The Sultan's Daughter (65 page)

‘Why should you suppose that I wish to leave Paris?'

‘Does not every man wish at times to return to his own country?'

‘France is my country.'

‘Oh, come!' Fouché's thin-lipped mouth twitched in a faint smile. ‘Others appear to believe that, but you cannot expect me to accept such a barefaced lie. Need I remind you that, when first I came upon you as a boy in Rennes, you admitted to me that you were the son of Admiral Brook and had run away from home?'

‘In for a penny, in for a pound,' thought Roger, so he snapped back, ‘I need no reminding of how you murdered poor old Doctor Fénelon and stole our money.'

Fouché gave a slight shrug. ‘It was not murder. My pistol went off by accident. And I needed the money. But, your admission apart, four years later I followed you to England in the hope of earning the reward offered for the documents you stole from the Marquis de Rochambeau. I came upon
you at your home, Grove Place, at Lymington. You cannot deny that.'

‘I do not seek to do so; nor deny that I am Admiral Brook's son.'

‘Then you admit that you are an English spy?'

‘I certainly do not. The Marquis's papers came into my hands by chance. Young as I was I realised that, if I could get them to London, it might prevent a war between England and France. I proved right in that. It was your misfortune that, after you regained the papers, I got them back. But at that time we were private individuals. Neither you nor I were then agents employed by our Governments.'

‘That is true; also that you got the better of me. It was the first time, but not the last. I will admit that you are a most redoubtable opponent. The way in which you made off with the Dauphin was masterly. Yet had I left Paris but half an hour earlier I would have caught you and had you guillotined for it.'

In spite of the peril he was now in, Roger felt on the top of his mettle and replied with a laugh, ‘For that again, you cannot accuse me of espionage. I acted as I did on account of a personal promise I had made to Queen Marie Antoinette, not as the agent of a foreign Power.'

That was only a half-truth, but Fouché could not contest it. He was doodling on a piece of paper and, without looking up, said, ‘Later, you deceived me into believing that you still had the boy, then told me he was dead. What was the truth of the matter?'

For a moment Roger hesitated, then he replied, ‘You will recall that, as I pushed off with him in the boat, you and your men fired upon us. He was hit by a ball and died that night.' That was not the truth, but was near enough, for the boy was dead before Roger landed on the far shore of Lake Geneva. After a moment he went on:

‘Neither can you accuse me of espionage in the matter of Madame Bonaparte's diary. I retrieved it from you only because Barras wished her to marry his protégé, the young General. She would have refused to do so had we not suppressed the evidence that her first marriage to de Beauharnais
was bigamous, owing to her having already married William de Kay while still in her teens.'

‘Yes, yes; but all this does not make you a Frenchman.'

‘Not legally, I agree. Yet for many years past I have lived in France and thought of myself as a Frenchman. You are well aware of the part I played during the Revolution. Admittedly, it is known to you that at heart I was a Royalist. But what of it? Thousands of Royalists have since become good Republicans, and thousands of Republicans would tomorrow, if they thought a Restoration likely, become Royalists.'

‘That is true. But the fact remains that you, an Englishman, now pose as a Frenchman born in Strasbourg, and that you have succeeded in getting yourself appointed as one of General Bonaparte's aides-de-camp. In such a position you Must become privy to many State secrets.'

‘Certainly; and why should I not?' Roger asked boldly. ‘My relatives in England long since cast me off, owing to my Liberal opinions. I am making a career for myself in France, and a fine one. To betray the country of my adoption for the sake of the country of my birth would be to cut off my nose to spite my face. Surely you see that?'

For a full minute Fouché continued to doodle, then he said, ‘You once did me a kindness but, on balance, I have no cause to love you; and in the past you have given me ample proof that you are a very dangerous man. I can see no reason why I should allow you to continue to perpetrate upon General Bonaparte and others the fraud that you were born a Frenchman. Since I have personal knowledge of your origin, any form of trial would be redundant and, as Minister of Police, I am in a position to have you swiftly eliminated. To do so seems to me only a sensible precaution against the possibility that you are lying to me.'

Realising that the crisis of the interview was at hand, Roger said firmly, ‘I agree that you have the power to give orders that I should be carted off to some hideous fate, before my friends could even demand that I be formally accused and tried. But what of afterwards? Let us consider two possibilities.

‘First, we will assume that I am at heart loyal to France.
You would then have deprived your country of a useful servant. There would be only your word for it that I was a traitor. No one would believe you. It would be thought that you had abused your position to exact a private vengeance. Bonaparte, Talleyrand and a dozen other of my friends would never forgive you. And the Army, which now terms me “
le brave Breuc
”, would execrate your name.

‘Secondly, we will assume that I am a spy. You might employ false witnesses, but you could produce no convincing proof that I am Admiral Brook's son. Again you would be disbelieved, and attract to yourself the same enmity and opprobrium. But more. Were I an agent of Mr. Pitt, can you really believe that I should come here like a lamb to the slaughter? Certainly not. I should be hand in glove with the Royalist agents. I should have learned from them that, in the summer of '97, a certain Citizen Joseph Fouché offered his aid in an attempt to place Louis XVIII on the throne of France. I should———'

‘There is not one word of truth in that,' Fouché broke in quickly.

‘Of course not,' Roger agreed smoothly, ‘nor is there in your fanciful idea that I am an English agent. Yet if I were, you may be certain that, before placing myself in your hands, I would have arranged with my friends that, if you dealt with me as a spy, they should at once put it about all over Paris that, when the Government of France ceased to give you employment, you had offered to betray the Revolution. To that one should add that, just as you might employ false witnesses against me, so the Royalist agents would produce letters, er … faked of course, that people might accept as proof that you had been in communication with the Court at Mitau.'

It was Roger's only card, a bluff based on the information Talleyrand had given him. There might be no incriminating letters in existence, for Fouché was so cautious in all his dealings that he had probably communicated with Mitau only through a third party and had never put pen to paper. But such letters could be forged and it was a certainty that the Royalists in Mitau would willingly have co-operated in attempting to ruin an ex-terrorist of Fouché's standing.

As the cadaverous Minister continued to stare silently at his desk, Roger went on in a conciliatory tone, ‘But all this is beside the point. No one could ever seriously accuse you of scheming to betray the Republic that you played so large a part in establishing, any more than anyone other than yourself could seriously accuse me of being one of Mr. Pitt's agents. And that is the crux of the matter. That I was born an Englishman, to you I readily admit; but that I am a spy, I deny. Therefore, should you use your power arbitrarily to terminate my career, you will be doing a deliberate disservice to your country for the purpose of satisfying your private malice.'

‘No, no!' Fouché shook his head. ‘I am not a malicious man. I have never willingly made an enemy in my life. My only enemies are those who are jealous of me.'

‘Then why make one of General Bonaparte, as you certainly will if you make away with a man whose services he regards as valuable?'

Fouché sniffed, then repeated, ‘General Bonaparte. I gather that you are on intimate terms with him?'

‘That I can certainly claim to be, and something more than an ordinary military aide-de-camp. In the winter of '98, I went to England on a secret mission for him and brought him back accurate information about the defences on the south coast there. How can you reconcile that with your idea that I am here as a spy for England?'

‘I would like to have your opinion of Bonaparte.'

‘It is that he is the most remarkable man alive. As a soldier, he is head and shoulders above any other General. But not only that. He is a great administrator. His head is stuffed with more general knowledge than those of any other ten men you could name, yet his mind is so lucid that he never confuses issues. He has immense courage and the ability to make decisions on the instant'

‘You confirm all that I have heard from other sources. Do you think that he intends to stage a
coup d'état?
'

‘If I knew, I certainly should not tell you. But I will offer you a piece of advice. Everyone knows that the Directory is on its last legs. Whatever may emerge from its downfall, you can be certain that Bonaparte is too strong a man to allow
himself to be trampled underfoot and, if he does seek power, he will have many friends to aid him. Yet, at this time, when the future is still in doubt, he cannot have too many friends. You would be wise to become one of them.'

Fouché's fish-like eyes suddenly flickered over Roger's face. Looking away again, he said, ‘Advice from a man like yourself is worthy of very serious consideration. In my view, though, it will be all or nothing. The Jacobins are again very powerful, and he is not a politician. If, before he is ready to strike, they accuse him in the Five Hundred of conspiring to become a Dictator, nothing can save him. He will be declared an Outlaw, then no one will dare raise a voice in his defence. On the other hand, if he does intend to bring about a
coup d'état
and is successful, he'll brook no rivals in the new Government He will seize supreme power for himself.'

‘And, as a result,' Roger added, ‘every plum on the tree will go to those who have aided him. In my position, devoted to him as. I am, I stand to make my fortune. Can you any longer suppose that I should throw such a chance away because I happen to have been born in England?'

A bleak smile again twitched Fouché's thin lips as he replied, ‘I have never taken you for a sentimentalist. But, er … with regard to your advice. When Bonaparte was last in Paris, I was busying myself with a commercial venture in northern France; so I have never met him. I should find it interesting to do so, in order that I can form my own opinion of the man.'

Roger's heart suddenly began to hammer in his chest. Each beat was as if it cried aloud, ‘I've won! I've won! I've won!' With a little bow, he said, ‘I should be very happy to arrange a meeting.'

‘That would be to add to my indebtedness to you.' Fouché's shifty glance again met Roger's for an instant. ‘However, when suggesting it to him, please do not give the impression that I intend to commit myself to anything.'

‘Assuredly not. But, in the event of your impression proving favourable and certain movements being set on foot, you would, no doubt, wish to keep in touch with him. It might be ill-advised to do so openly with any frequency. If you felt that, and were also averse to putting anything on paper …'

‘
Mon cher Colonel
, I take your thought. And I am sure that I can count on your discretion as a verbal courier between us. After all, although you and I differed in our political opinions we worked together for the overthrow of Robespierre, did we not? In this case it seems unlikely that even our political opinions would differ.'

‘
Monsieur le Ministre
, I am delighted that you should think that, but not at all surprised. France is in a wretched state and has been so for far too long. Aill sensible men now seem to agree that what the country needs is a strong man, capable of bringing order out of chaos. General Bonaparte is such a man, and one can think of no other.'

Having given a nod of agreement, Fouché swiftly hedged. ‘You will, of course, appreciate that in my position I could not take a personal part in any movement. Such action as is taken would be entirely his affair. I should remain merely an observer.'

‘Naturally,' Roger agreed gravely. ‘And, after all, we are talking of something that may never take place. Let us leave it that you are to meet the General. Should you then feel about him as do others who know him well, and should he contemplate anything, you might, perhaps, be willing to view the project with benevolent neutrality?'

‘Benevolent neutrality. That is an apt phrase; most apt. I see that we understand one another very well.' Coming slowly to his feet, Fouché added, ‘And now,
mon cher Colonel
, it remains only for me to thank you for having called upon me.'

Roger rose and took the moist, bony hand offered him. ‘
Monsieur le Ministre
, it has been a great pleasure to me to renew our acquaintance in such circumstances. In future you may rely upon me to have your interests at heart.'

‘You are most kind. Life could be so much simpler if one had only to deal with friends. For my part, should you have any little personal troubles at any time please remember that the Ministry of Police can usually find ways to smooth them out, and that it is at your service.'

Five minutes later Roger was out in the street. His relief at emerging from the Ministry was submerged in elation. He could hardly believe that he was not dreaming. Fouché might still have suspicions about him but, if so, they could be
only lingering ones which he was prepared to ignore unless given fresh cause to believe that Colonel Breuc was betraying France. In his tussle with Talleyrand Roger had been worsted and, to convince him of his
bona fides
, had been compelled to spend seventeen arduous months in the Near East and Mediterranean. But in this far more dangerous battle of wits with Fouché it was he who had come off best, for not only had he retained his freedom but, to his amazement, had also placed himself in a situation that could prove enormously to his advantage.