Patrick O'Brian - The surgeon's mate

'I am afraid that is not exact,' said the major, 'and I can produce witnesses who will confound you. But before doing so, I must have the names of your colleagues here. Come, Dr Maturin, you are a reasonable man; you must know the importance the Emperor attaches to Grimsholm and to your sources of information. You will not oblige us to go to extremities."

'You are asking for what does not exist. I repeat, with the utmost possible emphasis, that during my stay in Paris I never departed from a scrupulous observation of neutrality as a natural philosopher."

A single statement of the truth might have no great immediate effect, particularly in an atmosphere of such suspicion and duplicity; but its strong, unvaried reiteration delivered in a tone of complete sincerity, compelled if not total belief then at least a suspension of incredulity. Several of the officers put forward objections, advancing names, some true some false, of those who wished to communicate with England, and again and again in their questions and in Stephen's replies 'natural philosopher' recurred, like the refrain of a tediously repetitious song.

'Natural philosophers,' cried the colonel at last. 'Natural philosophers my arse: who ever heard of half Golconda being offered for the release of a natural philosopher, which is all he says he is? A hundred thousand louis. Balls. Of course he is a spy.'

There was a very short but very awkward hiatus in which the colonel, mistaking the cause, corrected his louis d'or to napoleons; the major darted a steely glance at him and called out 'Bring in Monsieur Fauvet.'

Fauvet came in: he looked unbelievably mean and the blustering, confident air he gave himself did nothing to improve it. He was accompanied by a fat man, tight in his civilian clothes, a man called Delaris whom Stephen had watched before now, a man high in Laurie's organization, operating from the ministry of the interior and the Conciergerie: he had never knowingly seen Dr Maturin and now he stared at him with a naked, avid curiosity.

'Monsieur Fauvet,' said the major, 'pray repeat your statement.'

Fauvet did so: on various occasions Dr Maturin had offered to carry messages to England; he had spoken disrespectfully of the Emperor and had predicted his early defeat; had advised Fauvet and many others to make their peace with the King while there was yet time; and had solicited a substantial fee. Fauvet was prepared to swear to this. His voice was mechanical and unassured: a very wretched witness.

'What have you to say?' asked the major.

'Nothing whatsoever,' said Stephen, 'except that I have never seen such a contemptible exhibition; I am surprised that even a civilian can sink so very low.'

Delaris whispered in the major's ear. 'No, no: no question of it,' said the major. 'You will have to arrange that with the Temple, if you can. F-or the moment he belongs to - ' Stephen did not catch the name of his owner, but it produced a considerable effect on Delaris, who gave a low whistle. Their conversation went on for some time, in an even lower tone: but Delaris' insistence and the major's steady negation were clear enough.

'That will do for the moment,' said the major aloud. 'Dr Maturin, you will reflect upon what I have said. You have already been confounded on one important point and at your next interrogation you may be confronted with still other witnesses. Do not flatter yourself with false hopes: we know far more than you imagine. When next you are brought here, you must be prepared to speak with greater candour or to take the consequences, which, I am obliged to tell you, will be terrible for you and your friends.'

The judas-haired lieutenant who had asserted that eider-duck did in fact exist took Stephen back to the dismal room where he had waited. He remained there, looking out of the dirty window that gave on to the broad open court, and after a while he said, 'I was at your lecture, sir: allow me to say how much I enjoyed my evening. May I offer you a cigar?'

'You are very good, sir,' said Stephen, taking it and drawing the smoke in greedily.

'It grieves me extremely,' said the lieutenant, 'to see a man of your eminence in such a position. Let me beg you, sir, for your own sake and for the sake of your companions, not to persist.'

A troop of soldiers marched into the court, halted, dressed by the right, grounded their muskets with a single crash. A bent man in shirt and breeches, his arms tied behind his back, was led limping from another gate and attached to the whitewashed post: his face, where it was not bruised and tumefied, was a yellowish green. He was another man Stephen knew who did not know Stephen, a double agent who worked for Arliss: a mercenary man, but now he looked steadily at the firing-squad with an expression that raised him very high.

At the given word the muskets fired. The face burst apart in a red horror, the body jerked with extraordinary violence under the impact and then hung limp, still tied to the post. A young soldier turned, unseeing, to Stephen's window, appalled and white, and dropping his musket he vomited on the ground.

"... if you persist,' the lieutenant was saying - he was obviously accustomed to these scenes - 'you will be shot. If you make just a few concessions, it will be Verdun, and a reasonably pleasant confinement, no more.'

'I am deeply concerned at what you tell me,' said Stephen, 'and believe me I appreciate your kindness at its full value; but alas your argument is based on a false premise. There are no concessions to be made, no secrets to be revealed.'

On the way back to the Temple the lieutenant, his only escort now, repeated his appeal in various forms, and Stephen repeated his reply; but he had seen this form of manipulation used so often that in time his answers grew a little short, and he left his companion with a sense of relief.

'How was it?' asked Jack anxiously.

'Sure, it was no more than an ordinary interrogation, and they feeling their way,' said Stephen, sitting down and smiling at them. 'At present they are all to seek. Long may they remain so, amen, amen, amen.'

'Amen,' said Jack, searching his face for signs of ill-treatment and finding only a desire to say no more.

'We have kept you your dinner,' said Jagiello. 'And all the wine.'

'You are the jewel of the world, Jagiello,' said Stephen. 'I could eat the best part of an ox, I find, and drink oceans dry.'

He ate voraciously, and eating he asked, with a nod towards the privy, 'How do we come along?'

'We scarcely had the heart to do anything, with you away,' said Jack, 'but if only I can get a solid purchase on the outer slab, I do not think the other should resist us long. Stephen, what is the French for a double sister-block, coaked? With a pair of them and a proper hold-fast, I could raise the Temple.'

'A double sister-block, coaked? The Dear alone can tell. I do not even know what it is in English."

'Then I shall have to try to draw it,' said Jack. 'Without a purchase that slab will never shift.'

'Do that thing, my dear,' said Stephen. 'For my part I am going to sleep.'

Sleep he needed, being very tired; but far more than sleep he needed silence for the ideas to turn freely in his mind and form a reasonable sequence. It was clear to him that his adversaries, or someone behind his adversaries, were working on an intuition, no more: their pieces of solid information were fragmentary; they did not link together. The Ariel had been in the Baltic at the time Grimsholm was given up: she was the kind of vessel used for such a mission: Maturin was in her: there was something odd about Maturin and therefore a possible connection. During his visit to Paris some one of the services, presumably Delaris's, had tried to compromise him as a matter of routine precaution, but Stephen did not think that Fauvet's words had carried the least conviction and he knew that neither Delaris nor the major could bring forward a more persuasive witness.