The moonlight was sufficient for Roger to see that one window of the room was open. Had it not been, he would either have had to take a far greater risk to reach the room by some other means, or abandon his project altogether. There were also lights in several of the lesser bedrooms on the two upper floors.
Withdrawing, Roger went in search of the gardener's domain. It proved to be a good sized outhouse with a loft. On the ground floor, with spades, scythes and other implements, there were two ladders. The longer would easily reach from the terrace to de Brinevillers' bedroom windows. On trying its weight, Roger found that, although it would need all his strength, he should be able to haul it upright.
Not far from the back of the house there were several lofty trees. Gliding over to one of them, Roger climbed up into a fork. From there he could see down into the uncurtained ground-floor rooms. In one, a secretary was still at work, in the other a footman in his shirt sleeves was belatedly cleaning silver. The light in one bedroom had now gone out, but one showed in that which had previously been unlit. As it was next to the principal bedroom, Roger guessed that it was probably the Ambassador's clothes closet.
One by one during the next hour the lights went out, until the great building was in darkness. Coming down from his perch, Roger went again to the gardener's outhouse. Going up to the loft he found some sacking and a ball of stout twine. Descending, he bound thick pads of sacking round both ends of the ladder, so that when he dragged it up the stone steps to the terrace, it would make no noise. He then partly lugged and partly carried it to the foot of the steps and laid it down there. He had more than halved the effort needed to bring it into use but it was still much too early to make his attempt on de Brinevillers.
Another hour or more went by. When he heard one o'clock chime from a nearby steeple, he decided that the time had come to act.
9
Death Stalks at Midnight
By that time, unless there was someone ill or wakeful in the house, all the inmates should be in their first deep sleep. Lifting one end of the ladder, Roger drew it slowly up the steps until he had it on the terrace. Next came the critical stage. Could he get it up against the windowsill? To raise it needed every ounce of his strength. For one awful moment he feared that it was going to overbalance and fall backwards on him; but a final effort was just sufficient to sway it in the right direction.
Standing back, he closed his eyes and mopped the sweat from his forehead, then remained quite still until his heart had ceased pounding and his breathing had returned to normal. Testing every rung of the ladder before putting his full weight on it, he made his way up to the window. As he opened it further,, it creaked a little. For a full minute he held his breath, but no sound came from inside the room. Putting a leg over the sill he slipped inside. He was now behind the heavy curtain. Gently he drew it a little aside, so that the moonlight should filter in and, by it, he could see the position of the bed. It was a big four-poster, half way along the room and sideways on to the window. The mound of bedclothes showed that someone was sleeping there. For a second it occurred to Roger what a fool he would have made of himself if, after all, it was not the Ambassador.
Having edged round the curtain, he drew the long knife from his trouser belt and, putting his feet down flat as he took each step, advanced to the bedside. Laying a hand on the sleeper's shoulder, he gave it a gentle shake. As the shoulder moved with a jerk, he said in a low, clear voice:
'Attempt to call for help and I will drive my knife straight down into your heart.1
A man's head came up and a voice gasped, 'Who… who are you?'
The voice was that of de Brinevillers. His mind now at rest, Roger whispered, 'My name is Death, and I have come to claim you.'
'No, no! This cannot be!' the Ambassador exclaimed. Struggling up into a sitting position, he stared in terror at the dark, cloaked figure wearing a hat with a floppy brim.
'If I am not Death, at least I carry it,' Roger said quickly. 'Reach for your tinder box and light your bedside candle. Then you will know me. But one cry and you will never speak again.'
With trembling hands, de Brinevillers lit the candle, then jerked round his head to look at Roger's face. As he recognised him, he whispered hoarsely, 'De Breuc… I thought…'
'No matter what you thought,' Roger cut him short. 'I am here to ask you only one question. Why did you not send a courier to the Emperor?'
'I… I assumed that the Prince d’Eckmuhl was doing so,' the terrified Ambassador stammered.
'Ha!' Roger exclaimed. 'I guessed as much; but, in fairness to you, had to make certain. Had you had the sense to lie and maintain that you had sent the courier, I could not have proved otherwise. As it is, you have condemned yourself out of your own mouth. It is you who are Ambassador to the Court of Prussia, not Davout. It was your responsibility to do your utmost to protect a French officer from the malice of Prussia's Chief Minister.
By your callous indifference, you left me to die. Tell me now, can you give me any good reason why I should not make you pay for that with your life?'
Tears started to de Brinevillers' eyes and began to run down his cheeks. Clasping his hands, he broke into desperate pleading:
'Colonel! Monsieur le Comte! I beg of you to spare me. At the thought of my negligence I now grovel for pardon. But clearly God did not intend you to die for your sentence was commuted. And now you must have escaped from prison. You are far from safe yet though. Without help the chances are you will be caught before you can get out of Prussia. I offer myself now as your life line. I will provide money, horses, a good disguise everything and make certain that you get safely across the border.'
'Yes, you will provide me with money, horses, everything,' Roger sneered, 'then betray me within five minutes of my leaving you. Is it likely that I'd trust you? Do you take me for a fool? Now lie down and turn over on your stomach.'
'No, no!' wailed the wretched man. 'Have mercy! Spare me, I implore you.'
Roger gave him a swift prick in the arm with his long knife and said harshly, 'Do as you are bid. I do not mean to kill you; at least, not yet.'
At this partial reassurance de Brinevillers squirmed over, so that he lay face downwards. Roger put down his knife near the lower end of the bed, where he could snatch it up again in a moment, produced one of the pieces of thin cord from his pocket; pulled down the bedclothes and said:
'Now put your hands behind your back.' With a groan, the Ambassador obeyed. When Roger had lashed his prisoner's hands firmly together, he told him to sit up and asked where he kept his money.
De Brinevillers shook his head, 'I have none up here.
The Embassy funds are kept locked up down in the basement. But let me ring for my valet. I'll shout to him through the door to rouse our Chancellor. He has the key and will bring up any sum for which you like to ask.'
Roger laughed. 'And have him raise the house about my ears? No, thank you. But if you've no money here, I’ll vow it's in this room you keep your jewels. They will do instead.'
As he spoke, he gave a quick glance round the room, and his eye fell on a small, brass bound chest. Nodding toward it, he added, 'I doubt not they are in there, and I see your keys are here beside your bed. Now, hold up your head and open your mouth. I've no mind to let you shout for help while my back is turned.'
Sweat and tears streaming down his face, de Brinevillers obeyed. Taking another piece of cord from his pocket, Roger thrust the middle of it into his victim's mouth and tied the two ends firmly behind his head; so that he could still gurgle but not cry out.