The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware (14 page)

With trembling hands, de Brinevillers lit the candle, then jerked round his head to look at Roger's face. As he recognised him, he whispered hoarsely, ‘De Breuc … I thought …'

‘No matter what you thought,' Roger cut him short. ‘I am here to ask you only one question. Why did you not send a courier to the Emperor?'

‘I … I assumed that the Prince d'Eckmühl was doing so,' the terrified Ambassador stammered.

‘Ha!' Roger exclaimed. ‘I guessed as much; but, in fairness to you, had to make certain. Had you had the sense to lie and maintain that you had sent the courier, I could not have proved otherwise. As it is, you have condemned yourself out of your own mouth. It is you who are Ambassador to the Court of Prussia, not Davout. It was your responsibility to do your utmost to protect a French officer from the malice of Prussia's Chief Minister.
By your callous indifference, you left me to die. Tell me now, can you give me any good reason why I should not make you pay for that with your life?'

Tears started to de Brinevillers' eyes and began to run down his cheeks. Clasping his hands, he broke into desperate pleading:

‘
Colonel! Monsieur le Comte
! I beg of you to spare me. At the thought of my negligence I now grovel for pardon. But clearly God did not intend you to die—for your sentence was commuted. And now you must have escaped from prison. You are far from safe yet though. Without help the chances are you will be caught before you can get out of Prussia. I offer myself now as your life line. I will provide money, horses, a good disguise—everything—and make certain that you get safely across the border.'

‘Yes, you will provide me with money, horses, everything,' Roger sneered, ‘then betray me within five minutes of my leaving you. Is it likely that I'd trust you? Do you take me for a fool? Now lie down and turn over on your stomach.'

‘No, no!' wailed the wretched man. ‘Have mercy! Spare me, I implore you.'

Roger gave him a swift prick in the arm with his long knife and said harshly, ‘Do as you are bid. I do not mean to kill you; at least, not yet.'

At this partial reassurance de Brinevillers squirmed over, so that he lay face downwards. Roger put down his knife near the lower end of the bed, where he could snatch it up again in a moment, produced one of the pieces of thin cord from his pocket; pulled down the bedclothes and said:

‘Now put your hands behind your back.' With a groan, the Ambassador obeyed. When Roger had lashed his prisoner's hands firmly together, he told him to sit up and asked where he kept his money.

De Brinevillers shook his head, ‘I have none up here.
The Embassy funds are kept locked up down in the basement. But let me ring for my valet. I'll shout to him through the door to rouse our Chancellor. He has the key and will bring up any sum for which you like to ask.

Roger laughed. ‘And have him raise the house about my ears? No, thank you. But if you've no money here, I'll vow it's in this room you keep your jewels. They will do instead.'

As he spoke, he gave a quick glance round the room, and his eye fell on a small, brass-bound chest. Nodding toward it, he added, ‘I doubt not they are in there, and I see your keys are here beside your bed. Now, hold up your head and open your mouth. I've no mind to let you shout for help while my back is turned.'

Sweat and tears streaming down his face, de Brinevillers obeyed. Taking another piece of cord from his pocket, Roger thrust the middle of it into his victim's mouth and tied the two ends firmly behind his head; so that he could still gurgle but not cry out.

Moving over to the door, Roger locked it then picked up the keys and went over to the little treasure chest. When he had unlocked it he saw that it had in it a considerable quantity of jewels and a small bag of gold
thalers
. As he pocketed several fine rings, brooches and diamond shoe and hat buckles, he smiled over his shoulder, ‘'Tis only fair that you should pay for my journey back to France, and such of these pretty trinkets as are over I'll keep as souvenirs of this merry meeting. Now for some more suitable clothes. Get out of bed and walk to the door of your closet.'

Again de Brinevillers did as he was told. Roger came up behind him, loosened the gag and said, ‘It may be that your man sleeps in the closet. If so, as I open the door you'll immediately order him to remain silent. Should he not, I'll have to kill you both. And you will be the first, for I'll drive my knife through your back.' He
then thrust his hand past the Ambassador's waist, gripped the door-knob, turned it and pushed the door open.

The room was in darkness and there was no sound. Roger tightened the gag again and retied the knot.

Turning away, he lit a second candle from the first, kneed de Brinevillers in the backside, which made him stagger forward, and followed him into the closet.

The window was at one end of the long, narrow room; at the other there was a mahogany commode with, on one side of it, a washstand carrying a basin and ewer and, on the other, a small table on which there were a writing pad and a crayon for making notes. Both sides of the room were lined with hanging cupboards and presses. One after the other Roger opened them and took out undergarments, a coat and waistcoat of fine blue cloth, a pair of white buckskin breeches, silk stockings, a frilled lawn shirt, a gold-laced hat, leather riding gloves, a pair of tall boots, spurs and a grey, triple-collared cloak. Stripping to the buff, he threw the dirty, ragged garments he had been wearing on to the floor.

Having dressed himself in his purloined finery, he took a good look at the row of various shaped bottles on a shelf above the washstand. He had no intention of harming de Brinevillers unless it proved necessary, but was determined to humilate him, and decided that the commode and the items on the shelf provided an adequate means of doing so.

The Ambassador had continued to stand near the door in resigned misery. Roger gave him a push towards the commode then pulled off the pointed nightcap he was wearing, opened it up and put it point downwards in the china receptacle. Tipping only a little water from the ewer into the basin he proceeded to lather his hands well with soap. Having rinsed them he poured the soapy water into a large tooth glass. Swallowing it would, he felt sure, cause anyone to be sick, but he had a mind to make a
thorough job of his project; so from various bottles on the shelf he added spoonfuls or a dash of Macassar hair-oil, eau-de-Cologne, hand lotion, bath essence, laxative and insect repellent, until the tumbler was full. Setting the glass down, he made de Brinevillers kneel in front of the commode, then undid his gag and said to him harshly:

‘You will now drink this concoction. Should you refuse or attempt to spit it out, I'll slice your ears off.' As he spoke, he picked up the tumbler and held it to the Ambassador's lips.

The wretched man's hands were still bound behind his back, so he could put up no effective resistance. Muttering a curse, he took a sip of the repulsive mixture, screwed up his face and shied away.

With a swift flick of his wrist Roger drew the point of his knife across his victim's right cheek, and snapped, ‘Come now! No nonsense! Drink it down or it will be the worse for you.'

The cut was barely skin deep but blood began to ooze from it and it had been painful enough for renewed terror to cause sweat again to break out on de Brinevillers' forehead. Leaning forward he took a gulp from the glass. As he swallowed he made a hideous grimace and his eyes bulged.

Roger grinned. ‘That's better, now another.' But the kneeling man violently shook his head and spat out what little of the filthy mixture there remained in his mouth.

‘So little Brinne means to be naughty eh?' Roger was frowning now. ‘Then nannie must help him take his meddie.' Having laid his knife down on the washstand, he suddenly shot out his free hand and seized the Ambassador by the nose. As he opened his mouth to gasp for breath, Roger lifted the glass against his lower lip and poured half its contents down his gullet.

Still held firmly by the nose, he writhed in agony. His eyes started from his head and sweat, mingling with the
blood on his cheek, poured down his face. After a good, long minute, Roger let go of him. His stomach heaved, he gave a great belch and jerking forward his head was violently sick into the nightcap-lined commode.

For several minutes he remained there vomiting and retching. When he lifted his head he was gasping desperately for breath and tears were streaming from his eyes. But Roger still had no mercy on him. Seizing his nose again tightly between finger and thumb, he poured the remaining contents of the glass down de Brinevillers' throat. There followed an agonised gurgle, another great belch and, a moment later, the callous diplomat who had left Roger to die was again being as sick as a poisoned dog.

For minutes on end, with only brief intervals between, violent internal explosions caused the contents of the Ambassador's stomach to spurt up out of his mouth and down his nostrils, while pressure on his bowels caused their muscles to give way. When his stomach had become as empty as a drum his tormented retching still continued and, from breathlessness and agony, he was near fainting.

Roger, meanwhile, had not been idle. With some more lengths of cord he lashed his victim firmly to the commode, so that his head was held down immediately above the china receptacle that held his vomit. The closet now stank to high heaven and, knowing that it would continue to do so until it was opened and aired, Roger fired his parting shot. Turning to the small table on the far side of the commode, he wrote in clear letters on the notepad.

Perfume suited to the character of M. de Brinevillers with the compliments of M. le Colonel Comte de Breuc
.

As it was now some twenty-four hours since Roger had escaped, the hunt for him would already be up; so having left his ‘card' at the Embassy would not increase his danger of being recaptured. But de Brinevillers' valet would find his master in the morning, and it was most unlikely that the man could refrain from telling his fellow servants such a juicy story; so all the odds were that before nightfall half of Berlin would learn who had inflicted this terrible indignity on the hated French Ambassador, and be laughing their heads off about it.

Without another word to his victim, Roger left him, snuffed the candles and descended the ladder into the garden. Ten minutes later, he was over the wall and walking gaily down a still-silent street, as though he were a gallant who had just spent a few hours with his mistress.

For the remainder of the night he again sat on a bench in the deserted
Tiergarten
. Soon after dawn he left it and walked out into the street. Swaggering into a nearby
inn
that had just opened, he enjoyed a hearty breakfast. As he paid his score, he asked the whereabouts of the nearest horse-dealer. De Brinevillers would not yet have been found; but even so time was now precious, as he could describe the clothes Roger had taken. At the horsedealer's, he bought with the Ambassador's
thalers
the best mare available and saddlery for her. By eight o'clock he was riding out of Berlin in the direction of Stettin, which lay to the north. Having laid this false trail for ten miles, he turned west and, by byroads, got on to the main road for Hamburg. Stopping only to snatch four meals at way side inns and to doze in the parlours of two of them for a couple of hours, he reached Hamburg in the afternoon on the 12th.

During his long ride he had had ample time to think out what would be best for him to do when he got there. It was certain that von Haugwitz would have been informed of his escape and do his utmost to have
him recaptured. The Minister's writ ran only in Prussia, but he could request the authorities in neighbouring States to have Roger looked for and, if found, apply for his extradition; so to get out of north Germany as speedily as possible was imperative.

Even in such a large port, to find a smuggler to put him across the North Sea might take several days, so he had decided to risk a big gamble. There was little Bourrienne did not know about the illicit trade carried on with England, and he had frankly told Roger that he was making a fortune by winking his eye at it. Roger had, therefore, made up his mind to throw himself on the mercy of his old friend.

On arriving at the Palace, he did not dare send up his own name. However, apart from the private apartments, such places were open to anyone who cared to walk into them. So, having handed over his horse, he walked boldly upstairs to the ante-room beyond which Bourrienne's office was situated. As Bourrienne was not a military commander, there was no sentry on the door, but several people were standing about there. Mingling with them, Roger waited his chance. Then, as a portly German came out, he thrust aside a footman, stepped through the door and dammed it behind him.

Bourrienne was seated at a big desk near the window. Beside him a secretary was standing taking dictation. As Roger entered, they both looked across at him. Bourrienne's mouth dropped open in amazement. Before he could speak, Roger put his finger to his lips, enjoining silence. With a little nod of understanding, Bourrienne told the secretary to leave the room. Immediately the door had closed behind him, Roger's old friend exclaimed:

‘
Mon Dieu
! Can it really be you? I thought you dead these three months gone.'

Roger shook his head. ‘No Davout succeeded in getting
my sentence reduced to ten years' imprisonment. Did he not tell you?'

‘No. He said not a word of it. But both of us are fully occupied by our duties, so we see very little of each other.
Mon vieux
, I am delighted. Yes, delighted.'

With a feeble smile, Roger said, ‘Alas, I am far from out of the wood yet. A student riot when I was being transferred from one prison to another enabled me to escape. But I stole the clothes I wear, so could be identified by them if my enemy, von Haugwitz, asks the assistance of the Hanoverian police.'