Dennis Wheatley - The Dark Secret of Josephine

Far from being impressed, Roger listened to this tirade with some impatience. He thought it unlikely that the man had been at the taking of the Bastille, and doubted if he had ever shot at anyone capable of returning his fire. He was a typical ex-sans-culotte , for whom 'liberty' meant the right to rob, rape and murder his betters without fear of reprisal and who had almost certainly got himself into the Convention Guard in order to escape being called up and sent on active service.

As they had not far to go the drive was soon over. Pulling up the coach at the entrance to the cul-de-sac in which Fouché lived, Roger got out, walked along to his house and knocked on the door. It was opened by Fouché himself. With a word of greeting Roger handed him the missive from Barras, and said:

"I bring this with Barras's compliments. He agreed that you merit attention and should be given a new field, even if a small one, for your talents. Twill at least enable you to say good-bye to your pigs." Then, having no love for Fouché, he bid him an abrupt good night, turned on his heel and walked back towards the coach.

He was only half-way to it when he heard a shout. Glancing over his shoulder he saw that Fouché was running after him, so he halted and called out:

"What is it? What's the matter?"

"The matter!" screamed Fouché" waving the document that Barras had sent him. "Why this? This infernal order! How dare you trick me in this fashion."

. "I've played no trick upon you," Roger exclaimed in surprise. .

Stamping with rage Fouché shook the offending document in his face. "You must have known what was in this! You must have! Your own words as you gave it me condemn you. 'Twill enable you to say good-bye to your pigs.' That is what you said. And that Barras 'agreed that I should be given a new field'. A new field indeed! Oh, Mort Dieu, Mort Dieu! May you both be damned for ever!"

Roger stared at him uncomprehendingly, and muttered: "I have not the faintest idea what you are talking about."

"My poor wife! My little daughter!" Fouché exclaimed with a sob. "As though things were not bad enough with us already. And now this!" Suddenly he burst into tears.

It was at that moment that a footfall behind Roger caused him to turn. To his annoyance he saw that Corporal Peltier had left the coach and was lumbering towards them.

"Get back to the coach," he said sharply. "This is no business of yours." But the garrulous Corporal came to a halt, stood his ground, and declared truculently:

"Oh yes it is! That's Citizen Fouché standin' there. I thought I recognized 'is voice when I 'eard 'im 'olla. 'E's one o' the best, an' an ole frien' o' mine. What's goin' on 'ere? What 'ave yer done to 'im?"

"I had to bring him some bad news," snapped Roger. "Now, begone with you."

Fouché had meanwhile regained control of himself, and as he dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, the Corporal, ignoring Roger's order, addressed him.

"Remember me, Citizen Fouche 7? Name of Jacques Peltier. I were in Lyons with yer. What times we 'ad there, eh? Remember 'ow we tied the Bible ter the donkey's tail an' fed 'im on 'oly wafers; then made them nuns dance the Carmagnol? What a night we 'ad of it too wi' some o' them novices. Those were the days. No one couldn't push a patriot arahnd then. You must remember me, Jacques Peltier."

"Yes," snuffled Fouché "Yes, Citizen Peltier, I remember you. But we are discussing a private matter; so be pleased to leave us."

"Oh, orlright then," the Corporal shrugged. "Only I don't like ter see an ole frien' pushed arahnd; an’ there's a limit ter wot we should stand from these dandified new bosses they give us."

The last remark was clearly directed at Roger, who swung round on him and said in the icy tone that he knew so well how to use on occasions: "Do you not keep a civil tongue in your head, I'll report you to Citizen Director Barras and have your uniform stripped from your back. Now; leave us this instant!"

Cowed by the voice of authority, the man shuffled off, still muttering to himself. Turning back to Fouché, Roger said: "I have little time to waste, but if you have any complaint to make we had better go inside. I've no mind to stand here wrangling within earshot of that big oaf and the other men."

Without a word Fouché stalked back to the house and through into its living-room. Roger followed and, as they came to a halt on the other side of the table, asked:

"Now! What is it you are making such a fuss about?"

"How can you have the face to ask, when you must know," Fouché retorted angrily.

"I tell you I do not!"

"Then read that!" As Fouché spoke he flung the document down on the table.

Picking it up, Roger scanned it quickly. It was on official paper and read:

ORDER OF BANISHMENT

To the Citizen Joseph Fouché.

On receipt of this the citizen above named will leave Paris within twelve hours. He is forthwith forbidden to take up his residence at any place within twenty leagues of the Capital, or to return to it on any pretext without a permission endorsed by the undersigned.

He is also forbidden for reasons of State to communicate in any way with the Citoyenne Josephine de Beauharnais, the Citizen General Buonaparte, or the Citoyenne Remy.

Should he disobey either of the above injunctions he will make himself liable to transportation for life.

Paul Barras,

For the Directory.

Suddenly Roger burst out laughing. It struck him as incredibly funny that Fouché, the ace of tricksters, should have been tricked himself. Even if he had thought of spiking Fouché's guns in this way he could not decently have done so; but Barras, being committed by no promise, had awarded the rogue his just deserts.

"Well, I'll be damned," he exclaimed, still bubbling with mirth. "I asked Barras to give you something that would keep you out of mischief, and he could hardly have done so better."

"You did intend to ruin me, then!" Fouché cried, frothing at the mouth with rage.

"No, no. I kept to my word. I asked him first for a post in the Police for you; then for one in some other department. He would not hear of the first; but at length, with reluctance as I thought, gave me this."

"If that is true, you can still save me. Return to him and get the order withdrawn."

"Nay. Barras is not a man who goes back on his decisions."'

"He will if you plead for me. I insist that you do! You owe it to me! You promised to get me a post in the Administration, even if it had to be a minor one."

"I did nothing of the kind!'* Roger was now angry too. "I said only that I would do my best for you. Barras decided on this step without my knowledge; and I tell you frankly that I find his way of dealing with the matter highly suitable. You had it in your power to wreck Madame de Beauharnais's life and that of her two children. You used that power without the least scruple in an endeavour to forward your own interests. Had you succeeded in your design you then meant to turn upon Madame Remy, who had employed you as her agent, and have her transported to Cayenne. That you have been caught in your own toils is poetic justice. Aye, and had I been in Barras's place it would not be banishment that I would have meted out to you, but transportation."

"Now you stand revealed in your true colours," Fouché cried, again trembling with fury. "After what you have said how could anyone believe that you had no hand in this?"

"Believe what you like! I give not a rap," declared Roger roundly. "I have had to use you for my own purposes and am now delighted to be shot of you, for I rate you the vilest rogue unhung."

"That comes well from a cheat and liar like yourself," Fouché sneered. "You seem to have forgotten, too, that we are partners in another matter. That is why you would like to see me transported, is it not; so that when the time comes you could keep the whole of the great prize to yourself? But try to cheat me over the little Capet and I'll see to it that you meet a worse fate than being sent to Cayenne."