Doctor Who: The Reign of Terror (11 page)

Susan nodded eagerly. 'Remember we saw
a few farms.'

'Turn it this way!' Barbara said,
moving the map round. 'There! That would be the forest where we ... '
She glanced at Susan and then turned back to Jules. 'Where we
arrived,' she said hesitantly.

Jules stood beside them looking at the
map and puffing at his pipe, letting them take their time.

Susan pointed to the map and glanced up
at Jules. 'We ... We were at the edge of the forest and we lost our
way ... ' she said lamely.

Both girls hunched over the map again.
Barbara traced a road back from the city suburbs towards the forest
area, while Susan started from the other direction. 'Yes, we called
at this farm!' they chorused at last.

'Oh, I've lost it ... ' Susan murmured
as Barbara's bigger hand swept hers aside in the excitement.

'Here! Here's the farm,' Barbara
confirmed. 'Here's where the soldiers arrested us ... '

Jules whipped the pipe out of his
mouth. 'Are you sure?' he said sharply, pushing between them and
bending more closely over the map.

'Quite sure,' said Susan. 'It was a
ruin, really.'

To their astonishment Jules rushed
across the room and opened the door. 'Jean!' he called urgently.
'Jean, come here at once!'

'What on earth's wrong?' Barbara
murmured, suddenly afraid again.

But Susan jumped to her feet, caught up
in the unexpected drama. 'They didn't find Grandfather though. We
don't even know if he got out ... ' she gabbled, her words falling
over each other. 'Then they set fire to everything ... ' She lapsed
into silence, her voice evaporating into a sob.

Barbara had been watching Jules
nervously pacing by the door. 'Just a minute, Susan,' she warned,
putting a finger to her lips.

Next moment Jean burst in with his hand
on the butt of the pistol he carried in his pocket. 'What is it,
Jules?' he cried.

Jules seized his arm and led him to the
map. 'Barbara, show Jean where you were arrested.'

Barbara pointed to the tiny markings on
the map and Jean took a sharp intake of breath and stared at her.
Barbara flinched as if expecting to be struck.

'Did you meet two men at the farm?'
Jules asked, after a tense pause.

Barbara decided she had no choice but
to tell the truth. 'Yes, we did ... But how did you know?'

'Their names?' Jean demanded.

Barbara thought quickly. She could feel
Susan shivering with anxiety beside her. 'I think they were ...
Yes, d'Argenson and ... '

' Rouvray?' Jules prompted.

Barbara looked up at him in amazement
and nodded dumbly.

'Jules, they must have discovered the
escape route,' Jean muttered agitatedly.

Jules raised his hand for calm.
'Rouvray and d'Argenson may just have been unlucky,' he warned. 'Do
not jump to conclusions until we have spoken to Leon. The route is
his responsibility.' He turned to Barbara. 'Were Rouvray and
d'Argenson brought with you to Paris?'

Barbara shook her head. 'There was a
fight. The soldiers shot them.'

Jean grabbed wildly at Jules's arm.
'This is not the first time ... ' he snarled, his face dark with
fury. 'Somebody must be informing on us.'

'Later, Jean, later,' Jules said
firmly.

Susan rose slowly from her chair and
stood between them. 'You knew these two men?' she asked
sympathetically.

Jules nodded wearily. 'We saved them
from the guillotine, just as we saved you and Barbara and the others
today,' he sighed. 'Alas, in their case our efforts were wasted.'

'So you have risked your lives before!'
Barbara said in a hushed voice, her eyes shining with admiration.

'Many times,' Jean told her, with a
look of intense dedication. 'Not all Frenchmen can bear to stand by
while innocent people are led to the slaughter. Jules has saved many
lives.'

Jules smiled wryly and shrugged. 'It
appears that my luck is running out.'

'Luck?' Jean protested. 'Not luck but
bravery and selfless ... '

But Jules would hear no more. Blushing
with embarrassment he pointed to the door. 'Jean, you must keep
watch,' he reminded his hot-headed friend.

Jean nodded and immediately left the
room.

Jules sat down at the table and studied
the map. 'You say that your grandfather was left here?'

Susan nodded miserably. 'I think he was
in the house when the soldiers set fire to it ... ' she murmured,
close to tears again.

'Then I shall send someone to search
for him as soon as I can,' Jules promised, grasping her hand
reassuringly.

'There are four of us altogether,'
Barbara reminded him. 'Ian must still be in the Conciergerie.'

Jules gazed earnestly at them. 'I shall
not rest until the four of you have been safely reunited,' he vowed
solemnly, folding up the map.

All at once Susan moaned and sank back
into the chair clutching her forehead.

'Headache?' Barbara asked, concerned.

'Yes, it keeps coming back,' Susan
whispered, her face flushed.

Jules went to the door and summoned his
sister. 'The young lady needs complete rest,' he told Danielle as she
came in.

Danielle took Susan gently by the arm.
'Come with me. You look worn out,' she said.

Susan followed meekly. 'Perhaps if I
did lie down for a while ... '

Jules bowed to Susan and to Barbara.
'Sleep well and have pleasant dreams,' he wished them courteously.

Barbara said goodnight and followed the
others upstairs.

When they had gone, Jules sat down and
unfolded the map again. He studied it for a long time, puffing
silently at his pipe and sending clouds of blue smoke into the
candlelight.

The silence was suddenly shattered by a
loud knocking at the front door. Jules put down his pipe and ran to
the door of the dining room, pulling a pistol from
his pocket. Seconds later, Jean burst in also carrying a loaded
pistol. At a nod from Jules, Jean ran out into the hall and Jules
positioned himself behind the dining room door, pistol cocked and
every muscle taut. He heard the front door open and then quickly
shut. He sighed with relief when he heard Jean's voice.

'Leon, it's you!'

A resonant voice replied 'I'm sorry to
call so late, Jean, but I have a message for Jules.'

The door was pushed open and Leon
Colbert entered the room. He was a tall, broad man in his late
twenties, with rich reddish hair tied in a ribbon behind his large
head. His open, friendly face was not unlike Ian Chesterton's, but
his jaw was heavier and his mouth wider. He wore a sombre, striped
coat with a high collar and broad lapels, a striped waistcoat,
frilled shirt and high cravat.

Jules greeted him warmly. 'Leon! It is
good to see you.'

Jean came in behind Leon. 'Rouvray and
d'Argenson have been taken,' he announced.

Colbert looked devastated. 'Taken?' he
gasped, whirling round to facejean. 'When did this happen?'

'Later ... 'Jules insisted, leading
Leon to a chair. 'Leon, you have a message for me?'

Colbert wiped his face with a
handkerchief. 'There is a man, a stranger, asking for you at the inn,
Jules. We are watching him carefully.'

Jules frowned at Jean. 'I am not
expecting anyone tonight,' he murmured uneasily.

'Then for heaven's sake be careful,'
Leon entreated him. 'Every day we are in greater danger.'

Jules took Jean's arm. 'We'll go to Le
Chien Gris at once and see what this stranger wants,' he decided.

Jean looked unhappy about the idea but
he nodded his agreement. 'Whatever you say, Jules.'

At that moment the door opened and
Barbara walked in. She stopped and gave a little cry of disbelief
when she saw Leon Colbert sitting there. For a moment she thought it
was Ian.

Jules introduced her to Leon and
explained her presence.

Barbara swiftly recovered her
composure. 'I am pleased to meet you, Leon,' she said, giving him her
hand.

Colbert rose and kissed it with gentle
gallantry. 'Barbara, the pleasure is entirely mine,' he replied, his
dark eyes delving into her with obvious interest.

Jules flashed Colbert a knowing grin.
'Excuse us, Barbara,' he explained. 'Jean and I have to go out for a
while. We shall not be away for long.'

Barbara looked rather uneasy, but
Colbert took her arm with a brilliant smile. 'I shall take the
greatest care of your charming guest, Jules,' he promised, leading
Barbara to the sofa.

Jules nodded and he and Jean hurried
away into the night.

'Perhaps you would care for some wine,
Barbara-?' Colbert suggested as soon as the front door had slammed.

Barbara smiled self-consciously and
patted a stray hair into place. She felt dirty and tired and very
unattractive, but there was something mysterious about the newcomer
that excited her curiosity. 'Why not?' she replied. 'Thank you.'

Leon poured them both a glass of
Chateau Barcle, drew up a chair opposite the sofa and sat down.
'Where do you come from, Barbara?' he inquired. 'Your accent is not
Parisian.'

Barbara smiled enigmatically and sipped
the warm red wine. 'Does it matter?'

Colbert shrugged. 'No, but I am curious
just the same:'

'You may not like my answer,' Barbara
replied guardedly. 'I was born in England. That makes us enemies,
does it not?'

Leon sipped his wine thoughtfully.
'Does it? I prefer to think that perhaps it means you are not very
interested in our Revolution,' he suggested amiably.

Barbara gazed into his magnetic eyes.
Something in their depths made her uneasy, but she did her best not
to show it. 'Not necessarily,' she said. 'Nobody can deny that it is
a historic event.' She laughed nervously and fiddled with her
wineglass.

Leon laughed. 'It will be one day,' he
agreed, leaning forward so that his face was almost touching hers.

Barbara rose. 'I think perhaps I should
go up and see if Susan's all right,' she said.

Colbert rose and watched her leave the
room. Then he poured himself more wine and sat staring at the empty
sofa and frowning as if he feared that he might have been seen
through by a mere English girl.

The Conciergerie was silent and dark.
The gaoler sat slumped in his chair in the alcove, his tousled,
throbbing head swathed in a dirty bandage which sported a patch of
dried blood on one side. Among the scattered papers littering the
table was a fresh bottle of cognac. He took a hefty swig, banged the
bottle back on the table and sank his head in his hands with a
profound groan. Whoever had hit him, he decided, had done a good job.

He was roused from his drunken, aching
misery by a sudden commotion out in the courtyard. 'Let me in, you
incompetent fools! I could have you all guillotined tomorrow!' an
angry voice was yelling in a refined Parisian accent. 'Get this gate
open at once!'

'Lemaitre!' croaked the gaoler, corking
the cognac and hastily shoving the bottle out of sight in the drawer.
He tried to tidy the papers and clean up the table as he heard the
guards shouting to each other and the sound of the main gate being
unlocked.

'Thank you, Citizens ... ' shouted
the voice. 'Well, close it again, you imbeciles! Do you want all the
prisoners to escape?' A loud guffaw echoed around the courtyard.

The gaoler rose quaking to his feet as
the gate slammed shut and he heard brisk footsteps marching down the
steps to the vault.

'Who's in command of this
establishment?' demanded the impressive figure who suddenly appeared
in front of him waving a sheaf of very official-looking documents.

The Doctor was dressed in a smart black
coat with epaulettes and a huge tricolour cravat under a stiff wing
collar. His breeches were black and his stockings snowy white. On his
feet were silver buckled shoes. A huge cloak and a tricolour sash
gave him an air of lofty officialdom. But the whole effect was
completed by his hat - a tall flat-topped affair with a tricolour
band and tassle, and with three enormous white plumes shimmering in
the torchlight.

The Doctor slashed at the table with
his stick. 'Well? Answer me! Who is in charge here?'

The petrified gaoler gaped in dumb
incredulity at the vision. Then he winced and fingered his bloody
bandage. 'I ... I am ... Citizen ... ' he finally managed to
stammer, clutching the table for support.

The Doctor threw back his head. 'My
credentials,' he declared, thrusting the documents into the jailer's
numb hand and then striding round the vault peering into cells and
checking the doors as if he owned the place, while the bemused gaoler
squinted at the ornate handwriting in the gloom. 'And while we're
about it, why was I not met?' the Doctor demanded. 'Do you realise
that I was obliged to walk through the city unprotected? Me!''

The gaoler grinned apologetically. 'We
would have arranged an escort if we had been advised ... '

'You were advised!' snapped the Doctor.
'I forwarded the communication myself. If Citizen Robespierre should
hear about this appalling lapse ... '

At the mention of the dreaded name the
gaoler turned green. 'Citizen Robespierre?' Oh, I don't think you
should bother him with it ... ' he mumbled, sidling up to the
awesome visitor. 'He's a very busy man these days ... '

'So am I!' thundered the Doctor.

The gaoler handed back the documents
with a bow. 'I am entirely at your service, Citizen,' he said. 'I
will be happy to oblige you in any way.'

The Doctor stared disdainfully at the
obsequious figure and permitted himself a faint smile. 'Very well.
You seem a capable man,' he said kindly. 'I am sure you were not
responsible for the misunderstanding.'

The gaoler squirmed and wrung his
hands. 'Oh indeed, Citizen. I am most conscientious, but when one is
assisted by idiots ... '

The Doctor nodded, the plumes in his
hat waving majestically over his head. 'Quite. I see we understand
one another.'