Evil in a Mask (49 page)

Frowning, he murmured, ‘Having told these people that I drove Baob out of your window, what they will make of my saying that I am taking you for your safety from the house, God alone knows. But, at least, for the moment I have muddied the waters. When the story of this awful night's work
becomes common property, no-one will know what to believe. Now we have to get hold of the horses and, as Baob was to have had them ready for me, that may be far from easy.'

Together they walked very quietly round to the back of the house. Screened by a clump of bamboos, they could see both its windows and the yard. The windows were now lit, and the sound of wailing came from them. In the yard the Negro slaves were squatting, talking in low voices and, now and then, looking up to the lighted windows. Baob was not among them.

Taking Lisala by the hand, Roger drew her away and round to the back of the barn. To his relief, the two horses were still tethered there. Roger sheathed his sword and extended the palm of his hand. Lisala put her left foot in it and vaulted into the saddle of the nearer horse. He freed the animal's reins and gave them to her. Standing alongside the other horse, he was about to put his foot in the stirrup when there came a sudden rustle in the nearby undergrowth.

Baob leapt from it, holding on high a murderous machete, with a razor-sharp blade of which the slaves on the plantations hacked through the thick stalks of the sugar-canes. Swinging round, Roger bent double, at the same moment whipping out his sword. Agility had always been his best card when fighting duels. Now, with the swiftness of a cat, he leapt aside and, in one clean thrust, drove the sword straight through the big Negro's stomach.

With an awful groan, Baob collapsed, falling on his back. Roger put his foot hard on the Negro's groin, then drew out his blade. As he did so, he said:

‘Why you should have betrayed me, I cannot think. Now you have received your just deserts. Owing to your treachery, the master who was good to you has been killed. Had it not been for that, I would have driven my sword through your heart, and you would have had a quick death. As it is, you will be dead by morning, but will first writhe in agony for several hours. May your own strange gods have mercy on your black soul.'

Bending down over the prostrate, gasping giant Roger rifled through his garments until he found the twenty-five guineas
he had given him. Putting the coins in his pocket, he mounted his horse and said to Lisala:

‘It is as well for us that he was lying in wait here to kill me. By killing him I have eliminated another witness to this night's events. When a Court is held, it will be more mystified than ever as to how your father met his death.'

As they rode side by side down towards the harbour, Roger badgered his wits for a plausible account of what had occurred, to give Captain Jackson.

No-one, other than Lisala, had actually seen her father and Baob killed. Only the two
Senhoras
could testify that Roger had been in Lisala's room and that she had declared herself to be eloping with him because her father had refused to consent to their marriage. As against that, the Portuguese servants believed that Roger had come to the house to transact some secret business with their master, and that it was Baob who had broken into Lisala's room.

After furious thinking, Roger reconstructed a version of what might have taken place. He and de Pombal had been downstairs discussing business. They had heard sounds above and had gone up. Baob, alarmed by the sound of their approach, had slipped out of Lisala's room, and crept to the head of the stairs. Dona Christina had emerged from her room, failed to notice Baob behind her, and gone into Lisala's. Rendered hysterical by Baob's attempted assault, Lisala, in the semi-darkness, had believed the duenna to be the Negro renewing his assault, and so attacked her. Roger and the Marquis, the latter leading, had then come up the stairs. Baob had sprung out from the dark corner of the landing and, evidently gone berserk, stabbed de Pombal in the back. Roger, whipping out his sword had then driven it through Baob's stomach. In spite of the wound, Baob's great strength had enabled him to reach the window and get away down his ladder. Roger had not realised that the wound he had inflicted was mortal, so feared that Baob, knowing his life to be already forfeit, might induce the other slaves to mutiny. He could not have defended all three ladies from an attack by the slaves, so had decided that his first duty was to get Lisala away to safety.

Parts of this story, contradicted by the two
Senhoras
, might be suspect; but in the main it would be difficult to refute. Roger gave it to Lisala and made her repeat it so that she should have clearly in her mind what to say if she was questioned. During their ride she had remained silent; owing, Roger supposed, to shock and remorse at her awful deed. But now she replied to him quite calmly, so he told her that, when they went aboard the ship, she must show great distress. A quarter of an hour later they reached the shore.

Mobo, squatting on his haunches, was dozing near the fountain. Roger gave him a small packet he had prepared, containing money enough to keep him for a couple of months, then told him to take the horses back to the inn.

As soon as the slave had disappeared, Roger walked with Lisala along the shore in the direction of the Arsenal. Tied up there were scores of boats of varying sizes. Selecting a dinghy, Roger helped Lisala down into it, cast off and rowed out to the
Phantom
. On the way, she dipped her handkerchief into the sea, so that the wet rag would give the impression that she had been crying into it.

The terrible affray that had followed Baob's betrayal had occupied no more than a few minutes and, although it seemed difficult to believe that so much had happened in a single hour, it was only a little after one o'clock. The officer of the watch had been warned to expect them at about that time, and took them aft to Captain Jackson's state-room.

The Captain received them most politely, complimenting Roger on his lady's exceptional beauty. Roger wondered grimly what the gallant sailor would have said had he been aware that the sylph-like young creature who was dabbing her wonderful eyes as she curtsied to him had, some fifty-five minutes earlier, murdered her father. He could only thank his gods that he had been the sole witness to that awful crime.

Anticipating that his guests might be hungry after their midnight elopement, the Captain had had a cold collation prepared for them. As they were about to sit down to it, Lisala groaned and, lurching against Roger's shoulder, pretended to faint. Jackson exclaimed:

‘poor lady! It is most understandable that, having arbitrarily left her parent, she should be overcome with emotion.'

‘She has far greater cause than that, Sir, to have become distraught, as I must tell you,' Roger replied quickly. ‘But before I speak of it, could we not get her to a cabin?'

‘Indeed, yes. One has been made ready for her.' Together, they supported Lisala out of the state-room along to a single-berth cabin. There, knowing there would be no women on board to assist her, she appeared to recover sufficiently to assure them that she could look after herself.

Only too well Roger realised that he now had to take one of the stiffest fences he had ever encountered. Unless he could persuade Jackson that he and Lisala were entirely innocent, the Captain would put them ashore, and they would have lost their chance of getting back to Europe.

When they returned to the state-room, he gave Jackson an edited version of the night's events, upon which the Captain became extremely worried.

Roger asserted firmly that, although his real reason for having been in the house had been to carry off Lisala, no-one could prove that he had not gone there on business at the invitation of the Marquis; that his arrival and Baob's attempted assault on Lisala had been only a most unfortunate coincidence, and that no charge could be brought against him other than having driven his sword through, and probably killed, a slave who had, a few minutes earlier, slain his own master.

‘ 'Tis a terrible business,' Jackson said glumly. ‘A full inquiry is certain to be held and you will be called on to give evidence.'

‘That I will do,' Roger agreed, ‘but only here in this ship to a magistrate sent aboard by the Portuguese authorities. Should I go ashore to attend a Court, ‘tis certain they'll detain me for further questioning. That would mean my losing this chance to return to England, and that I will not do. As a British subject against whom no serious charge can be brought, I claim the right of sanctuary in this ship.'

Jackson scowled at him. ‘You can be charged with having abducted the
Senhorita
. I want no trouble with the Portuguese.
If they insist on your appearing before a Court, I must hand you over.'

Roger banged the table with his fist. ‘Sir! You will do so at your peril. I have a second identity. I am also
Colonel le Chevalier de Breuc, aide-de-camp
to the Emperor Napoleon. For many years Mr. Pitt accounted me his most valuable secret agent. Mr. Canning and others in the present Ministry are old friends of mine. God forbid that I should have to take such a step against one of my father's former officers; but do you abandon me to the Portuguese, I vow I'll have you broken.'

The Captain cast down his eyes, avoiding the harsh stare in Roger's blue ones; but remained silent. He had only his pay, and a family at home to support. Instinctively he had the feeling that Roger was not lying and, for him, the threat was a terrible one.

After a moment, Roger resumed. ‘I apologise. I have gone too far, and put you in an impossible position. You must do what your conscience dictates, and I'll think no worse of you, nor do you harm. I'll say only that when one Englishman is in difficulties, he should be able to count on the help of another.'

He had given Jackson the loophole to escape without dishonour. After a moment the Captain nodded. ‘So be it, Mr. Brook. I will refuse to surrender you, and carry you back to England. But what of the
Senhorita
? Had she simply eloped with you as planned, and her relations learned that you had brought her aboard my ship, then sought to regain her, I could have maintained that, as she was of marriageable age and had come willingly, it was a purely private matter in which I had no intention of intervening. But these two killings put a very different complexion on the affair. Her aunt may assert that you abducted her by force and call on the authorities to claim her. Should such a demand be made on me, how can I refuse to hand her over?'

Roger sighed. ‘That certainly is a problem. For you to give me, as a British subject, sanctuary is one thing; but to give sanctuary to her is quite another. Yet I am most loath to abandon
her. It would mean her being forced to take the veil and, enduring the living death of life as a nun.'

For some while they sat silent, then Jackson said, ‘There is one way in which you could save her. As Captain of this ship I am empowered to marry any couple aboard it. Make her your wife tomorrow, and she will become a British subject.'

During the past months Roger had frequently contemplated making Lisala his wife. But that night she had finally revealed herself. Not only was she obsessed by sex and abnormally selfish. Behind the face of a Madonna, lay an unscrupulous and vicious mind. To gain her ends she had gone to the length of murdering her own father. Her beauty was only skin deep. She was Evil in a Mask.

It was one of the worst nights that Roger had ever spent. It had begun with betrayal, involved him in violence and murder, necessitated his blackmailing an honest sea-captain, and ended in hours of terrible indecision.

Why Baob should have betrayed him still remained a mystery. The result of that betrayal had shocked him profoundly. About his ability to force Captain Jackson into doing as he wished he had had no serious doubts. He had in the past defied and got his way with Pitt, Napoleon and half a dozen other powerful personalities on the European stage; so experience had taught him that, by a mixture of charm, subtle argument and brutal determination, he could bend most men to his will. But now he was faced with an issue that only he could resolve. Should he, or should he not, marry Lisala?

It could be argued that it was to save him that she had murdered her father. But Roger had grown to know her well enough to feel certain that that had not been her prime purpose. The deed had been inspired by her determination, whatever the cost, not to be forced into spending the rest of her life as a nun. Her beauty was staggering, and her sexual attraction such that a hermit vowed to celibacy would have thrown over his chances of heaven for the opportunity to possess her. Yet, concealed by that flawless loveliness lay a mind that was abnormal. She had not even shown remorse for her crime, and had faked tears only to impress Captain Jackson. The only indications of her abnormality were that her magnificent eyes were a trifle too widely spaced, the violence of her temper and the voluptuousness of her movements.

Recalling the eagerness with which she had abandoned herself
to him that first time in the cave up on the mountain, and the frenzy of passion she had since displayed during those brief spells when they had been able to consummate their love in Isfahan, Lisbon and Rio, he had grave doubts about his ability to satisfy her abnormal sexual craving over a prolonged period. Yet, to take her to Europe, then abandon her seemed too heartless to contemplate. And, above all, she was carrying his child. Dawn found him mentally exhausted and heavy-eyed, but he had decided that he must go through with it.

At seven o'clock he went to her cabin, to find her sleeping as soundly as a virgin in a convent, with no more on her conscience than the necessity to make confession that the sin of gluttony had led her to steal a piece of chocolate cake. Rousing her, he explained the situation to her, adding that if the Captain married them, it would have to be in accordance with the Church of England ceremony. He told her this, with half a hope that, as she was a Catholic and he a Protestant, she might refuse marriage if not celebrated with the rites of her own Church.