Finishing his meal, he brushed the crumbs from his clothing then made his way furtively back towards the road. Welbeck hid in the thickets where Daniel had earlier concealed himself, remaining out of sight yet able to see the road in both directions. Once he’d worked out how to use it, the telescope proved a useful aid. Settling down, he found that he’d just put one knee into some animal dung. As he was trying to wipe off the mess with a handful of grass, an insect stung him on the back of the neck. Welbeck killed it with a slap but it had bequeathed a sharp pain. He swore at Daniel under his breath.
‘Why on earth did I let you talk me into this, you bastard?’
Vendome studied the papers with interest then held them up.
‘These appear to be in order,’ he said, blandly.
‘Does that mean I can be released?’ asked Daniel.
‘Oh, no — these papers are the property of Gustave Carraud.’
‘That’s my name, Your Grace.’
‘It’s one of them, I grant you. I’m told that you also answer to the name of Marcel Daron when you pose as a wine merchant. I’ve no doubt that you have other names at your disposal as well and that, in each case, your papers will be expertly forged.’
Daniel had been hauled off to Vendome’s quarters and was being held by two guards. Raoul Valeran, who had been in charge of the arrest, was also there, anticipating extravagant praise if not a tangible reward for his work. When he was searched, Daniel had his pockets emptied and was deprived of the dagger he was carrying. His situation seemed hopeless but he wrested a tiny moment of joy out of it. On the table in front of Vendome was what looked very much like Daniel’s missing sword. He had difficulty in keeping his eyes off it.
‘Let’s dispose of Monsieur Carraud, shall we?’ said Vendome, holding the papers over a candle until they caught alight. He tossed them to the ground where they were consumed by flame. ‘That takes care of that, I think. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to tell us your real name.’
‘I’m Gustave Carraud,’ said Daniel, doggedly.
‘And what is your occupation?’
‘I’m a sutler.’
‘Then where is your wagon?’
‘It’s down by the stream.’
‘Yes, so I believe. It’s more or less empty and your horse has gone. How can you conduct business without something to sell?’
‘The wagon was pillaged.’
‘Why didn’t you take more care of it?’
‘I was…distracted for a while,’ answered Daniel.
‘That’s not surprising,’ said Vendome with an oily smile. ‘A woman like Mademoiselle Janssen would distract any man and so would Mademoiselle Prunier. You obviously have an eye for beautiful women.’
‘I think you’re confusing me with someone else.’
‘I don’t think so.’ He turned to Valeran. ‘Show him.’
Valeran stepped forward and lifted the sword from the table.
‘Have you ever seen this weapon before?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Daniel, averting his gaze.
‘Look at it more carefully.’
‘I don’t need to — it’s an army sabre.’
‘A British army sabre,’ corrected Valeran, ‘and it belongs to Captain Daniel Rawson of the 24^th Foot.’
‘I’ve never heard that name before.’
‘It was Captain Rawson who rescued the two ladies to whom His Grace has just referred. The captain is very close to Amalia Janssen which is why she was taken hostage. Sophie Prunier was also held in custody and, unable to resist helping someone in distress, the captain agreed to take her with him as well.’ He glanced at Vendome to see if his questioning met with the other’s approval. ‘Does any of this sound familiar to you?’
‘I’m afraid that it doesn’t,’ said Daniel.
‘Are you speaking as Gustave Carraud or as Marcel Daron?’
Daniel remained silent. Unable to resist looking at his sword, he weighed up the possibilities of escape if he suddenly seized it. The weapon was only two feet away, balanced on Valeran’s outstretched hands. There were four people in the tent with Daniel and all of them were armed. Outside, he’d seen two guards. Even if he managed to hack his way out of Vendome’s quarters, he wouldn’t get far.
Valeran seemed to read his mind. He held the sword closer.
‘Go on, Captain Rawson,’ he urged. ‘Take it. I know it’s yours.’
‘I’m a sutler. I have no need of a sword.’
‘You’re a soldier. You have no need of a wagon, especially as you’ve no idea how to protect it.’
‘My name is Gustave Carraud,’ said Daniel, stoutly.
‘Are you still clinging to that ridiculous lie?’
‘My papers were in order.’
‘What papers?’ asked Vendome, taking over. ‘I see no papers. Monsieur Carraud has been burnt out of existence so you must be someone else. We’ve spoken to one of the sutlers you befriended,’ he went on. ‘He told us how you disappeared from the camp for days and came back with some flimsy excuse. I had a feeling that we’d be seeing you again, Captain Rawson. You were so desperate to reclaim your sword, weren’t you? That’s the mark of a true soldier.’
Daniel was caught. They knew far too much about him. He wondered which of the sutlers had betrayed him. Alphonse had been too ready to accept him and Josette too eager to assault him. It had to be the old man. Daniel had been wrong to admit that he cared far more about a sword than he did about his horse and wagon. In doing so, he’d lowered his guard. Alphonse’s father had been astute enough to realise that Gustave Carraud had something very important to hide. The arrest had been set in motion by the old man.
‘Do you still deny that you are Captain Daniel Rawson?’ said Vendome, walking across to confront him.
‘I do,’ replied Daniel.
‘Then perhaps it’s time for you to meet an old friend.’
Vendome gave a nod and Valeran went briskly out of the tent. Though he showed no sign of it, Daniel was profoundly alarmed. He feared that Henry Welbeck had been apprehended as well. A spasm of guilt shot through him. In bringing his friend, he’d imperilled him. Daniel could speak French fluently but Welbeck had only a limited grasp of the language. He could never pass for a Frenchman. If caught, his disguise would be useless. Daniel’s face was impassive. Yet inwardly, he was berating himself.
As the tent flap was drawn back, he braced himself for the sight of his friend but it was not the sergeant who was led in by Valeran. It was a big man in the blue uniform of a major. Strutting across to him, the newcomer snatched off Daniel’s hat so that he could take a good look at him. He required only a couple of seconds. Satisfied, he drew back his hand and delivered a resounding slap across Daniel’s face.
‘That’s him,’ he said with leering certainty. ‘Marcel Daron.’
‘Thank you, Major Crevel,’ said Vendome. ‘You’ve proved his identity beyond doubt. Henceforth, however, you must call him by his real name — Captain Daniel Rawson.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Amalia Janssen spent most of her time wondering where Daniel was and worrying that he might be in danger. But she also found herself recalling the inspection of the camp that she and Sophie Prunier had made in the company of Lieutenant Ainley. Something about the other woman had troubled her deeply yet she was not quite sure what it was. Sophie had never been less than friendly and confiding towards her. During their imprisonment, they’d been able to offer each other mutual support. Even in so short a time together, a trust had built up between them. It was the reason that Amalia had felt able to talk so freely to Sophie about her relationship with Daniel.