Delphi Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated) (496 page)

‘Your age?’

‘Twenty.’

‘You are very thin and your elbows are red. My God, Madame Boismaison, are we never to see anything but this same grey gown and the red turban with the diamond crescent?’

‘I have never worn it before, sire?’

‘Then you had another the same, for I am weary of the sight of it. Let me never see you in it again. Monsieur de Remusat, I make you a good allowance. Why do you not spend it?’

‘I do, sire.’

‘I hear that you have been putting down your carriage. I do not give you money to hoard in a bank, but I give it to you that you may keep up a fitting appearance with it. Let me hear that your carriage is back in the coach-house when I return to Paris. Junot, you rascal, I hear that you have been gambling and losing.’

‘The most infernal run of luck, sire,’ said the soldier, ‘I give you my word that the ace fell four times running.’

‘Ta, ta, you are a child, with no sense of the value of money. How much do you owe?’

‘Forty thousand, sire.’

‘Well, well, go to Lebrun and see what he can do for you. After all, we were together at Toulon.’

‘A thousand thanks, sire.’

‘Tut! You and Rapp and Lasalle are the spoiled children of the army. But no more cards, you rascal! I do not like low dresses, Madame Picard. They spoil even pretty women, but in you they are inexcusable. Now, Josephine, I am going to my room, and you can come in half an hour and read me to sleep. I am tired to-night, but I came to your salon, since you desired that I should help you in welcoming and entertaining your guests. You can remain here, Monsieur de Laval, for your presence will not be necessary until I send you my orders.’

And so the door closed behind him, and with a long sigh of relief from everyone, from the Empress to the waiter with the negus, the friendly chatter began once more, with the click of the counters and the rustle of the cards just as they had been before he came to help in the entertainment.

CHAPTER XV
I

THE LIBRARY OF GROSBOI
S

And now, my friends, I am coming to the end of those singular adventures which I encountered upon my arrival in France, adventures which might have been of some interest in themselves had I not introduced the figure of the Emperor, who has eclipsed them all as completely as the sun eclipses the stars. Even now, you see, after all these years, in an old man’s memoirs, the Emperor is still true to his traditions, and will not brook any opposition. As I draw his words and his deeds I feel that my own poor story withers before them. And yet if it had not been for that story I should not have had an excuse for describing to you my first and most vivid impressions of him, and so it has served a purpose after all. You must bear with me now while I tell you of our expedition to the Red Mill and of what befell in the library of Grosbois.

Two days had passed away since the reception of the Empress Josephine, and only one remained of the time which had been allowed to my cousin Sibylle in which she might save her lover, and capture the terrible Toussac. For my own part I was not so very anxious that she should save this craven lover of hers, whose handsome face belied the poor spirit within him. And yet this lonely beautiful woman, with the strong will and the loyal heart, had touched my feelings, and I felt that I would help her to anything — even against my own better judgment, if she should desire it. It was then with a mixture of feelings that late in the afternoon I saw her and General Savary enter the little room in which I lodged at Boulogne. One glance at her flushed cheeks and triumphant eyes told me that she was confident in her own success.

‘I told you that I would find him, Cousin Louis!’ she cried; ‘I have come straight to you, because you said that you would help in the taking of him.’

‘Mademoiselle insists upon it that I should not use soldiers,’ said

Savary, shrugging his shoulders.

‘No, no, no,’ she cried with vehemence. ‘It has to be done with discretion, and at the sight of a soldier he would fly to some hiding-place, where you would never be able to follow him. I cannot afford to run a risk. There is too much already at stake.’

‘In such an affair three men are as useful as thirty,’ said Savary. ‘I should not in any case have employed more. You say that you have another friend, Lieutenant — ?’

‘Lieutenant Gerard of the Hussars of Bercheny.’

‘Quite so. There is not a more gallant officer in the Grand Army than Etienne Gerard. The three of us, Monsieur de Laval, should be equal to any adventure.’

‘I am at your disposal.’

‘Tell us then, mademoiselle, where Toussac is hiding.’

‘He is hiding at the Red Mill.’

‘But we have searched it, I assure you that he is not there.’

‘When did you search it?’

‘Two days ago.’

‘Then he has come there since. I knew that Jeanne Portal loved him. I have watched her for six days. Last night she stole down to the Red Mill with a basket of wine and fruit. All the morning I have seen her eyes sweeping the country side, and I have read the terror in them whenever she has seen the twinkle of a bayonet. I am as sure that Toussac is in the mill as if I had seen him with my own eyes.’

‘In that case there is not an instant to be lost,’ cried Savary. ‘If he knows of a boat upon the coast he is as likely as not to slip away after dark and make his escape for England. From the Red Mill one can see all the surrounding country, and Mademoiselle is right in thinking that a large body of soldiers would only warn him to escape.’

‘What do you propose then?’ I asked.

‘That you meet us at the south gate of the camp in an hour’s time dressed as you are. You might be any gentleman travelling upon the high road. I shall see Gerard, and we shall adopt some suitable disguise. Bring your pistols, for it is with the most desperate man in France we have to do. We shall have a horse at your disposal.’

The setting sun lay dull and red upon the western horizon, and the white chalk cliffs of the French coast had all flushed into pink when I found myself once more at the gate of the Boulogne Camp. There was no sign of my companions, but a tall man, dressed in a blue coat with brass buttons like a small country farmer, was tightening the girth of a magnificent black horse, whilst a little further on a slim young ostler was waiting by the roadside, holding the bridles of two others. It was only when I recognised one of the pair as the horse which I had ridden on my first coming to camp that I answered the smile upon the keen handsome face of the ostler, and saw the swarthy features of Savary under the broad-brimmed hat of the farmer.

‘I think that we may travel without fearing to excite suspicion,’ said he. ‘Crook that straight back of yours a little, Gerard! And now we shall push upon our way, or we may find that we are too late.’

My life has had its share of adventures, and yet, somehow, this ride stands out above the others.

There over the waters I could dimly see the loom of the English coast, with its suggestions of dreamy villages, humming bees, and the pealing of Sunday bells. I thought of the long, white High Street of Ashford, with its red brick houses, and the inn with the great swinging sign. All my life had been spent in these peaceful surroundings, and now, here I was with a spirited horse between my knees, two pistols peeping out of my holsters, and a commission upon which my whole future might depend, to arrest the most redoubtable conspirator in France. No wonder that, looking back over many dangers and many vicissitudes, it is still that evening ride over the short crisp turf of the downs which stands out most clearly in my memory. One becomes
blase
to adventure, as one becomes
blase
to all else which the world can give, save only the simple joys of home, and to taste the full relish of such an expedition one must approach it with the hot blood of youth still throbbing in one’s veins.

Our route, when we had left the uplands of Boulogne behind us, lay along the skirts of that desolate marsh in which I had wandered, and so inland, through plains of fern and bramble, until the familiar black keep of the Castle of Grosbois rose upon the left. Then, under the guidance of Savary, we struck to the right down a sunken road, and so over the shoulder of a hill until, on a further slope beyond, we saw the old windmill black against the evening sky. Its upper window burned red like a spot of blood in the last rays of the setting sun. Close by the door stood a cart full of grain sacks, with the shafts pointing downwards and the horse grazing at some distance. As we gazed, a woman appeared upon the downs and stared round, with her hand over her eyes.

‘See that!’ said Savary eagerly. ‘He is there sure enough, or why should they be on their guard? Let us take this road which winds round the hill, and they will not see us until we are at the very door.’

‘Should we not gallop forward?’ I suggested.

‘The ground is too cut up. The longer way is the safer. As long as we are upon the road they cannot tell us from any other travellers.’

We walked our horses along the path, therefore, with as unconcerned an air as we could assume; but a sharp exclamation made us glance suddenly round, and there was the woman standing on a hillock by the roadside and gazing down at us with a face that was rigid with suspicion. The sight of the military bearing of my companions changed all her fear into certainties. In an instant she had whipped the shawl from her shoulders, and was waving it frantically over her head. With a hearty curse Savary spurred his horse up the bank and galloped straight for the mill, with Gerard and myself at his heels.

It was only just in time. We were still a hundred paces from the door when a man sprang out from it, and gazed about him, his head whisking this way and that. There could be no mistaking the huge bristling beard, the broad chest, and the rounded shoulders of Toussac. A glance showed him that we would ride him down before he could get away, and he sprang back into the mill, closing the heavy door with a clang behind him.

‘The window, Gerard, the window!’ cried Savary.

There was a small, square window opening into the basement room of the mill. The young hussar disengaged himself from the saddle and flew through it as the clown goes through the hoops at Franconi’s. An instant later he had opened the door for us, with the blood streaming from his face and hands.

‘He has fled up the stair,’ said he.

‘Then we need be in no hurry, since he cannot pass us,’ said Savary, as we sprang from our horses. ‘You have carried his first line of entrenchments most gallantly, Lieutenant Gerard. I hope you are not hurt?’

‘A few scratches, General, nothing more.’

‘Get your pistols, then. Where is the miller?’

‘Here I am,’ said a squat, rough little fellow, appearing in the open doorway. ‘What do you mean, you brigands, by entering my mill in this fashion? I am sitting reading my paper and smoking my pipe of coltsfoot, as my custom is about this time of the evening, and suddenly, without a word, a man comes flying through my window, covers me with glass, and opens my door to his friends outside. I’ve had trouble enough with my one lodger all day without three more of you turning up.’

‘You have the conspirator Toussac in your house.’

‘Toussac!’ cried the miller. ‘Nothing of the kind. His name is

Maurice, and he is a merchant in silks.’

‘He is the man we want. We come in the Emperor’s name.’

The miller’s jaw dropped as he listened.

‘I don’t know who he is, but he offered a good price for a bed and I asked no more questions. In these days one cannot expect a certificate of character from every lodger. But, of course, if it is a matter of State, why, it is not for me to interfere. But, to do him justice, he was a quiet gentleman enough until he had that letter just now.’

‘What letter? Be careful what you say, you rascal, for your own head may find its way into the sawdust basket.’

‘It was a woman who brought it. I can only tell you what I know. He has been talking like a madman ever since. It made my blood run cold to hear him. There’s someone whom he swears he will murder. I shall be very glad to see the last of him.’

‘Now, gentlemen,’ said Savary, drawing his sword, ‘we may leave our horses here. There is no window for forty feet, so he cannot escape from us. If you will see that your pistols are primed, we shall soon bring the fellow to terms.’

The stair was a narrow winding one made of wood, which led to a small loft lighted from a slit in the wall.

Some remains of wood and a litter of straw showed that this was where

Toussac had spent his day. There was, however, no sign of him now, and

it was evident that he had ascended the next flight of steps.

We climbed them, only to find our way barred by a heavy door.

‘Surrender, Toussac!’ cried Savary. ‘It is useless to attempt to escape us.

A hoarse laugh sounded from behind the door.

‘I am not a man who surrenders. But I will make a bargain with you. I have a small matter of business to do to-night. If you will leave me alone, I will give you my solemn pledge to surrender at the camp to-morrow. I have a little debt that I wish to pay. It is only to-day that I understood to whom I owed it.’

‘What you ask is impossible.’

‘It would save you a great deal of trouble.’

‘We cannot grant such a request. You must surrender.’

‘You’ll have some work first.’

‘Come, come, you cannot escape us. Put your shoulders against the door!

Now, all together?’

There was the hot flash of a pistol from the keyhole, and a bullet smacked against the wall between us. We hurled ourselves against the door. It was massive, but rotten with age. With a splintering and rending it gave way before us. We rushed in, weapons in hand, to find ourselves in an empty room.

‘Where the devil has he got to?’ cried Savary, glaring round him.

‘This is the top room of all. There is nothing above it.’

It was a square empty space with a few corn-bags littered about. At the further side was an open window, and beside it lay a pistol, still smoking from the discharge. We all rushed across, and, as we craned our heads over, a simultaneous cry of astonishment escaped from us.

The distance to the ground was so great that no one could have survived the fall, but Toussac had taken advantage of the presence of that cart full of grain-sacks, which I have described as having lain close to the mill. This had both shortened the distance and given him an excellent means of breaking the fall. Even so, however, the shock had been tremendous, and as we looked out he was lying panting heavily upon the top of the bags. Hearing our cry, however, he looked up, shook his fist defiantly, and, rolling from the cart, he sprang on to the back of Savary’s black horse, and galloped off across the downs, his great beard flying in the wind, untouched by the pistol bullets with which we tried to bring him down.