When he had talked himself hoarse Roger managed to get a word in, and remarked: "No doubt you are right about the Italian campaign; but are you quite convinced that it was not something other than incompetence which led to our armies having to fall back across the Rhine?"
After giving him a sharp glance, Buonaparte rapped out: "You have, then, heard these rumours about Pichegru? Do you believe them?"
"I hardly know what to think," replied Roger cautiously. "His failure to take Heidelberg was in such striking contrast to the abilities he previously displayed that either the rumours are true, or he has become the victim of a sudden softening of the brain."
"The latter must have been the case, or something like it Even conceding that he may not at heart have been quite such a pure patriot as he pretended, and making allowance for the weakness to which all men are subject I cannot believe that he sold his country. What could he possibly have stood to gain?"
Roger had now brought the conversation to the point he wanted,
and he said casually: "I'm told that he was offered the baton of a Marshal of France, a Dukedom, the Governorship of Alsace, the Chateau of Chambord, an income of..."
With an impatient gesture Buonaparte cut him short "What do such baubles and fripperies amount to in these days? Since we now have no Marshals, as the most successful General in the Army of the
Republic he was already the equivalent of one. And who but a madman would wish to be called Duke or Excellency at the price of having to dance attendance on that fat fool of a Bourbon Prince? As for chateaux and incomes, they will fall like ripe plums into the hand of any man who has the ability to carve with his sword a writ for them on the broken armies of our enemies. No, I cannot believe that any sane General who had victory in his hands, as Pichegru had, or even a remote prospect of it, would barter glory for such a mess of pottage."
So it was that Roger received the answer to his mission. As Buonaparte clearly believed that it was now only a matter of time before he got an opportunity to cut an enemy army into pieces, there could be no doubt whatever that he was unbribable. To wage war and win glory was his lodestar, and had he been offered the Crown Jewels, a Viceroyalty and the Bank of England, he still would not have given such a proposition a second thought.
There was only one thing upon which Roger felt that he could congratulate himself. It was that his approach had been made so skilfully that the young General could not possibly suspect that he had started the conversation with any ulterior motive. He was, therefore, shaken to the roots of his being when, a moment later, Buonaparte said:
"Am I right in believing you to have been born an Englishman?"
chapter XXV
DESPERATE INTRIGUE
The question was a really alarming one. It might mean only that Buonaparte had heard a garbled version of one of the several accounts Roger had given of himself in the past; but it might mean that recently there had been some leak connecting him with London, and that Buonaparte, who now combined the functions of Chief of the Police with his Command, had come upon it in a report, so did in fact suspect him.
"No," he said, after only a second's hesitation. "What gave you that idea?"
"Your name cropped up at Madame de Stael's one night a few weeks ago. Someone was asking what had become of you, and an argument developed between the Deputy Freron and a ci-devant Marquis, whose name I do not recall. The one maintained that you began your career as an English journalist, and having been sent over here, like the Deputy Tom Paine, you abandoned your country out of enthusiasm for the Revolution; the other, that you were an Alsatian who had once been secretary to a nobleman, and later appeared at Versailles, a young exquisite, calling yourself the Chevalier de Breuc."
Greatly relieved, Roger was able to reply: "There is something of truth in both their accounts of me; but I was born a Frenchman and my political convictions have ever been those of a Republican." Then, feeling that this was an admirable opportunity once and for all to dovetail the varying beliefs held about him by different strata of society in Paris, he went on:
"I was born in Strassburg. My father was a Frenchman of moderate fortune, my mother the daughter of a Scottish Earl who had run away with him. Both died when I was quite young; so my mother's sister, who had married an English Naval officer, took charge of me and I went to live with her in southern England. She gave me a good education, but I always longed to get back to France. At the age of fifteen, I ran away and succeeded in doing so. For some years I devilled in a lawyer's office in Rennes; then I became secretary to the Marquis de Rochambeau. In '87, owing to a duel, I was compelled to fly from France, so naturally returned to England. There I took up journalism, and through it became acquainted with many of the Whig nobility who were eagerly following the agitation for reform in France.Their influence with the French Ambassador secured me a pardon which enabled me to return, and their introductions gained me the entree at Versailles. But, after a while, the news-letters I sent to my paper proved too revolutionary for the liking of my paymasters, and when I became a member of the Jacobin Club they cut off my remittance. Having no other source of income I was again compelled to return to England, but my Aunt was also out of sympathy with my revolutionary principles, so refused me help, and for the best part of two years I ad a hard time of it making enough by my pen to support myself. By then the Revolution had progressed to a point where I felt that I must play a further part in it; so once more I came back to France. Shortly after my return I was elected a member of the Commune. Later I was given several missions as Citizen Representant by both Robespierre and Carnot. It was in that capacity, you will remember, that I first met you at the siege of Toulon. My more recent history you already know."
He had taken certain liberties with his earlier cover stories, such as stating that his mother had been Scottish, and that it was not a godmother but an aunt who had had him educated in England, because he felt that the nearer the truth he could go the safer he would be against future eventualities. But no one would, after all this time, be able to recall with certainty the exact degree of relationships he had given them; and he felt great satisfaction at having at last blended into a concrete whole the two roles he had played.
As he ceased speaking, Buonaparte, seizing upon the one essential that interested him, exclaimed: "Then you have lived long in England, and must know that country well! There are matters in which you can be of great use to me. Please return with me to my office."
"With pleasure," Roger replied. "I take it you refer to your projected invasion of the island?"
The young General halted in his tracks, swung round and snapped: "Who told you aught of that?"
Roger shrugged. "Why, Barras, of course. Since it was I who first brought him, Tallien and Dubois-Crance together for the planning of 9th Thermidor, he naturally takes me into his confidence about many matters."
"I am relieved to hear that it was not through idle gossip which might get to one of Mr. Pitt's agents. This concept is of the highest secrecy, but seeing that you are to be trusted, it is as well that you should know the whole truth. It will enable me to use your knowledge of the country to much better advantage."
As they walked towards the entrance of the gardens, Buonaparte asked: "Have you seen Tallien since your return?'
"Yes. I was at his house three nights ago. I thought him looking very ill."