerity I nullified your pros­pects of sending information back from Paris to London by insisting that your duty lay in accompanying Bonaparte on his expedition to Egypt. On his return you played a valuable part in the coup d'etat of Brumaire and, your prospects of advancement being so good, it seemed to me that you had everything to gain by remaining loyal to France. With a skill that one can but admire you have since led me to believe that my suspicions of you were entirely groundless. Napoleon, myself and many others have made you privy to our most secret intentions and you deceived us all. Now, it is revealed that for all these years we have been nurturing a viper in our bosoms.

'For your activities while in Russia there can be only one explanation. Mad as the Czar Paul may have been, we had made him the friend of France, so it was in our interest that he should retain his throne; whereas the interests of England lay in his removal from it. Taking advantage of the indefinite leave granted you to recover from your wound, I haven't a doubt that you went to London and that there your real master discussed with you the situation in Russia. He would have told you that the Czar had many enemies but that they were a cowardly, woolly-minded, irresolute lot. You are the very antithesis of that, and he sent you to persuade, urge, bully, bribe them into taking action. History will not record the part you played but it will the result of your mission. You temporarily altered the balance of power in favour of your country. That was a great achievement, Mr. Brook. But it is your last. You have deceived us far too long and will deceive us no more. You must know, too, the penalty for a spy who has been found out. It is death.'

Never before had Roger seen Talleyrand in such a mood, nor thought him even capable of displaying-such harshness. Gone was the urbane, charming friend and another person­ality had emerged; a ruthless intriguer who had had his cherished plans brought to naught and for that meant to exact vengeance.

Roger had gone slightly pale. The knuckles of his hands showed white as, with rising tension, he clasped them on his knee. He had always thought that if he ever slipped up badly he could count on Talleyrand to get him out; but such a hope was now obviously vain. The very fact that they had been such close friends was, he realized, the clue to the Minister's rancour; for he prided himself on his astuteness, and to learn that he had been fooled by a man with whom he had been intimate for years must have roused in him intense resent­ment. In a low voice Roger said:

'Your Excellency has made a case and I am in no position to refute your charges. I have performed many services for France but my first loyalty has always been to England, and will be so until I die.'

'That is a brave declaration. Many men in your present position would have sought to save themselves by offering to use their contacts in England to work in future for France.'

'Monsieur le Ministre, if you mean that as a suggestion I can take it only as an insult.'

Talleyrand raised an eyebrow, 'Spies form a class apart. As their profession largely consists of betraying confidences they are regarded as persons without honour, so cannot be insulted. But let that pass. We have worked together so often and for so long that I would have liked to find a means by which you could escape the fate you have brought upon yourself. Can you suggest one?'

'No, I fear not,' Roger shook his head. 'What alternative is there? Only an appeal to you that you should allow me to go free and return to England. But, being so well informed as I am of French affairs, that would be too much to expect. Our countries are at war. You know me now to be a danger to yours; so you could not with a clear conscience allow me to continue to give assistance to France's enemies. My only regret is that it should be you who has found me out, and so be inflicted with what must be the unpleasant duty of sending me to face a firing squad.'

Regarding him curiously, Talleyrand said, 'I admire your scruples in refraining from appealing to my personal feelings for you; although in your circumstances I would not have them. However, there remain the services you have rendered France, and they are considerable. I can at least ensure that they are given full prominence at your trial with a strong recommendation to mercy.'

Roger gave a pale smile, 'I thank Your Excellency for your good intentions; but I'd as lief you allowed matters to take their course. Mercy in this case could mean retaining my life only at the price of spending many years imprisoned in a fortress. I have had a wonderful life and a long run for my money. But I've always anticipated that, sooner or later, I would be called on to pay for that and I'd much prefer to settle the bill in one lump sum.'

'Are you not then afraid to die?'

'I am of being executed. Contrary to popular belief I am, physically, the veriest coward. But I've no fear of death itself, nor any great regret at being deprived of a continuance of my present existence. Pauline Borghese is the most lovely creature; but she has gone to Rome and, to be honest, drawn though I was to her like an iron filing to a magnet, at rock bottom 1 had no deep feeling for her—nor she for me, else she would not have married Borghese while I was in Bruges. So that is finished. From my teens onwards until some fifteen months ago I had an abiding passion for an English lady who returned my love. But that, too, alas, is over, and for good. So I have nothing much now to live for.'

'Yet you would surely rather live than die?'

'Naturally. Even with no special inducement to survive, life still holds many pleasures and interests. Not least to learn how the war between our countries will end.'

Opening a drawer in his desk, Talleyrand took from it a dog-cared piece of thin pasteboard on which the writing was almost illegible. Pushing it across to Roger he asked, 'Do you recognize this?'

Picking it up, Roger looked at it for a moment then exclaimed, 'Why, yes! It is the passport that I fooled Danton into giving me for you, so that you could escape from France to England at the height of the Terror.'

Talleyrand nodded, 'It saved me from the guillotine. And, although people rate me guilty of many things, no one has ever accused me of not having a good memory.'

From the drawer he then produced a clean, new oblong of pasteboard and added, 'Here is another. It will take you via the Netherlands into Germany, and from a port there you should have no difficulty in finding a ship that will carry you to England.'

Roger had needed all his fortitude both to remain calm and resist the temptation to plead for his life. What he had said of Pauline and Georgina was true but, in spite of that, he was far from ready to die. He had made a pretence of resignation only because he felt that by doing so he would stand a better chance of taking Talleyrand by surprise, snatching up a heavy candle-stick from the desk, rendering him unconscious by a blow over the head and walking calmly out of the Palace before he could be arrested.

Now tears started to his eyes, and he stammered, 'You ... you really mean that... that despite all I know of French affairs you did not mean even to put me in prison, but... but allow me to leave the country? That is indeed generous and I thank you from my heart.'

Talleyrand was now smiling, 'Can you suppose that if I had ever had any other intention I would have been quite so big a fool as to remain here alone with such a resourceful and desperate fellow as Mr. Roger Brook?'

For the first time in years Roger found himself blushing, 'Well,' he laughed. 'I do confess that I had it in mind to hit you over the head, then make with all speed for the coast.'

'A very natural reaction, cher ami. But 1 could not resist this temptation to enjoy your discomfiture at my having found you out. I have, of course, given that very serious consideration and it is my opinion that, even if I allowed you to remain here as a free citizen, the ill you could do to France would, except in some quite exceptional circumstance which is unlikely to arise, be outweighed by your usefulness to me here. You and I have always been at one in believing that no permanent peace and prosperity can be maintained in Europe unless our two great countries sink their differences. You have considerable influence with many important people here, and a quick and subtle mind; so for my secret endeavours to bring about a lasting settlement I could have no better lieutenant than yourself.'

After taking snuff again, the Minister added, 'But now it is my intention to use you as my secret emissary to England.'

Roger stiffened slightly, 'I thought I had made it clear that...'

Talleyrand made an impatient gesture, 'You did. And when giving you that passport I made no conditions. Do you wish it you may proceed freely to England and never return. But I have hopes that you will agree to give me your help in a matter that will in no way conflict with your conscience. A while back you said that you would never become a party to an assassination. May I take it that implies that you would prevent any attempt at assassination if you could?'

'Certainly. However much one may hate an enemy, to kill him in fair fight is one thing, but to take him off his guard and stab him in the back is quite another.'

‘I agree, yet across the Channel there is a plot to assas­sinate Napoleon.'

'You imply that the English are engaged in such a plot. Greatly as they loathe him, I do not believe it.'

'No. I dc not believe that the King's Ministers would lend themselves to such despicable measures, but I have evidence that several of their subordinates are encouraging the designs of the embittered Royalist refugees. For one, a Mr. Ham­mond who is the Permanent Under Secretary at the Foreign Office. And there are others of whom I will tell you. One, Hyde de Neuville is the Royalist leader and it has come to my knowledge that he and his right-hand man, Mehee dc la Touche, have been several times recently in Paris spying out the land. These extremists believe that if only they could put Napoleon out of the way, rather than be plunged again into civil strife, the French people would prefer to receive back the Comtc de Provence as King Louis XVIII. But these out-at-elbows plotters art. a cowardly lot and, instead of risking their own skins, they plan to use Georges Cadoudal, the Breton peasant leader.'

'You surprise me.' Roger put in, 'Cadoudal is a brave fellow, and by his skilful resistance has won the admiration even of his enemies I would not have thought him the type of man to agree to become an assassin '

'Nor I But one must remember that he is a fanatic. In August last he landed secretly at Biville, near Dieppe, and proceeded to Munich, where he conferred with Mehee de la Touche and Mr. Drake, the British agent. Do you perchance know Drake?

'No,' Roger shook his head, T have heard of but never met him. I owe my long immunity to the fact that, as far as circumstances permitted, I have held no communication with any other British agent.'

'How wise of you,’ Talleyrand smiled. 'However, there it is. I have particulars of the conversations they held. It was agreed that some time during this winter Cadoudal should enter France again with a band of resolute adherents and make an attempt to eliminate Napoleon. You know as well as I do that, as things stand, the people of France would never accept the restoration of a Bourbon to the throne. It follows that the death of Napoleon could lead only to anarchy and a renewal of the Terror. While I believe Drake to be acting on his own initiative, and that the British Government plays no part in this, they must have knowledge of the centres in which Royalist plots are bred. You have the entree to highly placed persons in England so could find out where those centres are and, perhaps, penetrate them. Should you succeed in that you could then return here and furnish me with particulars of the plotters' intentions. Then I would be able to take due precautions. Let us be clear. I do not ask your aid in anything that would be harmful to England; only your help in preventing an assassination which would further embitter the relations between our countries. Now; what say you?’

'I agree,' Roger replied without hesitation. ‘We have many times worked together for what we believed to be good ends. Should Napoleon be assassinated it would be attributed to the English, and since he has become the idol of the French people, there would then be no hope of seeing peace in our life-time. This vile conspiracy must be thwarted at all costs, and I'll spare no effort to aid you in nipping it in the bud.'

'Well said!' Talleyrand stood up and clasped his hand, 'But the matter has become urgent; so I will tell Napoleon that I have temporarily deprived him of you for a special service in which his own safety is concerned, in order that you can leave France without delay.'

The following day Roger set out for England.

21

The Double Agent

Roger had no need of the passport with which Talleyrand had provided him and did not proceed via Holland into Germany; neither, in view of the war situation, did he go to Calais. Instead he took the road to Dieppe and, in a fishing village not far from it, sought out a smuggler who on two previous occasions had put him across the Channel. There, to his distress, he learned that his old friend had, a few months earlier, been killed in an affray with the English. Having made the man's widow a present of a sum of money, he rode the thirty-five miles down the coast to Fecamp and there he proved luckier. Another smuggler, to whom the widow had sent him, intended to sail two days later and agreed to run him over; although he had to pay twice the sum that he had when he had last crossed two years earlier.

This was owing to the threat of invasion that now menaced England. While Napoleon had been mustering his vast army the British had been far from idle. Lord Keith commanded a squadron in the North Sea covering the Dutch ports and Lord Cornwallis another blockading Brest, while the narrows between Kent and the Pas dc Calais swarmed with sloops and gunboats, the latter largely manned by the Sea Fencibles, as volunteers for local sea services were called.

In consequence, as Roger had assumed, smuggling from either side across the narrows had become such a hazardous venture that it had almost ceased. But the demand in Britain for French wines and cognac was as great as ever, while the French, despite Napoleon's interdicts, were still eager to secure English cloth and Nottingham lace; so the illicit traffic continued but had to be by longer sea passages to the west, and even on the Dorset and Devonshire coasts the risk of capture had increased considerably.

Early in the morning of December 12th, the wind being favourable, they set sail; but, instead of running out into the open sea, they spent the whole day crossing the Bay of the Seine until, late at night, they reached the tip of the Cher­bourg peninsula. There they lay to until the following after­noon and only then again set sail on a northerly course across the Channel.

Towards evening the weather worsened and it was Roger's misfortune that when about half way across they were hit by a sou'wester. Stripped of her canvas the little ship bucked most horribly and he was dreadfully sick. When morning came she was many miles off her course and that day went in getting her back to a position from which she could make her run in; so it was not until an hour before dawn on the 15th that, still pale and ill, he was put ashore a few miles west of Christchurch at the foot of a deserted gorse-covered chine which, many years later, was to form part of Bournemouth.

Carrying his valise he trudged unhappily to Christchurch; but the walk did him good and, as he had not eaten for the past two days, restored his appetite. After breakfasting at the best inn, feeling more his own man, he hired a postchaise and drove through Lymington to Walhampton Park with the intention of visiting his father before proceeding to London.

There he was received by Sir William Burrard, with whom his father had gone to live in the spring of 1800. After greeting him cordially but a little awkwardly the Baronet broke it to him that his father had died the previous winter.

Roger was not greatly surprised as, after his retirement from the Navy, the Admiral's health had deteriorated and when Roger had last seen him he had been far from well. Neither did he feel any great sense of loss, as during his youth fear of his father had brought him near to hating him and it was not until later years, during which they had seen one another only at long intervals, that they had become good friends.

Sir William pressed him to stay as long as he wished at Walhampton and Roger gladly accepted for a few nights; then, tired out from his journey, went straight up to bed. That night over supper his host gave him particulars of his father and told him that Mr. Drummond to whom the Admiral had let Grove Place was still occupying it pending some arrangement with the Admiral's heir; although the three-year tenancy had come to an end in the previous March.

Next day Roger rode into Lymington, spent a few minutes standing silently at the foot of his parents' grave, then went to see the family solicitor, a Mr. Blatch. As he expected, his father had left everything to him except for an annuity to his faithful servant Jim Button and a few personal possessions to old friends. The solicitor estimated the inheritance to amount to something over forty thousand pounds, mainly acquired in prize money from ships taken by the Admiral while serving in the Navy. As an executor and trustee he had invested it in the Funds, and Roger was content to leave it there for the time being. With the carefulness inherited from his Scottish mother he had, during the past fifteen years, put by the greater part of the money he had made while occupying several lucrative posts and, invested with the shrewd advice of Droopy Ned, his own small fortune amounted to a considerably greater sum; so he now reckoned himself to be worth well over a hundred thousand pounds.

That evening he called upon the Drummonds, to find that his old home lu.d not only been well looked after but in many respects improved, as the banker had spent a considerable amount of money on it. The young couple now had a girl of two and a boy of nine months and Mrs. Drummond was

again 'expecting'. They were very happy in the house’ and wished to stay on there; so Roger willingly agreed to renew their tenancy for a further three years. They then pressed him to stay on to supper and he enjoyed a merry meal with them.

Jim Button, he learned, had gone to live with a niece and her husband in their cottage at Pennington; so the next after­noon Roger rode over there. Jim was now in his middle sixties but still hale and hearty. While Roger talked to him of old times the buxom niece bustled about to provide a bumper English tea, the like of which their guest had not enjoyed for years. But she had four young children and the cottage seemed to Roger too small for such a family to live in in comfort. So instead of doubling Jim's annuity as he had intended, Roger told him that he meant to give him a thousand pounds out of which he could buy a much larger place and still have a good nest egg over. In those days to such people a sum of that kind was a fortune and, full to the gills with home-made bread, jam and cake, he rode away with the blessings they called down on him still ringing in his cars.

On the 18th, having been assured that he would always be a welcome guest at Walhampton, Roger said good-bye to the hospitable Sir William and took coach to London. When he reached Amcsbury House he learned that Droopy Ned was in residence but had left an hour before and was not expected back until the early hours of the following morning, as he had driven down to Sion House at Isleworth, the residence of the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland who were giving a ball there that night. Droopy's father, the Earl, as was his custom all through the shooting season, was at his seat, Normanrood in Wiltshire, and the only person staying in the house was an elderly cousin whom Roger had always found a bore. So, having been installed in his usual room and fresh­ened himself up after his journey, he decided to sup out at his Club.

As he had an hour or more to spare and the evening, although cold, was fine, he went out to stretch his legs in a stroll round the heart of fashionable London. Piccadilly was brightly lit as the shops then stayed open late, the roadway was packed with coaches, carriages and horsemen, the pavements crowded with a motley throng of homeward bound pedestrians, hucksters and ladies of the town dressed in tawdry finery. Roger was always polite when rebuffing these young painted harpies but, finding himself accosted at every twenty paces or so when he paused to look into a shop window, he tired of saying, 'No, thank you, m'dear,' or 'Not tonight, my pretty,' and turned out of Piccadilly into Berkeley Street.

On his left lay Devonshire House and as he walked at a good pace alongside the tall wall behind which lay the Duke's big garden he suddenly realised that he was heading towards Berkeley Square. Immediately his thoughts turned to Georgina. Although her betrayal of him had caused him more bitterness than any other event in his whole life, time had at least healed the wound sufficiently for him to dwell now and then on some of the many happy hours they had spent together.

While riding from Paris to Dieppe he had even hoped that when she learned that he was again in England she might seek a meeting with a view to expressing her contrition for her abominable act, and he had decided that should she do so he would readily forgive her. In any case he meant to get in touch with her to arrange to see his daughter and, if she was agreeable, her boy Charles. But that was a thing apart from healing the breach between them and he felt that after having put the Sheriff's officers on to him the first move must come from her.

Yet now, as he was approaching Berkeley Square, he realized more fully than he had ever done before what an appalling gap their quarrel had left in his life. Although from the age of fifteen he had lived for much the greater part of the time abroad, whenever he had come back to England Georgina had always been there to give him a tempestuous welcome. They had had no single secret of any kind from one another, talked and laughed the hours away and, regarding themselves as two beings bound by a tie that transcended all accepted standards of conduct, made passionate love regard­less of marriage vows or any other commitment.

It had long been clear to him that John Beefy had repre­sented something entirely different in her life from her two previous husbands and the many gallants with whom she had had passing affairs; so he had come to condone the fury and distress she had displayed on the assumption that he had killed Beefy in a fit of drunken jealousy. But what he did not understand was her refusal to believe his word that it had been an accident and. in any case, in view of their very special relationsliip, to forgive him. Even more puzzling was the fact that, although she had appeared as a witness when he had been tried for murder and had saved him from hanging she should, four months later, have still felt so bitterly towards him that she had deliberately betrayed him.

But all that had happened well over a year before, and surely by now she too would at times think with regret of the shattered love that had meant so much to them. Why not, he thought to himself, be generous and make the first approach? At this time of year it was as good as certain that Georgina would be in London and, at this hour, unless she too had gone down to the ball at Sion House, be dressing either to go out or to receive guests.

Roger's heart leapt at the thought. They had only to come face to face for all to be forgiven and forgotten. Whatever her commitments for that night, she would ignore them, pleading a sudden attack of the vapours. They would sup as of old before a roaring fire in her boudoir and later, fortified by good wine and drunk with the joy of their reunion, lie clasped in one another's arms between the sheets until morning.

When he reached the St. Ermins' mansion, his new-found elation subsided as though a bucket of icy water had been sloshed into his face. The house was dark and shuttered, so evidently Georgina was not in London.

Recovering slightly at the thought that, now he had decided to call bygones bygones, he could go down to Stillwaters next day, he rang the front door bell. After waiting for a few minutes he rang again then, as it still was not answered, he grabbed the bell pull and jerked it up and down until at last an elderly servitor, mumbling apologies for his delay, opened to him.

To his enquiry the man replied, 'Nay, sir; Her Ladyship is not at Stillwaters. She sailed last month for the West Indies to arrange for the disposal of her late husband's estates there. But the children are at Stillwaters in the care of Mrs. Marsham.'

Bitterly disappointed, Roger thanked him and turned away. Gone now was all prospect of restoring his erstwhile happy relationship with Georgina, anyhow for many months to come; for within a few weeks Talleyrand would expect him back in France with a report on all he could pick up about the plot to assassinate Napoleon, and it was impossible even to make a guess at when he would again be able to come to England.

His spirits now very low, he walked back to White's. There he found several old acquaintances, supped with four of them, drank fairly heavily then, although he was not nor­mally a gambler, sat for four hours playing faro. Morosely, as he walked across to Arlington Street at half past two in the morning, he recalled the saying 'lucky at cards, unlucky in love', and the fact that he had come away from the club with three hundred and fifteen golden guineas in his breeches' pocket did not console him.

With the sleepy footman on night duty at Amesbury House he left a message that he was not to be called until Lord Edward roused, and would join him for breakfast. Both of them slept late and it was not until midday that Roger, still in his chamber robe, went along to his old friend's suite. Over eels in aspic, kidneys and bacon, a cold game pie and other trifles, washed down with copious draughts of fine Bordeaux, they lingered for two hours.

Roger, as always when with Droopy, made no secret of the reason for his return to England and consulted him on how best to set about his mission. Droopy peered with his short­sighted eyes across the table at Roger and said:

'Meseems that in this matter you are become a police spy. Hardly a role I would have expected you to play; but no doubt you have squared it with your conscience.'

'I have,' replied Roger firmly. 'Were the French Royalists alone concerned in this I'd have naught to do with it. Only by destroying Napoleon can they have any hope of placing a Bourbon Prince again on the throne of France. After ten years of exile and penury certain among them may have become so desperate that they would even stoop to murder to gain their ends. That they should have sunk so low is lamen­table but, in view of their fanatical hatred of the usurper, at least understandable; and their bitter enmity towards him none of our affair.

'What is our concern is that the British Government are, at least to some extent, assisting in the plot. The French espionage system is extremely good and Talleyrand gave me chapter and verse for our government's participation. In August last the Chouan leader, Georges Cadoudal, was landed at Biville from a ship commanded by Captain Wright on the instructions of one E. Nepean, an assistant to Admiral Montagu in our Admiralty. It is also known that towards the end of that month, at the instigation of the royalist Baron de Roll, our Permanent Under Secretary for Foreign Affairs called on His Highness the Comte d'Artois who was then living at No. 46 Baker Street. This resulted in the Prince producing a memorandum naming those Generals and others in France who could be counted on to help in overthrowing Napoleon. Meanwhile Cadoudal, together with Mehee de la Touche. had proceeded to Munich and there, with or without the authority of the Government, our official representative. Mr. Francis Drake, furnished them with funds to further the conspiracy. Mehee then went to Vienna and enlisted the support of the Honourable Charles Stuart, our Charge¹ d'Affaires there; but the French got wind of that, seized the go-between and took his papers from him. So. you see, should this plot to assassinate Napoleon succeed, the French will be able to produce evidence that the British government was at the bottom of it.'

Droopy nodded his narrow head, 'I appreciate now why you are deeply concerned. From all you have told me Napoleon's popularity in France is immense; so were he assassinated and the deed laid squarely at our door, the rage of the French people would be such that there'd be no prospect of their agreeing a peace with us for another genera­tion. You are right Roger; even if it means that a number of Frenchmen who are only pawns in the game must lose their lives, the attempt must be stopped.'

After a moment Droopy went on, 'The state of things here is pitiful. On the renewal of the war last May, the British people became united as never before. As you well know, during the Revolution a great part of the masses and the Whig nobility, led by Charles Fox, was undisguisedly pro-French. Although we were at war with that nation, car­ried away by the new doctrine of "Liberty, Equality and Fraternity" they would have created a revolution here had not firm measures been taken to suppress them. They hailed the conquests by the Revolutionary Generals of Belgium, Holland, the Rhineland States and, later, Bonaparte's of Italy, as triumphs against ancient tyrannies which must benefit mankind.

'But now, matters are very different. By the Peace of Amiens we came near to licking the boots of the French. We gave them back all the conquests that during eleven years of war many thousands of British lives had been sacrificed lo make, agreed to their retaining territories that made France a mightier nation than ever before and, in fact, did everything possible to ensure a lasting peace. And with what result? After barely a year’Bonaparte's grandiose pretensions forced us into war with him again.

'Before, it was felt by at least half the nation that the French were Crusaders, fighting at first desperately to protect their newly-won liberties, then to benefit the people of neigh­bouring lands by releasing them, too, from serfdom. But now it has become clear to all. The French are not liberators but dcspoilcrs of the lands they overrun; and this new war has but one object; the aggrandisement of Bonaparte. Tis that which has united the British people against him; so that he is known here now as the Corsican Ogre, but our tragedy at the moment is that all this patriotic fervour is being so hopelessly misdirected.'

'From what little I have been able to gather of the matter,' Roger remarked, 'our trouble lies in having a near-mad King who cannot fully grasp the situation, and so will suffer only Ministers subservient to him, instead of ones capable of directing the war against the French.'

'You are right in that. King George's poor bemused brain revolves round one subject only; to resist being pressed into breaking, as he believes, his Coronation oath, which forbids Roman Catholics to hold office. Seeing that Mr. Pitt was set on putting through his Catholic Emancipation Bill, the King fell back upon the hopeless mediocrity Addington and allowed him to choose that imbecile my Lord Hawkesbury as his Foreign Secretary. In such feeble hands now lies the fate of our poor country.'

'Hawkesbury must receive all reports from our Secret Service,' Roger said, 'so must be aware of the activities of the French exiles. Think you he would be disposed to disclose such matters to me did I wait upon him?'

Droopy looked dubious. ' Tis possible; but the man is an utter fool. So much so that those acquainted with him oft refer to his "vacuous grin". The odds are he'd hum and haw and you'd get no further. You'd do better, I think, by approaching your old master. Although he has been out of office for some time, he was Prime Minister for so long that his knowledge of our intelligence system must be unrivalled. Moreover, that quick, clear brain of his would grasp at once the importance of thwarting this conspiracy, so you could count upon his doing his utmost to aid you.'

'Tomorrow then, I'll ride out to Bromley.'

'No, no!' Droopy shook his head. 'Mr. Pitt is no longer at Holwood. As you know he has no private fortune, and having given all his thought for so long to the welfare of the nation he allowed his own finances to fall into the most ill condition. Even before he left Downing Street and was still receiving his stipend as First Lord of the Treasury the bailiffs threatened to remove his furniture against debts of a few hundred that he could not immediately meet.

'What a shocking thing!' Roger exclaimed, "Tis dis­graceful that a man to whom the country owes so much should be harassed by private debts.'

'I'm with you there, and his integrity is such that he'd not take advantage of his high office, as did his predecessors, to make himself a single guinea. From time to time his friends have come to his assistance but, even so, over a year ago he was forced to sell Holwood House and acquire a smaller residence; Bowling Green House on Putney Hill. But you'll not find him there cither. On the outbreak of war, although only a private member, he appeared in the House and made the speech of his life, thereby carrying the miserable Addington's motion, against the opposition of Fox and his cronies who would have had us kow-tow to Bonaparte. Then, since he is still Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, he went straight to Walmer Castle and raised a battalion of militia, of which he is now Colonel.'

'What! Billy Pitt become a soldier?' Roger exclaimed. 'He, so frail and ill a man, so unsuited to being exposed to the elements at all hours, and long night marches. I would ne'er have believed it.'

Droopy smiled, ' 'Tis the fact, though. And 'tis said that his Fenciblcs are the best trained and disciplined on all the Kent coast.'

'If Napoleon docs invade, they will need to be,' Roger rejoined. 'For it will be on the Kent coast that the brunt of the attack will fall. I'll go down to Walmer then, as you ad­vise, and seek the help of Britain's greatest patriot.'

'What of Christmas?' Droopy asked. 'Three days hence I set out for Normanrood to spend it with my family. You should be back by then and would be made most welcome if you'd accompany me.'

‘I thank you, Ned. No prospect could be more pleasant. But my mission is urgent and on my return from Walmcr I ought not to go so far afield from London as Wiltshire. I learned last night that Georgina is gone to the West Indies to dispose of Mr. Beefy's estates there; but the children are at Stillwaters and, if it be possible, I'd like to spend at least Christmas Day with them.'

'I see no bar to that. I'm told Georgina left them in the care of her father and your late wife's aunt, Mrs. Marsham.'

Roger nodded, 'Colonel Thursby was ever my good friend and Aunt Marsham is a pleasant woman. I'll send a note asking if they will have me for a night or two. A reply should reach here by the time I get back from Walmer and I doubt not 'twill be in the affirmative. Meanwhile, so as to lose no time I'll book myself a seat on the night coach for Dover.'

At Dover next morning he freshened himself up then hired a postchaise to take him on to Walmer, arriving there shortly before midday. Outside the Castle he found a great concourse of people watching a parade that was in progress and soon learned that General John Moore, who commanded in East Kent from his headquarters at Shorncliffe, was inspecting Mr. Pitt's two battalions, each a thousand strong, of Cinque Port Volunteers.

Using his postchaise as a grandstand, Roger watched the review, marvelling to see the tall, stooping figure of the Prune Minister that he had seen so often behind a desk now stumping up and down and shouting orders as sharply as a sergeant major. The stumping was caused by one of his boots being much larger than the other; so Roger knew that he must be suffering from an attack of the gout which sadly plagued him, and admired him all the more for his devotion to his country.

When the parade was finally dismissed Colonel Pitt and his officers escorted the General into the castle. Roger realized then that he would stand little chance of a private conversa­tion with his old master that afternoon, and would have to stay overnight in Walmcr; so he sent his driver with his valise along to the inn with orders to book him a room. But he felt that there was no point in delaying making known his pre­sence and, entering the castle, had his name sent up. Five minutes later Mr. Pitt was shaking him warmly by the hand and presenting him first to his niece, Lady Hester Stanhope, who was keeping house for him, then to the assembled com­pany.

Lady Hester was dressed in a scarlet habit and had a goid-laced cocked hat perched on her ash-blonde curls. Roger had seen her on the parade and wondered who she could be. He soon learned that she accompanied her uncle on all military exercises and was a most gay and charming young woman who had brought sunshine into his monastic bachelor existence.

When it emerged that Roger had recently arrived from France everyone wanted to hear the latest news about the Corsican Ogre and his plans for invasion; but that had to wait, as General Moore was about to give the officers a short talk.

The future hero of Corunna was then forty-two years of age. He had served in Corsica, the West Indies, Holland and Egypt and so distinguished himself that, although by British standards young for a General, he had now been charged with the defence of the coast upon which it was expected that the invasion would take place. He had a fine presence, a most striking personality, a clear melodious voice and a pretty sense of humour.

He aired it by his opening remark, 'Well, gentlemen, I congratulate you on your turn out and the performance of your men; but when General Lannes lands here one morning I shall have you drawn up in close order on the top of a hill, as I am sure your appearance will strike fear into him. Meanwhile my own men will fight his Grenadiers on the beach.'

Seeing their downcast looks he laughed, and went on to explain. Experience had shown that volunteers who had never seen active service could be used only in large formations; otherwise, if heavily attacked, they swiftly went to pieces. Moreover, up to that time the same principle had been adhered to in all regular armies, so that the men should remain under the immediate control of their officers and N.C.O.s and take courage from their example. But with his Light Infantry ho was developing a revolutionary form of training, by which he sought to take advantage of the dif­ference between the British soldier and that of the Continental Powers.

The latter, he said, were for the most part peasants who had only recently emerged from serfdom, and the majority of them were automatons, good fighters in a body no doubt, but incapable of thinking and acting for themselves. Whereas the common people of Britain had for centuries been free to lead their lives as they would and use such brains as God had given them to make a living. This had given them a much stronger individuality and a sense of responsibility, and his object was to give every man under him the chance to show it. His ideal rifleman should have the mentality of a poacher and not feel lost and bewildered if he found himself cut off behind the enemy lines, but have the initiative and confidence to make his way back to his unit under cover of darkness. During an advance such troops would not have to be marched into battle in solid formations, and so form a fine target for the enemy cannon, but could be sent forward in open order, each man using his common sense when to make a rush and when to lie down.

Roger listened fascinated to his exposition of the infantry tactics of the future, and much else that this inspiring General had to say about the desirability of officers attending not an occasional drill, but every drill, and getting to know each one of their men personally—doctrines unheard of in those days.

Dinner was served at half past three and during it Roger learned much about the preparations that had been made to resist an invasion. From all over England great numbers of horses and carts had been brought into the coastal area to be used in what was termed 'the driving'. This was the evacua­tion inland of not only all non-combatants but cattle, poultry, fodder, the contents of shops and household stores so that if the invader did get a foothold he would find the land barren of all sustenance.

But General Moore was of the opinion that although Bonaparte was causing them by his threats to expend a great deal of effort he was not such a fool as to undertake the mad gamble of a cross-Channel operation, and that if he did he would rue it. Both the regular troops and the volunteers were in splendid heart. There were now three hundred and eighty thousand of the latter, plus thirty-one thousand Sea Fencibles. As Lord Warden, Pitt alone had under him one hundred and seventy gun boats, in addition to his two battal­ions of militia, and every man among them was eager to have a crack at the enemy.

Roger, with his personal knowledge of Napoleon's vast preparations, was not so confident that he was only bluffing. But he did think it unlikely that many of the French would reach land.

In his view that was the one question upon which the success or failure of an invasion hung. He gathered that General Moore had under him only some three thousand eight hundred regulars. If on a foggy day the protecting flotillas could be evaded and ten thousand French get ashore. General Moore's men must be overwhelmed. Then, once a beach-head had been secured, the volunteers, brave though they might be, would be scattered like chaff before the massed veteran troops of Soult, Ney, Davoust and the iron Guard of Bcssieres.

A little before six o'clock General Moore was cheered away into the winter darkness and soon afterwards the other officers followed. Mr. Pitt then expressed his surprise that so old a friend as Roger had not taken it for granted that he would lie that night at the castle—as indeed he had been expected to be invited to do—and had his valise sent for. Soon afterwards they were settled before a roaring log fire in Mr. Pitt's untidy but comfortable study and an hour slipped past while Roger answered innumerable questions about the state of things in France; then he disclosed the reason for his return to England.

Having heard him out Mr. Pitt looked very grave and, after a moment's thought, said, ' 'Tis now close on three years since I left office and although my friends keep me informed of events they are in no situation to know the mind of Ministers. Henry Addington has proved a sad disap­pointment to us all but I'd stake my own life that he would not lend himself to such a crime, and my Lord Hawkesbury, though a fool, is no knave. If you are right that Drake, Hammond and others are involved, they must have acted through an excess of misplaced zeal and I am confident that their participation in this plot cannot be known to their superiors. But, however that may be, you are right, Mr. Brook—one hundred times right. This dastardly attempt must be prevented at all costs. Did it succeed and were laid squarely at the door of England 'twould be an indelible blot upon the fair name of our nation, and the righteous rancour of the French be such that they'd hold it against us for a lifetime.'

It being one thing to seek to penetrate the military inten­tions of an enemy nation and quite another to pry into the secrets of individuals with intent to betray them, Roger had all along been very conscious of this most unpleasant aspect of his new mission; so it heartened him greatly that so upright a man as Mr. Pitt should unhesitatingly endorse Droopy's opinion that he must proceed with it as an affair of State upon which great issues hung. But when it came to practical help he found that there was little Mr. Pitt could give him. While Prime Minister he had always avoided going into society, so had met very few of the French emigres; and, since his retirement, he had devoted himself first to his garden then, since the renewal of the war, to his military duties.

Later they supped with the gay Lady Hester, no other guests having been invited for that night owing to the big dinner party that had been given earlier in the day. During the meal Roger was greatly struck by the change that had taken place in his old master. By nature a shy, aloof patri­cian, he had become Prime Minister at the age of twenty-four and for nearly eighteen consecutive years given his whole mind to the well-being of his country. He had never married or had a mistress and under constant attack from his political enemies he had become ever more irritably abrupt in his manner, unbending and dictatorial.

But now he was relaxed and cheerful, responding wittily to Lady Hester's banter and, Roger was amazed to learn, he even chaperoned her to local dances, staying up till all hours of the morning to bring her home.

When she had left them and they were sitting over their port this new human warmth of character he displayed emboldened Roger to ask him frankly why the government having fallen into such feeble hands, he did not return to politics and pull the country out of the mess it was in.

Willi a smile he replied, 'For the past year many of my friends have been urging me to do that. But there are certain difficulties. If not in so many words, by implication I promised our friends in Ireland to put through the Catholic Emancipation Bill. But His Majesty would have none of it, and, behind my back, sent for Addington. Without my sup­port he could not have formed a Ministry. Had I refused it the King would willy-nilly have had to accept the Opposition with Charles Fox, who is anathema to him, as his Prime Minister.

'I was desperate tired and in half a mind to wash my hands of the whole business. Had His Majesty not been afflicted as he is, I would have. But he began again to suffer brief periods of insanity, and 'twas said to be my fault for holding him in a cleft stick and endeavouring to force him to agree to Catholic Emancipation against his conscience. In consequence I went to him, promised that I would not again raise the question of emancipation in his lifetime and that I would give Addington my support.

'That I did to the best of my ability. Grenvillc, Dundas, Spencer, Wyndham. Cornwallis and Castlercagh in Ireland, all refused their help and resigned. But I persuaded Rose, my brother Chatham and others to enter the new Cabinet and myself spoke in its favour in the House. Having done so, how can I now retract and form a Cabal to unseat Adding­ton? ‘

Roger nodded. 'I appreciate your scruples, sir. But surely the welfare of the nation should be put before personal feelings. Had those fine brains you gathered about you— Dundas, Greville, Castlereagh and the rest—remained in office the country would not have fallen into quite so evil a pass. But I gather that most of them, as well as the Foxites, are now in opposition, although from a different angle, and the Cabinet, being filled with mediocrities incapable of rebut­ting their criticisms, staggers from side to side like a drunken man, so that the nation's affairs are becoming chaotic. Should such a state of things continue we'll stand no chance at all of checking Bonaparte's ambitions. Still worse, we may be forced into making another peace, more disastrous than the last. Yet did you but take the helm again, with the patriotic fervour that now animates the nation we might still emerge from the war triumphant.'

Mr. Pitt shrugged, 'Maybe you are right, Mr. Brook. My old friends Bishop Tomlin, Wilberforce and others all use the same arguments and urge it upon me as a duty. But to get the best results I'd have to take into my administration men of all parties—the Portland Whigs and perhaps even Charles Fox—and so form a Ministry of all the talents. That would need much delicate negotiation, and I'm not yet willing to undertake it. But we'll see.'

After pausing a moment he went on, 'In the meantime I believe that Britain can continue to hold her own. We are faced with only one danger, and that a great one. Bonaparte, I understand, is now building ships of war in every port he controls from Holland right down to Bordeaux. Should he in a year or two be able to muster a Fleet superior in strength to our Navy, then we shall indeed be undone. Should we lose control of the seas we will lose everything and be at his mercy. I pray you, when you return to France bear that in mind, and that the greatest service you can render your country in the months to come will be timely intelligence to our Admiralty about movements of the French squadrons, so that we may hope to defeat them piecemeal before they become too strong for us.'

Pushing back his chair, Mr. Pitt stood up and added, 'And now, old friend, to bed. It has been good to talk with you again; but I have to set an example to my officers and be on parade with my men at six o'clock tomorrow morning.'

On the night of December 21st Roger was back in London but it was not until the afternoon of the 22nd that he received a brief letter from Mrs. Marsham. In it she said that some trouble in working the Manchester Ship Canal, in which Colonel Thursby held a big interest, had led to his leaving for the north two days previously, and that he had accepted an invitation from his partner in that venture, the Duke of Bridgwater, to spend Christmas with him. But she would be most happy to have Roger at Stillwaters and the children were greatly looking forward to seeing him.

Intent now on buying presents, on the 23rd Roger went to his bankers, Messrs. Hoare in the Strand, to draw some ready money. As he was coming down the steps from the entrance a dark, foreign-looking man, who appeared to be in his late twenties, raised a square-crowned hat from his head and accosted him.

'Mr. McElfic,' he said with a smile and a heavy German accent, 'Some years it is since we haf met. But you recall me, yes? I am Nathan, the son of Maier Amshel of Frankfurt, although now we haf family name Rothschild.'

Roger's mind instantly switched back to '95. In the autumn of that year Mr. Pitt had sent him on a mission to the Rhine. After Robespierre's death in the previous year the Directory had come to power and was hard put to it to sup­press an upsurge of reactionary feeling. There had seemed a good hope that if the right Republican General could be suborned he might play the role of Monk, march his army on Paris and restore the monarchy.

General Pichegru had been selected as the most promising man to take this part. Roger had first gone to the Prince de Conde, who commanded the army of Royalist exiles then in Baden, and persuaded him, on behalf of his King, to sign a promise that if Pichegru put Louis XVIII on the throne he should be made a Duke and Constable of France, be given the Chateau of Chambord and become the second man in the kingdom. Roger had then gone to Pichegru, who had been inclined to accept this huge bribe but feared that on his army approaching Paris it would be infiltrated by old sans culottes who would cause it to mutiny and so wreck their plan. In consequence he had required that, before he committed himself, Roger should go to Paris and organize the pro-monarchist elements there to rise against the Directory simultaneously with his advance on the capital.

To that Roger had agreed, but one problem remained. Pichcgru's army was poised for a swift move to join up with that of Morcau, and once their armies were united the defeat of the Austrian army was inevitable. For Austria to be forced out of the war before the proposed coup d'etat would have greatly weakened the Allies' power to insist that the restored King of France should grant his people a democratic Consti­tution; so to gain time, Roger, having Pitt's open draft on the British Treasury in his pocket, had offered Pichegru a bribe of a million francs in gold so to arrange matters that his army failed to make junction with Moreau's. Pichegru had accepted, and it was the Jewish bankers in the Frankfurt ghetto at the sign of the Red Shield who, at short notice, had honoured the draft and provided this huge sum in gold.

Pichegru had kept his bargain and sent only two divisions into the attack, so it had been repulsed. It was in Paris that this great plan for a restoration had broken down. Shortly-after Roger arrived there the reactionaries had made a pre­mature rising. Barras had appointed the untried young General Bonaparte as Military Commandant of the City. Overnight he had sent Captain Murat galloping off to bring the guns up from the suburb of Sablons and, next day, quelled the revolt with his famous 'whiff of grapeshot.' By that the pro-monarchist fervour had been dissipated and the Directory again had the situation so firmly in hand tha; Pichegru dared not march his army on Paris. Later he had been accused of treachery and had fled to England.

While Roger was recalling all this the young Jew said, 'You p'haps remember, sir, that at lime we meet I tell you I believed there to be good future in England our financial deals to make. My honoured father in '98 say yes to my request, and gif me for to operate here sum of twenty thousand pounds. I settle first in Manchester. Soon my capital is turn into sixty thousand. Now I come very frequent to London. Presently I have own establishment here. A Rothschild do not forget those who aid to make a fortuns for his house. Discounting the bill you give on British Treasury for a million francs make us profit very handsome. You wish loan at any time, Mr. McElfic sir, I am honoured to oblige. Hoare's Bank here tell you address to write to me.'

Roger smiled at him, 'Yes, of course, I remember you now; and I thank you for your offer. I am glad, too, that your ventures here have proved so successful. But I am surprised that you should have recognized me; for when we met before I had side whiskers and, but for a shaven chin, a beard.'

'Your eyes, sir. So very blue, and the long lashes. I recog­nize at once.'

Suddenly an idea came to Roger and he asked, 'General Pichcgru. He was denounced by the Directory and escaped to England. Presumably he is still here. Do you happen to know where he dwells?'

The squat little Jew nodded, 'Yes, sir. Some part of his money he invested with us. For him we get it out, and I his man of business am. He has lodging now at 22 Rupert Street.'

Roger thanked the dark, keen-eyed young man, shook hands with him and went his way, much pleased with the result of this chance encounter.

Next day, Christmas Eve, Roger went down to Stillwaters. Apart from the nursery quarters and a few of the smaller rooms he found the great house shut up, which sadly depressed him. His late wife's aunt. Mrs Marsham. received him joyfully, and the children, to whom he had, after his two years' absence, become almost a stranger, soon accepted him again as a half-forgotten friend who brought them intriguing presents and played jolly games with them.

But the memories of the many happy hours he had spent there with Georgina weighed heavily upon him. He could not get her out of his thoughts. Every feature of the place reminded him of one occasion or another when they had laughed and loved together. More than ever he regretted that he was not in England so that he was deprived of the chance of making his peace with her. Grimly, he forced himself to act the part of a jolly uncle with the children on Christmas and Boxing Days then, on the 27th, much relieved, and intent on his mission, he returned to London.

The more he had thought of the matter the more convinced he became that General Pichegru could prove the lead into the conspiracy that was brewing against Bonaparte. During the wars of the Revolution Pichegru had ranked with Dumouriez, Kellermann and Moreau as one of France's most brilliant Generals. Therefore, to have had his career cut short; to be, although a patriot, unemployed and in exile he must be bitterly antagonistic to Napoleon. In '95 he had been willing to gamble his high command for Royalist honours if he could bring about a Restoration. How much greater now was the inducement of the prospect of returning to France as a Duke and Commander in Chief of the Army as a reward for eliminating the Corsican upstart.

On the 28th Roger sent one of the footmen from Amesbury House to make discreet enquiries at No. 22 Rupert Street. From them he learned that Pichegru had gone to friends in the country before Christmas and was not expected back until after the New Year. For the next few days Roger controlled his impatience as well as he could, frequenting White's, Almack s and other clubs to pick up such information as might prove useful to him.

As far as the French exiles were concerned he drew a blank. The majority of the great nobles had foreseen the coming troubles and sent large sums abroad previous to '89, then left France well before the Terror. Those who had settled in England had either long since been accepted into society and had no desire to return to France or, if stirred by ambition, had made their peace with Napoleon and had become welcome members of his Court. The lesser fry, desperate and nearly penniless, had by now surrendered their pretensions as aristocrats and had sunk to the level of bourgeoisie, becoming language teachers, dancing masters and even barbers; so they were no longer in a position to frequent expensive clubs.

On January 3rd, learning that General Pichegru had returned to his lodging, at two o'clock that afternoon Roger took up a position on the corner of Rupert Street. After an hour's wait he recognized the tall figure that sallied forth from No. 22. The General walked only a hundred yards then turned into a chop house on the far corner. A few minutes later Roger followed, went in and saw to his satisfaction that Pichegru was seated alone in one of the high-backed booths made to accommodate four people. Making him a formal bow, Roger sat down on the opposite side of the table.

Having ordered a portion of steak and kidney pudding he looked across at the General and said in his perfect French, 'Can I be mistaken? Surely Monsieur, you are General Pichegru?'

The General looked up from his plate, gave Roger a sharp glance and replied, 'Indeed I am. Monsieur. But I cannot recall our having met before.'

'’I can,' Roger said with a smile. 'You were then com­manding an army on the Rhine, and I arranged for you to receive a payment of one million francs in gold.'

'Mon Dieu!’ the General exclaimed. 'I recall you now, though at that time you had whiskers and a short curly beard.'

' 'Tis true,' Roger agreed. T favoured that fashion in those days. What a tragedy it was that the well-conceived plan we made together never came to fruition.'

'Alas, alas!' Pichegru sighed. 'The accursed Corsican spiked our guns by putting down that premature pro-monarchist rising with such firmness. But for that, the state of things in Europe would be very different now.'

'Indeed yes. There would be peace and you, mon General, would be the right hand of the King of France. Still, fortune did not treat you too badly; assuming, that is, that you have not lost the million that we paid you.'

'I still have a part of it that luckily I left with those honest Jews in Frankfurt; so I am at least better oil than many of my poor friends, and do not have to labour at some dreary employment for a living. But that is no great consolation to a soldier who has been active all his life.'

Roger nodded, 'I sympathize; for time must hang heavy on your hands. Let us hope, though, that another turn in the wheel of fortune may again open to you opportunities worthy of your talents. As long as Bonaparte rules the roost in France there's little chance of that. But, like ourselves, he's only mortal and did aught befall him the situation in France would change overnight.'

'In that I agree. He has made himself as near as makes no difference a monarch, and the French people have ever been monarchists at heart. Were he removed from the scene no other General could replace him and the nation would demand the return of the King.'

'So far he has been lucky in escaping assassination,' Roger remarked quietly, 'But he has many enemies and his luck may not hold. It needs only skilful planning and a few resolute men to put him out of the way.'

Pichegru frowned. 'Greatly as I detest the man, as a soldier I am most strongly opposed to such methods. However, there are others. It might be possible to kidnap him and bring him as a prisoner to England. But to succeed in that would require an extensive and very costly organization.'

'Think you that really could be done?' Roger hazarded, 'If so it would restore peace to Europe, and for such a venture I doubt not that I could provide another million from the secret funds.'

For a moment the General remained silent, then he said, 'When last we met I recall that you were acting as the personal emissary of Mr. Pitt. May I ask what is your position now?'

'Mr. Pitt's retirement made no difference to my status,' Roger lied blandly, 'But our present Prime Minister leaves all such matters to my Lord Hawkesbury at the Foreign Office.' Then, to draw Pichegru out, he added, 'But for the past year my master has employed mc mainly in affairs concerning Russia, so I am ill informed on what is passing in Royalist circles here in England.'

Even an astuter man than the simple soldier, having already received from Roger a huge bribe to assist in an attempt to restore the French monarchy, could not have been blamed for trusting him completely; and Pichegru replied at once:

'We already have a plan for kidnapping Bonaparte, but lack of funds has so far prevented us from putting it into execution. Since you are prepared to aid us I would like you to come to the Cercle Francais in Soho Square on Friday next at six o'clock. I and my friends who are concerned in this meet there every Friday, and a room in the club is set apart in which we pretend to play cards but actually hold our conferences.'

Hiding his elation, Roger willingly agreed, and over the remainder of their meal they talked of general matters. As they were about to part Pichegru said, 'You must pardon me. Monsieur, but I have forgotten your name.'

Roger smiled, 'When we met I was using that of Robert McElfic and in this affair 'twill serve as well as any other.'

On Friday 6th, he duly went to the Cercle Francais and found it had previously been a large private mansion. On enquiring for General Pichegru he was taken up a broad staircase and into the principal salon on the first floor at the back of the house, in which a score or more of Frenchmen were either reading news-sheets or talking. Pichegru greeted him warmly and after some minutes of casual conversation, led him back across the landing to a lofty but much smaller room on one side of the staircase with a single tall window looking out on to the street.

Six other Frenchmen were seated round a table at cards, and when the General introduced Roger to them the only names that Roger recognized were those of Baron de Roll and Melee de la Touchc. The latter was a tall gawky man with, Roger decided, a decidedly shifty look. After a few polite exchanges they pushed the cards aside and got down to business.

It emerged that the brave Chouan leader, Georges Cadoudal, was already in Paris and, with a small company of his Breton patriots, was prepared to undertake the kidnap­ping of Napoleon one dark Saturday night when he was on his way from the Palace of St. Cloud to spend Sunday at Malmaison. Other Chouans in relays would rush the prisoner to the coast, but for that many horses would have to be pur­chased and tended in secret stables, for perhaps several weeks, and a ship would have to be held in readiness to transport the captive across the Channel.

Roger conceded in his own mind that Pichcgru, and per­haps several of the others, honestly believed this to be pos­sible; but his own conviction was that it was not. Too many people would have to be involved in it for the plot not to be betrayed or go wrong somewhere; so all the odds were that to make certain of the success of their coup some of the more unscrupulous of the conspirators intended to murder Napo­leon soon after he had been kidnapped.

The next stage in the plan was to seize power before one of the other Consuls, or perhaps Bcrnadotte, could do so. For this a man was required who had the confidence and respect of the French people. As a general who had been denounced and sought refuge in England, Pichegru could not fill the bill; but Moreau could. So it was intended that Pichegru should go secretly to Paris, and persuade his old comrade-in-arms, on a given signal that Bonaparte had been got out of the way, to raise the troops of the Paris garrison, who adored him, and declare for the King. At the same time a Bourbon Prince was to enter France and take over from Morcau as Regent until Louis XVIII could be brought from Mittau on the distant Baltic.

A long discussion followed during which Roger learned that an Abbe David, General Lajolais and a man named Querelle were the principal Royalist agents then in Paris and that one of them would arrange the meeting between Pichegru and Moreau. But when he pressed for further information about these people and the identity of the Prince who was to act as Regent the conspirators refused it. They declared that they could not disclose such matters without the consent of their chief, Monsieur Hyde de Neuville, who had recently been in Paris and caught such a severe cold while recrossing the Channel that he was in bed, which had prevented him from attending the conference that evening.

At that, in order to learn further details of the plot Roger dug his toes in. He said that if he was to finance the operation he must be able to give his master full particulars of it, and especially the name of the Prince, as there were several and the British Government would have greater confidence in some than in others.

In consequence it was agreed that, as by Monday Hyde dc Neuville should be sufficiently recovered, they would meet again with him present. Roger then spent the remainder of the evening drinking and talking with his new friends and left them greatly pleased with the progress he was making.

On the evening of Monday 9th Roger again went to the Cercle Frangais and, this time, on giving his name was shown straight up to the front room on the first floor. As he was a little early only four of the conspirators—de la Touche, the Baron dc Roll, the Chevalier dc Brie and a Colonel Lafont—had assembled, but they greeted him cordially and poured him a glass of wine. A few minutes later Pichegru came in followed by a thick-set middle-aged man. After smiling at Roger the General turned to his companion and said,

'De Neuville, this is Mr. McElfic who, as I have told you, has promised ...'

The rest of his sentence was drowned in a roar from dc Neuville. His eyes starting from his head, he thrust out an accusing finger at Roger and shouted, 'Are you gone mad that you have betrayed our secrets to this man? He is le Colonel Breuc, one of the Corsican's Aides-dc-Camp.'

22

The Grim Affair of the Due d'Enghien

Roger drew a quick breath. He had never before to his know­ledge seen dc Neuville, so was taken completely by surprise.

Pichegru's jaw dropped and for a moment he looked dumbfounded. Then, turning on de Neuville he said sharply, 'You must be mistaken. This is the man who in '95 signed an order for a million francs on the British Treasury with the object of bringing about a Restoration. I'd stake my life on that.'

'In '95,' de Neuville sneered. 'Many a man has changed his coat since then.'

'But damn it man!' protested the General. 'He is prepared to do the same again. To suggest that he is one of Bonaparte's people does not make sense. He was then Mr. Pitt's personal emissary, and now represents my Lord Hawkesbury.'

'Have you proof of that?'

'No,' Pichegru hesitated. 'I've naught but his word.'

'Then you have been fooled. I tell you I know him to be le Colonel Breuc. In Paris, less than a month ago, I stood within fifteen feet of him. It was at I the entrance to the Tuileries and he held Bonaparte's horse as the Corsican dismounted.'

De la Touche, dc Roll and the other two men had come to their feet and were staring at Roger threateningly. For a moment he considered attempting to play his old gambit of mistaken identity. But he was seized with a sudden conviction that they would never believe him if he now protested that he was the English Admiral's son and Colonel Brcuc a cousin who had often been mistaken for him.

It was de la Touche who clinched the matter by exclaim­ing, 'De Ncuville is right! On Friday evening I thought I knew his face. Now I recall where I saw him. It was last September. He was sitting at a table drinking with General Bessieres outside a cafe in the Palais Royal gardens. I was at the next table trying to catch what I could of their conversa­tion.'

"Mort Dieu!’ de Roll muttered. 'And he knows our plan. If he gets back to France our friends there will be ruined.'

'Not necessarily,' put in the Chevalier de Brie. 'He got from us only general particulars and a few names, but no details or addresses.'

'He knows too much,' said de Neuville grimly. 'We must see to it that he does not return, or pass on what he has learned to some traitor here'

'That is easier said than done,' remarked Pichegru with a frown.

'Then you have become squeamish for a soldier. General,' de la Touche declared. 'There is but one penalty for a spy who is caught, and he has earned it.'

During these swift exchanges Roger's mind had been working furiously, and he had no illusions about the imminent peril in which he stood. He did not think '.hey would dare murder him in the club, but the six of them could overpower him and force brandy down his throat until he was dead drunk. Drunkenness was so common that the other members of the club and the servants would think nothing of seeing a man who had passed out being carried downstairs by a party of apparently half-drunk friends and being driven off with them in a coach. They could then finish him off with a knock on the head and leave his body in some back alley where, when it was found in the morning, it would be assumed that he had been attacked and killed by a footpad.

The six of them were standing on the far side of the table with the door behind them, so he stood no possible chance of getting past them to it. Had he had a sword he could have held them off long enough for his shouts for help to bring other people to his assistance; but he was unarmed. And if he did shout, that would drive them into rushing him and knocking him out at once, then telling whoever arrived on the scene that he nad gone down in a fight following a quarrel over cards. His only asset lay in his extreme fitness and agility; but he rated his chances of getting away as elender.

Nonetheless he had made up his mind what to do when the attack came, and the moment de Neuville opened his mouth to cry 'Come; get him!' he acted.

Springing forward, he grasped the edge of the heavy table with both hands, gave a violent heave and overturned it. To his right, only two paces away, lay the fireplace. Even before the glasses and decanter had crashed on the floor, by a sideways dive he had grabbed the poker. The far edge of the table struck Pichegru and the Baron dc Roll hard above the knees, knocked them both backwards and temporarily pinned them beneath it. Assuming that Roger meant to make a rush for the door, de Neuville jumped back and planted himself firmly in front of it. De Brie, who had been beside him, leapt round that end of the overturned table towards Roger, while Lafont, followed by dc la Touche, ran at him round the other.

Lafont was a pace ahead of the others, so Roger turned to face him, swung the poker high and aimed a blow at his head. Just in time he jerked his head aside; but the poker slashed down across his car, tearing it half off. Clapping his hand to it, the Colonel gave a screech of pain, reeled back­wards, tripped on the edge of the hearth and fell backward upon it.

Before Roger had time to recover from the stroke, de Brie was upon him and had grabbed him by the back of his coat collar. As he twisted round they were at too close quarters for Roger to strike at his assailant's head. Instead he drew the poker back and drove its point hard into the plump Chevalier's stomach. De Brie gave a gasp and his eyes popped from their sockets. Letting go Roger's collar he, too, staggered back then doubled up in agony.

Knowing that de la Touche must now be immediately behind him, Roger swivelled on his heel. As he turned his head he thought that he was finished. De la Touche had drawn a poniard from beneath his coat and had it raised high to plunge into him. It was too late for him to spring away or bring up the poker to guard against the blow. But he was saved from it most unexpectedly. Still standing in the doorway dc Neuville gave a sudden shout.

'Stop, you imbecile! No bloodshed! No bloodshed here or we'll hang for it.'

With an effort de la Touche checked the stab in mid-air. Glowering with hatred he stepped back. Now facing him, Roger brought up his right foot and kicked him hard on the shin. He gave a grunt, swore foully and, as Roger swung at him with the poker, swiftly retreated.

Panting from his exertions but still unharmed, Roger was now free from attack; but he knew that he would remain so only for a matter of moments. Pichegru and dc Roll had come out from beneath the table, de la Touche had received only a minor injury, de Brie was getting back his wind and dc Neuville might, at any moment, decide to enter the fray. To fight his way through them to the door was still out of the question. Grimly he realized that there was only one way in which he might perhaps save himself. Turning his back on them, he brought the poker with all his force against the lower half of the tall window.

It shattered, but great jagged pieces of the glass still adhered to the sides and bottom of the frame. Three more swift blows sent the largest of them crashing into the street below. Pounding feet on the floor behind him told him that he would never get through the window before his enemies had seized and overcome him.

Turning, he faced them once more. Clenching his teeth he slashed at them right, left and centre. His first blow caught Pichegru on his outstretched arm: his second felled the Baron with a cracked skull; his third missed the Chevalier but, throwing Roger off balance, saved him from a brandy bottle that dc la Touche had picked up from the floor and hurled at his head. Recovering from his lurch he lunged with the poker at de Brie's face, smashing in his front teeth. Pichegru, in spite of his disabled arm, came at him again but got a jab from the poker right over his heart that rendered him tempor­arily hors de combat.

Colonel Lafont still sat moaning on the hearth with his hand over his torn ear. De Neuville had not entered the fray but remained guarding the door. Dc la Touche now hung back, evidently unwilling to risk serious injury. It was Roger's chance and he took it.

The bottom of the tall window was only a foot from the floor. Thrusting one leg over he dropped the poker, grasped the sill with both hands and swung himself out. Giving a swift glance down he was appalled. To the pavement below was a drop of fifteen feet. If he let go it seemed certain that he would either break his neck or a leg.

Then he saw that only a yard to the right of the window and a few feet below it there projected from the wall an iron bracket holding a lantern that lit the entrance to the club. For a second he wondered whether it would bear his weight, then decided that he must chance that. Shifting his grip on the sill, he swung himself sideways, grasped the bracket and lowered himself to it. But he was still twelve feet above the street level. Yet worse—another quick look downward showed him that he was now hanging immediately over a row of spiked railings on one side of the steps that led up to the door of the club. If he let go his hold he would be impaled upon them.

His breath coming in gasps he hung there, his mind fraught with terrible indecision. He could still climb back and sur­render to his enemies. He had no doubt they meant to kill him, but to let himself drop might also mean death; or, at least, terrible injuries.

A moment later he was given no option. De la Touche was leaning out of the window, an evil grin on his shifty coun­tenance and his dagger in his hand. He made a slash at Roger's fingers. Instinctively Roger let go of the iron bracket.

As he plunged downward terror seized him. In his vivid imagination he could already feel the iron spikes piercing his flesh and smashing his bones. Ten seconds later he was brought up with a violent jerk. He had missed being impaled by a fraction of an inch. The spikes had penetrated under his flying coat tails, ripped through the back of his coat and left him suspended by its thick collar.

For a moment he hung there. Then he realized that his feet, beneath bent legs, were resting on the steps up to the club. From inside it there came the sound of excited shouts. Although every minute of the desperate encounter he had just survived had seemed like five to him, he knew that it could have occupied only a very short time; so the shouts and crash of glass in the room above had not drawn attention to the fact that there was trouble there until it was almost over. But by now the other occupants of the club must be up there seeking an explanation.

To accuse his attackers of an attempt to kidnap and later murder him could serve no useful purpose, and to lend himself to an enquiry into the affair by their compatriots might even prove dangerous. So, bracing his legs, he wrenched at his coat until he had torn himself free of the railings, then staggered off round the square until he came upon an unoccupied sedan chair that carried him back to Amesbury House.

Next morning, knowing himself to be now a marked man, and that as long as he remained in London the conspirators would do their utmost to trace him. then stick at nothing to prevent his return to France, he said good-bye to Droopy and set out for Walmer.

That evening he informed Mr. Pitt of all that had taken place and, as he had hoped, his old master agreed to place at his disposal one of his cutters manned by Sea Fenciblcs, as the quickest way for him to get back to France. He sailed in it that night and shortly before dawn on the 12th the cutler put him ashore in a quiet cove some miles south of Boulogne. Soon after he had landed he had a narrow escape from being caught by a beach patrol, but he succeeded in evading it and on the morning of the 14th was back in Paris.

After sleeping through most of the day at La Belle Etoile, he rode out that night to St. Cloud and made his report to Talleyrand. His old friend listened with much concern to his account of the danger to which by an ill chance he had been exposed, then congratulated him warmly on having pene­trated the conspiracy.

Over a tete-a-tete supper, worthy of them both, they dis­cussed the matter at length and agreed that, as Roger had not secured sufficient details of the plot to nip it in the bud, the probability was that it would be proceeded with. Although Fouche was still out of office Talleyrand was of the opinion that he, and the agents he continued to employ, were much more likely to get to the bottom of the affair than were Savary's regular police. He said he would seek the co­operation of that subtle master-mind the following day and ask its unprepossessing owner to endeavour to discover the where­abouts of Cadoudal, the Abbe David and M. Querelle and to have a close watch kept on General Lajolais.

They then speculated on which of the Bourbon Princes had been selected to make a dash for Paris, take over from General Moreau and act as Regent until the Comte de Provence could reach the capital and be proclaimed as Louis XVIII.

The legitimate choice was his younger brother, the Comte d'Artois; and it was known that he had spent long periods on _v the Isle of Yeu, off the Brittany coast, under the protection of the English, so that he could be swiftly landed in France in the event of a successful counter-revolution. But Charles d'Arlois was a lazy, pleasure-loving man and Talleyrand who had known him well in pre-Revolution days, thought it un­likely that lie would risk putting his head into a noose if there was the least possibility of it closing on him.

The Prince dc Conde seemed a better bet, as it was he who had commanded the army of Royalist exiles on the Rhine and done all he could to aid the Austrians in their war against Revolutionary France. But in recent years his army had withered away, many of the exiled nobles having made their peace with Napoleon, and others having left it to settle as civilians in the German cities. So the Prince had become dispirited and was no longer looked on by the Monarchists as a leader of promise. It might, however, be the Prince's son, the Due d'Enghien. He was a handsome and vigorous young man in his early thirties with a dashing personality and likely to have a strong appeal to the French people.

Another possibility was d'Artois' son, the twenty-six-year-old Due de Berri; but he was living in Italy, so it would not be possible for him to enter France overnight, and for a coup d'etat to prove successful swift action was essential.

Lastly there was Louis Philippe, Due d'Orleans, who was living at Twickenham near London. But his side of the Bourbon family had ever been a thorn in the side of the senior branch. His father had even gone to the length of siding with the Revolutionaries, laying down his title and calling himself, 'Philippe Egalitd' then, as a member of the Convention, voting for the death of his cousin, Louis XVI. Roger had later taken considerable pleasure in being instru­mental in getting him sent to the guillotine. They decided that for the Monarchists to choose a prince with such antecedents was very unlikely.

The next day Roger reported back to Napoleon, who abruptly enquired the reason for Talleyrand's having re­quested the loan of him. Not feeling that he could refuse, Roger gave an account of his mission, but he did so with reluctance as he felt sure that Napoleon would instruct Savary to go into the affair, and feared that the heavy-handed Minister of Police might ruin the investigation of the infinitely more skilful Fouche.

When he had done Napoleon laughed, tweaked Roger's ear and said, 'What a man you are, Breuc. You are worth half a dozen of my other beaux sabreurs.' Then, with a sudden change of mood, he added, 'Moreau is a fine soldier but a fool politically; and as he hates me it is quite likely that he

will be idiot enough to allow himself to be drawn into this conspiracy. As for this Prince who is to play the part of Viceroy until the Comte de Provence can be brought from Mittau, if we catch him I'll make such an example of him as no other Bourbon will ever forget.'

During the month that followed Roger saw both Talley­rand and Fouchc several times and they kept him informed of the progress of the conspiracy which, as he had expected, was going forward. Cadoudal, it was learned, had again been landed at Biville on January 14th and was believed to be in Paris but could not be traced. On the 24th, by having the Abb6 David shadowed, Pichegru was found to have arrived in the capital, and on the evening of the 27th he was seen to meet Moreau, accompanied by General Lajolais, apparently by accident, in the Boulevard de la Madeleine; but after only a few minutes' conversation they went their respective ways. There followed four lengthy secret conferences for which they met in private houses; so it was now clear that the victor of Hohenlinden had been drawn into the conspiracy. Then, on the 15th February Savary jeopardized all prospect of allowing the affair to ripen until all the conspirators could be caught in the net by arresting Monsieur Querelle.

In an attempt to save himself Querelle gave away the addresses at which Cadoudal and Pichegru were in hiding. But, taking alarm at Querelle's arrest, both had swiftly vacated their lodgings. However, on the 29th Pichegru, given away by a treacherous friend, was seized while in bed in his house. Ten days later a series of domiciliary visits to suspects led to the finding of Cadoudal and, after a desperate resis­tance, he was carried off to prison. There followed the arrest of the Due de Polignac, the Marquis de Riviere, who had come over with Pichegru, Lajolais and a number of the lesser conspirators.

Moreau had continued to reside openly at his house out­side Paris so could be picked up at any time; but there remained the problem of the unidentified Bourbon Prince. Napoleon was anxious that he, above all. should be caught and, believing him to be the Comte d'Artois, had despatched Savary to Biville to lie in wait for him when he landed. Captain Wright's vessel was lying off the coast and appro­priate messages purporting to come from the conspirators were sent off to her. But either the Prince was not on board or had already had intelligence that things had gone wrong in Paris.

Meanwhile numerous agents had been keeping a close watch on the other Princes. During Savary's absence, some of those acting for his opposite number Real, Fouché's old lieutenant, had sent in a report that the young Due d'Enghien was engaged in highly suspicious activities. He had chosen Baden as his place of exile and lived at Ettenheim, not far from the Rhine, and was said in recent months to have made frequent secret trips across it to Strassburg, which was in French territory.

The failure of d'Artois to appear led at once to the sup­position that he was not, after all, the selected nominal head of the conspiracy, and that d'Enghien's visits to Strassburg were to make preparations for a dash to Paris. As a further indication that he was their man it was reported that he had staying with him at Ettenheim a Colonel Smith, who had just come from London, and General Dumouriez. This last was a particularly damning piece of information, for Dumouriez, before becoming disgusted with the excesses of the Revolution and going over to the English, had been a brilliant and popular General; so he was just the man to rally the troops in north-eastern France to the Monarchist cause.

Napoleon, assuming that from that quarter he might now expect really serious trouble, flew into one of his great rages, summoned a Privy Council and declared his intention of cutting the ground from beneath the conspirators' feet by striking first: he would send a raiding force into Baden to seize the Duke.

Both his fellow Consuls opposed the plan, pointing out that this violation of neutral territory would arouse a shocking outcry among the nations and, possibly, embroil France with both Germany and Russia. But Talleyrand said he was confident that he could appease the Margrave and

Fouche, who was also present, expressed the opinion that they ought to take this opportunity of crushing the hopes of the monarchists once and for all. In consequence, as usual, the First Consul got his way.

After the conference Napoleon sent for General Ordener, told him what was required and ordered him to proceed at once with a small force to the Rhine opposite Ettenheim. Roger happened to be on duty in the anteroom to the Cabinet and was standing just outside the door as Ordener emerged from it. Catching sight of him, Napoleon beckoned him and called to Ordener to come back. Then he said to Roger:

'Breuc, you were among the first to secure for us infor­mation about the Royalist conspiracy. As a reward you shall witness the end of it. You may go with Ordener on the mission I have just given him. He will tell you about it.'

Much intrigued and having thanked his master, Roger left the Palace with the General, was told what was afoot, and arranged to set out from Paris with him that afternoon. Shortly before midday on March 14th they reached Strasburg and held a conference with Real's agents, who knew the exact location of d'Enghien's house and would accompany them on their kidnapping expedition. After having dined they slept for some hours then, at ten o'clock in the evening, started on their twenty-mile ride along the left bank of the Rhine.

On arriving at the village of Rhinau they rested their horses and ate a snack they had brought with them. At about two in the morning, they were put across the river in relays by the village ferry. They had only a further seven miles to go and found Ettenheim dark and deserted. The agents led them to the small chateau in which d'Enghien resided. Ordener had his troopers surround it, then ordered two of his N.C.O.s to break in the door.

The noise they made roused the household and when Ordener and Roger went inside they were met by the young Duke, partially dressed, coming downstairs with a drawn sword in his hand. The General told him that he had orders from the First Consul to arrest him for having as an exile made illegal entries into French territory.

D'Enghien now broke into violent protests and claimed immunity from arrest by virtue of his being on foreign soil. Ordener refused to listen, upon which the Duke put himself on guard and declared his intention of defending himself. But by this time there were half a dozen troopers standing in the hall and the shocked friends with whom d'Enghicn was living persuaded him that resistance was useless.

While, under supervision, he dressed and packed a small valise, Real's agents searched the house and confiscated all the papers they could find. The Duke was then led out and mounted on a spare horse; but he insisted on taking his dog with him, so the animal was handed up to be carried by him on his saddle bow. Shortly before dawn the cavalcade recrossed the Rhine and by eight o'clock on the 15th they were back in Strasburg.

Real had arrived and that afternoon, in the presence of Ordener and Roger, set about questioning their prisoner. Accused of conspiracy to assassinate the First Consul he showed amazement and indignantly denied even knowing that such a plot was afoot. At the suggestion that General Dumouriez and Colonel Smith had come over to join him he laughed and replied:

'What nonsense. The Colonel who was staying with me was not named Smith but Schmidt, and lives in Frankfurt. As to Dumouriez, I can only suppose that some stupid agent has reported that I often spend an hour or two with the old Marquis dc Thumery, who lives in Ettenhcim, as when pro­nounced with a heavy German accent that name sounds rather like Dumouriez.'

Real had also received information from a servant at the dc Polignacs' that a mysterious stranger had paid several visits to their house and that both his master and the Marquis dc Riviere had risen to receive him and paid him the sort of respect that they would have shown to a Prince of the Blood; but d'Enghien stoutly denied having ever been in Paris since the Revolution, when he was still in his teens.

Questioned about his visits to Strassburg, he did not deny having made them but disclosed their reason only with reluctance when impressed with the seriousness of his situa­tion. It then emerged that he was in love with the Princesse Charlotte de Rohan who lived in that city. His visits had been to see her and, occasionally, to take her to the theatre.

Roger was greatly impressed by the young Duke's open countenance and frank manner; so he formed the opinion that Real's agents had stumbled on a mare's nest and that d'Enghien was in danger of becoming their innocent victim. After the interrogation he said so to Real, but the Police Chief and Ordener replied that it was not their business to act as judges in the matter. They had orders to convey the Duke to Paris and consign him to the fortress of Vincennes; so must carry them out.

Much troubled, when the calvacade set off next morning for the capital, Roger decided to remain behind and carry out a further investigation. First he waited upon the Princess de Rohan whom, having heard of her lover's arrest, he found in great distress. Crossing herself, she assured him on oath that, to the best of her belief, the Duke was not the least interested in politics, that his visits to Strassburg had been only to see her and she felt certain that within recent months he had never been to Paris.

That night Roger again crossed the Rhine. His German was sufficiently good to pass muster in that area that had so often changed Sovereigns and a great part of the population was of mixed Franco-German descent. During the following day he made cautious enquiries which confirmed d'Enghien's statement that the friend who had stayed with him was a Colonel Schmidt and that a Marquis dc Thumery had a small property near the little town.

Convinced now that the young Prince was innocent, he returned to Strasburg, secured a fresh mount and rode all out for Paris, arriving on the morning of March 20th. At the Tuilerics he learned that Napoleon was at Malmaison so, after a meal and freshening himself up, he went on there.

To his request for an audience the reply was returned that the First Consul was heavily engaged, but was leaving for St. Cloud that evening and would receive him there the following day. An instinct telling him that the matter was urgent, he asked for Josephine and she had him brought to her in a small closet where she often spent an hour or more arranging the flowers in which she so greatly delighted.

Swiftly, Roger informed her of the matter that was worry­ing him so much. Putting down the loose flowers she held, she turned to him and he saw that her big brown eyes were gravely troubled as she said:

'I believe you right. Even Real now admits that his agents may have been mistaken. But the First Consul is adamant. He insists that d'Enghien must be tried; and by a court martial in secret. Yesterday he ordered Murat, as Governor of Paris, to convene a Court. I am told Murat was furious and declared that to bring the Duke to trial on such slender evidence would be a stain upon his uniform. Napoleon replied that he would do as he was ordered or forfeit his post. In the park here I pleaded with him myself to give up this wicked idea of making d'Enghien a scapegoat for the malice of the other Bourbon Princes; but he would not listen to me. He brushed my appeal aside, replying only, "Go away. You are a child; you do not understand public duties."'

After another futile attempt to get a hearing from the First Consul, Roger rode to St. Cloud with the object of getting Talleyrand to intervene; but the Foreign Minister was not there. He was spending the night at his mansion in the Rue du Bac. There, in the evening, Roger saw him and told him of his absolute conviction that d'Enghien was innocent.

Rising from his chair, the elegant, impeccably-dressed aristocrat laid a hand gently on Roger's shoulder and said in his deep voice, 'Cher ami, I pray you concern yourself no further in this matter. It is no business of yours.'

'But it is!' Roger protested hotly. 'It was I who found out for you when in London that a Bourbon Prince was to enter France and act as Regent until Louis XVIII could be brought to Paris. How can I now stand by and sec an innocent young man condemned to spend years of his life in prison? For I've no doubt that, if he is court-martialled,

Napoleon will have given orders that he is to be found guilty.'

Talleyrand sighed, 'Of course. And guilt in this case, as he will be charged with treason, would result in a sentence of death.'

'Death!' cried Roger. 'No! You cannot mean it. 'Twould be the most atrocious crime.'

'True,' the Minister nodded. 'Yet I pray you remember that during the past ten years several million people have had their lives brought to a premature end for no good reason at all. That this young man should lose his is unfortunate; but the interests of the State must override all other considera­tions. Forfeiting his life may preserve civil peace and save many other people from losing theirs in abortive attempts to overthrow our present government.'

To execute a handful of trouble-makers, even if one or two of them had become involved by accident, rather than allow them to continue at liberty until a movement developed leading to riots in which scores of innocent people lost their lives, were wounded or had their property destroyed, was a policy to which Roger had always subscribed; but he would not accept it in this instance. For a further ten minutes he pleaded with Talleyrand to intervene; then, finding him firmly resolved to take no action, took his leave.

His next resolve was to ride to Vinccnnes and learn what was actually happening there. He arrived a little before eleven o'clock to find Savary in charge and that the Duke had just been put through a preliminary examination. To his horror he learned that the trial was to take place at one o'clock that morning and that d'Enghien's grave had already been dug in the dry moat of the castle.

Old General Hulin, a veteran revolutionary who had been one of the leaders in the mob's attack on the Bastille in '89, had been nominated as President of the Court; so there could be little doubt that against a Bourbon Prince a verdict of 'Guilty' would be brought in.

Savary was an old acquaintance of Roger's. It was he and Rapp, Desaix's other A.D.C., who had found him naked and wounded on the field of Marengo while searching for the body of their dead General; so, in a sense, Roger owed his life to him. But that was the only bond between them; for Roger had found him a hard, unfeeling man. That, he sup­posed, was the reason why Napoleon had made him Chief of Police. Nevertheless Roger now did his utmost to persuade Savary, in the event of the verdict being 'guilty,' to postpone d'Enghien's execution till the following day. But Savary refused to depart from normal procedure, which was that after a sentence had been passed it should be carried out within a few hours.

Tired as Roger was, in desperation he remounted his horse and rode back to St. Cloud. The fact that he was an A.D.C. enabled him to enter the Palace unchallenged. Although it was well after midnight he thought it probable that Napoleon would still be at work, so went straight to the Orangery, that the First Consul had made his office. There he found Rustem, the faithful Mameluke that Napoleon had brought back from Egypt. He was sitting on the stairs that led to an upper room with his scimitar across his knees and obviously on guard.

Assuming that the First Consul was up there Roger demanded to sec him. Ruslem shook his turbaned head. 'That is not possible, Monsieur le Colonel. He is amusing himself upstairs with a lady, and has given imperative orders that he is not to be disturbed.'

At that moment Constant, Napoleon's confidential valet, entered the room to collect Napoleon's hat, cloak and sword. Turning to him Roger asked quickly, 'Who has the First Consul upstairs with him?'

Constant, who knew Roger well, replied with a grin, 'A new one: Madame Duchatel. She is Madame Bonaparte's reader, and a real beauty. She is only twenty but as clever as they make them, and very discreet. No doubt she docs not want to upset her old husband who is no use to her. But she has been skilfully angling for our master ever since she has been here.'

'I have got to see him,' Roger said tersely. 'It is a matter of life and death: a matter that may seriously affect his own future.'

For a moment Constant hesitated, then he shrugged, 'In that case .. . but God help you if he does not regard the mat­ter as so serious as you seem to think.' Then he waved Rustem aside.

Roger ran up the stairs, knocked twice hard on the door, waited a moment then, although no reply came, threw it open and marched in.

Napoleon, wearing only a shirt, stood near the hearth on which there was a blazing fire that gave the only light in the room. Obviously he had only just jumped out of bed. Lying there was a beautiful girl with golden hair, cornflower blue eyes, a perfectly shaped aquiline nose. Her mouth, half open in surprise, showed too that she had lovely teeth. After one glance at Roger she hurriedly turned over so that her back was to him. Meanwhile, Napoleon, scowling like thunder, snarled:

'What is the meaning of this? How dare you force your way in here? Who gave you permission to disturb mc? This abuse of your position is unforgivable! Here and now I deprive you of your appointment as an A.D.C.; and of your rank of Colonel. Get out! Get out! D'you hear me?'

Roger did not attempt to check the flow of vituperation that followed, but stood his ground. When it had ceased he said in a tired, hoarse voice, 'Consul, I come upon the matter of d'Enghien. Unless you intervene before dawn they mean to shoot him. He is innocent. I know it. I swear it.' Then, in a spate of words he gave his reasons for his belief.

'Damn you!' roared Napoleon before he had finished. 'I have heard all this before, and I don't give a hoot for it. This is no affair of yours but a matter of State, and to preserve the peace the Prince must die.'

'A few hours back Monsieur de Talleyrand said the same to me,' Roger retorted. 'Yet if it is not my affair it certainly is yours. Do you permit this to happen 'twill be murder! Murder! Murder! And your name will stink in the nostrils of all Europe as a result of it. For your own sake you have got to give me a reprieve that I can carry to Vincennes before it is too late. You must. If you refuse you will never live this down. For the rest of your life you will regret it.'

For a moment Napoleon considered; then, his mood com­pletely changed, he shook his head and said quickly, 'No, Breuc. You have ever advised me soundly and I appreciate that you have broken in on me only on account of what you believe to be my best interests. But it cannot be. I am deter­mined to make an example of this Bourbon Prince as a deter­rent to others.'

From the way he spoke Roger knew that further argument was useless; so he replied, 'Very well then. I will return to Vincenncs, tell Savary that I have seen you and that by word of mouth you have sent me to order a stay of the Prince's execution. There is still a chance that by doing so I may save you from your own folly.' Then he turned on his heel and left the room.

Outside the Palace he wearily mounted his tired horse and again set out on the ten-mile ride through the southern suburbs of Paris to Vincennes, which lay right on the other side of the city. He had covered no more than a quarter of the distance and was already reeling with fatigue in the saddle when, while trotting along a dark, tree-lined road, the faint light that lit the scene grew dimmer until he found him­self staring ahead into impenetrable darkness.

For a moment he thought that, for the first time in his life, he must have fainted. But almost immediately a new light dawned about him. It was not bright but clear and he found himself looking down on a wide expanse of sea upon which the sun was setting. He knew immediately that it was in the tropics for, in the distance, he could see a palm-fringed island. Close in to it there was a ship from which a cloud of smoke was ascending. She was on fire and sinking. Nearer, but some way off, there was a longboat in which the seamen were rowing desperately. Still nearer several men were swim­ming and one man held a slender sword clenched between his teeth.

Suddenly, immediately beneath him he saw Georgina struggling in the water. As clearly as if she had in fact been only a few feet from him he heard her shout, 'Save me Roger! Oh, save me!'

The strange psychic link that several times before, when one or other of them was faced with an emergency, had enabled them to communicate although hundreds of miles apart, had functioned once again. He felt as certain as he had ever felt of anything that the intangible spirit that gave him being and purpose had been transported to the West Indies and that at that moment Georgina was actually on the point of drowning.

In his deep consciousness he knew that physically he could not aid her, but that by joining the power of his will to hers he might give her the additional strength to keep herself afloat until she was rescued. No thought of their quarrel or her betrayal of him entered his mind. He was conscious only of his h'fe-long love for her. Calling silently on God to help him. he threw out the very essence of himself to buoy her up in her struggle to survive.

Next moment he found himself diving right on to her. He felt no impact but in some miraculous way they seemed to have become one. She had gone under but swiftly surfaced. Her arms flailed the water with new strength. Turning, she struck out vigorously for the shore. While still some distance from it his sight began to blur. Swiftly the vision faded. In earthly time it had lasted only for a few seconds. During that time he had lost control of his horse and plunged headlong from the saddle. In rapid succession he felt blows on his head, shoulder and ankle. The horse trotted on leaving him lying in the road unconscious.

23

Overwhelmed

When Roger came to, he dimly realized that he was in bed and that strangers were grouped round him. As his mind cleared his gaze focused on the face of a youngish man who was hurting him abominably by doing something to his head, then on a portly woman holding a basin of water. At the end of the bed stood an older man and with him a rather plain young woman.

Several hours later he learned that he had lain in the road unconscious for a long time, been found by two workmen in the dawn and carried into the house of a couple named Boutheron. They had called in their doctor to dress his wounds and the girl was their daughter Heloise. Still later he learned the full extent of his injuries. The back of his skull had been cracked, it was thought by a blow from a rear hoof of his horse as he fell from it; he had dislocated his left shoulder and sprained his left ankle.

The doctor declared that he ought not to be moved for some time and the Boutherons, who were prosperous bourgeois, said they were perfectly willing to look after him until he was out of danger. In due course, when he was able to tell them about himself, they declared themselves delighted and honoured to have as their guest an A.D.C. of the idolized First Consul.

His memory of the vision he had had of Georgina returned to him in his first spell of full consciousness, and as he lay there through the following days he spent many hours thinking about it, hoping that she had survived but tortured by the thought that she might be dead and that he would never see her again.

At first his head pained him too much for him to think coherently for long, but as he grew stronger he spent an hour each night attempting to solve the question by the only means which offered a chance that he might do so. Long since, they had solemnly promised one another that if one of them died he or she would appear to the other. Although fearing the result he forced himself to concentrate on willing her to come to him if she was dead; and when, after a week, his efforts proved abortive, he felt more hope that she was still alive. But he could feel no real certainty that she was as, although he was a convinced believer in survival, he could not dismiss the possibility that others, who did not believe in it, might be right.

Either Madame Boutheron or Heloise sat with him for a good part of each day and, when he grew strong enough, either talked or read to him, often from the news sheets. From them he learned that Savary had had d'Enghien exe­cuted in the moat at Vincenncs at half past two on that fatal morning, and also learned the results of this terrible affair.

In spite of the Government's attempts to suppress the facts the truth had leaked out and all Europe had denounced Napoleon as a murderer. Even several of Roger's friends who, when they learned where he was, came to see him, spoke of the affair with horror and said that it had stained the First Consul's reputation in a way that would long be remembered.

Then in mid-April Pichegru was found one morning strangled in his cell. It was given out that he had committed suicide but, after the d'Enghien affair, many people were of the opinion that Napoleon had given orders that the General, too, should be murdered.

Nevertheless Napoleon did not intend such adverse specu­lations to interfere with the designs he had formed for making use of the conspiracy, as Fouche told Roger when paying him a visit.

Keeping his fish-like eyes well away from Roger's, the cadaverous ex-Minister sniffed and said, 'Although Napoleon has been made Consul for life, as long as he remains an elected ruler his death would mean a struggle for power between half a dozen people ambitious to step into his shoes, and in the resulting turmoil the Monarchists would stand a very good chance of putting a Bourbon on the throne. In consequence, as soon as they have recovered from their recent setback they'll start planning another attempt to assassinate him. But if he became an hereditary monarch, whoever he had appointed as his successor would take over at once. Knowing that would put a real damper on Royalist hopes. None of them would then be willing to risk his neck on the chance of being rewarded with a dukedom.'

Roger nodded, 'That, I remember, was the argument used after the attempt to blow him up on his way to the Opera in December 1800. But he was not then firm enough in the saddle to risk the violent opposition of the Old Guard Republicans, like yourself.'

'Oh. I...' Fouché snuffled into his handkerchief. 'I have always been in favour of his wearing a crown. As long as the regime started by him continues I shall retain my modest fortune and have nothing to fear; whereas a return of the Bourbons would be the end of me. But it's true that many of my old colleagues who are in the same boat would then have been fools enough to cut off their noses to spite their faces by raising the mobs against him. Now though, matters are very different. There is not a Jacobin left with enough stomach to raise a pea-shooter, and this recent conspiracy has given him just the chance he was seeking to get himself made a monarch. He has as good as given an order to everyone depen­dent on him to canvass the project at every opportunity, and any day now you will see the measures he is taking in secret produce results.'

As usual in such matters Fouché proved right. On April 23rd an obscure member of the Tribunate named Curee proposed the adoption of the 'hereditary principle', and so well had most of the members been primed that Carnot, who had saved the Republic from being overwhelmed in its infancy by his brilliant organization of the Armies, alone had the courage to speak against it. A commission was appointed to debate the proposal and obsequiously reported in its favour. On May 18th the Senate decreed that Napoleon should henceforth be styled 'Emperor of the French'.

A spate of resounding titles then gushed forth from the Napoleonic cornucopia. The two junior Consuls became the Arch-Chancellor and the Arch-Treasurer of the Empire, Tal­leyrand Grand Chamberlain, Duroc Grand Marshal of the Palace, Berthier Grand Master of the Hounds, Caulaincourt Grand Master of the Horse. The most loyal among the Generals—Mortier, Berthier, Murat, Davoust, Ney, Soult, Moncey and Bessieres—were all made Marshals of the Empire; but so, too, in order to reconcile them to the new state of things, were the potential trouble-makers—Bcrnadottc, Augereau, Massena, Jourdan, Brune and Lanncs—and four old heroes of the Republican wars were also brought to heel by being given the honour of this supreme rank.

Best of all fared the Bonapartes. Honest old Lctizia flatly refused to accept any title, so Napoleon had to content himself by having her styled 'Madame Mere'; but Fesch, already 'His Eminence the Cardinal', became Grand Almoner, the brothers Joseph and Louis Their Imperial Highnesses the Grand Elector and the Constable of the Empire. The three sisters were also given the rank of Imperial Highnesses. Thus, to heights equalled only by the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs, was raised a poor Corsican family that ten short years before had been dependent on the charity of the Republic so ironically termed, 'One and Indivisible.'

Roger could well imagine the unfeigned delight with which Pauline would display the second coronet which, in her own right, she was now entitled to have embroidered on her lingerie. That was, if she had the chance to do so to any man other than her semi-impotent husband.

Since she had been forced to leave Paris he had received occasional scrawled and ill-spelt letters from her; in each she had described her situation as ever more deplorable. Roman society was rigidly conventional as far as women were con­cerned and both her own mother, who had gone to join Lucien in his voluntary exile, and her horrid old mother-in-law kept an eagle eye on her to ensure that she remained, like Caesar's wife, a paragon of virtue.

Added to that, an unidentified infection she had contracted while in San Domingo had recurred. It caused sores to break out on her hands and arms and, so far, no doctor had been able to produce a cure. In vain she had taken courses of the waters at Pisa and Florence, but without their doing her any good, and she complained bitterly at the frustration she felt at being the wife of a millionaire, yet unable to enjoy life owing to ill health and being denied the excitement of continuing to have lovers.

Roger felt deeply sorry for her, but it now amused him to speculate upon what glorified appointment he would have received had they married. Murat, although he knew nothing whatever about war at sea, had been made High Admiral, so Roger, as another of Napoleon's brothers-in-law, could have counted on becoming Grand Something or Other of the Empire, with a huge income to support the dignity. Even so, now he was no longer subject to Pauline's extraordinary sexual attraction be felt that he had had a lucky escape; for no honours, however great, could have compensated him for enduring an empty-minded, nymphomaniac wife.

Meanwhile, towards the end of April he had been able to get up for an hour or two each day and by mid-May to come downstairs for gentle exercise and fresh air in the garden. At the end of that month, although the kindly Boutherons pressed him to stay on, he insisted that he no longer had any excuse for accepting their generous hospitality. To show his gratitude for their care of him he spent a considerable sum in buying mother, father and daughter extravagant presents that amazed and delighted them; then he returned to his old quarters at La Belle Etoile.

As he continued to suffer now and then from splitting headaches he still felt unequal to resuming his duties, so he whiled away the best part of June, whenever he felt up to it, by dining with many of his numerous friends and attending the most famous salons to hear the news and rumours of the day.

The chief topic was Moreau who, with the other conspira­tors, had been put on trial on May 28th. A special law had been passed depriving all persons of trial by jury who had plotted against the First Consul's life; so the accused were subjected to a form of court martial which meant that pres­sure could be exerted on the judges to secure convictions.

As the victor of Hohenlinden, Moreau still enjoyed a considerable degree of popularity with the masses; so his trial had to be conducted with ostensible fairness. In consequence, Napoleon could not prevent it from emerging that, although Moreau had met Pichegru in secret, he had persistently refused to lend himself to the plot and could be convicted of no more than desiring Napoleon's overthrow.

The result was that, on June 20th, the judges sentenced him only to two years' imprisonment. Napoleon was furious at this, as he had wished Moreau to be condemned to death, so that he could receive credit for the gracious act of pardoning him. As things were, all he could do was to grant Moreau his release on condition that he emigrated to the United States.

Of the real conspirators who had been tried with him, twenty were sentenced to death. Owing to the intercession of Josephine and Madame Mere, Napoleon commuted the sentence of the Polignacs and de Rivere to a term of imprisonment; but Georges Cadoudal, his brave Bretons and the other commoners suffered the extreme penalty.

A few days after the conclusion of the trial Roger reported for duty to his master. Napoleon was the last man ever to admit having made a mistake but, with a sharp glance at Roger, he said, 'In Fouché's opinion, my having ordered the execution of d'Enghien was not a crime but worse, a blunder. No doubt you think that too, but I have no regrets that your accident prevented you from interfering with my plans. I always know what 1 am doing and the Duke's death served its purpose'

Nothing now was to be gained by arguing the matter, so Roger said suavely, 'The fact that I may now address you as "Sire" is proof of it; and now that I am well again I hope once more to be of service to Your Majesty. May 1 take it that you are still contemplating the invasion of England?'

'Certainly,' Napoleon replied abruptly. 'But I have suffered certain most annoying setbacks. My building pro­gramme for big ships is a long way behind schedule and the smaller ones are far from satisfactory. In April some forty of them were caught in a storm while on an exercise off Boulogne and driven on to the coast at Etaples mostly as wrecks.'

After a moment he went on, 'However, I have good hopes for this summer. In the Spring Latouche-Trevillc succeeded Gantheaume as Commander of our Mediterranean Fleet. I have ordered him to put to sea from Toulon and elude Admiral Nelson's squadron by heading for Egypt, then to turn back in the night and pass the Straits of Gibraltar. He is next to drive off in turn the English squadrons blockading Cadiz and Rochefort. thus freeing our ships lying in those ports. With these reinforcements he will sail far out into the Atlantic, as though making for the West Indies, turn back again, elude Cornwallis by a dash up the Channel and join our fleet in Cherbourg. Should he succeed in this we'll have a fleet massed here large enough to take on the English at any time the weather becomes favourable for transporting an army to the coast of Kent.'

Apart from the fact that the plan under-rated British alertness, it was sound strategy and Roger showed no hesi­tation in congratulating his master upon it.

Recently he had learned that, in the middle of the previous month, Mr. Pitt had again become Prime Minister. How that had come about, and of the composition of the new Cabinet he as yet knew nothing; but he. recalled Mr. Pitt's saying when they were last together at Walmer that he thought Britain had little to fear as long as the French fleet could be prevented from dominating the Channel. Roger wished now that he had some way of conveying Napoleon's intentions to Downing Street; but for a long time past he had had no channels by which he could send secret information back to England and, having again only just reported for duty, he saw no prospect of getting across himself for some time to come.

Napoleon then added, 'I am setting out on another inspec­tion of the Army of the Coast early in July. You will come with me.'

Realizing that the interview was over. Roger made a deeper than usual bow to the newly-created Emperor, said "As ever, it will be a privilege to accompany Your Majesty,' and withdrew.

Three days later there was a magnificent ceremony at Les Invalides. The Comtc de Segur. a returned emigre who had once been a Chamberlain at the Court of Versailles, was put in charge of the arrangements and produced a splendid spectacle. It was over four years since Bonaparte had announced his intention of creating a Legion of Honour, but so great had been the opposition to it by the old Republicans that he had shelved the idea. Now, as Napoleon I, Emperor of the French, no one could dispute his right to do so.

Members of the Imperial family, the newly-made Marshals, the members of the Council of State and the Senate, scores of Generals, Brigadiers and Colonels, all in brilliant uniforms or rich robes, were assembled there, together with Josephine and the ladies of her Court dressed in bright silks, satins, velvets and brocades and decked with dazzling jewels. The assembly also included scientists, men of letters, doctors and lawyers; the best brains in France, for distinguished civilians were also eligible for the Order.

Everyone among the soldiers who had received a Sword of Honour, which included Roger, was automatically to become a member of the Legion. But, under Napoleon himself, as Grand Master, it was to consist of four grades, Grand Officer, Commander, Officer and Legionary. To Roger's surprise and delight, when his turn came to be decorated he was given the cross of a Commander; a great honour, as only three other Colonels in the whole army were given that rank and even some of the Generals were not. As le brave Breuc none of his companions grudged it to him but, when Napoleon pinned the cross on his chest he said:

'For your devotion to duty at Toulon, Venice, in Egypt and at Marengo.' Then he bent forward to whisper, and Roger thought he was going to say something about the conspiracy; but, with sly humour, he added 'and as a Lieu­tenant at Bruges.'

The following day a great cavalcade of coaches and horse­men set off with the Emperor, accompanied by Josephine, for the coast. But there a horrible disaster was to take place. On arriving at Boulogne Napoleon ordered Admiral Bruix to send his flotilla to sea next morning to perform an exercise that could be witnessed from the shore. When morning came the vessels were still in harbour. Bruix was sent for and said that the exercises could not take place as a storm was expected to blow up.

Napoleon was furious and curtly told the Admiral to have the flotilla put to sea at once. Bruix retired, but an hour later the vessels were still in port; so he was sent for again. In vain he protested that the weather was worsening and that to carry out the exercise would endanger the lives of his men. On receiving a further imperative order to proceed, he flatly refused to obey.

The Emperor roared with rage, threw his hat on the floor and raised his riding whip. His staff stood by petrified by this awful scene, for the Admiral took a quick step back and laid his hand on his sword. Napoleon did not strike him but, with a torrent of foul language, dismissed him from his post and exiled him to Holland. Then, with blazing eyes, in a voice of thunder he turned to Bruix's second in command, Rear Admiral Magon, and charged him instantly to carry out the order.

The flotilla put to sea. The sky grew dark and an hour later a violent storm was sending great waves crashing on the shore. The low-built, heavily laden invasion craft proved incapable of weathering it. One after the other they were swamped and overturned. The Emperor and his staff, watch­ing from the beach, were horrified.

Appalled by the result of having enforced his order, Napo­leon set an example by running to a small boat with the intention of attempting to rescue some of the men who were being tossed towards the shore by the huge breakers. Fearing he would be drowned, some of his officers dashed after him and endeavoured to hold him back. But yelling, 'Let me go! Let me go! They must be saved!' he broke away from them and jumped into the boat. A minute later a wave broke over it, filling it with foaming water. As it sank under him he was dragged back, soaked and blaspheming, to the shore. Nothing could be done. They could only stand there, drenched with spray, while the seamen and soldiers drowned before their eyes. Next morning over two hundred bodies were washed up.

Undeterred by this terrible event, Napoleon held the great review that had been planned. In the huge natural amphi­theatre, not far from Caesar's Tower, the eighty thousand men who formed Soult's army were drawn up. Seated in an ancient iron chair that was said to have been the throne of King Dagobcrt, Napoleon received the acclamations of his troops, then administered to them en masse the same oath of allegiance as had been taken by the brilliant company at Les Invalides. There followed another distribution of crosses of the Legion. Finally, with a dramatic gesture, he pointed across the sea to the white cliffs of Dover and cried »o those about him, 'We need only to be masters of the Channel for six hours to be masters of the world.'

Roger cheered as loudly as the others; while thinking to himself how extraordinary it was that a man who could grasp the essentials of not only military problems, but also social, legal and administrative ones, with such swiftness, should continue to be so blind to those that concerned the sea.

Now I hat he was taking a special interest in all matters to do with the French Navy, he had recently gone to some pains to get a sight of a confidential report from the Admiralty. So as not to give umbrage to the Emperor one fact had been sugared over with 'ifs’ and 'buts'. Yet when denuded of those it was a statement that, owing to the vast number of invasion craft that had been built, it would take six days to get them out of their ports. And after the tragedy that had befallen the local flotilla Roger was of the opinion that, even if the British fleet was decoyed away from the Channel for a week, Napoleon would still not succeed in landing any con­siderable body of troops on the English beaches.

As it transpired Latouchc-Trevillc, who was due to sail from Toulon on the 13th of that month, in the attempt to fox Nelson and Cornwallis, never reached the Channel. On August 20th he died suddenly and this led to the operation being postponed.

Meanwhile the Imperial cortege moved up the coast for a further series of inspections, in due course arriving at Aix-la-Chapelle where Charlemagne's remains were entombed. A solemn Mass was held in the Cathedral and afterwards Josephine was offered the arm-bone of the mighty King. Proudly she declared that she would not deprive the city of this precious relic as she had the support of an arm as great as that of Charlemagne. But Napoleon made off with the insignia and sword of the Frankish Emperor so that he could use them at his own coming Coronation.

The sight of the white cliffs of Dover and the progress of the cortege up the Channel coast had caused Roger to think more frequently than ever of Georgina, until he became obsessed with the idea that he must find out for certain if she was alive or dead. By now it was certain that she would either have returned to England or her fate would be known; but the only way to find out was to go there.

Having made his plan he pretended loss of appetite and for ten days half-starved himself until he had lost a stone in weight, become pale and looked obviously ill. Josephine drew Napoleon's attention to his state, which gave him the oppor­tunity he was seeking. With apparent reluctance he admitted that something was radically wrong with him and said that he feared he must ask for sick leave.

The Emperor granted it at once but, before dismissing him, said kindly, 'Get well quickly, mon brave Breuc. Unless your state does not permit it I insist that you rejoin me before the beginning of December. I wish all my old friends to be present at my Coronation. I have sent for the Pope to crown me and it will be a magnificent affair.'

In consequence, while Napoleon and his entourage made their way up the Rhine on a long tour of the defences there, Roger rode back to Paris then down to Bordeaux. After two days of discreet enquiries he found a Captain who was about to run a cargo of claret over to the Devon coast, and on Sep­tember 10th he landed in a secluded cove near Sidmouth. Two days later he was in London.

As usual, he went straight to Amesbury House and, the moment he came face to face with Droopy Ned, enquired about Georgina. His old friend sadly shook his head and said:

'Alas, dear Roger, I fear we will see her no more. As you know, she sailed last autumn to the Indies, in part for the pleasure of getting away from our atrocious climate during the winter months, but also with a view to supervising per- sonally the disposal of John Beefy's plantations there. That, I am told, she carried out to good advantage, for she was far nimbler witted that most women, and 'twas in order to guard against being rooked by some unscrupulous land agent that she journeyed there herself. About mid-March she sailed for home in a well-found merchantman out of Bristol named "Enterprise." 'Tis known that the ship took the usual north-eastern course through the "Windward Passage" between Cuba and San Domingo, but after that she disappeared. No hurricane was reported at about that period but in those waters there are many uncharted rocks and shoals, so

the ship may have struck one in the night and gone down. On the other hand she may have been attacked'

'She was,' Roger cut him short, 'by a Sea Rover, a Frenchman or some other privateer. I know not which, but I am certain of it. On the evening of March 20lh, which fits well with what you say, I saw the ship burning and about to sink.' He then gave an account of the vision he had had.

Droopy did not question his having had this psychic experience, but said, Then we must account her dead. This happened nearly six months ago. Had she become the captive of some buccaneer he would have demanded a ransom for her, and by this time we'd know of it.'

Roger bowed his head, 'Somehow I cannot believe her dead. Yet the facts as known appear to prove it to be so. In time, perhaps, I'll get used to the thought. But she was the love of my life, and 'tis a blow from which I'll ne'er re­cover.'

That night, to take Roger's mind off his sorrow, Droopy brought him up-to-date with the political situation. Soon after he had last left England dissatisfaction with Addington's government had become almost universal. In February the King had been afflicted with another spell of madness and was extremely ill. Fox had seized the opportunity to initiate another intrigue with the object of getting his patron, the Prince of Wales, made Regent. The Tories had succeeded in thwarting it temporarily but when, in May, the King had recovered he could no longer ignore the popular outcry that Addington must go. So he had sent for Pitt.

During his long administration Pitt had fought the French with dogged determination; but he was a man of peace, detested war and had no gift for directing it. His real genius lay in the field of finance, and in his early years as Prime Minister he had performed a miracle by bringing Britain to a marvellous prosperity after the terrible depression into which the loss of her American colonics had dragged her. On becoming Prime Minister Addington had scrapped Pitt's taxation policy and introduced one that was proving disas­trous to commerce. And it was in the hope of saving Britain from bankruptcy, more than on any other count, that Pitt had agreed to accept office again.

During the three years Addington had been Prime Minister the House had become divided into several parties, each bitterly opposed to the others. He had had the support of the die-hard Tories who were determined to keep the Whigs out, but many of the ablest ex-Ministers who had served under Pitt were determined to bring him back and criticized Addington at every opportunity. Fox, as the leader of the die-hard Whigs, had gained strength owing to this dissension; yet the Portland Whigs refused him their full support. Grenvillc, who hated and despised Addington had, mean­while, quarrelled with Pitt and was leading a splinter group of Tories.

In consequence, that Spring Pitt had been faced with the awful problem of reconciling these factions and inducing their leaders to combine in an administration that would be truly national, so that it should have the confidence of the country.

To achieve this, he had attempted to bring Fox into his Cabinet, which had cost him a renewal of Grenville's alleg­iance, then the King had refused to accept Fox as a Minister. The Portland Whigs supported Pitt but, to keep a balance, he had to include in his Cabinet Hawkesbury and several other incompetents from Addington's old followers, with the result that, on average, his new colleagues were much inferior to those who had worked with him in his former administration.

Soon after he had again become Prime Minister there had occurred another split in the Tory party. Pitt had always favoured the Abolition of the Slave Trade and, owing to the untiring efforts of his friend Wilberforce. the national con­science had at last been aroused to the inhumanity of the traffic; so Pitt had felt the time ripe to bring in an Act of Abolition. Its opponents, who had always argued that Britain could not afford to give up this lucrative commerce, particu­larly in time of war, immediately raised a tremendous outcry. Addington bitterly attacked the Bill, but Fox gave Pitt his support, so it was carried, although only at the price of alienating many of Pitt's old supporters.

When Roger called on the Prime Minister he was received by him after a long wait. He looked tired and harassed and spoke with sonic bitterness of the difficulties he was having in getting his measures through the House. Then, when Roger had given him such particulars as he could about the disposi­tions of the French Navy, he said:

'I am even more convinced than when I spoke to you of the matter at Walmcr that our one hope is to maintain our superiority over the French at sea. With that in mind, soon after I returned to office I put in hand an increased ship­building programme. The French Emigre General Dumouricz sent mc a long memoir upon the subject and he argued wisely that nothing is so perilous as remaining perpetually on the defensive; that our Navy should be made strong enough to go over to the attack, and that if we could make it so we would stand a much better chance of drawing other nations into a new alliance against Bonaparte.'

'What, sir,' Roger asked, 'are our present prospects of doing so?'

'Encouraging, to say the least. The foul murder of the Due d'Enghicn has helped us there. Before that the Czar was inclined to admire Bonaparte for the new internal peace and prosperity he has brought to France; but since then he has declared him to be a monster in human form who will stick at nothing for his own aggrandisement, and so must be checked. Can we but persuade him to come in with us, we may then count upon Gustavus of Sweden also to take up arms against the French. Given those two we would have good hopes of also drawing Austria into a new Coalition; and I am now in friendly correspondence with all three monarchs to that end. I am, though, much concerned about the attitude of Spain. Not only has she blackmailed our old ally Portugal into closing her ports against us but she is paying Bonaparte a huge subsidy which is of great assistance to him. That, she can continue to do only so long as her treasure ships from America are freely allowed to enter Cadiz. Since she continues to ignore our protests that she is infringing her neutrality by providing Bonaparte with the sinews of war, I have recently given orders that her ports are to be blockaded.'

Roger raised his eyebrows, 'Is that wise, sir? Surely it would be sounder policy to let Napoleon continue to receive these supplies of Spanish gold, rather than risk Spain entering the war actively against us.'

'She will not fight,' Mr. Pitt asserted with conviction. 'It is not without reason that her Prime Minister, Godoy, has been christened "Prince of Peace," and he is as slippery as an eel. Should we take any of their ships we'll not rob them of their bullion; only hold it for them, and thus give him an excuse to resist any pressure Bonaparte may exert upon him to act against us.'

While Roger had a poor opinion of Mr. Pitt's capabilities as a strategist, he had a great admiration for his financial genius, and it was obvious that holding up the Spanish trea­sure ships would make it difficult for the French Treasury to find the vast sums needed to pay Napoleon's army; so he said no more. For a further half hour they talked of other matters, then he took his leave.

Next morning he bought a variety of toys and in the afternoon drove down to Stillwaters to sec the children. On arriving he found Colonel Thursby there and at once enquired about Georgina, but the Colonel could tell him little more than he had learned from Droopy Ned and, with tears in his eyes, the old gentleman said that as no news of her or the 'Enterprise' had been received by midsummer he had since reconciled himself to the thought that she must be dead.

Previously the Colonel had made only frequent visits to Stillwaters, spending the rest of the year either at his old home near Lymington or at his house in Bedford Square, but Roger was greatly pleased to learn that, in order to help Aunt Marsham bring up the children, he had now decided to make Stillwaters his permanent home.

That night after dinner, when Aunt Marsham had left them to their port, they talked again of Georgina. She had taken to the Indies with her a Mr. and Mrs. Skiflington, who were old friends, and the handsome young Lord Rockhurst who, knowing her so well, Roger assumed to have been her lover at that time. No news had been received of them, nor of any of the crew of 'Enterprise', so it seemed that the ship must have gone down with all hands.

Legally, Georgina's death could not be presumed for some years, but the family solicitors had shown her father her Will. She had left Stillwaters to little Charles, a legacy of £50,000 and most of her jewels to Susan, the contents of her library to her father should he be living at the date of her death, £5,000 each to her faithful Jenny and Aunt Marsham and numerous smaller legacies to other friends and servants. To Roger she had left her paintings, her horses, any of her personal posses­sions he chose to select and her hair.

By her last bequest Roger was deeply touched and, as the Will was a recent one made shortly before she sailed, it was clear that by then she must have regretted her betrayal of him and again thought of him with great tenderness. As the Colonel made no mention of that dark day when she had nearly caused Roger to be re-arrested, he refrained from speaking of it.

He remained at Stillwaters for a week, spending most of each day playing with the children. While doing so, or talking with the Colonel, his mind was occupied; but every room, the hothouses, the stables and every corner of the gardens held memories of Georgina and these saddened him so much that, although the Colonel pressed him to stay longer, he excused himself as having business to attend to and was glad to get away.

But in London he had no business; the weather had turned cold and rainy and the more he heard of the way in which Mr. Pitt was being hampered by his political enemies in his endeavours to conduct the war, the more depressed he became. So, after a few days spent with Droopy Ned, he decided to return to France and enjoy some weeks of sun­shine at St. Maxime.

On September 23rd he caught the night coach to Exeter and two evenings later was in Sidmouth, tactfully sounding the landlord of the local inn about the prospects of getting a passage to France. He had to kick his heels there for six days, then the French smuggler who had put him over came in with another cargo and on October 1st landed him back at Bor­deaux.

From there, by diligence, he followed the same route as he had on his stolen honeymoon with the gay and wanton Pauline, and passing again through the towns on that route he was frequently reminded of that happy journey. On reaching Aix-en-Provence it chanced that he got news of her as a result of reading a copy of Le Moniteur. It was reported that she had recently lost her son Dermid. Continued poor health had caused her to move from spa to spa in the hope of a cure, and she had been at Bagni di Lucca, when she learned that the frail little boy had been carried off by a sudden fever.

Roger felt deep sympathy for her; but she now meant no more to him than any of the other lovely women he had enjoyed for a brief season, and he thought of her only as an old friend. Georgina had been the only abiding love of his life and, although there had been times when they had been separated for years at a stretch, the thought that he could never more return to her continued to cause him a grief that he felt he would never overcome.

On October 8th he reached St. Maxime and spent the next seven weeks there idling in the autumn sunshine. Daily he went for long rides or walks but only because it had been his habit of a lifetime to keep himself in perfect physical condi­tion. Since Droopy had confirmed his fears about Georgina he had become a prey to a curious lassitude and lacked the urge to interest himself in anything; so it was only with an effort that he forced himself on November 20th to set out for Paris in order to keep his promise to be present at Napoleon's coronation.

When he reached the capital he learned that the Emperor was at Fontaineblcau, so next day he rode on there and found the little town swarming with busy people. Two days earlier Pope Pius VII, lured by promises of concessions to the Roman Catholic Church in France, which Napoleon had no intention of fulfilling, had arrived there. To avoid any cere­monial reception in which he might appear to be taking second place, Napoleon had arranged a hunt in the forest then, apparently by chance, intercepted the Pontiff's carriage a few miles from the Palace.

The last time Roger had been at Fontaineblcau King Louis and Queen Marie Antoinette had been in residence; but gracious and colourful as their Court had been, it paled beside the splendour of that of the new monarch. Having lodged his baggage in an attic room already occupied by two other A.D.C.s, Roger had to exercise all his patience that evening in worming his way through the press of dignitaries, Marshals, Ambassadors and prelates to present himself.

Not long after the Imperial couple had withdrawn, Madame de Rcmusct, Josephine's. First lady in Waiting, managed to find him and told him that her mistress wished to sec him. She then took him down to a small boudoir on the ground floor where Josephine was reclining on a day bed.

As soon as they were alone, she said. T am so glad you have returned to us, mon cher Colonel. You have ever been my friend and I sadly need the advice of someone I can trust.'

Smiling, he assured her of his devotion, then she made him sit down and went on, 'You were largely instrumental in bringing about my marriage to Bonaparte and you will recall that it was a civil marriage. Moreover, although I blush to confess it, I falsified my age, so that I should not appear to be older than the Emperor. On either count he. could, if he wished, put me from him.'

'But why should he. Your Majesty?' Roger asked. 'Between us it is no secret that he has his peccadilloes, but they never last, and he is devoted to you.'

She sighed, 'It is this awful question of the succession. As you have been absent for so long you may not be aware of the situation. My hateful in-laws have fought for months like a pack of wolves over it, but at last it has been settled. Joseph, Lucien, Louis and Jerome have all been passed over, and it has now been vested in the natural or adopted son of Napoleon.'

'I see. And you are troubled because you have not yet provided him with an heir.'

'Alas, yes. And I fear now that I shall never do so. I have tried every nostrum that the doctors can propose but they have proved of no avail.'

'It can be no fault of yours. Madame, for you have had two fine children by your previous marriage, Eugene and Mortense. Since he has proved incapable of begetting a child.

'There is no proof of that,' she put in quickly. 'You may perhaps recall my reader Madame Duchatel. His affaire with her has caused me more tears than any of his others. I was even fool enough to break in upon them one evening when they were together in the room over the Orangery at St. Cloud. His rage was terrible. He declared that he was a man apart and a law unto himself; so that afterwards I almost felt that I was the guilty party. 'Tis rumoured that she is with child. Since she entered my service she lives apart from her old husband and, before she set her cap at Napoleon she was such a paragon of virtue that if she does have a child he will certainly believe it to be his.'

Her mention of Madame Duchatel swiftly recalled to Roger the fateful night on which d'Enghien had been exe­cuted. It was she who had been in Napoleon's bed when he had forced his way into the room above the Orangery. After a moment he said:

'But, Madame, even if she does give the Emperor a natural son he would never put you aside in order to take one of your ladies as his wife.'

'No, no,' replied Josephine hastily. 'I have no fear of that. And as a mistress for him she is certainly to be preferred to that horrid, grasping de Vaudry woman with whom he started an affaire while we were at Aix-la-Chapelle. My danger lies in the possibility of his proving to his own satis­faction that he is, after all, capable of becoming a father. Since my marriage to him is not valid in the eyes of the Church, he might repudiate me so that he could take to wife some young woman of Royal blood, thereby both elevating himself in the eyes of other monarchs and with the hope of getting a legitimate son by her.'

'Has he... er... given you any indication that he might take such a step?' Roger enquired diffidently.

'Praise be to God, no. But his horrid family are urging him to do so.'

For a moment Roger remained thoughtful, then he said, 'Since you have sought my advice, Madame, it is that you should spare no effort to persuade him to legalize the bond between you. And now is the time. Once this question is raised His Holiness could not possibly ignore it. Should it be brought to his attention that you are not man and wife in the eyes of the Church it is certain that he could not square it with his conscience to bless you both at the Coronation ceremony. And the Emperor cannot possibly afford to risk the Pope's now refusing to officiate at it.'

'You are right. Yes, you are right. But, circumscribed as I am, how can I bring such a situation about?'

After considering again Roger replied, 'I suggest, Madame, that you should make use of Fesch. Although he is a Bonaparte he is not a bad man, and as a priest he is under an obligation to shepherd you back into the bosom of the Church. Although he must be aware that you married without its blessing he cannot refuse to hear your formal confession and aid you, as a penitent, to regularize your position. Should he refuse, you could, as a last resort, tell him that you intend to speak to His Holiness himself. But I do not think that will be necessary.'

Josephine stood up. Roger rose too. With tears in her eyes she put her hands on his shoulders, kissed him on both cheeks and murmured, 'I will do as you suggest. For your wise counsel I can never thank you enough.'

Four nights later, at the final pre-Coronation reception on December 1st, Madame de Remuset again sought out Roger in the crowded ballroom where Henri II had had the mono­gram of his beautiful mistress Diane de Poitiers made the motif of the inlaid floor and ceiling, and slipped a note into his hand. It was from Josephine and read:

'Bless you a thousand times. Napoleon made no difficulties

and this afternoon we were privately married by Cardinal Fesch.'

Early next morning the whole Court repaired to Paris. As Master of the Ceremonies, the Comte de Segur again excelled himself. The assembly in Notre Dame exceeded in brilliance any gathering there in the days of the anciene regime: a horde of soldiers in brilliant uniforms, Senators, Ambassadors, dignitaries and bejewelled women packed the great Cathedral. Napoleon, wearing a laurel wreath on his broad brow, clad in a gorgeous velvet robe embroidered with golden bees and wearing the sword of Charlemagne, led Josephine up to the altar.

There was only one unpleasant incident. The Bonaparte sisters, furious at having been ordered to carry Josephine's train, maliciously pulled on it as she ascended the shallow steps to the chancel and she nearly fell over backwards. But she managed to retain her balance.

Among the train bearers Roger was a little surprised to see the beautiful Pauline. Later he learned that, in order to get back to the gay life of Paris that she so dearly loved, she had used as an excuse the death of her son. She had insisted that he should be buried beside his father at Montgobert, and Napoleon had not had the heart to refuse her. But Roger now found himself gazing at her with indifference.

When the crux of the ceremony was about to take place Napoleon suddenly took the crown from the hands of the startled Pope and crowned himself. Then among shouts of acclaim that made the lofty vault ring, he crowned Josephine.

At the reception afterwards, Roger had a few words with Pauline and expressed his sympathy at her loss of Dermid. 'It was too terrible,' she told him. 'Had I been there 'tis possible that I might have saved him. But I was suffering from the sickness that afflicts me and had had a relapse. When a courier arrived at Bagni de Lucca they thought me too ill to tell me, and by the time I had recovered it was all over.'

After a moment, she added with a smile, 'But I am over the shock now and back in dear Paris. You must come to see me.'

He returned her smile and thanked her, but he had no intention of accepting her invitation. As he bowed himself away, he wondered if he would ever again want to make love to a woman. The long succession of them through the years had been only substitutes for Georgina, and it seemed that, somehow, her death had destroyed in him all desire to make love.

Soon after the Coronation there came a new development in the European situation that gave him great concern for Britain. While at Stillwaters he had learned that early in October Mr. Pitt's instructions had been carried out and the Admiralty had despatched four frigates to intercept the Spanish treasure ships. When they appeared, the Spanish squadron consisted of four slightly smaller frigates and, numbers being even, the gallant Spanish commander refused to surrender. During the ensuing fight one of the Spanish ships blew up and only then did the other three lower their colours.

Clearly the Admiralty had blundered badly in not having sent a larger force which the Spaniards would have decided they had no hope of resisting. But the damage had been done. Britain was indignantly accused of having committed both an act of war against a nation with whom she was at peace, and piracy. Godoy, as Mr. Pitt had anticipated, had done his utmost to avoid making this a cause for hostilities but the British Prime Minister had left Napoleon out of his calcu­lations.

The Emperor had insisted that Spain must fight. Godoy had still resisted. Determined to make him, Napoleon had then charged Spain with being unfriendly to France, and had threatened to send an army to invade the Peninsula. The Spaniards had caved in and, on December 12th, declared war on Britain.

This brought about the very thing that Mr. Pitt had dreaded. The combined fleets of France and Spain out­numbered that of Britain. Now, at last, Napoleon had a real chance of achieving command of the seas, sweeping the Channel and, almost unopposed, launching his invasion.

It was two days after Spain had declared war that on entering the Tuileries to go on duty Roger was handed a letter. It was inscribed, 'M. le Colonel Breuc, Aide de Camp a Sa Majeste L’Empereur des Francois, Palais de Tuileries, Paris' And the franks upon it showed that it had come via Cologne from Hamburg. Roger had a vague feeling that he knew the writing but could not imagine who would have written to him from the German port.

Tearing the packet open he saw that it contained several sheets of close writing in French. Then he recognized the hand of Colonel Thursby. Evidently the Colonel had had something urgent to communicate, sent the letter by the Cap­tain of some neutral ship and had written in French so that, should it fall into the wrong hands, Roger would not be compromised as being in correspondence with an English­man.

Quickly Roger carried the letter over to the embrasure of a window. As he skimmed the first line his heart missed a beat. It read:

'I felt I must endeavour to let you know that Jenny has returned to us...."

Roger's mind reeled. He gave a gasp and clutched at the heavy curtain for support. If Jenny was alive Georgina might be too.

24

Jenny's Story

Roger's hands were trembling so much that it was a few mo­ments before he could steady them sufficiently to read the letter. Even then his eyes skipped from passage to passage, hoping for definite news of Georgina. Bit by bit he swiftly took in the main facts.

On the evening of March 20th when 'Enterprise' was a day's run to the north-east of the exit to the Windward Passage, she had been attacked by a buccaneer. The Captain and crew of 'Enterprise' had fought her gallantly but she had been outgunned and a fire started in her that could not be brought under control. Fearing that the fire would reach her magazine the order had been given to abandon ship. Several of the boats had already been rendered useless by the can­nonade from the attacking ship, the Captain had been killed and there was an unseemly rush to get into the three that remained serviceable, during which Jenny had become parted from her mistress.

One of the three, in charge of the First Mate, had been overloaded and sank within a few minutes of being lowered. The other two, in an attempt to avoid capture, which would have meant their occupants being held to ransom, had headed for a small island about a mile away. The sun was setting and a calm had fallen; so the buccancjr, her sails hanging slack, was unable to go in pursuit but began to fire upon them. The boat containing Georgina, Lord Rockhurst and the Skiflingtons, was hit, several people in it were killed and it sank, leaving the others struggling in the water.

Jenny, in the remaining boat, had been near enough to see that Georgina and Lord Rockhurst were among the half dozen or so who were swimming towards the shore. The boat she was in was a jollyboat in charge of Mr. Small, the bos'n. She had pleaded with him to go to the rescue of her mistress and the others, but in vain. Shots were still falling round Mr. Small's boat and the six men in it were pulling desperately to get out of range; moreover, by turning away from the island they would stand a better chance of doing so and with that object he had just altered course. Had they turned back it seemed certain that they too would have been sunk before they could pick up the swimmers and get clear of the whistling cannon balls. So poor Jenny could only weep and pray as distance obscured the bobbing heads and soon after­wards the tropic night had descended, blacking out the scene.

During the night the jollyboat was carried a considerable distance by the current and when morning dawned there was no land in sight. Under the torrid tropical sun they had spent a gruelling day, but Mr. Small had cheered them by saying that to the northward, in which direction they were heading, there were hundreds of small islands; so their chances of coming upon one before their water ran out were good. And he had proved right.

At dawn on the second morning they had found themselves within a mile of a long, low, sandy spit, some way inland from which there was a good-sized grove of palm trees. Having rowed round to a small inlet that ran nearly up to the vegetation they drew the boat up well above the tide mark and, dividing into two parties, set about exploring the island. It proved to be about five miles long by two at its widest part, and more than half of it was sandy cay. But on the higher ground, as well as palms there were other trees and shrubs and several springs of fresh water. It was uninhabited but a herd of wild pigs was rooting in the undergrowth and quite a number of the trees bore tropical fruit; so they considered themselves very lucky.

Apart from her distress about her mistress Jenny had, at first, been very worried on her own account—as a pretty woman marooned with seven seamen. But Mr. Small, a stalwart, handsome man with a head of ginger curls, had had his blue eyes on Jenny from the day she had gone aboard 'Enterprise', and on the first evening they spent in a rough camp they had made he had addressed his shipmates in the following sense:

That they should be grateful to their Maker for having preserved them from the perils of the sea, and guided them to a piece of land on which there was not only fresh water but meat and fruit as well as fish to be had; but it might be many weeks before a ship passed close enough for them to signal her, and during that time some of them might get thoughts of a kind he would not tolerate. In short, if any one of them so much as laid a finger on Miss Jenny he would belt the life out of him.

He had proved right in his prediction that they might remain marooned for a considerable time. Although they erected a flagstaff on the shore, from which to fly a shirt, lit a bonfire each night and kept a constant watch, it was not until July that the fifth ship they had sighted passed close enough to sec their distress signals and send in a boat.

During their four months on the island they had fared none too badly on roast pig, shell fish and fruit but, as the boat approached, they were naturally overjoyed at the thought that they might now hope to be back in England within two months. In that they had been disappointed, as the ship had proved to be a Yankee trader on her homeward run, and it took the best part of that time before she landed them in Boston. There they had had to wait a fortnight before they could get a passage across the Atlantic; so Jenny had not reached home until mid-November.

She had brought the stalwart and devoted Mr. Small to

Stillwaters with her, and blushingly revealed to Colonel Thursby that she had a mind to marry him; yet could not abide the thought that, his profession being the sea, she would be no more than a grass widow during the best years of her life, and always fearing that tempest or some other hazard would rob her of him for good.

On learning that the bos'n was willing to give up the sea Colonel Thursby had gladly solved their problem by promis­ing him employment on the estate and, as a wedding present to Jenny, the free life-tenancy of a comfortable cottage as their home.

Reading the letter through again Roger absorbed every detail of it. He was delighted that dear Jenny had found a good man as a husband and determined at the first oppor­tunity to reward her faithful service by making over to her a handsome sum as a wedding portion; but he swiftly dismissed her from his thoughts to speculate excitedly upon what had become of Georgina.

Jenny's statement confirmed in every particular the vision he had had nearly ten months before, and when it had faded Georgina, although still some distance from the shore, had been swimming strongly towards the island. Now there was real hope that she had reached it. If so it was probable that Rockhurst, perhaps the Skiffingtons and a few members of the crew had also done so. But what then?

If the island was similar to that upon which Mr. Small's party had landed, Georgina and her companions should have had no difficulty in surviving. Even if it had no pigs or fruit trees on it, provided there was a freshwater spring, they could have made do on shell fish. But, awful thought, if there had been no spring they must all have died there.

Had they still been alive, surely from an island only a day's sail from the exit to the Windward Passage they must have been picked up within six months; and the odds against their having been rescued by another American vessel that had carried them to a port as far distant as Boston were considerable. Even had they remained marooned for six months and then been taken off by a local schooner they should have got back to England before Jenny.

Weighing the pros and cons Roger was once more plunged into gloom. Then a few moments later a new idea struck him. In those lawless seas it was quite possible that they had not been picked up by an honest trader, or a warship, but by a Sea Rover. In fact it was highly likely that the buccaneer who had attacked 'Enterprise' had sent a party ashore and cap­tured them within an hour of their landing.

Against that it was customary for pirates to take captives who were well off to a hideout on some desert islet where they careened their ships, and hold them there until they were ransomed. Yet if that was what had happened some crooked agent who acted for the pirates would have sent a demand for ransom that should have reached London months ago.

There remained still another possibility. Rockhurst and Skiffington, if they had reached the shore, might later have been killed in a fight with the pirates. At the sight of Geor­gia's beauty the pirate Captain might then have decided that rather than demand a ransom for her he would force her to become his mistress. It was therefore not to be ruled out that she was still alive but suffering a hideous captivity aboard the ship as a 'pirate's moll'. Still worse, having taken his plea­sure with her, he might have decided that for such a lovely woman he could get nearly as big a sum by selling her into a brothel as by asking a ransom, and save both time in getting his money and the agent's heavy commission.

The more Roger thought of this last appalling possibility the more harrowed his mind became. Within the hour, he had decided that he must go out to the West Indies and, somehow, discover what had really happened to the love of his life.

That night he considered by what means he could most swiftly reach the Caribbean. From England he would have no difficulty, through Mr. Pitt's good offices, in getting a pas­sage in the first frigate sailing for those waters. But now that it was next to impossible for smugglers to cross the eastern end of the Channel, he would have to go via Bordeaux and be landed somewhere in Devonshire or Cornwall. That would mean a long ride through France, probably several days before he could find a smuggler about to run a cargo, another long journey by coach to London to see Mr. Pitt, still another down to Portsmouth or Bristol and, even then, he might have to wait for some time before the frigate sailed; so it could be a month or more before he was actually on his way to the Indies.

On the other hand wind and weather, particularly during the winter months, together with the necessity for ships to be detached in rotation to take in water, made the British squadrons' blockade of the French ports far from constant. In consequence French ships in considerable numbers had fairly frequent opportunities of slipping out, and, once in the vast open ocean, stood a very good chance of reaching the Indies without meeting opposition. If, therefore, he could get on a French ship the odds were that he would reach his des­tination the sooner by several weeks.

Next morning he remained in bed and sent a note to Duroc excusing himself from duty on the grounds that his weak lung was again giving him trouble. Two days later he got up, went to the Tuileries and asked for a private interview with his master. An hour or so later Napoleon received him. As he made his bow he gave vent to a fit of coughing, then said:

'Your Majesty, now that winter is upon us I must, with great regret, ask for leave to quit Paris, otherwise I fear I may be stricken with a pleurisy.'

Napoleon nodded, 'Your old trouble, eh? 'Tis wretched for you that you should be so afflicted every winter. However, I'll have no special use for you until early summer. Now that the Spanish Fleet is as good as in my pocket, together with our own and those of Northern Italy and Holland, we'll drive the accursed English from the seas. But not yet. The Spanish Fleet is in ill repair and several months must elapse before it can be made battleworthy. 'Twould be folly to strike before we can muster our maximum strength. Meantime by all means go to that place of yours near St. Maxime and enjoy the sunshinc.'

'I thank you, Sire,' Roger replied. 'But it irks me to have to spend long spells there idling my time away: and it has occurred to me that since my health prevents me from serving you in Paris I might do so elsewhere.' 'What have you in mind?'

'That you might send me in some capacity to the Indies. Not permanently, but perhaps to make a confidential report to you on the situation there. My mission could be covered by your appointing me as an Army liaison officer to your Admiral commanding on that station; and such a cruise would certainly benefit my health.'

'You have an idea there. My Army leaves nothing to be desired; but I am far from satisfied with our Navy. You are a shrewd observer, Breuc, and might well provide me with information which would enable me to weld it into better shape before I launch it in full force against the English. I'll think on it. Come to me tomorrow night at St. Cloud at ten o'clock.'

The following evening Roger rode out to the Palace and was duly shown into the Orangery. Napoleon was seated at his desk and for some minutes continued writing in his fast, sprawling hand. Then he stood up, took a big map from a drawer, threw it on the floor, lay down, spread out the map and signed to Roger to join him.

'This,' he said, 'is our situation. Our two main fleets are at Toulon and Brest. Villeneuve commands the first and Gantheaume the second. We have a third, consisting only of five ships of the line and five frigates, under Missiessy at Rochefort. My object during the Spring is to decoy the main English fleet under Nelson to the West Indies. I am sending Missiessy orders that in January, as soon as an opportunity offers to evade the blockade, he is to sail to the Caribbean and make as much trouble there as possible. To give him time to do so, Villeneuvc will leave Toulon in March and make a feint towards Egypt. That should draw Nelson after him. Then, evading Nelson, he will turn back, pick up the Spanish Fleet at Cartagena and follow Missiessy across the Atlantic with it. Bv then the English should have learned that Missiessy has attacked, and I hope taken one or more of their islands. The Franco-Spanish fleet will be sighted as it passes Gibraltar. Nelson will learn of that a few days later and turn back in pursuit. But Villeneuve should have a good lead. He will join Missiessy at Martinique. The combined fleets will then at once rccross the Atlantic while Nelson is hunting for them in the Caribbean. On Villeneuve's return he will pick up the second Spanish fleet from Cadiz. Gantheaume will break out of Brest and the Dutch fleet leave its ports. Having massed our entire seapowcr we shall overwhelm the English squadrons in the Channel and launch the invasion.'

'A magnificent conception,' Roger declared heartily. 'Magnificent. It cannot fail.'

'It will not. To achieve this combination has taken me four years. But now at last these devilish islanders who have thwarted my plans in every direction are about to face the day of reckoning.'

The Emperor paused for a moment, then he went on, 'With regard to Missiessy; it is my intention that he should take with him twelve thousand troops. His first objective will be the capture of Dominica. He may then use his judgment whether next to attack St. Kitts, Nevis or Monserrat. Such troops as he may still have after leaving garrisons in such islands as he succeeds in taking he will use to reinforce San Domingo. By then Villeneuvc should have joined him and they will return together. You are to sail with Missiessy, but not as a liaison officer. Seeing that you are one of my personal staff, the Admirals would be certain to suspect that I had sent you to spy on them. You will go as Governor-designate of the island of Dominica.'

At this announcement Roger had all he could do to keep a straight face. In '94 Mr. Pitt had sent him out as Governor of the French island of Martinique which had recently been captured by the British: now Napoleon was sending him out to be Governor of the British island of Dominica which was to be captured by the French. It was a delightful piece of irony, but no time to laugh. Swiftly recovering himself, he expressed his gratitude at being given this lucrative appoint­ment, upon which Napoleon said:

'You will not be there long, as you must return with the combined fleet to be with me for the invasion. But you have a good head on your shoulders, and six or eight weeks in the island should be sufficient for you to establish French rule firmly before handing over to a successor.' Getting to his feet Napoleon took a packet from his desk, handed it to Roger and added, 'Here is your Commission as Governor of Dominica, and a letter to Admiral le Comte de Missiessy informing him of your appointment. You may leave for Rochefort as soon as you wish. I hope that there you will find better weather and quickly recover your health.'

Having effusively thanked the Emperor again Roger left the Palace in high elation. Not only had he secured his passage to the West Indies but by a great stroke of luck he had learned the movements of the French fleets for several months to come. Nevertheless, as he rode back to Paris he had to face a most disconcerting problem. Clearly it was his duty to pass on to Mr. Pitt as soon as he possibly could the information he had come by, so that Nelson should not be lured to the West Indies; but Missiessy was to sail in January as soon as he had an opportunity to break out of Rochefort. If he crossed to England he might not be able to get back before Missiessy sailed.

By the time he reached La Belle Etoile he had taken his decision. Deeply as he loved Georgina and harrowed as he had been by thinking of the awful fate that might have overtaken her if she had fallen into the hands of pirates, he must put his country first and risk having to postpone going in search of her.

As it was now December 18th and the odds were that Missiessy would not find a chance to escape the blockade during the first few days of January, Roger reckoned that he would have at least a fortnight and, with luck, three weeks in which to get from Paris to London then back to Rochefort. But the only route open to him was via Bordeaux and Devon. For there to be any hope of his getting back early in the New Year, not a moment must be lost.

At the hostelry he ordered a fresh horse to be saddled for him, crammed a suit of civilian clothes and a few other things into a valise, then from under a loose board in his bedroom took a money belt stuffed with gold pieces and two letters of credit that he always kept there against an emergency. Soon after midnight he was in the saddle and on his way out of Paris.

On the 22nd he reached Bordeaux but there met with a nasty setback. The smuggler who had put him over on his last two trips had not returned from a crossing he had made early the previous month, so was presumed to be cither dead or captured by the English.

By frequenting seamen's taverns during the next two days he at length got in touch with another smuggler named Jubert. But in spite of an offer of lavish payment Jubert proved sullen and difficult. His craft was already loaded with a cargo of wine but he refused to put to sea on account of the weather, although Roger had several times made the crossing when it was worse.

At last, on the 28th, Jubcrt's avarice overcame his fears and for the highest sum Roger had ever paid he agreed to sail. The passage, although rough enough to make Roger ill, was not particularly bad but, only two hours after they had left Bordeaux, they ran into trouble. Out of the night there emerged a British sloop of war. They were hailed and ordered to heave to. Jubert ignored the order and put about in an attempt to get away, but the sloop sent a cannon ball crashing through his rudder. This lucky shot rendered the ship out of control, whereupon the sloop came alongside and grappled her.

The sound of the shot brought Roger on deck. At a glance he took in the situation and had swiftly to decide what to do. Suddenly it occurred to him that this apparent disaster might prove a blessing in disguise and enable him to send his information to London without landing in England.

Stepping up to Jubert—now haggard at the thought of not only losing his cargo but spending years in an English prison—Roger said quietly, 'Leave this to me. I have a big sum of money with me and may be able to buy them off.'

A young officer accompanied by six British tars with drawn cutlasses scrambled aboard. Jubcrt stood back, and Roger, addressing the officer in broken English, told him that he was responsible for the ship. He then asked to be taken to the Captain of the sloop. Ten minutes later he was in her after-cabin with her commander, a middle-aged Lieutenant.

As soon as they were alone Roger ceased all pretence of being a Frenchman and said, 'Lieutenant, I am a British agent in the personal service of the Prime Minister. Your having intercepted us is most fortunate. I have information regarding the future movements of the French fleet which should be conveyed to him with the utmost urgency. I pray you get it to him with all possible speed, and release this smuggler so that he can land me again in France and I can continue the important work I am doing there.'

In spite of his perfect English, the Lieutenant at first refused to believe him. But after half an hour, during which Roger answered innumerable questions for which he could hardly have provided the answers had he not been brought up in Hampshire and been acquainted with a number of prominent Englishmen, the Lieutenant was convinced of his bona fides. Pen and paper were provided and he sat down in the heaving sloop to write his despatch for Mr. Pitt. When he had done he gave it to the Lieutenant to read through. Realizing its vital nature, the officer said he would set a course for Plymouth and, although reluctant to do so, agreed to release the smuggler, provided he made no further attempt to land his illicit cargo.

Back aboard the smuggler Roger pulled a long face as he told Jubert that it had cost him twelve thousand five hundred francs to bribe the Englishman to let them go, but that for that sum he had also agreed to undertake certain business for him in England which now made it unnecessary for him to go there himself. He added that he had given his word that no further attempt should be made on this trip to land the cargo and that, even if he was prepared to break it, with the sloop still in the vicinity it would be suicidal to do so; but that there was nothing to prevent Jubert from attempting to put his cargo across in a few days' time.

Jubert, thanking his stars that he had had a passenger aboard rich enough to save himself and his ship from cap­ture, at once agreed to put back to port, and in the early hours of the morning Roger was landed at the old harbour in Bordeaux.

It was now December 29th and Rochefort lay only a hundred miles to the north; so he had time in hand. On the afternoon of the 31st he arrived there and reported to Admiral Comte de Missiessy. The Admiral and his senior officers were about to celebrate the New Year of 1805. Roger was invited to join them and spent a hectic evening, now overjoyed to think that his vital information was on its way to Mr. Pitt by a safe hand, and that he was assured of a pas­sage which, with any reasonable luck, would get him to the West Indies within six to eight weeks.

He would have been far from being so pleased with himself had he known that within twelve hours of his leaving the sloop of war she had encountered a French frigate. After a sharp engagement the sloop had got away but her after-structure had been set on fire, Roger's despatch had gone up in flames, and the sloop's Commander, who was the only man aboard who knew its contents, had been killed during the action. So, after all, Nelson's fleet was destined to be lured on a long, futile chase to the West Indies.

25

Disastrous Voyage

It was not until January 11th that, bad weather during the preceding days having driven off the British ships blockading Rochefort, Missiessy's squadron was able to break out. Its ten ships, carrying nearly twelve thousand troops in addition to their crews, were crammed to suffocation. Between decks hammocks were slung in serried rows alternately head to foot as close as sardines in a tin, and each was shared by three men for stretches of eight hours in every twenty four. For the rest of the time those who were not sleeping either lay about playing cards beneath the hammocks or, by companies, were in turn taken up on deck to be exercised. The officers, too, had to share cabins, and Roger, being as Governor designate of Dominica a person of importance, considered himself lucky in having a small stateroom with a bunk to himself and only one other in it that was occupied by a Brigadier.

Even so, he was in for five weeks of unending misery. The French fleet had not yet fully recovered from the effects of the Revolution, when all but a very small percentage of its experienced officers had either become victims of the Terror or gone into exile. Since Napoleon's coming to power dis­cipline had been restored; but for the best part of ten years the sailors had lazed about, refusing to do any but essential work, so almost nothing had been done to keep the ships in good repair and they were still in a deplorable state.

As soon as the squadron struck bad weather the condition of the ships, which had lain for so long in port, became tcrrifyingly evident. Half-rotten sails were split by the wind before they could be furled, frayed ropes snapped, capstan bars broke, spars snapped off and no fewer than ten masts crashed onto the crowded decks killing scores of men. Roger as usual, was terribly seasick; so too were over ninety per cent of those on board. For days on end he could keep nothing down and even when the storm had blown itself out the stench continued to be so appalling that periodically it still made him vomit.

He lost over a stone in weight and to add to his suffering could not rid his mind of the constant fear that they would encounter a British squadron. Even two or three line-of-battle ships manned by officers and men of the Royal Navy, trained to fight their ships with split-second efficiency and hardened by countless months at sea in all weathers, could have taken on Missiessy's whole squadron and wrought the most appal­ling carnage among the seething masses of men who packed his ships. But in that, at least, Roger was lucky; for throughout the voyage they did not sight a hostile sail and, despite the shortcomings of his ships and crews, Missiessy succeeded in getting his squadron to Martinique by February 20th.

When they dropped anchor in the splendid bay of Fort de France the scene Roger saw through his cabin porthole aroused very mixed memories. For seven months he had enormously enjoyed being Governor of the island and, by dealing harshly with malcontents but using sweet reason with its leading citizens, brought the French settlers to co-operate with him in administering British rule. Then, after being recalled to England by Mr. Pitt to undertake a special mis­sion, he had returned four months later to find that his wife, Amanda, had just died in giving birth to little Susan. It had been a terrible shock for, although as with all the other women he had known, had the need arisen he would have sacrificed Amanda for Georgina, she had been a good wife and a charming companion; so he had loved her dearly and had mourned her death for many months.