Soldier of Fortune

Their eyes had become accustomed to the dark by now so they were both able to get a reasonable idea of what the face looked like as the head was hauled out of the sack by Seurel.

'Well,' he said, expecting lavish praise, 'what do you think?'

Catto peered at the face. 'I think you must be even more stupid than I feared,' he said harshly. 'That's not Daniel Rawson.'

'Yes, it is!'

'I've seen the man and he looks very different.'

'But he was in his tent. You took me there.'

'I expected him to be alone at that time of night.'

'And so he was — that's why I killed Captain Rawson.'

'No, you buffoon,' yelled Catto, 'you killed someone else. We went to all that trouble and we end up empty-handed. You're an idiot, Frederic, a brainless, blundering imbecile.'

'I obeyed your orders, Charles, that's all.'

'My orders were for you to kill Daniel Rawson, not some nameless individual who's no use to us at all. This man probably held a different rank altogether. Didn't you look at his uniform to make sure that he was a captain?'

'He wasn't wearing a jacket,' recalled Seurel. 'He'd taken it off to play backgammon. The board was set out on the table.'

Catto snarled. 'Who cares about that?'

Seurel was hurt. Having been brave enough to enter an enemy camp, he had committed a murder under the very noses of the British troops and felt entitled to admiration. Instead, he was being reviled by his partner. There was no hope of an immediate return to the camp. Now that Catto had deserted, he would be shot on sight by any soldier who recognised him. After staring at the head once more, he dropped it back into its sack. Seurel's brow was corrugated by thought. A few moments later, he snapped his fingers.

'I have it, Charles!' he exclaimed.

'Don't you dare tell me that you intend to stroll back into the camp, ask for Captain Rawson then cut off his head,' said Catto with scorn. 'That's just the kind of lunatic idea you'd think of.'

'We don't need Captain Rawson. We already have him.'

'We have someone else, I tell you.'

'We know that,' said Seurel slyly, 'but the General doesn't. All we have to do is to give him the head and tell him that I cut it from the shoulders of Daniel Rawson.' He grinned inanely. 'Don't you think it's a clever ruse?' Catto turned away in disgust. 'It is, Charles. It solves our problem. General Salignac has never seen Rawson so he'll be none the wiser.'

'If I thought that,' said Catto, rounding on him, 'I'd chop off your useless head and swear that it belonged to Captain Rawson. The ruse would never work.'

Seurel was dejected. 'Why ever not?'

'Don't you realise what he'll do?'

'Give us a reward, I hope.'

'No, Frederic. He'll want to taunt his wife. When he gets back to Paris, he'll wave the head of her lover in front of her. Madame Salignac will see at a glance that this is not Rawson.'

'Oh,' said Seurel, scratching his cheek. 'I never thought of that.'

'Evidently.'

'What are we going to do, Charles?'

'To begin with,' said Catto, grabbing the sack, 'we'll get rid of this fellow.' He hurled the sack and its grisly contents into the ruins of the cottage. 'Then we follow the army again and bide our time. If and when we do get a second chance, try not to make a mess of it again.'

'It wasn't my fault,' bleated Seurel.

'Of course, it was.'

'How was I to know what Rawson looked like?'

'I described him to you, Frederic.'

'It was dark in that tent. There were only two candles and I blew those out as I left. I did what I was told to do, Charles.'

'Nobody told you to kill the wrong man.'

'That was an accident.'

'It was a ruinous mistake,' said Catto nastily. 'Let's make sure it's the last one you ever make. And this might be the time to warn you that General Salignac does not tolerate failure. If we don't give him what he wants, he'll have us skinned alive.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

A report of the incident reached the Duke of Marlborough immediately upon waking. He summoned Daniel Rawson in order to hear the full details. Amid the bustle of a camp preparing to move on, they stood outside the Duke's tent as it was being taken down. The first gesture of light was appearing in the sky.

'This is extremely distressing,' said Marlborough, stroking his chin. 'Lieutenant Hopwood was a promising young officer.'

'He was also very unlucky, Your Grace.'

'That goes without saying.'

'I didn't mean it in the obvious sense,' explained Daniel. 'The fact of the matter is that Richard Hopwood died as a result of mistaken identity.'

'What do you mean, Daniel?'

'The intended victim was me, Your Grace.'

Marlborough was shocked. 'Is there any evidence of that?'

'On reflection, I think there is. When the killer went into my tent, he expected me to be there. How would anyone know that I had a visitor inside with me? If someone had wanted to kill Richard Hopwood, they would have gone to his tent and not mine. It was sheer misfortune that the lieutenant was alone when the man struck.'

'This is far more worrying than I thought,' said Marlborough. 'The death of any officer is a sad loss. The murder of Daniel Rawson would have been a disaster. No disrespect to Hopwood — he had all the makings of a fine soldier — but he could never have matched your achievements. You're an outstanding asset to us, Daniel,' he went on, 'and that was why you were singled out.'

'I'm not sure about that, Your Grace,' said Daniel. 'In an army of such magnitude, the deeds of one man will hardly stand out unless his name is the Duke of Marlborough. I don't flatter myself that the enemy consider me that important. If they wanted to disable our cause, why did the assassin not strike at you?'

Marlborough nodded. 'I accept the logic of that argument.'

'There was personal animus behind this outrage.'

'Whom do you suspect?' 'I don't know who his paymaster is, Your Grace, but I've found out the name of his creature. He's called Will Curtis, though I have no doubt that that was a false name. Private Curtis joined the regiment recently, claiming that his father had once served it.'

'Why do you suspect him of the murder?'

'He's deserted in the night.'

'Are search parties out looking for him?'

'Yes,' said Daniel, 'but they've had no success. He's a cunning man and he planned the crime with meticulous care.'

'But he would need to have known which is your tent,' said Marlborough. 'How could he find it among so many?'

'Sergeant Welbeck has the answer to that. Private Curtis asked him to point me out and I was standing outside my quarters at the time. It would not be difficult to memorise the exact spot.'

'Was this villain operating alone, Daniel?'

'Who can say?' asked Daniel. 'If he had assistance, I fancy that there would only have been one accomplice, someone who did the foul deed while Curtis — or whatever his real name is — kept watch. It would have been difficult to sneak more than one man into the camp.'

'The accomplice might already have been here.'

'Then he, too, would have deserted by now, Your Grace.'

'I take your point,' said Marlborough pensively. 'In the wake of the murder, inquiries would be very searching. It would be tempting fate for anyone to remain within our ranks and court discovery.'

'My belief is that the killer probably came from outside the camp,' said Daniel, 'or he would not have confused me with Richard Hopwood. Private Curtis wouldn't have murdered the wrong man, which is why I feel that his hand was not on the dagger.'

'But he's an accessory.'

'Oh, he's more than that, Your Grace. He organised the whole thing. It could only be done by someone inside the camp who knew our routine and our picket arrangements.'