Dennis Wheatley - The Ravishing of Lady Jane Ware

Whichever was the case, Roger would never have dreamed of entering Prussia had he not felt confident that the whole matter had been cleared up and no charge would be made against him. But it was pointless to think of that now. He could only curse himself for having taken the matter for granted, and wonder with no little fear what the outcome would be.

Only too well he realised how unlucky he was that his fate should lie in the hands of two such men as de Brinevillers and Davout. The ci-devant aristocrat, who could no longer call himself a Marquis, obviously had an antipathy for Napoleon's people, and would be particularly unsympathetic toward one, who had been made a Count; while the dour Marshal would not lift a finger to save a man whom he regarded as having once been a deserter.

Over three hours elapsed while Roger endured this terrible suspense. During that time no food was brought to him or his companion and, at length, he asked the A.D C. if he could have a glass of wine. The officer shook his head, and replied:

'I regret, Monsieur le Colonel, but I dare not leave the room. His Highness the Marshal is extraordinarily strict; even more so with his officers than with his men, and particularly so with those in positions of responsibility. He visits any dereliction of duty with the most condign punishments, and my duty is to see that you do not escape.'

Then, damn it, man,' Roger replied angrily, 'use your head. Put it out of the door and shout for a bottle.'

Apologetically the A.D.C. did as he was bid and, soon afterwards, they were silently drinking hock together. Some twenty minutes later, Davout and de Brinevillers came in.

Addressing Roger, the Ambassador said, 'Monsieur le Colonel Comte, His Highness and I have discussed your affair, and I regret that, the charge being a criminal one, I cannot see my way to give you sanctuary here in the Embassy.'

'But, Your Excellency,' Roger pleaded, 'you seem to realise that, should you hand me over to the Prussians, it may cost me my life,'

'You maintain that you are innocent,' Davout remarked coldly. 'If that is so, you will be acquitted.'

'Not necessarily, Prince. Unfortunately, the circumstances in which these deaths took place are very strongly against me. And, against the possibility of an unjust verdict being given, as a French officer it is your duty to give me your protection.'

Davout's eyes narrowed and his brows drew down in an icy frown, as he asked, 'Do you presume to teach me my duty?'

'Yes,' replied Roger firmly. 'Not to myself, but to the Emperor. As I have told you, it was his wish that the charge against me should be withdrawn. If, through some error, his request which to these damned Prussians is tantamount to an order has not reached them, I insist that I be given asylum in the Embassy until a courier has been dispatched to His Majesty and returned with his decision.'

'Very well,' the Marshal agreed. 'Your request is not unreasonable. A courier shall be sent to the Emperor. But in the meantime the decision does not rest with me. It is for His Excellency to say.'

De Brinevillers shuffled uncomfortably and, with his eyes avoiding Roger's, muttered, 'Prussia is our ally, Monsieur le Colonel. It is my responsibility to maintain harmonious relations with King Frederick William's government, and his Chief Minister has made a personal issue of this. As you are charged with a criminal offence of the first order, he has right on his side. I cannot afford to quarrel with him over a matter that has no bearing on the sovereign rights of France. He has already sent here an escort for you, and a formal demand that you should be handed over. I fear that I must comply with it.'

For several minutes longer Roger argued and pleaded in turn, but without avail. The only concession he could secure was a promise that de Brinevillers would use his influence to ensure that no trial took place until there had been ample time for a courier to go to Paris and return. Five minutes later he was under arrest, sitting beside a lieutenant of Police in a closed carriage that drove off accompanied by a mounted escort.

The carriage halted in the courtyard of a large, bleak building that was obviously a prison. Roger was taken inside and put in a narrow but clean cell. He asked for food and a quarter of an hour later a warder brought him a brodchen, in which had been inserted a thick slice of veal, and a mug holding what looked like coffee. Setting down the mug, the man said with a malicious grin:

'No doubt you'll enjoy this. It's a true Frenchie brew made of acorns, as prescribed for us all now by your pig of an Emperor.'

Roger made no reply, and he knew it would be futile to report the man, as it was quite certain no action would be taken against him for insulting the sovereign of France. He thought it probable that the warder's attitude indicated the way in which most Germans now regarded Napoleon; and it boded no good for him as a Frenchman in one of their prisons.

Next morning he was taken to an office and formally charged with the willful murder of his wife and Hen Baron Ulrich von Haugwitz. Afterwards he was searched, He had already surrendered his sword; now a small dagger he always carried, his money belt and the jewels he was wearing were taken from him. Back in his cell, he congratulated himself on having had the forethought the previous night to conceal between his stockings and the soles of his feet six gold pieces; but, in the worst event, they were nowhere near the sum needed to bribe anyone to help him to escape.

The twelve days that followed seemed interminable to him. The food was edible, but of poor quality. The malicious warder evidently put a little salt into the water he brought, which rendered it impossible to drink, so Roger was reduced to falling back on the filthy acorn coffee; which caused him in turn to curse the Emperor and his Continental System. He asked for books and news sheets and was brought a few, but found the German script so difficult to read that he soon gave up the attempt. In vain he tried to persuade himself that Napoleon could not fail to bring about his release. But Paris was a long way off and the Emperor might have suddenly set off on one of his long journeys to Spain, Italy or Austria. Again, some accident might befall the courier who had been sent to Paris, or von Haugwitz be so set on vengeance as to risk his own future by refusing the Emperor's request for the warrant to be withdrawn.

His fears proved only too well founded. On June 13th, a young man named Menou, who was on the staff of the French Embassy, came to see him. Having expressed the Ambassador's regrets, he reported that no message regarding Roger had been received from the Emperor, although ample time had now elapsed for one to do so; and that Roger's trial had been fixed for two days hence.

To outward appearances, Roger took this bad news calmly, but, although he had been endeavoring to prepare himself for such a blow, his heart lurched and seemed to sink to his boots. Having thanked the young man, he asked that a good lawyer should be provided to defend him; to which Menou replied that one had already been instructed and would come to see him on the following day. There being no more to be said, he then bowed him* self away.

Next morning the lawyer arrived. He proved to be a tired-faced, elderly man, named Johan Peffer. The fact that he was a German filled Roger with fury and further dismay. As a distinguished French officer he felt that he was entitled to some consideration. He had expected de Brinevillers to enquire after his well-being while in prison, perhaps send him a gift of books and wine; and, at the very least, come in person to break the bad news of the Emperor's failure to respond. But the Ambassador had done none of these things. And now, by failing to send a French advocate to undertake the defence, he had shown a callous indifference to Roger's fate that was hard to credit.