Evil in a Mask rb-9

by Dennis Wheatley

  'Then, after all these years, the Prince of Peace has been forced into second place?'

  'Oh, Godoy! That wretched man now has no place at all. Within a day or two of Murat's arrival, the mob rose, sacked the Prince's palace and half-killed him. It was Ferdinand who brought about his downfall. For plotting against his father, the Heir Apparent had been under house arrest for some while. Tis said he learned that his parents contemplated fol­lowing the Portuguese pattern of sailing for their territories in the Americas, and tipped off the French. To stop them,

  Napoleon sent a fleet to blockade Cadiz, and gave Ferdinand his head. Having got Godoy out of the way, he forced his father to abdicate and had himself proclaimed King. Although the people acclaimed him with delight, Murat refused to acknow­ledge him; and, ten days later, King Carlos repudiated his abdication as having been forced upon him under duress. So now there are two Kings of Spain, but neither has the power to lift a finger without Murat's sanction. Realising this, the populace is showing intense resentment, and on May 2nd the Madrilelios rose in revolt against him. He quelled the riot with much bloodshed. More than that is not yet known here.'

  'The Spaniards are a proud people,' Roger said thought­fully; 'and, if they get the bit between their teeth, Murat's position may become very difficult. I doubt, though, whether that could greatly influence the general situation.'

  'Nor I,' Droopy agreed. 'Meanwhile the war drags on. Our people here are utterly weary of it and, short oj surrender, would give anything for peace. But I see no hope of it.'

  Three days later, early in the morning, Roger rode down to Richmond. At Thatched House Lodge he found the faithful Dan, who welcomed him with a shout of joy. His now ageing henchman had, as ever, proved a most conscientious steward. With the aid of a cleaning woman and a gardener, he had kept the place in excellent order. Roger told him of his marriage and, to the old ex-smuggler's delight, that having at last come home, he intended to take up permanent residence there.

  Dan happened to know of a good woman, no* seeking a place, who would prove an excellent cook-housekeeper and promised to engage within a week such other staff as would be required. Roger then spent an hour wandering round the house and garden. For him they held nostalgic memories of Amanda and the happy year they had spent there before sail­ing for the West Indies, where she had died giving birth to his daughter Susan. He then remounted his horse and rode on to Ripley.

  The sight of Georgina's splendid home, looking out on its placid lake, from which the house had taken its name, Still­waters, evoked still more poignant memories of past joys. Yet he had no sooner entered the spacious hall than they were replaced by bleak depression. Nothing there had been altered: the same marble busts of long-dead Caesars sail gazed sighdess from their pedestals, the broad, grand staircase with its gilded iron balustrade rose gracefully to the floor above. But the place seemed eerily to have become peopled with unseen ghosts and had lost its soul.

  Mrs. Marsham greeted him with pleasure, but said that Colonel Thursby, Georgina's father, who lived there for a good part of the year, was away in the North; which was a big dis­appointment to Roger. Susan then came in from the garden where she had been picking flowers. Shyly she accepted his kiss, then impulsively thrust the flowers at him. A little awk­wardly, he accepted the gift, then gave her the big parcel of presents he had brought for her. Eagerly she undid the package and was soon exdaimiing with delight at the lovely silks, costly knick-knacks and a string of small pearls suitable for a girl considerably older than herself.

  As he watched her, he marvelled at the way in which she had grown. In spite of her puppy fat, she was already a young lady. She had her mother's auburn hair, and his bright blue eyes. Unquestionably, in a few years, she would be a beauty. He felt a surge of pride in the fact that she was his daughter.

  Over the evening meal, for which, as a treat, she was allowed to stay up, he endeavoured to entertain her and her great-aunt with accounts of Turkey, Persia and Brazil; but it soon be­came clear to him that these distant places meant no more to them than voyages to the Moon. When she had gone to bed, Roger told Mrs. Marsham of his new marriage, and said that he had not brought his wife down because he had feared that to produce her without warning might upset Susan; but he would break the news to her the following morning.

  Mrs. Marsham told him that she did not think it would make much impression on the girl, because she saw him so rarely. But she was troubled about the child, on account of a depression she had manifested since Georgina's departure. There could be no doubt that she was pining for her long­time playmate, the young Earl, and bitterly resented having been parted from him.

  Of Georgina Mrs. Marsham had little news. Owing to the blockade, communications with the Continent were very diffi­cult. Only two letters had got through. In them Georgina had described the castle on the Rhine in which she now lived, and said that she found the very limited society there somewhat boring but, apart from that, she gave the impression of being contented and happy.

  Next morning, Roger told Susan that he had married a lovely Portuguese lady whom he would shortly bring down to see her. The girl took this news with indifference, merely remarking dutifully that she hoped they would be happy.

  Roger had intended to stay two nights, but felt that he could not bear the dead atmosphere of the house for so long. He had known it filled with the cream of the fashionable world: statesmen, Ambassadors, beautiful and witty women. They had dined, gambled, flirted, conversed with knowledge on the problems of the day and, above all, there had been hose many glorious nights of play and laughter in Georgina's great bed. At midday he said that urgent business required his presence in London and, heavy-hearted, rode away.

  By then Lisala was beginning really to enjoy herself. With Roger's guineas and the aid of Caroline and Judith, she had purchased a fine array of furbelows. From new acquaintances, invitations were coming in to routs, balls and parties at Ranelagh and Vauxhall Gardens. The London season was at its height. Wherever she went, tribute was paid to her beauty. Very soon she became known as La Belle Brasilienne, and the most desirable men jostled one another to secure a dance with her.

  After twelve days in London, Roger said to her one morn­ing, 'My beloved, I feel that we have accepted Lord Edward's hospitality for long enough. By now my house out at Rich­mond should be ready for us to occupy it. Within a day or two we'll go there and settle in.'

  To his amazement, she shook her head and replied, 'No. We cannot do that. We must return to Portugal.'

  'In God's name, why?' he demanded. 'Are you not happy here?'

  'Yes. I find London far more agreeable than I had expected it to be.'

  'Then why this urge to leave it? From Richmond it is no long drive to the metropolis. We can continue to accept the invitations with which we are being showered and, at the same time, enjoy a home of our own.'

  'Maybe. But by the time we can get to Lisbon, news of my father's death will have reached there. As his heir, I must claim my inheritance.'

  Roger was momentarily shocked by her callousness. Then he said, 'That is unnecessary. I have money enough to sup­port us both.'

  She shrugged. 'A few thousand guineas perhaps. But no great fortune. Unfortunately, Papa took with him to Brazil the family jewels. So those are lost to me, at least for some time to come. I have a craving for rubies, emeralds, diamond and pearl necklaces to adorn my person; and those you can­not afford to buy. So to Portugal we must go, in order to claim my inheritance before those filthy French get their hands on the de Pombal properties, declaring that they have gone by default.'

  In vain Roger argued with her, urging that it was far from easy now to get to Portugal. But she swept aside his protests, asserting that there were smugglers who would run them over, and that if he did not love her enough to go with her, she would go alone.

  During the day Roger gave the matter much thought. To allow Lisala to make such a voyage unaccompanied was out of the question; so his problem was how most
speedily and safely he could convey her there.

  Eventually he decided to seek an interview with Mr. Can­ning. As a pretext, he could say he had recently returned from Brazil, so could furnish an account of the state of things in that country. Accordingly, he wrote to the Foreign Secretary.

  Two days later, Canning welcomed him as an old friend, recalling the evenings when they had shared the exhilarating company of Billy Pitt and thanked him for his communication from Vienna. For some ten minutes Roger spoke of the hideous voyage endured by the exiles, the miserable conditions in Rio, and the potential natural wealth of Brazil. Then he mentioned that, before leaving Lisbon, he had spent a week in Madrid.

  Immediately the Minister displayed greater interest, and asked his impressions of the leading men there. Roger gave him such information as he could, then Canning said:

  'Spain has now become our principal preoccupation. Hav­ing in the past been our most successful secret agent and at­tached to Bonaparte's staff, you will doubtless know that he has long had designs on the Peninsula and postponed them only while having to deal with Prussia and Russia.

  'His pact with the Czar at Tilsit freed him to turn his gaze south; and he has played his cards there with his usual un­scrupulous cunning. .By tempting Godoy with a Kingdom in southern Portugal, he induced him to use Spanish troops to help subdue that country. As France's ally, he then requested King Carlos to send a considerable contingent of Spaniards to assist in garrisoning Hanover; and that moron of a King did as he was asked.

  'Thus Spain was denuded of her best regiments and, theo­retically, vulnerable to invasion by us. On that pretext, Bona­parte infiltrated many thousands of his own troops into the Peninsula and by guile, or forged documents, they have since gained possession of all the principal fortresses, including Pamplona, San Sebastian, Figueras and Barcelona. With these in his hands, twenty thousand troops in Portugal, forty thou­sand in northern Spain and another twelve thousand in Cata­lonia, he has Spain by the throat.

  'When that dawned on the slow-witted King, he decided to seek safety in his American dominions. But by then it was too late. His son, that unsavoury young Prince Ferdinand, prevented his departure and forced him to abdicate. Bona­parte played with Ferdinand for a while, persuading him that he intended to support his claim to the throne, then sent General Savory to lure him to Bayonne. There he was con­fronted by his parents and Godoy who, after being half-killed by the mob and spending a month in prison, had been released at the order of the French. My intelligence sources report that most terrible scenes ensued. But, of course, Bonaparte had the last word. With Godoy, he drew up a Convention by which King Carlos and Prince Ferdinand surrendered their claims to the Spanish throne.'

  Roger nodded. 'So there is now no King of Spain; but Godoy gets his Kingdom of the Algarve after all.'

  'By no means. He, too, becomes a permanent exile, and Bonaparte has come out in his true colours. He does not intend to partition Portugal, but keep it for himself.'

  Canning took a pinch of snuff, then went on, 'But Spain has now become our major concern. The Spanish people took great umbrage some while since at a proposal by Bonaparte that Spain should be deprived of the Balearic Isles, so that he could give them in exchange for Sicily. His treatment of the Spanish royal family has further incensed them, an-f to such a degree that on May 2nd there were bloody riots in Ma­drid. Now, I gather, the whole country is seething with hatred of the French. Having told you all this, I should like to have your opinion. Do you think there is any chance at all of the people rising en masse and driving the French out of Spain?'

  ' 'Tis hard to say, Sir,' Roger replied. 'I took a poor view of the nobility that I met when in Madrid; but the people are tough, courageous and deeply religious. If their priests in­flamed them further against their oppressors, they might suc­ceed in forcing die French to retire into their fortresses But Napoleon would still hold Spain, unless . . . yes, unless we could send an expeditionary force with ample artillery to sup­port the insurgents.'

  'Ah!' exclaimed Canning. 'That is the very thing I have in mind. But we dare not take such a risk unless we have sound reason to believe that the Spanish people will fully commit themselves. And now a thought has come to me. I am,of course, aware that, since the death of our dear friend, Billy, disgusted with the Government that succeeded him you refused to accept further missions abroad. Would you consider re-entering the Service as my special agent? Having been a member of Bona­pane's staff, you are in a unique position to find out how the French view their chances of holding down a widespread rebel­lion. Such knowledge would be invaluable to me. Will you go to Spain on my behalf?'

  Back into the Battle

  After hesitating for a moment, Roger smiled and said, 'It so happens that I came here today to ask if you would aid me to get to Lisbon. I recently married the daughter of the late Marquis de Pombal. She has inherited a great property there, and is anxious to go to Lisbon so that she can claim it. Knowing that British ships of war are constantly patrolling the coast of Portugal, it occurred to me that you might be good enough to secure for my wife and me a passage in one, and enable us to be put ashore on a dark night in some secluded bay.'

  'My congratulations, Mr. Brook. I shall be happy to ar­range matters as you wish. May I take it you will then go on for me to Madrid?

  'I thank you, Sir. But to proceed to Madrid may not be necessary. Do you know who now commands in Lisbon?'

  'Yes, General Junot. At least, he did so up until a week ago; and, as he has occupied that post ever since the Braganzas fled, there is little likelihood of his having been superseded.'

  'Excellent!' Roger smiled again. 'He is one of my oldest friends, and it is certain that he will be well informed about how matters are shaping in Spain. If the frigate that lands us can return after a week or so, and send in a boat, I'd be able to transmit to you by her a sound appreciation of the situa­tion.'

  'An admirable idea. That could save us weeks in learning what our prospects are should we send an army into the Pen­insula.'

  They parted most cordially, Canning having promised to let Roger know when a frigate was sailing to relieve another in the fleet that was blockading Portugal.

  Two days elapsed; then, late at night on May 25th, a note arrived for Roger from Canning, to let him know that Gadfly, a sloop-of-war which was lying off Greenwich, would be sail­ing the following noon with despatches for the Admiral com­manding the British squadron blockading Lisbon; and that her Captain had been given orders respecting Mr. and Mrs. Brook.

  Next morning Lisala threw one of her fits of temper when Roger told her that she must leave behind all the pretty clothes she had bought, because they were to make a secret landing, so could take only what they could carry. To his insistence she had to give way and, when they went downstairs, her face had its usual angelic expression.

  Droopy conveyed them down to Greenwich in his coach; Caroline and Judith came too, to see them off. The ladies exchanged tearful farewells and the Brooks went aboard Gad­fly, to be received by a young Lieutenant named Higgins. He apologised for the narrowness of the quarters in the sloop, but gallantly gave up his own cabin to them. It was a sunny after­noon when they dropped down the Thames and the weather proved clement for the remainder of their voyage. On the night of May 30th, he put them ashore in a small cove some ten miles north of Lisbon.

  Roger would have preferred to face the long walk to the city, rather than risk giving themselves away by seeking trans­port; but Lisala would not hear of it, and showed at her best in dealing with the situation. She knocked up the people at the nearest farmhouse, boldly told them who she was and, with­out giving any explanation of their presence in such a lonely spot in the middle of the night, demanded to be driven into Lisbon.

  The Portuguese peasants being accustomed to obeying or­ders from the nobility without question, the farmer harnessed two mules to his wagon, put some bundles of straw in it for them to sit on, and they set off.

  As the
y entered the city, the early summer dawn was break­ing. Already they had planned what they intended to do. Hav­ing been twice to the de Pombal mansion as an Englishman,

  Roger feared that, if a pro-French servant recognised him, that might cause him considerable inconvenience. So Lisala was to leave him near the Leao d'ouro, and proceed to her home on her own. Then, later in the day, he would get in touch with her.

  At the inn the servants were just starting the daily round. Roger sent one of them to rouse the landlord, who came down­stairs in a chamber robe and night-cap. On seeing Roger, he exclaimed:

  'Senhor Brook! Where have you been all this time? You disappeared without giving me a word of notice. But no mat­ter. By returning to Lisbon you have run your head into a hornets' nest. If the accursed French learn of your presence here, it will be the worse for you.'

  Roger laughed. *Don't worry. I can take care of myself. But what of my baggage? Is it still here, or have you disposed of it as payment for what I owe you ?'

  'No, Senhor. Expecting you would return in a week or so, I had your things put up in the attic. Then, to tell the truth, I forgot all about them.'

  'Praise be for that! Please give me a room, have them brought down to it, and hot water sent up so that I may bathe myself.'

  An hour later, Roger came downstairs. He had shaved off his side-whiskers and was dressed in the resplendent uniform of a French Staff Colonel, that he had had made for him in Madrid.

  At the sight of this metamorphosis the landlord's eyes opened wide. Roger quickly put a finger to his lips and said in a low voice, 'I had this uniform made secretly when I was here last November, intending to don it when the French arrived and to pass myself off as one of them. Most unfortunately, I was aboard a ship when the tempest arose and was carried off to Brazil. I am only just returned but, I trust, not too late to be of service to my country in this guise.'