Devil to Pay (31 page)

“It is a pleasure to deal with an officer of such distinction, intelligence and humanity. My cards, too, are on the table. I agree, Colonel, that you have won those tricks and am ready to assume that your conclusions are mainly correct.”

“I am so glad, Captain, that we have been able to reach agreement over the preliminary moves. It only remains for me to ask what your object was. Remember, please, that your mission has failed and that your answer is merely of historical interest. If the operation were continuing, if some of your associates were still at liberty, I would not expect to hear more from you. You would not betray your friends, least of all any Spaniards here that might be in your employ. I do not think, however, that you had any Spanish collaborators.”

“No, I did not.”

“No. We are still agreed. You had with you the personal documents, apparently genuine, of a French officer, Captain Laffray. These came, I assume, from the post-chaise you intercepted? Is that officer dead?”

“Yes, he is.”

“So I had supposed. Allow me to return now to the object of your mission. I am only interested to this extent that the information would round off my despatch. I wonder, sometimes, why I should report as carefully as I do—no one, I am convinced, will ever bother to read what I write—but I cannot rid myself of the habit. We staff officers are more concerned with documents than with facts, working as we do on a system which was invented, I believe, by King Philip II. I should be grateful, therefore, for your version of what you were trying to do.”

“I see no reason, Colonel, why you should not be told. I am here, as you have guessed, on a secret mission. I was to discover, if I could, the destination of the Spanish fleet. But we are not yet at war and war may still be averted. I should like, indeed, to do anything I can to improve relationships between Britain and Spain. It is the belief of some of us that you will be our allies again before long. When that day comes we would rather your fleet were intact and able to cooperate with ours. We do not wish to see your fleet destroyed in battle. We do not want to see Spain annexed by France. There is a great future, Colonel, for a Spanish officer who can foresee, even now, that Spain's independence is in danger and that France, not England, is the country to fear.”

“An officer who said that too loudly would be relieved of his command—which reminds me to tell you that my adjutant here, an excellent officer, is wholly ignorant of the French language. You may think this a fortunate circumstance. However—to return to the point—I am in no position to discuss the wisdom of my king's policy. Any such discussion would be most improper—and, I may add, most unwise.”

“Undoubtedly. But the sound plan is to prepare for two eventualities. The far-seeing officer says nothing now against the French revolutionaries. Should the situation change, however, he is already known as a true Spanish patriot, trusted as such by Spain's new allies. You would be generously rewarded if you agreed to release me now.”

“You are inviting me to join you in a plot to prevent the alliance, already concluded, between France and Spain. There is nothing I can do to influence my country's policy The risk is too great, my friend, and the reward too problematical.”

“The reward, Colonel, is certain. I learnt in conversation at the inn here that your family estate was lost through your father's improvidence and that you are the eldest son. If you were on our side that estate could be yours again.”

“So you know about my family estate?”

“Only that your father had to sell it. Could you recover the estate if you had the money?”

“Oh, yes. If. . . . I believe that your offer is genuine. But I have no reason to believe that your government would make good any promise that you make on its behalf. Nor can I think of any reasonable excuse for releasing you.”

“On that last point, Colonel, let me set your mind at rest. You will receive a letter from the French Directory informing you that I am in the French Secret Service. A minister will explain this in a personal letter sent to you and other garrison commanders. It is most unfortunate that the delivery of these letters should have been somewhat delayed.”

“A most extraordinary error! But such mistakes
are
made, as I know too well from my own experience. What I need is assurance that this letter will be good enough to deceive me and further assurance that your promise will be respected by your treasury. I can accept a gentleman's word of honour but not a promise made by—still less
for
—a mere government. I shall do my best, however, to meet your wishes. You shall prepare this letter and I will decide whether to be deceived by it. The forgery must be perfect, you understand. If completely taken in, I shall release your companions, leaving them to their own devices, but you will remain here on parole, a hostage until I know that your government will respect the agreement we have made. Even then I shall be in doubt as to whether to accept your government's promise—not an easy decision. However, there is no decision to make until I receive this letter from Paris. You shall at least have the chance to write it.”

“For that purpose I need all my companions and all our luggage.”

“Very well.” The Colonel rose now and spoke to his adjutant in Spanish:

“Have all the prisoners moved to Cell No 6. Provide them with a table and chairs, with paper, ink and sealing wax. Give them back their luggage but not their weapons. Lock the door and place two sentries outside. When this officer reports that their work is done, bring him back to see me.”

An hour later Delancey had his party together and round the table. Outside in the corridor could be heard the pacing of the sentries. Prominently placed inside the door was a recent copy of the prison's printed regulations, signed by the adjutant and counter-signed by the commandant. The cell was double the normal size, being used perhaps for meetings between prisoners and their lawyers. There was a lantern on the table, which was necessary in the fading light, and their belongings were placed against the wall. Hodder went straight to his luggage when the door closed and reported that his skeleton keys were still in the false bottom of his leather travelling case.

“Good!” said Delancey. “Now, all of you listen carefully. Manning, stand with your back to the door so that nobody can see properly into the cell. Hodder, set to work on the door lock but without making a sound. Monsieur Rigault and Mr Bisson, talk to each other loudly enough to cover any noise that Hodder may chance to make. Ramos, make out an order in Spanish for our release and for our being provided with fast horses. I shall word the order and you will translate and write.”

Working quickly but carefully, Delancey and Ramos produced the necessary orders in what they hoped was the proper form. Then Delancey replaced Bisson as conversationalist, leaving that expert to copy the heading and signatures from the notice on the door. When the orders were ready, Ramos and Bisson did the talking while Delancey and Rigault went to the table. Between them they drafted and wrote the letter from Barras, explaining that the captain, Rochambeau, was in the French Secret Service and would be deserving of Spanish help. Then they changed roles again, Bisson forging the signature as he had done before and Rigault resuming his argument but now with Ramos. It was dark before they had finished these several documents and then it was that Hodder stood back from the door and confessed his failure. “I've done my best,” he said in a whisper, “and there was one moment when I thought the job was done. But I couldn't get it again. I could have sworn that it was shifting. . . . No, I can't do it. It's not the sort of lock I am familiar with.”

Delancey thought quickly and came to his decision. “Manning and Bisson, I want you to quarrel, shout at each other and then fight, making noise enough for the sentries to hear but not so much as to be heard in the guardroom. Ramos will then call out to the sentries that murder is being committed. Call for help—quickly—quickly! Is that understood? Right then—quarrel!”

A realistic dispute began and turned into combat while Delancey and Rigault placed themselves on either side of the door. A sentry looked through the grill and told the combatants to be quiet. He then saw, to his dismay, that Bisson was apparently being choked to death. “Murder!” shouted Ramos in Spanish. “Murder! Quick!” The sentry hesitated, knowing that he should summon the sergeant but fearing that murder might have happened in the meanwhile. Then, taking the fatal decision, he opened the door and presented his musket at Manning, the other sentry doing the same. Before they knew what was happening their muskets were snatched from them. They were overpowered in a second and knocked on the head with chairs, their uniforms removed and their wrists and ankles tied together with luggage straps. A tense minute followed as they all waited for the alarm to be given. There was silence, however, and they remembered, hopefully, that the walls were thick. “Look!” whispered Hodder in a tone of grievance, “that hellish door was bolted on the outside!”

In five minutes Ramos and Manning were in military uniform, properly equipped and armed. Delancey then told Ramos to go and fetch the adjutant, reporting as from the sergeant that the prisoners had finished their task and that the senior of them was ready to report to the commandant. There was some little risk of Ramos being recognized but he actually met the adjutant in the semi-darkness of the corridor, returning from the commandant's office. He delivered his message, holding the lantern in front of him, and then followed the adjutant back to Cell No 6. That officer was annoyed to find that the prison corridor, save for the other sentry, was deserted.

“Where is the sergeant?” he snapped. “Where is the guard?” At that instant he was knocked senseless with the butt of a musket and dragged into Cell No 6, where his uniform was stripped off in turn. Ramos was now promoted from private soldier to captain, the sentry's uniform being given to Bisson. When the adjutant had been tied up and gagged, like the other two soldiers, the procession formed in the corridor. Ramos led as adjutant, escorting Delancey. The other prisoners followed, Rigault and Hodder. Two soldiers, Manning and Bisson, brought up the rear. When Cell No 6 had been locked and bolted, Delancey pocketed the key and the whole party marched off towards the commandant's room. Ramos knocked and was told to enter. It was Delancey who went in first, however, and Ramos remained in the doorway, turning to give an order to the two soldiers who formed the escort.

“Come in, Captain. Pray be seated. You and your friends have worked quickly, finishing at an earlier hour than I had expected. I hope you will join me presently in a glass of wine. In the meanwhile, allow me to see the letter from Paris.”

“Here it is, Colonel,” said Delancey, handing the document over. “I have not sealed it, of course, but will do so later.”

“Thank you, Captain. Yes, this has the right appearance . . . let's see now. . . . Yes, that reads quite well . . . Good! Quite a work of art! It might not deceive everyone but I think it could deceive me. I am merely a soldier, of course, not an expert in handwriting. I incline to accept this as genuine.”

“I am relieved to hear it, Colonel. I should have hated to begin our little discussion on a note of disagreement.”

Something in Delancey's tone made the commandant look up sharply. He found himself looking into the muzzle of a pistol, aimed very steadily at his throat. Glancing from Delancey towards the door, he recognized Ramos in his adjutant's uniform and guessed the rest.

“The plan we discussed is still possible,” said Delancey, “on the basis that we are both men of honour. With the situation reversed, however, you will not expect to gain the same terms. I am sure, incidentally, that you will not make a false move and so compel me to shoot you. Your death would not add to the risks I run but I deplore pointless bloodshed and would prefer to have you as a friend; as my host, indeed, some day, at your castle near Seville. You have only to accept this letter as genuine and order our release, giving me your word that there will be no pursuit. My offer still holds but the alternative is now less pleasant. You have to choose between the possible recovery of your estate and the certain loss of your life. The choice is not one over which you should hesitate.”

The commandant shook his head slowly. “You forget, my friend, that you have overpowered my adjutant and his guard. What will these men say when they are released? If you have killed them the situation is worse.”

“No, Colonel, nobody has been killed.”

“What is our story to be, then? You expect me to report that you are French agents. I have then to add that you disarmed my soldiers, stunned my adjutant and made your escape! Who will believe that story? And what will my other officers say?”

“In that case, Colonel, you will have to come with us to a point on the road to Santander. From here to the stables, from there to the citadel and town gates you will be covered by my pistol, hidden under my cloak. Any false move will result in your instant death, shot through the heart. If you don't force me to shoot, your story afterwards will be simply the truth—that we used you as hostage to aid our escape.”

“Not a good story to explain to a court martial.”

“No, but these things take time. If you receive a reprimand it will be next year when the whole incident is all but forgotten.”

“You know our old proverb then: ‘If death came from Madrid, we should all live for a very long time'?”

“I never heard that. But your death, if it should take place during the next few hours, will not have to come so far.”

“No. Very well, then. I accept your terms, Captain. I won't tempt you to shoot.”

“Excellent. If I were to kill you it would be with real regret.”

“And now perhaps you will seal this letter from the Directory? While you do that I shall write you a safe conduct. You will need it to leave the town.”