"What have you to suggest?"
"That you should sell me the blackmailer's name and leave me to handle the matter of getting back the diary."
Fouché gave an angry snort. "I have already told you that in this lies my only hope of re-establishing myself in the career for which I am best fitted. Is it likely that I would sacrifice such a chance for a hatful of ready money?"
"You would be well advised to; otherwise you may get nothing."
"There, you are quite wrong. Even if Barras proves adamant, a steady income can be made out of Madame de Beauharnais; and as the go-between I'll get my share of it."
"Do not delude yourself. She is far from rich, and you will be lucky if you receive even a first small payment."
"On the contrary, the prospects of La Belle Creole becoming a good milch cow were never better. A reliable little bird told me that General Buonaparte is pressing her hard to marry him. In her situation she would be mad to refuse such an offer. Once she is Madame Buonaparte, not only will she feel it more necessary than ever to buy our silence, but she will have ample means to do so."
"You have yourself alluded to the factor which will prove the nigger in your woodpile," Roger announced with a grim little smile. "Madame de Beauharnais opened her heart to me this afternoon. She is shrewd enough to guess that you are banking on General Buonaparte's proposal to her, and knows that should she not give you satisfaction you may attempt to bring about her ruin. But she is a courageous woman, and so prepared to face up to this crisis you have forced upon her. She is also an honest one. She declared to me that nothing would induce her to marry the General with this sword of Damocles hanging over her head. And she went further. Rather than suffer a perpetual drain upon her very limited resources as the only alternative to having her children proclaimed bastards here in Paris she will take them to Martinique. There, her youthful indiscretion is known to most people and already condoned; so the most you can hope to gain is as much as you can screw out of her to buy your silence while she makes her preparations for leaving France."
Roger had misrepresented matters with considerable ingenuity as Josephine had no idea of returning to Martinique, and the suggestion that Fouché might get a little money from her rather than nothing at all was a touch of genius. It was that, no doubt, which caused him to accept the statement as the truth. His grey, blotchy face twitching with annoyance, he muttered:
"How cursed am I with misfortune that this bridge to a steady income should have broken under me. I was counting on it to ease the burden that my poor wife has already carried far too long. Since, then, I must do a deal with you, what are you prepared to pay?"
"Onehundred louis"
"Such an offer is absurd, and you know it! To this woman the securing of her future, at the very least, be worth a thousand."
"It might be if she had a thousand, but she has not. It is I who am paying, simply to buy her future goodwill. To me that is worth one hundred, and no more. That is double what you might hope to get from her direct; as did you press her to the limit I doubt if she could raise fifty to keep you quiet. Remember, too, that having settled with you I shall still have to deal with the person who has the diary."
"What sum do you propose to offer for it?"
"By adopting your own plan, I hope to get it for nothing. I have no doubt that if I tell Barras a suitable story he will furnish me with a deportation order. The threat to execute it should be enough to ensure the surrender of the diary. But rather than go to extremes, which might result in the story getting about, some payment may be necessary to clinch the matter; so for your part in it I'll go to no more than a hundred."
Fouché's red-rimmed eyes narrowed slightly as he stared down at his long bony hands, which lay crossed upon the table. Suddenly he spoke again. "You have always stood well with Barras, and the casualness with which you speak of getting a deportation order from him is evidence that you do so still. ‘I’lll make a bargain with you. Get him to give me some post and I'll forgo the hundred louis."
"I have already told you that he is averse to giving you anything."
"Tis true that he refused the pretty Creole; but perhaps he feels that he has already done enough for her. If you put in a good word for me he might view the matter differently."
"I greatly doubt it."
"I feel sure he would; particularly if the request were a modest one. I will forgo my hopes of a Prefecture, or something of that kind. Let it be only a Commissionership in the Posts, or Customs, or in connection with Supplies. Anything will serve provided it enables me to get back into the service of the Government. Surely you could persuade him to do that much for me."
Roger considered for a moment After all, it meant nothing to him if there was one rogue more or less in the Directory's Administration; and Fouché was not asking for the moon. If he could be procured a minor post and the British Government be saved a hundred louis in consequence, so much the better.
"Very well, then." With a nod, Roger stood up. "Mark me, I promise nothing; but I'll do my best for you. Now, what is the name and address of the person who has the diary?"
Fouché too, stood up, but he shook his head. "I fear you must wait for that until I learn what Barras is prepared to do for me."
"No." Roger's voice was sharp. "This matter is of no great importance to me, and I've no mind to run back and forth to Barras about it That he will not give me a blank deportation order is certain; so if I am to ask for one I must have the name. Give it me and when I-ask him for the order I will also ask him to do something for you. If that does not content you, then you had best count me out of the matter altogether."
As Fouché could have no means of knowing the immense importance that Roger actually did attach to the affair, and, from his point of view, the great urgency of settling it, he was taken in by the bluff, and said:
"I see that I must trust you. The woman's name.."
"Woman?" Roger echoed in surprise.
"Yes; woman. She is the sister of a mulatto, who before the Revolution was a footman in the Beauharnais household."
"I see. Yes; Madame de Beauharnais mentioned him to me. Please go on."
"Her name is Madame Remy." "And her address?"
Fouché hesitated, and, Roger guessed, was about to hold it back as a last card, on the pretext that to secure the deportation order it was not necessary; but now he had the name the game was in his hands, and he said quickly:
"Come! Since you have trusted me so far, there is nought to be gained by hedging. I need only ask Barras to put his police on to her to have her run to earth."
"True. Very well then. She lives not far from the prison of La Force. You proceed past it down to a row of dwellings that back on to the short stretch of river between the bridge to the Isle St. Louis and the bridge to the Isle Louvier. Her lodging was at one time an artist's studio and lies on the immediate right of a drinking den frequented by the wharf-hands who work in those parts."
'M3ood. Tomorrow morning there is this big parade of troops returned from La Vendee, at which the Directors are to take the salute; so I shall not be able to secure an interview with Barras until the afternoon at earliest. Be in all the evening, and some time during it I will call to let you know what Barras has decided regarding you."
With a nod, Fouché followed Roger out into the passage. As he opened the front door for him, he said: "This means a great deal to me. Please remember that and do your utmost to get me something with a salary which will enable me to keep my wife in a little comfort.