Dennis Wheatley - The wanton princess

While Roger was recalling all this the young Jew said, 'You p'haps remember, sir, that at lime we meet I tell you I believed there to be good future in England our financial deals to make. My honoured father in '98 say yes to my request, and gif me for to operate here sum of twenty thousand pounds. I settle first in Manchester. Soon my capital is turn into sixty thousand. Now I come very frequent to London. Presently I have own establishment here. A Rothschild do not forget those who aid to make a fortuns for his house. Discounting the bill you give on British Treasury for a million francs make us profit very handsome. You wish loan at any time, Mr. McElfic sir, I am honoured to oblige. Hoare's Bank here tell you address to write to me.'

Roger smiled at him, 'Yes, of course, I remember you now; and I thank you for your offer. I am glad, too, that your ventures here have proved so successful. But I am surprised that you should have recognized me; for when we met before I had side whiskers and, but for a shaven chin, a beard.'

'Your eyes, sir. So very blue, and the long lashes. I recog­nize at once.'

Suddenly an idea came to Roger and he asked, 'General Pichcgru. He was denounced by the Directory and escaped to England. Presumably he is still here. Do you happen to know where he dwells?'

The squat little Jew nodded, 'Yes, sir. Some part of his money he invested with us. For him we get it out, and I his man of business am. He has lodging now at 22 Rupert Street.'

Roger thanked the dark, keen-eyed young man, shook hands with him and went his way, much pleased with the result of this chance encounter.

Next day, Christmas Eve, Roger went down to Stillwaters. Apart from the nursery quarters and a few of the smaller rooms he found the great house shut up, which sadly depressed him. His late wife's aunt. Mrs Marsham. received him joyfully, and the children, to whom he had, after his two years' absence, become almost a stranger, soon accepted him again as a half-forgotten friend who brought them intriguing presents and played jolly games with them.

But the memories of the many happy hours he had spent there with Georgina weighed heavily upon him. He could not get her out of his thoughts. Every feature of the place reminded him of one occasion or another when they had laughed and loved together. More than ever he regretted that he was not in England so that he was deprived of the chance of making his peace with her. Grimly, he forced himself to act the part of a jolly uncle with the children on Christmas and Boxing Days then, on the 27th, much relieved, and intent on his mission, he returned to London.

The more he had thought of the matter the more convinced he became that General Pichegru could prove the lead into the conspiracy that was brewing against Bonaparte. During the wars of the Revolution Pichegru had ranked with Dumouriez, Kellermann and Moreau as one of France's most brilliant Generals. Therefore, to have had his career cut short; to be, although a patriot, unemployed and in exile he must be bitterly antagonistic to Napoleon. In '95 he had been willing to gamble his high command for Royalist honours if he could bring about a Restoration. How much greater now was the inducement of the prospect of returning to France as a Duke and Commander in Chief of the Army as a reward for eliminating the Corsican upstart.

On the 28th Roger sent one of the footmen from Amesbury House to make discreet enquiries at No. 22 Rupert Street. From them he learned that Pichegru had gone to friends in the country before Christmas and was not expected back until after the New Year. For the next few days Roger controlled his impatience as well as he could, frequenting White's, Almack s and other clubs to pick up such information as might prove useful to him.

As far as the French exiles were concerned he drew a blank. The majority of the great nobles had foreseen the coming troubles and sent large sums abroad previous to '89, then left France well before the Terror. Those who had settled in England had either long since been accepted into society and had no desire to return to France or, if stirred by ambition, had made their peace with Napoleon and had become welcome members of his Court. The lesser fry, desperate and nearly penniless, had by now surrendered their pretensions as aristocrats and had sunk to the level of bourgeoisie, becoming language teachers, dancing masters and even barbers; so they were no longer in a position to frequent expensive clubs.

On January 3rd, learning that General Pichegru had returned to his lodging, at two o'clock that afternoon Roger took up a position on the corner of Rupert Street. After an hour's wait he recognized the tall figure that sallied forth from No. 22. The General walked only a hundred yards then turned into a chop house on the far corner. A few minutes later Roger followed, went in and saw to his satisfaction that Pichegru was seated alone in one of the high-backed booths made to accommodate four people. Making him a formal bow, Roger sat down on the opposite side of the table.

Having ordered a portion of steak and kidney pudding he looked across at the General and said in his perfect French, 'Can I be mistaken? Surely Monsieur, you are General Pichegru?'

The General looked up from his plate, gave Roger a sharp glance and replied, 'Indeed I am. Monsieur. But I cannot recall our having met before.'

'’I can,' Roger said with a smile. 'You were then com­manding an army on the Rhine, and I arranged for you to receive a payment of one million francs in gold.'

'Mon Dieu!’ the General exclaimed. 'I recall you now, though at that time you had whiskers and a short curly beard.'

' 'Tis true,' Roger agreed. T favoured that fashion in those days. What a tragedy it was that the well-conceived plan we made together never came to fruition.'

'Alas, alas!' Pichegru sighed. 'The accursed Corsican spiked our guns by putting down that premature pro-monarchist rising with such firmness. But for that, the state of things in Europe would be very different now.'

'Indeed yes. There would be peace and you, mon General, would be the right hand of the King of France. Still, fortune did not treat you too badly; assuming, that is, that you have not lost the million that we paid you.'

'I still have a part of it that luckily I left with those honest Jews in Frankfurt; so I am at least better oil than many of my poor friends, and do not have to labour at some dreary employment for a living. But that is no great consolation to a soldier who has been active all his life.'

Roger nodded, 'I sympathize; for time must hang heavy on your hands. Let us hope, though, that another turn in the wheel of fortune may again open to you opportunities worthy of your talents. As long as Bonaparte rules the roost in France there's little chance of that. But, like ourselves, he's only mortal and did aught befall him the situation in France would change overnight.'

'In that I agree. He has made himself as near as makes no difference a monarch, and the French people have ever been monarchists at heart. Were he removed from the scene no other General could replace him and the nation would demand the return of the King.'

'So far he has been lucky in escaping assassination,' Roger remarked quietly, 'But he has many enemies and his luck may not hold. It needs only skilful planning and a few resolute men to put him out of the way.'

Pichegru frowned. 'Greatly as I detest the man, as a soldier I am most strongly opposed to such methods. However, there are others. It might be possible to kidnap him and bring him as a prisoner to England. But to succeed in that would require an extensive and very costly organization.'

'Think you that really could be done?' Roger hazarded, 'If so it would restore peace to Europe, and for such a venture I doubt not that I could provide another million from the secret funds.'