Dennis Wheatley - The Dark Secret of Josephine

Roger had misrepresented matters with considerable ingenuity as Josephine had no idea of returning to Martinique, and the suggestion that Fouché might get a little money from her rather than nothing at all was a touch of genius. It was that, no doubt, which caused him to accept the statement as the truth. His grey, blotchy face twitching with annoyance, he muttered:

"How cursed am I with misfortune that this bridge to a steady income should have broken under me. I was counting on it to ease the burden that my poor wife has already carried far too long. Since, then, I must do a deal with you, what are you prepared to pay?"

"Onehundred louis"

"Such an offer is absurd, and you know it! To this woman the securing of her future, at the very least, be worth a thousand."

"It might be if she had a thousand, but she has not. It is I who am paying, simply to buy her future goodwill. To me that is worth one hundred, and no more. That is double what you might hope to get from her direct; as did you press her to the limit I doubt if she could raise fifty to keep you quiet. Remember, too, that having settled with you I shall still have to deal with the person who has the diary."

"What sum do you propose to offer for it?"

"By adopting your own plan, I hope to get it for nothing. I have no doubt that if I tell Barras a suitable story he will furnish me with a deportation order. The threat to execute it should be enough to ensure the surrender of the diary. But rather than go to extremes, which might result in the story getting about, some payment may be necessary to clinch the matter; so for your part in it I'll go to no more than a hundred."

Fouché's red-rimmed eyes narrowed slightly as he stared down at his long bony hands, which lay crossed upon the table. Suddenly he spoke again. "You have always stood well with Barras, and the casualness with which you speak of getting a deportation order from him is evidence that you do so still. ‘I’lll make a bargain with you. Get him to give me some post and I'll forgo the hundred louis ."

"I have already told you that he is averse to giving you anything."

"Tis true that he refused the pretty Creole; but perhaps he feels that he has already done enough for her. If you put in a good word for me he might view the matter differently."

"I greatly doubt it."

"I feel sure he would; particularly if the request were a modest one. I will forgo my hopes of a Prefecture, or something of that kind. Let it be only a Commissionership in the Posts, or Customs, or in connection with Supplies. Anything will serve provided it enables me to get back into the service of the Government. Surely you could persuade him to do that much for me."

Roger considered for a moment After all, it meant nothing to him if there was one rogue more or less in the Directory's Administration; and Fouché was not asking for the moon. If he could be procured a minor post and the British Government be saved a hundred louis in consequence, so much the better.

"Very well, then." With a nod, Roger stood up. "Mark me, I promise nothing; but I'll do my best for you. Now, what is the name and address of the person who has the diary?"

Fouché too, stood up, but he shook his head. "I fear you must wait for that until I learn what Barras is prepared to do for me."

"No." Roger's voice was sharp. "This matter is of no great importance to me, and I've no mind to run back and forth to Barras about it That he will not give me a blank deportation order is certain; so if I am to ask for one I must have the name. Give it me and when I-ask him for the order I will also ask him to do something for you. If that does not content you, then you had best count me out of the matter altogether."

As Fouché could have no means of knowing the immense importance that Roger actually did attach to the affair, and, from his point of view, the great urgency of settling it, he was taken in by the bluff, and said:

"I see that I must trust you. The woman's name.."

"Woman?" Roger echoed in surprise.

"Yes; woman. She is the sister of a mulatto, who before the Revolu­tion was a footman in the Beauharnais household."

"I see. Yes; Madame de Beauharnais mentioned him to me. Please go on."

"Her name is Madame Remy." "And her address?"

Fouché hesitated, and, Roger guessed, was about to hold it back as a last card, on the pretext that to secure the deportation order it was not necessary; but now he had the name the game was in his hands, and he said quickly:

"Come! Since you have trusted me so far, there is nought to be gained by hedging. I need only ask Barras to put his police on to her to have her run to earth."

"True. Very well then. She lives not far from the prison of La Force. You proceed past it down to a row of dwellings that back on to the short stretch of river between the bridge to the Isle St. Louis and the bridge to the Isle Louvier. Her lodging was at one time an artist's studio and lies on the immediate right of a drinking den frequented by the wharf-hands who work in those parts."

'M3ood. Tomorrow morning there is this big parade of troops returned from La Vendee, at which the Directors are to take the salute; so I shall not be able to secure an interview with Barras until the afternoon at earliest. Be in all the evening, and some time during it I will call to let you know what Barras has decided regarding you."

With a nod, Fouché followed Roger out into the passage. As he opened the front door for him, he said: "This means a great deal to me. Please remember that and do your utmost to get me something with a salary which will enable me to keep my wife in a little comfort.

"Everything depends upon how deeply Barras is prejudiced against you," Roger replied, "but I promise you I will do my best." Then he went out into the night

As soon as he had dined on the following day, Roger went to the Luxemburg. It was a dull, rainy afternoon and the twilight of early March was already falling as he descended from a hired coach outside the Palace. Having paid off the man, he sent up his name, but he had to kick his heels in an ante-chamber for over an hour before M. Bottot came out and said that Barras was free to see him.

As soon as they were seated, Barras said: "When your name was brought in I was on the point of sending for you, to let you know that our project with regard to Madame de Beauharnais has now become one of the greatest urgency. Since you were last here I have had no opportunity to see her, and if she is still opposed to the match, this evening is our last chance to persuade her to alter her mind. The question of Buonaparte's appointment is the first item on the Comite's agenda for tomorrow morning."

"Then I am happy to be able to tell you," smiled Roger, "that the matter is settled; and favourably to our designs. Or all but settled."

"All but?" repeated Barras, with a sharp lift of his eyebrows.

"Yes. As I told you two days ago she had an appointment to consult Le Normand. Her visit to the sibyl convinced her that by accepting Buonaparte she would ensure both herself and her children a brilliant future. On their account even more than her own she is now anxious to make the match; but one thing still deters her from com­mitting herself. She is being blackmailed."

"On account of what?"

"Ah episode in her past which she refuses to disclose. Naturally, once married and with funds at her disposal, she fears that the screw will be turned upon her. That would be bad enough, but should there come a point at which she could no longer pay, the blackmailer might make the matter public."

Barras shrugged. "Surely she is making a mountain out of a mole­hill. Everyone, including Buonaparte, knows well enough that the life she has led since her husband's death has been far from irreproachable."