Dennis Wheatley - The Dark Secret of Josephine

"I agree; and so can only suppose that the episode was of a some­what different nature from a clandestine amour the disclosure of which might do no more than tarnish her reputation."

"I wonder, then, what the devil it could have been."

"As far as we are concerned the particulars of it are, surely, quite irrelevant. What does concern us is her fear that, should it be made public subsequent to her marriage, Buonaparte would suffer so greatly m his amour propre , that in one of his well-known furies he might do her a damage. Hence her refusal to accept him, unless this menace to her peace of mind can first be removed."

" If she will provide us with a lead to the blackmailer, I can put a discreet man in the police on to it," Barras said with a frown: "But the devil of it is that we now have so little time."

"I already have the lead," Roger replied quietly. "And tonight should be time enough in which to do the job, providing you will give me your assistance."

"Thank God for that! After first raising my hopes, you had me badly worried. What help do you want from me?"

"The blackmailer is a woman named Madame Remy. As she lives down by the docks she can be of no social consequence, so her dis­appearance will cause little comment. Give me an order for a squad of troops, so that I may arrest her, and another for her immediate deportation to Cayenne.

Barras nodded. "You are right. That is the way to deal with this. Few people survive the fevers mere for more than a few months; and even if she did succeed in escaping, with the order still in force against her, she would never again dare to show her face in France."

Drawing two sheets of paper towards him he quickly wrote out the transportation order, and another empowering Roger to collect a squad of men for duty from the palace guard. As he pushed them across the table, Roger said:

"There is another matter. Joseph Fouché is involved in this. You will recall that Madame de Beauharnais has several times begged you to give him some post?"

"And I refused her!" cut in Barras with a frown.

"So you told me. But you then knew nothing of this affair. In it he has been acting as a go-between. With his usual cleverness when fishing in troubled waters, he hoped first to land himself a post, then use it to obtain a deportation order against the blackmailer."

The corners of Barras's mouth turned down in a sneer. "Why not say that, with his usual treachery, he hoped first to land himself a post, then use it to betray this Madame Remy whose employment of him had enabled him to obtain it?"

Roger shrugged. "The one statement is as true as the other; and the last thing I would undertake is to defend Fouché's morality. I was thinking of the issue simply as Madame de Beauharnais undoubtedly did when she made her plea for him to you. The question is, what can you do for him?"

"Do for him? Nothing! Now that you have stepped into his shoes for the eliminating of the blackmailer, why should I do anything?"

"Because without his help our hands would still be tied. It was he who gave me Madame Remy's name, and her address. In return I promised to do my best to persuade you to find him a place—preferably m the Police."

"In the Police! God forbid! I would be out of my wits did I give such a knave the chance to spy upon us and learn all our secrets."

"Very well then; something in the Customs, or, perhaps, Education. He was once a teacher."

"Nay, I'll not do it!" Barras shook his head. "The, Directory is already unpopular enough, for a score of reasons. During the Terror Fouché made himself one of the worst hated men in France. To give him a post of any importance would arouse howls of protest in both Chambers."

"Then let it be some minor position to which no one can take any great exception: chief of one of the Supply Depots, or a Prison. At the moment he is keeping pigs for a living; so any place where he could earn a reasonable income at a desk would be counted by him a blessing."

"No! Let him continue to keep pigs. I'll do nothing for him!"

"I think in refusing you make a great mistake," Roger said seriously. "The man is near desperate, so might prove a danger to us."

"In what way? With the actual blackmailer you now have the means to deal. Fouché has acted only as a go-between."

"Even so, that has enabled him to learn La Belle Creole's secret. Admittedly he could bring no proof of her lapse, whatever it may have been; but there is nought to stop him from accusing her of it. How he gets his information these days, I've no idea; but somehow he had picked up the rumour that she is contemplating marriage with Buona­parte. Unless you provide him with something to keep has mouth shut, there is always the risk that out of spite he will go to the General. His word alone, if the story he tells is sufficiently plausible, might be enough to put Buonaparte off the match; then we d have had all our trouble for nothing."

"I see, I see," Barras murmured, half closing his eyes. "You are right. In that way he might still upset our plans at the last moment; and the one thing we cannot afford to risk is the marriage falling through after Buonaparte has been appointed to the command of the Army of Italy. Very well then."

Taking another sheet of headed paper he wrote several lines upon it, signed it, sanded it, put it in an envelope, sealed it, then gave it to Roger with the remark:

"There! That should serve to keep his mouth shut. Take it to him with my compliments. When you have dealt with the other matter I should be glad if you would return here, however late the hour may be. I must know that everything has been settled satisfactorily before the Comite meets tomorrow morning."

Roger took the jewelled watch from his fob and glanced at it. "The time is now ten minutes past seven. I see no reason, if the woman is at home, why this business should take me more than two hours. Should it do so you will know that I am having to wait at her dwelling for her; but at latest I should be back by midnight."

Down in the great entrance hall he presented his order for a squad of men to the Lieutenant on duty, who from the reserve guard furnished him with a Corporal and three guardsmen. A hired coach was called up and they all got into it. then Roger gave the coachman Fouché's address, as he had decided to see him first before making the much longer journey to the other side of the river.

They were hardly out of the Palace courtyard before it became apparent that the Corporal, a middle-aged man with a walrus moustache, who said his name was Peltier, was both garrulous and disgruntled. Now that free speech could again be indulged in without fear of prosecution, everyone aired their criticisms of the Government, but he seemed particularly bitter about the turn things had taken.

He was, he declared, a 'patriot', and had deserved far better of his country than it had done for him. Had he not been one of those who had led the attack on the Bastille on the never-to-be-forgotten 14th of July, and fought with the brutal Swiss Guards in the gardens of the Tuileries on the equally glorious day when the Tyrant and his Austrian Whore had been made prisoners by the People; yet here he was still a Corporal. And the country had gone from bad to worse. He and men like him had shed their blood to rid it of the aristos who for centuries had battened on its life-blood. For a while it had looked as if true liberty had dawned at last; but the Revolution was being betrayed by self-seekers and speculators. They were letting the aristos come back, and worse, imitating them. What was needed was another Marat to rouse the People to their danger, and another Santerre to lead the men of the Faubourgs against the reactionaries.