Dennis Wheatley - The Rising Storm

That night he sat up very late, hoping against hope that Florida Blanca might yet send his glove back with an invitation to another audience. But no messenger came, and as he still sat on he began to think of the dreary, hideously uncomfortable journey upon which he must set out next morning back across Spain and Portugal

It was then that the inspiration came to him. It needed more than a piece of paper to make an alliance of any value. In the event of its terms becoming operative both the countries that had signed it must take steps for active co-operation. In the present case Spain appeared ready to go to war, but France had not yet signified her willingness to do so. If by some means he could prevent France from honouring the Family Compact he would, after all, have succeeded in his mission.

He still had Mr. Pitt's Letter of Marque. He knew very well that it had been intended only as a credential to be used at the Court of Spain, but it was not addressed to anybody in particular. It simply said:

Mr. Roger Brook knows my mind upon the matter of Nootka Sound, and is commissioned by me to speak upon it.

And it was signed by Britain's Prime Minister. It could be used every bit as effectually in Paris as it could in Aranjuez. Roger knew somebody in Paris whom he thought would listen to him on his producing that letter. Somebody who still had very considerable influence, and, by causing France to refuse Spain's request for armed support, might yet prevent a war.

For greater speed he had already decided to face the horror of the Spanish inns and travel on horseback instead of in a coach. First thing next morning he arranged for horses and an interpreter. For full measure he gave Florida Blanca until after the siesta hour, but no messenger came to return his glove.

On April 26th at four o'clock in the afternoon, in a forlorn hope that he might yet save the peace of Europe, he set out for Paris.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A la Lanterne

ROGERreached Paris on May 13th. He had used every means in his power to expedite his journey, but even with hard riding it had taken him eight days to get from Madrid to Pamplona, then another two on muleback, skirting hair-raising precipices through the misty passes of the Pyrenees, before he reached Bayonne. After that his passage had been far swifter, although no less exhausting, as he had travelled night and day by fast post-chaise.

He arrived in Paris dead-beat, but vastly cheered by two matters of the greatest importance to him. Although Don Diego's party had left Aranjuez twelve days in advance of himself he had passed it two nights before at Orleans. Isabella had then still been alive and he had succeeded in stealing forty-eight hours' march on what he now regarded as the rival Embassy.

From Bordeaux onwards he had enquired at every principal inn for news of the travellers ahead, and at six o'clock on the evening of the nth he had caught up with them. The four coaches that made up their cavalcade were being washed down in the yard of the Hotel St. Aignau, and he had learned that they intended to dine and pass the night there. A cautious reconnaissance had given him a glimpse of the party through a downstairs window, and having seen that Isabella looked perfectly well he had driven on through the night towards Paris.

Had it not been for a breakdown that night outside Toury, which delayed him several hours, he would have been in the capital by the following evening, but as it was his post-chaise did not set him down at La Belle Etoile until the early hours of the Thursday morning. Worn out as he was he knew that he would be fit for nothing that day, so he slept through it, and got up only to have an evening meal.

After it, in order to bring himself up to date with events in France during his three months' absence, he invited his old friend, Monsieur Blanchard, to join him in a bottle of wine. When they had settled down in the parlour, in reply to Roger's first question the landlord replied:

"Alas, Monsieur, Things here are no better than when you left us. Money and bread are scarce, and Monsieur de Lafayette seems quite incapable of keeping order. Not a day passes but there is some disturb­ance and people killed without the perpetrators of such crimes being brought to justice. Since the execution of the Marquis de Favras the mobs have taken openly to hanging people that they do not like."

"De Favras," murmured Roger. "He was accused of being mixed up in some counter-revolutionary plot with the Comte de Provence last winter, was he not? I recall that his trial was taking place at the time I left for England."

The Norman nodded. "Whether the King's brother was really involved I know not, but he saved himself from accusation by giving evidence against de Favras; and under the new law that decrees the same punishment for all classes the Marquis was hanged. 'Twas the first time a nobleman has ever died by the rope, and the sight of his body dangling from a gibbet in the Place de Grève seems to have set a fashion for the scum of the Faubourgs to murder their victims in that way. You will know how our lamps in Paris are strung up Dy ropes to their posts, so that they can be lowered to be lit or put out. 'Tis easy as winking to lower the nearest lantern, detach it, and string up a man in its place. Two or three times a week now, when the mob catches some unfortunate whom it does not like, the cry goes up 'A la lanterne! A la lanterne! and before the National Guard can come to his rescue he is choking his life out at the top of a pole."

"And what of the Royal Family?" Roger asked.

"They are still at the Tuileries. It is said that many plots have been made to carry them off from Paris, and each time there is a rumour of one the mob threatens to storm the Palace. The nearest they got to doing so was about a month ago. There was some shooting and a few people were killed, but the National Guard succeeded in driving off the rioters."

"The National Assembly is, then, no nearer achieving a strong and stable Government than when I was here last?"

Monsieur Blanchard shook his head. "Nay. 'Tis if anything more uncertain of itself; and more than ever dominated by the mobs and what passes at a Club called the Jacobins. Soon after you left us the Assembly elected the Bishop of Autun as its President. He seems a man of sense, but he is greatly hated by his own Order, and all who hold the Church in regard; particularly since his measure last November for confiscating all Church property has been seized upon as an excuse for many outrages. The intention was to sell a great part of the Church lands and fill the empty coffers of the nation with the proceeds; but the sans­culottes put a different interpretation on it. They say they are the 'nation' and that the riches of the Church now belong to them. So there have been numerous cases of mobs breaking into religious institutions to rob them of their altar plate, and any money that is to be found in their treasuries."

Roger asked many other questions, and although no event of major importance had taken place and no great riots on a scale of those in the preceding year, it was a grim tale of the general dissolution of order and increased lawlessness that the honest Norman had to unfold. In all but name the mob were now the masters and although, in a big city like Paris, the average citizen rarely actually witnessed an act of violence, unpunished killings and lootings were constantly occurring in one part or another of it.

Just as Roger was about go up to his room again, Monsieur Blanchard said: "Since Monsieur speaks French as well as most French­men, I strongly advise him to pass himself off as one while in the streets these days, for the English are become far from popular."