The Dark Secret of Josephine

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘In him, Madame la Comtesse,’ the Vicomte informed her, ‘I have to thank you for presenting me with a most admirable chef. He is at this moment cooking our dinner.’

  ‘I am delighted to hear it,’ Georgina replied, and added quickly: ‘But why, then, do you throw away an equally excellent valet?’

  ‘I fail to comprehend …’

  ‘Tom Jordan was my husband’s valet. Although he is quite young, he is highly proficient in his work; yet you have condemned him to slavery in the cane-fields.’

  ‘I was not aware that he is a valuable servant; but in any case he is one of the recalcitrants who refused to accept me as his master.’

  ‘Send for him, I beg, and offer to take him into your service. He would, I think, feel quite differently about that to becoming a pirate.’

  With a smile, de Senlac told Jean Herault to fetch Tom to him; then Georgina went on:

  ‘And Doctor Fergusson. During our voyage he proved himself to be both a surgeon and physician of considerable merit. You have told us that you lose many of your men from wounds and sickness; so surely…’

  ‘Enough, Madame!’ de Senlac cut short her plea harshly. ‘He is of the very type most likely to attempt something against me; so better dead.’ Yet when Jean brought Tom to him he spoke kindly to the young man, and on Georgina’s expressing her wish that the valet should enter his service Tom replied at once:

  ‘Since you advise it, m’lady, I’m agreeable to do so.’

  At that moment one of the negro footmen announced dinner and the Vicomte offered her his arm. Her distress at the brutal sentences he had inflicted lightened a little by the thought that she had at least prevented one of them from being carried out, she took it and, followed by the others, they went into the house.

  The dining-room lay on the opposite side of the hall to the row of bedrooms, and on entering it, Roger saw that the table had been laid with ten covers. A quick count of heads confirmed his impression that this was one short of their number, and it suddenly occurred to him that, although the Vicomte had said nothing of it, Jenny being a servant he would not expect her to dine with them. From a similar observation Jenny had reached the same conclusion, and, like the sensible girl she was, had backed away into the passage; but, not knowing where to go, now stood there looking decidedly embarrassed. Fortunately, Tom, having been left without orders, had followed them in and was standing just behind her; so Roger stepped over to them and said with a reassuring smile:

  ‘Go to the kitchens and find Monsieur Pirouet. He will give you as good a dinner as we get, and later find somewhere for Tom to sleep.’

  As Roger turned away from the door he saw that de Senlac had just finished seating the party, and thought his arrangement of it seemed very peculiar. He had taken the top of the table and placed all four women in a row on his left, with the two Heraults and his two Lieutenants opposite to them. Roger was evidently expected to take the bottom of the table, between Philo and Lucette, as that was the only place remaining unoccupied. Quietly he slipped into it, and it was not long before he was able to guess the reason for this unusual placing of the ladies all together.

  If the Vicomte had separated them it would have appeared even more odd had he not placed one on either side of him; so he had evaded a deliberate rudeness to Amanda, who should have sat on his right, by seating the sexes on opposite sides of the table. That enabled him to have Jean Herault on his right; and, as the meal progressed, it became obvious that he had a special affection for the young sangmêlé.

  Being a man of the world Roger observed it only with calculated interest. Ordinarily, his own instincts being entirely normal, it was only when unnatural relationships between others were particularly blatant that he even noticed them; but, when he saw de Senlac passing the blond Jean titbits off his plate, he hid a smile of cynical satisfaction. It explained why the Vicomte had refrained from claiming a ‘Captain’s privilege’ with Amanda, Georgina or Clarissa, and was a reasonable guarantee that while they remained on Tortuga he was unlikely to force unwelcome attentions upon them.

  For the prisoners it was the strangest dinner party they had ever attended, and at times seemed quite unreal. On the one hand the table appointments were elegant, the food excellent, the service of the negro footmen, under the supervision of a mulatto major-domo, everything that could be desired. In fact the setting could not have been more civilised and luxurious had they been in the house of a nobleman who owned great estates in one of the Sugar Islands. On the other the presence of Philo, Cyrano and Lucette was a constant reminder that they were sitting at table with men steeped in the blackest villainy and a woman who only that morning had strangled her lover.

  Yet the Vicomte seemed quite unconscious of this anomaly and now gave the impression that he would not willingly have harmed a rabbit. He was telling Georgina something of the history of that part of the world, and how the French had first secured a foothold there.

  Columbus, he said, had formed his first settlement in the great Carib island of Haiti, as Santo Domingo was then called. He had christened it Hispaniola, or Little Spain, and claimed for the Spanish crown all the islands in the Caribbean. But even after the Spaniards had subdued the fierce Caribs in Haiti they had not bothered to colonise its little neighbour, Tortuga. French outlaws and castaways had been the first to do so, and as in the island there were great herds of wild cattle and wild hogs, they had made a living by hunting them and selling the smoked meat to passing ships. It was from their daring handling of the wild bulls that they had got the name Buccaneers.

  After some years the Spaniards had sent an expedition to turn them out; so they had taken refuge in the uninhabited parts of Santo Domingo, where as there were even greater herds, they had re-established themselves in their occupation. Later, learning that the Spaniards had vacated Tortuga, some of the Buccaneers returned there. Again the Spaniards despatched troops to dislodge them, but by then the French had greatly increased in numbers, and they proved the better men. Not only had they remained masters of Tortuga, but they wrested the most fertile third of Santo Domingo from their enemies.

  Meanwhile, the number of pirates sailing the Spanish Main had increased exceedingly, and before proceeding on a voyage they had formed the habit of raiding the stockyards of the Buccaneers to provision their ships. This constant menace to the living of the Buccaneers caused many of those in Santo Domingo to become planters, which led to their descendants making great fortunes; but on Tortuga the area of cultivable land was negligible, so the Buccaneers there had abandoned their hunting and turned pirate, thus giving the latter their alternate name.

  When the Vicomte had concluded this recital, Georgina asked him how it was that he had become a pirate himself. His thin face darkened as he replied:

  ‘In ‘87 I inherited great estates in Martinique, so came out from France to inspect my property. I found that the climate suited me and that life in the island was delightful. Every reasonable amenity was obtainable, and the nobility formed a cultured and charming society; so I decided to settle there. It was the accursed Revolution that deprived me, like so many others, of wealth and security.

  ‘Soon after our foolish King gave way to his criminal advisers and summoned the States General, our troubles began. By 1790 agitators were arriving in the islands and preaching their iniquitous doctrine of liberty and equality to the slaves. Uprisings followed and on isolated estates the slaves murdered their white masters. For a time we succeeded in localising these revolts, but we were vilely betrayed by our government at home, The Convention passed a decree liberating the slaves, and sent a ruffian named Victor Hugues as their representative, to have the decree carried out. Civil war resulted. Later, with the help of the English, these revolts were suppressed; but I am speaking of the early days. In my part of the island we are hopelessly outnumbered. Several of my neighbours, with their wives and children, were massacred and those who survived fled for their lives.

  ‘When I was younger I held a commiss
ion in the French Navy, and soon after settling in Martinique I had purchased a schooner which I kept in the harbour of Saint Pierre. By night I managed to get aboard her unseen with half a dozen mulattoes who had remained loyal to me. I had no money, few provisions and no refuge for which I could make; so I decided to continue the war as a free lance.

  ‘Some nights later we surprised a larger vessel which I knew to be armed with cannon. I had planned the attack knowing most of her crew to be ashore; so we succeeded in overpowering the remainder, and forcing them to join us. For upwards of two months I then wrought much havoc among vessels trading with Revolutionary France. It was the English who caused me to abandon those waters, as some months earlier they had declared war on France, and their navy began to make it dangerous for French ships to leave port.

  ‘My search for suitable quarry led me north to Saint-Domingue, but up here I found very similar conditions; so in order to maintain myself it became necessary to make prizes of any ships that offered, irrespective of their flags. My operations were ill regarded by one Bartholomew Redbeard, who had hitherto looked on these parts as his private preserve. By that time both my crew and the armament of my ship had been greatly strengthened; so one fine September morning I gave Monsieur Redbeard battle. By midday he was worsted, and as the sun went down, I hanged him from his own yard-arm. Those of his followers who survived the conflct agreed to serve under me, and it was they who led me here. Since I acquired this property I have greatly improved it, and as I find the excitement of the life agreeable I shall probably continue in it for some years. However, I am amassing a pleasant fortune in Genoa, to which Madame la Comtesse is about to make a handsome contribution; so if I ever become bored I shall be able to retire to Italy in affluent circumstances.’

  On the face of it the history he had related appeared to be one of calamitous ill-fortune overcome by audacity and high courage, but all his reluctant guests knew that if fully enquired into it would reveal him as cunning, unscrupulous, and a bloody-minded tyrant who, apart from one battle, had consistently preyed upon the weak. Roger hoped that long before he decided to retire on his ill-gotten gains he would be caught by a ship-of-war, and end his days kicking at empty air as he was hoisted to a gallows.

  As the meal progressed conversation became more general, and Roger attempted to draw out his left-hand neighbour. But Philo the Greek had evidently been selected as one of the Vicomte’s Lieutenants only on his qualities as a sea-rover. Although he had been born in Greece and had not come to the Spanish Main until well into his twenties he knew nothing of the history of his country. He was simply a rough diamond who in other circumstances might have made an excellent captain in a trading vessel. He was clearly not an evil man by nature, but accepted the merciless deeds, inseparable from piracy, as part of the way of life fate had decreed that he should lead. His ability to reply to questions was, moreover, considerably hampered by his having to concentrate on eating with some semblance of a propriety to which he was obviously unaccustomed.

  Cyrano was much more forthcoming. He was a man of some education and the son of a Nantes ship owner. Romance had been the cause of his undoing; for he had seduced the daughter of a ‘noble of the robe’ as the legal nobility of France were termed, and been found out. To save him from prison his father had got him away in one of the family’s ships; but she had been captured by pirates off the French island of St. Christopher, and the pirates had pressed him into their service. Finding a life of adventure, with easy money and plenty of women, much more to his taste than a bourgeois existence in France, he had made no attempt to escape but continued in it. Some years later he had joined Bartholomew Redbeard and, in due course, come under the banner of the Vicomte.

  They had been talking for some time when he remarked to Roger: ‘May I congratulate you on your French, Monsieur. You speak it with an accent and fluency quite exceptional in an Englishman.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Roger smiled. ‘But that is readily accounted for by my having lived for a good part of my life in France.’

  A momentary silence having fallen, the Vicomte caught the exchange and, looking down the table, said: ‘I think, then, that we must have met before. When I first saw you this morning your face seemed familiar to me.’

  ‘I had the same feeling,’ Roger replied. ‘But on your telling us a while back that you have been in the Indies since ‘87 I decided that I must have been mistaken.’

  ‘Why so, if, as you say, you have spent a good part of your life in France?’

  ‘That is true; for I ran away from home to France when I was not yet sixteen, and have since returned there many times, often for lengthy periods.’

  ‘In what parts of France have you lived?’

  ‘Mostly in Paris; but at one time or another I have stayed for a while in many of the great provincial cities. However, I spent my first few years in Brittany, and during them my circumstances were such that it is highly improbable that I should have made the acquaintaince of Monsieur le Vicomte. Indeed, had I done so I should certainly recall it.’

  ‘Did you ever go to Versailles?’ the Vicomte persisted.

  ‘Yes; and lately I had the honour to be received on numerous occasions by their Majesties. But that would be after Monsieur le Vicomte had left for Martinique. My early visits to the palace were made only in the role of a young secretary carrying documents to a nobleman who had apartments there.’

  ‘To whom do you refer?’

  ‘I was at that time in the service of the Marquis de Rochambeau.’

  There was a moment’s silence. During it de Senlac’s thin face paled and purple blotches appeared on it. Suddenly he sprang to his feet, thrust out a quivering jewelled hand, pointed to Roger and screamed:

  ‘Murderer! Assassin! I know you now! ‘Twas you who foully slew my beloved uncle, M. le Comte de Caylus.’

  10

  A Hand from the Grave

  That recognition should have led to this caused Roger’s heart to bound with swift, terrible misgivings. Rising more slowly he strove to conceal his emotion. With an effort he kept his voice level, as he replied:

  ‘You are mistaken, Monsieur. I killed the Count, but fairly, in a duel.’

  ‘Liar! Assassin!’ stormed the Vicomte, trembling with rage. ‘I know the truth! You waylaid his coach like a footpad in the forest of Melun, and did him to death.’

  ‘That is not true!’ Roger protested hotly. ‘In the belief that I was not of noble blood, he refused my challenge. I had no alternative other than to force a fight upon him at a place of my own choosing. But it was a fair fight. In fact he was reputed the finest swordsman in all France while I was still a stripling novice; so the odds were all against me!’

  ‘Lies! Lies! Lies! Without warning or witnesses you set upon and killed him.’

  ‘Comte Lucein de Rochambeau was in his coach, and present throughout the whole affair. M. le Vicomte de la Tour d’Auvergne and the Abbé de Talleyrand-Périgord were also in the immediate neighbourhood. They were aware of all that took place at the encounter from start to finish. Both afterwards vouched for it that I did nothing unfitting in a man of honour.’

  ‘You had no seconds; no doctor was present. You contravened every established rule of duelling. By the law of France that makes you an assassin.’

  ‘So thought her Majesty Queen Marie Antoinette until she learned the truth. She then secured me a pardon, and honoured me with her friendship.’

  ‘Lies! More lies! You had abused your position in M. de Rochambeau’s household to seduce his daughter. Then, when in ignorance of the fact, my good uncle was about to marry her, rather than lose your mistress you murdered him.’

  ‘Athénaïs de Rochambeau was not my mistress,’ shouted Roger, now almost as angry as de Senlac.

  ‘I care not!’ the Vicomte yelled back. ‘The Comte was a father to me! The best man that ever lived! And it was you who took his life. Heaven be praised for having sent me this chance to revenge his death. Mort de Dieu, you shall suffer
as few men have! Philo! Cyrano! Seize him!’

  Springing aside from his place, Roger grasped the back of his chair and swung it aloft. As Philo ran in he brought its legs crashing down on the pirate’s shoulders and their cross-bar struck his head. With a moan, he went down in a heap. But before Roger could raise the chair again the two negro footmen flung themselves on him from behind. As they grabbed his arms Cyrano seized the chair and wrenched it from him. He landed a violent kick on the Frenchman’s knee, and received in return a blow beneath the jaw. It was not a knock-out but temporarily deprived him of his powers of resistance. A minute later, while Cyrano limped away cursing with pain, the two powerful negroes secured their grip and held Roger rigid between them.

  Everyone had risen from the table and, thrusting his way between the women, de Senlac strode up to his now helpless prisoner. His slightly hooded eyes blazing with rage, he struck Roger across the mouth with the back of his open hand.

  ‘For that,’ cried Roger, ‘unless you are prepared to disgrace your ancestry, you will give me satisfaction.’

  Even as he uttered the words, he knew that his chances of goading the Vicomte into a duel were exceedingly slender; and he proved right, for de Senlac sneered: ‘Are you halfwitted? Is it likely that I would afford you a chance to kill me! No, you scum. I mean to stand by and watch you die horribly. Yes, and all shall witness the way in which I avenge my poor uncle. My crews, your women, the other prisoners, even the kitchen hands and slaves—everyone.’ Turning away he shot a malevolent glance round the company and said: ‘Gome, let me have your suggestions for the most painful way in which we can send this assassin screaming down to hell.’

  Now that they could get a word in, Amanda, Georgina, and Clarissa all began to plead or attempt to reason with him; but he silenced them all with a furious shout.