Dennis Wheatley - The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

In the hours that followed he had no reason for complaint. Having finally made up her mind to give herself the slim Russian did so in no half-hearted manner. All the promise of her strange exotic beauty and the slumberous fires of passion that he had sensed in her were fulfilled. When, as the first streaks of dawn came through the window, he at last rose to leave her, he knew that this was one of the nights of his life that he would always remember.

Having dressed he bent above her for a last kiss and murmured: "Tell me, my miracle of love, when may I come to thee again?"

"Be outside the postern gate each night at midnight," she whispered. "If there is a pale light showing from the window of my closet next door, thou mayest take it that I shall be willing to receive thee. If there are full lights in my apartments, or darkness, thou wilt know that I am not in a mood for love. But I warn thee, once again, that even if twenty nights pass without a welcoming signal I still require thee to be faithful to me. And if I have cause to believe that thou art otherwise, I'll give thee good reason to regret thine infidelity."

"Heaven having sent me the most wondrous mistress in all Stock­holm why should I be fool enough to dally with any woman of lesser calibre?" he replied; and he meant it, too, as he added with a laugh: "For my part, should I suspect thee of favouring another gallant I'll slit his gizzard as surely as a cook would spit a capon for the roast."

"I like thee the more for that," she laughed back. "Go then; and for what remains of the night sleep well, that thou mayest love me the better when darkness falls once more."

Roger descended to the garden, reached the street and locked the door behind him, without incident. On his mile walk back to his inn he felt as though he was treading on air. The city was still silent and deserted, seeming almost unreal in the pale dawn light. A gentle breeze from the sea was wafting away the cobwebs of the night and its cool freshness tasted to him as good as champagne.

He thought of Georgina. It was almost two months since he had parted from her and he wondered if she and her father had gone abroad yet. Not for the first time he thanked her in his heart for having caused him while still a boy to set an extremely high standard for his loves, so that he had not frittered away his manhood in casual, sordid little amours, but always chose his women carefully and took time and trouble to win the very best. He did not think that she would like Natalia Andreovna as a person, but he knew that she would applaud his having won the uncrowned Queen of Sweden for his mistress.

June came in with glorious weather and Roger's only regret now was that the nights were all too short; particularly as Natalia would not let him come to her every night. After three visits in succession she had told him on the 30th of May that she thought they ought to be content with three or four clandestine meetings a week in future; but that he was to come just the same each night to see if the dim light was in the window of her dress-closet, as she had no wish to make up her mind in advance which nights she would receive him.

As society in Stockholm did not keep late hours the tie of going every midnight to see if the dim light was offering him a welcome did not seriously interfere with his other enjoyments; and although he had an engagement every evening, during the first half of June he had to slip away early from parties to keep his appointment only on three occasions.

He had no qualms at all about lingering in the Swedish capital instead of going on to St. Petersburg, where lay the vortex of his mission; since, having become one of Count Razumofsky's circle, he was now admirably placed for acquiring the latest information on international relations between the courts of northern Europe.

The Count, as Roger soon found, was not of the school of diplomats who believed in finesse. He scorned such tactics, and relied instead on the immense power and prestige of his position as the representative of Her Imperial Majesty, the Czarina of All the Russias. He was a loud­mouthed, blatant bully, who took delight in boasting openly that if King Gustavus had the insolence to play any tricks he would have him off his throne.

Yet, that the Swedish King was planning something, there could no longer be any doubt. The Russian Ambassador's spies kept him constantly informed of Gustavus's activities and Roger, in his role of a Frenchman and pro-Russian, had only to ask the most casual lead­ing questions on his daily visits to the Embassy, to be given the latest intelligence.

Early in June he learned that great quantities of barrels contain­ing salt-meat and fish, and other stores, were being secretly despatched from Stockholm to the Fleet base at Karlskrona; but that the King had left there and was now engaged in a tour of inspection of his principal military depots.

Roger also learned that there was considerable activity in the other camp; particularly among the Finnish nobility. Count Erik Yagerhorn continued to be a daily visitor to the Russian Embassy; and, although he spent much of the time dancing attendance on Natalia, he was frequently closeted with her father, often bringing other Finnish nobles and discontented Swedes with him to these conferences.

It was soon clear to Roger that the tall, fair Finn was in the pay of Russia, and a prime mover in organising the powerful party in the Riksdag which could be counted to oppose the King and veto any measure he might introduce for Sweden to honour her obligation to her Turkish allies.

Roger's one regret in this connection was that having supplanted Yagerhorn in Natalia Andreovna's affections rendered it impossible for him to cultivate the Finn's acquaintance and thus learn something more concrete of his designs. As it was, whenever they met they either glowered at one another or endeavoured to provoke the fair Russian's amusement by being witty at one another's expense. Roger's tongue being considerably sharper than that of the bovine-looking Count he usually came off best in these encounters, but he knew by the looks he received from the man's hard, pale-blue eyes that he had made of him a most deadly enemy.

On the 15th of June, intelligence came in that King Gustavus was expected back in his capital on the 18th, and Count Razumof sky announced his intention of calling him to account. The Ambassador was still fully persuaded that the King positively dared not go to war with Russia, and was convinced that his military preparations were designed, not with a view to active operations, but as a threat intended to force Russia to withdraw troops from the Crimea in order to rein­force her northern frontier.

As that frontier had been almost entirely denuded of its garrisons for the war against the Turks, it was of the first importance that Russia should know if Gustavus was about to launch a colossal bluff or a real attack, and Razumof sky meant to force him to declare himself.

On learning that matters had reached such a critical stage Roger thought that the time had come to make his first report to Mr. Pitt. Much of the knowledge he had gained while in the Scandinavian capitals could be of no interest to the Prime Minister, since the personal intrigues of the royal families of Denmark and Sweden must be known in Whitehall already; but if he could get to England an account of the present crisis and, above all, the result of Count Razumofsky's coming interview with King Gustavus, before it reached there through any other source, he felt that he would have earned his keep.

Since the post of British Minister in Stockholm was vacant there seemed an excellent chance of being first with the news, and his only problem was how to send it. Inquiries at the port disclosed that there was no ship sailing for England until the 26th, but there was a British ship outward bound for Copenhagen on the 20th, so he decided to send his letter by it to Hugh Elliot, who would ensure it being forwarded to London by the quickest available means.