Dennis Wheatley - The Launching of Roger Brook

While Roger was giving his description his father had snatched up a piece of paper and was swiftly making notes. When he had done, he said:" 'Tis well! I'll go up to the Mayor and have his constables circulate this description locally. The King of France is not the only man whose purse is long enough to offer five hundred guineas' reward for a capture, and by morning all South Hampshire will be hunting for this dog. Meanwhile, 'tis no time to stand on ceremony. C.-in-C, Ports­mouth, will bear me no grudge if I poach his territory in a case like this, and my signature as Rear-Admiral, Channel Squadron, will be honoured from Dover to Land's End. 'Tis my intention to close the ports."

"Well done, Sir!" Roger exclaimed, his despair giving place to hope. He had never before seen his big, rubicund father at work in a crisis, and realised now how well fitted he was to hold a high command.

"Give me now the words you heard him mutter," the Admiral went on. "Maybe we'll get something from them."

Roger endeavoured to recall the expressions used, but he could not, and replied: "He said something to this effect: Thank God my instinct proved right. By to-morrow morning this will have earned me as much as I make in two years.

"To-morrow!" his father repeated. "Surely you could not have heard aright? He could not reach a port and make the crossing in the time. Perhaps, though, he had a boat awaiting him in some smuggler's cove along the coast. If so, we're sunk."

"That may be it, Sir; but, even if he had, he'd not be able to reach France before to-morrow night, and I'll take my oath that he said to-morrow morning."

"The fellow is a positive will-o'-the-wisp!" cried the Admiral in exasperation. "One thing is clear; he knew this to be your home and came here on a sudden inspiration; thinking that if you landed anywhere between Poole and Southampton you would come here first before proceeding to London, and hoping for a chance to waylay you. The odds are that he is one of M. de Crosne's agents. But as for his returning to France to reap the reward by to-morrow morning, no man born of woman could do it."

Lady Marie had been sitting listening to her men. For the first time since she had finished bandaging Roger's head, she spoke. "Think you there is anywhere in this country where he could collect the money?"

Roger jumped to his feet. "Mother, I believe you have it! The notice said that M. de Crosne or any accredited agent of the French Crown would pay out the reward. The French Ambassador is such a one. Could it possibly be that our man is on his way to London?"

"Nonsense!" laughed his father. " 'Tis too far-fetched. Having done his business, a French police-agent's first thought Would be to get back to France."

"Not necessarily! If he is a cunning one, as this fellow seems to be. He would know that you, as a British Admiral, would have special faciHties for swiftly closing the ports against him. 'Twould be a clever move to ride unmolested through the night to London while we remained here organising parties to scour the coast. In any event, 'tis time now that I was off. I'd meant to take the journey easily, but I shall ride hard now, since there is just a chance that I may pick up his trail and overhaul him."

"Oh, Roger!" exclaimed Lady Marie, "Are you recovered enough to face such an ordeal. 'Tis over ninety miles."

He smiled at her. "I pray you be not concerned on that score. Your Grains of Paradise have already done wonders for my head; and now that I am once again on our own good soil I'd ride to Scotland, had I a mind to it."

"So be it then," the Adrniral agreed. "But 'tis my belief that you misunderstood what the fellow said, and will be on a wild goose chase. For my part I shall cast a wider net by taking the measures I have outlined. But I wish you fortune, and if you catch your man the five hundred guineas I intend to offer shall be yours."

"Thanks, Sirl" cried Roger. "If my instinct proves as good as my enemy's I'll hope to claim it. Though, even if I'm right, 111 have but an outside chance of catching him. He has well over two hours' start, and the only way I can hope to make that up is with your assistance."

"How so?"

"In aiding me to obtain all possible facilities on my journey. I pray you write me a note giving me priority at all posting-houses for remounts and the like; and add a line enabling me to call for assistance in attempting his capture."

The Admiral moved quickly over to Lady Marie's secretaire, took quill and paper, and wrote:

To all whom it may concern.

The bearer of this is Mr. Roger Brook, and he rides upon His Majesty's business. Every possible aid that he may require is to be rendered to him. In the event of his calling for assistance to secure the person of a French agent for detention and examination such assistance is to be afforded him without question.

Christopher Brook, Rear-Admiral, Channel Squadron.

Roger thrust the paper into his pocket, kissed his mother fondly and, followed by his father, hurried from the room.

Outside the front door Jim Button was walking the mare up and down. As they came out, he cried:

"The chestnut be gone from the stable, Sir. That varmint must have took 'e."

"God rot his guts!" bellowed the Admiral; and Roger remembered then that, as he struggled back to consciousness, he had heard his attacker lead a horse out into the yard.

"He be no good picker," Jim went on. "The chestnut be overdue for shoeing. He'll not get five miles afore a shoe comes loose; or my name's not Jim Button."

"A thousand thanks for such good tidings, Jim," cried Roger, as he mounted. Then, with a shout of good-bye to his father, he turned the mare and cantered through the already open gates on his way to London.

Trotting up the lane he turned left at the church and out of the town towards Boldre. The hamlet was only two miles away and he reached it in under ten minutes. Pulling up outside the smithy, without dismounting, he hammered with his crop upon the door. It was now close on ten o'clock and the smith was in bed asleep. Roused by Roger's shouts he opened an upper window and thrust out a head crowned by a white, tasselled nightcap. But Roger's swift inquiry drew a blank; no traveller had halted there to have a chestnut shod within the past two hours.

Ten minutes later he galloped into Brockenhurst and knocked up the smithy there; but with the same result.

Between Brockenhurst and Lyndhurst he made splendid going through the lovely stretch of forest, but he was now wondering if his father had not been right, and that he had set out on a wild goose chase. If Jim was correct about the chestnut the horse should have cast a shoe before this. Roger had to confess to himself that his guess had been a long shot. In the cold light of reason it was much more probable that his unknown enemy would endeavour to slip back to France. In that case there was still a chance that the Admiral's net might close upon him at one of the ports. On the other hand, so astute a rogue might well have prepared his retreat beforehand, and already be well out to sea in some smuggler's lugger that had been waiting to carry him home. Again, having secured the letter, there was no urgent reason why he should hurry back. He might consider discretion the better part of valour, and decide to go into hiding for a time, then make the crossing when the hue and cry had died down. It would be easy for a Frenchman to lie low for weeks in the foreign quarter of a great sea­port like Southampton without the least risk of discovery.

Yet Roger was absolutely positive that he had heard aright, and that, somehow, his attacker planned to collect the reward next morning. If that were so there was only one place that he could do it, and that was at the French Embassy in London.